𝙑𝙞𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙉'𝙃𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙣

Chapter 𝙉𝙞𝙣𝙚

Enez Lyons
After School
4:54 p.m.

I can't believe I'm doing this shit again. I reach in between a shelf and pick up a package of boxers I like that's just my size. I glance around boredly, then bust open the package, and stuff the merch into my jean jacket pocket on the inside.

Jean jackets are stiff and they don't have as much space as bigger jackets. I can only take so much and I don't wanna get cocky. I got some weed on me, picked it up from Die's plug. I don't want to get caught stealing and with some illegal shit on me. I plan on selling it to buy me something that'll make me happy. Maybe a new pair of shoes- shit, maybe even an oil change for my good ole Kia.

Who knows?

I start walking towards the shoes section of the department store when I feel like someone's watching me. Something in me tells me to just put the boxers back. They're just boxers, they're nothing worth it to get caught over. But the pride in me makes me stuff my hands into my pockets, pick up a random pair of shoes and head to check out.

Maybe if I buy something, it won't look like I stole.

You gotta spend money to make money.

When it's my turn in line, I pay for the random pair of shoes and get them bagged. I smile at the cashier and head for the door. I'm almost ten feet away from the store when I hear a throat clear behind me.

"You already know you have to come with me, right?"

I nod slowly, turning around with a bittersweet smile on my face. I empty my jacket of the boxers and hand it over to the mall cop. He handcuffs me, then leads me by the shoulder to his office in a little hole-in-the-corner. He's African American, or at least I'm just assuming that, and he's balding with a large tummy and tiny feet.

Once we made it into his office, he un-cuffed me.

"I'm not gonna call the cops."

I look up from my lap, as he's sitting down the random pair of shoes that I bought. "You're not?"

"I'm sure as hell telling your parents but I'm not gonna get the authorities involved."

"Why?" I ask. Ian have a problem being let off the hook, I just really wanted to know why.

Why am I even alive, pops into my head.

"Because I see something in you. You can make it somewhere. I don't want another black kid in the system because of petty shit like this. How much you wanna bet that I'm right?" he asks me, but I know his question is rhetorical. "You stole the boxers because it's something you wanted. I bet you got enough boxers at home to wear on your ass, at least for a week."

I nod slowly.

"It's a difference between people like you, and other people," he tells me, biting on one of his nails.

"What is it?" I ask him quietly.

That I wanna die?

"You steal for pleasure I'm guessing, they steal because of need. If I worked at a grocery store and I saw a kid stealing food for his family and I learned that- I'd let him go free," the mall cop tells me honestly. "People like you, I usually wouldn't give that luxury. But it's something in you that tells me you need this too. But in a different way."

"So you're letting me keep the boxers?" I smirk.

"No kid, but I'm letting you go. I don't wanna see you stealing again. Ever." He shakes his head. "Can't even shop on my own lunch break. Gotta wife and kid, you know?" He stands up and hands me a notepad already filled with scribbles of names and random phone numbers.