Shoplifting--The Reverse Recount
She breathed out a sharp sweet sigh of relief and ran the opposite direction down the street to stick it to him, to finally prove to him, to gloat her rite of passage.
It took her a moment to process everything, then she hiccupped.
She watched in apprehension as the cars barreled down the road, unheeding of the red light at the intersection, swung around the corner and out of sight.
This was it, the jig was up, she was so incredibly stupid. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the three police cars speeding down the street just beyond the parking lot.
She froze; her skin prickled all over and her eyes began to water.
Police sirens.
Yep, there they were blaring menacingly: YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT! YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT! *red and blue* YOU’VE BEEN CAUGHT!
Wait, was that…?.... no, it couldn’t be—but she thought she heard…?
Laughing, she dodged the oncoming car and skipped into the parking lot.
She couldn’t believe it had been that easy, that she’d actually gotten away with it!
She’d done it!
The biting winter air nipped her nose and drew her back into the present moment, the rite of passage.
Finally, she pushed through the metal doors, desperately trying to maintain her steady gait, and burst outside to freedom, to safety.
Don’t make eye contact!
Don’t make eye contact, just smile and keep walking.
And here were the cashiers…
Oh god, she wanted to run!
Steady pace girl; inconspicuous; cool, calm, and collected; you’ve got this!
Was she walking too fast?
Did she appear frightened or guilty or worried?
Oh lord, what should she do with her hands?
Stop playing with it!
That bulge in her pocket was so obvious wasn’t it?
Her sneakers squeaked on the linoleum and she cringed with every incriminating step she took towards the door, so close yet so, so far.
“Oh, so sorry!” she sped away head down.
Her heartbeat spiked into her throat, which admittedly, kept down the vomit.
Rounding around the corner of the aisle, she bumped into an elderly woman.
The end of the aisle is right there, don’t look back!
Alright, the coast was clear.
She turned on her heel, but not before sneaking a look over her shoulder.
Shit, she couldn’t bend down to get it, she couldn’t even look at it anymore!
Hastily, she kicked the price tag under the display mount, but the corner stuck.
If she squinted her eyes enough, she could blur out the numbers… the dollar sign…. Oh damn, she wanted to hurl.
She eyed the disdainful white square contemptuously.
It was just lying there on the ground like a tiny shiny tattle-tale.
Wait, what about the price tag!
She didn’t dare think about it anymore, and made a move to leave, but something caught her eye.
Nope, coat pocket it was, she’d made up her mind.
Or would it be less obtrusive in the waistband of her jeans?
It looked a bit odd though…
She shoved the packaging hastily in the front pocket of her jacket and patted it down nervously, ears pricked for the sound of approaching footsteps.
Breathing heavily, she let it flutter to the ground like paper ashes, the snowflakes’ evil twin.
Clutching it in her sweaty palm, she squeezed her eyes shut and ripped it off, the soft pop loud as a gunshot to her virgin. ear.
There was only one way, it had to come off.
The bar code would set off the alarms at the door.
Shit! What to do about to damned price tag!
Flinching, she opened her fingers and gasped.
Something was digging into her palm.
No wait, the sensation was real.
Where the edges of the packages pressed into her skin burnt like a crimson lie, licking flames up into the fierce guilty blush of her cheeks.
Stumbling, she grabbed it off the shelf and backed away, balling it as small as it would go into her fist.
It was right there though, this close, and… and calling to her.
Her mom would kill her!
She couldn’t do it, was she insane?
She drew her empty hand back suspiciously, as if she couldn’t trust her own attached limbs anymore.
What was she doing, she was young, and she still had so much to live for!
This couldn’t be worth it.
Scenes of police vans and handcuffs and prison showers flashed before her eyes.
She reached out, hand wavering, and met the cool plastic with her fingertips.
Breathe babe!
Right there, right on the second highest shelf, there it was.
Yep, it was right here in good old aisle 22.
She peeked her head into the aisle, mercifully empty at the moment.
Here!
….21
….20
….19.
Thank god she knew the layout of the place like the back of her hand; she knew she’d crack under pressure if she had to ask for directions with a straight face.
She stalked through the store with a determined sense of calm in her pace that in no way mirrored the tumult of queasiness and lunch that tumbled in her gut.
“A rite of passage… A rite of passage,” she chanted in her head.
A rite of passage, he’d said, and he was right; he always was.
She rolled her shoulders back and stood up tall.
She tried not to cower, but then she remembered what he had said, and that mocking look in his eyes when he’d said it.
She gulped and he strolled away casually without a single glance back at her; if he had, he’d have seen knocking knees and frightened eyes.
“Don’t look like such a dork,” he hissed in her ear, bumping her shoulder. Her secrets had to be written across her face.
She felt awkward, exposed, naked and completely out of place.
They stood just inside the entrance of the store as shoppers milled about, caught up in their own business, barely paying mind to the two kids in wrinkled clothing.
“You can do this, I’ll wait for you back at our tree.”
He flashed her a disarming smile.
The narration of this short is reversed, meant to be read from bottom to top, ONLY AFTER it's first been read from top to bottom :) just thought I'd challenge myself and try something new!