Beat Girl

Chapter #6 | Shoplifting

As I took a drink of water, I fumbled through my bag, locating my mobile. Missed calls registered. Several of them. And all from an unknown number. Full of misgivings, I dialled voicemail.

With my ear glued to the mobile, not liking what I was hearing, I ran out of the room and sprinted down the corridor and out on the street as fast as I could.

The police station was a couple of bus stops away. After missing a bus, then having to wait a whole half hour for the next one, I had to sprint to the station once I hopped off the bus. By the time I reached the entrance to the station I was out of breath and in a rotten mood. I had never before in my life had reason to walk into a cop shop. Thanks to Mike, I was about to experience this particular dubious pleasure for the first time.

I was still flustered when I reached the front desk. The police officer manning the desk looked up. No doubt he was accustomed to seeing mostly rattled citizens in his line of work.

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for…’ Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Mike sitting in a chair in the front waiting area, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. His head was hanging low, his chin touching his collar bone.

‘Mike!’

He looked over, but didn’t seem overly relieved or happy to see me.

‘What the hell happened?’ I asked, as none of the voicemail messages had gone into that much detail.  

All I had been asked was to show up at the station, and Mike’s name was mentioned. I had no idea what to expect. The worst case scenario was that Mike had got into some sort of an accident and something serious had happened to him. But then it wouldn’t have made sense for the police to be contacting me instead of Tom, not unless they couldn’t reach him for some reason. My mind had been reeling with all sorts of possibilities, none of them too pretty, so I was relieved that Mike was okay.

Mike studiously avoided my gaze and wouldn’t answer me. I felt an unexpected surge of anger welling up inside me. He owed me an explanation. But it wasn’t just that, I realised. It was the thought that he no doubt equated me with the adult world, with Tom and the teachers and the police, when in fact I couldn’t have been further from them. I was mad that he couldn’t see it. But I was even madder at myself for not having made an effort to make him realise I was on his side. As I stood over Mike, the police officer got up and approached us.

‘Have a seat. Are you the minor’s guardian?’ he asked me.

‘I’m his… yes, his guardian.’ I was about to say I was his half-sister, but corrected myself in time. I sat down next to Mike.

‘What did he do?’

‘He was caught shoplifting,’ the officer explained.

I looked over at Mike, disappointed. Then I turned to the officer, realising there were practical matters I’d have to handle before dealing with Mike.

‘What happens now?’

‘Most likely nothing.’ The policeman looked bored.

I wondered how many petty crimes he had to process each day. I reckoned only a highly unusual or sensational crime might pique his interest.

‘I’ve had to fill out a juvenile report as your brother is still a minor,’ he continued. ‘But the shop owner has opted to sign an affidavit barring your brother from entering the shop in the future. It’s essentially a formal complaint. If he ever tries to enter the shop again, he’ll get done for trespassing.’

‘So this will be on his permanent record?’ I enquired, concerned.

‘Afraid so.’

‘But he’s only thirteen! Everybody makes mistakes!’ I tried to plead with him, hoping for some lenience.