The Child Thief

WHEN ASKED, PETER said his fort lay thataway, and pointed in the
general direction of the New York Harbor. Nick guessed he must mean
down toward the docks.
“Come along,” Peter said, pulling up his hood. “You’ll see.”
So Nick followed Peter as they pushed their way through the dark
Brooklyn neighborhoods, still taking care to avoid busy throughways or
corners where teenagers were loitering about, but no longer dashing down
side streets or hiding behind trees. Nick didn’t feel a need to worry about
Marko, not this far west, but couldn’t help keeping an eye out for the green
van. After a while Nick began to relax, felt his step lighten, and realized
that he was enjoying simply having someone to walk down the street with.
He snuck several sidelong glances at the pointy-eared boy. There was
something captivating about him, something about his strangeness, the
wildness in his eyes that Nick found exciting. From his gestures to the odd
way he was dressed, even in the way he bopped down the street so light on
his toes, like some real cool cat—bold as brass, as though daring anyone to
challenge his right to be there. Nothing escaped his attention, not a flittering
gum wrapper, a cooing pigeon, or a falling leaf. And he was ever glancing
up at the stars, as though making sure they were still there.
He wasn’t like other street kids Nick had seen. His clothes might have
been worn and dirty, but he wasn’t grimy. He was a bit nutty, sure, but he
didn’t seem strung out on anything and his eyes were clear and sharp—even

---

if they were gold. But though Peter felt like a friend, the best sort of friend,
one you could count on to watch your back, Nick had to remind himself that
he knew nothing about this weird boy and had to be careful. And there was
something else, something below the contagious laugh and impish grins that
nagged at Nick, something he couldn’t put his finger on, something wicked,
something—dangerous.
The smell of nectarines filled Nick’s nose and his mouth began to water.
He realized the smells were coming from the Chinese deli just ahead.
“Hungry?” Peter asked.
Nick realized he was, that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He also
remembered he didn’t have any money.
“Hold up,” Peter said as he glanced up and down the street. “You be the
lookout. Okay?”
“Lookout?” Nick said. “For what?”
But Peter had already entered the grocery.
Nick didn’t like where this was going. He tried to peer over the fruit
stands to see what Peter was up to, but could only see the top of Peter’s
head bopping about inside the store. A few minutes later Peter came
strolling out with two plastic containers of steaming Kung Pao chicken,
fried rice, egg rolls, and three sacks of candy bars, almost more than he
could carry.
“Here, help me with this,” Peter said, handing Nick the candy bars.
“Wait,” Nick said. “You didn’t—”
“We should probably skedaddle,” Peter interrupted, and headed away at
a rapid clip.
A second later a plump, older Chinese man came skidding out of the
grocery in his stained apron and yellow rain boots.
The man looked at Nick, then at the sacks of candy bars.
Nick heard the man say something under his breath, and even though it
was Chinese, Nick had no trouble recognizing it as profanity. Then the man
pointed at Nick and started yelling TEEF over and over again.
Nick broke and ran after Peter.
Luckily for Nick, the old man’s running was about as good as his
English, and Nick put a block or two between them in no time.
Nick found Peter waiting for him along a tree-lined street in front of a
shadowy alleyway. Peter ducked into the alley and Nick followed.

---

Peter fell against some concrete steps and began to laugh, laugh so hard
he could barely speak. “Hey, you did pretty good!” he chuckled and patted
Nick on the back.
“What the hell was that?” Nick cried. “We could’ve gotten in all kinds
of trouble!” Nick felt his blood boiling. That’d been stupid. The last thing
he needed was the cops after him. “It’s not funny!”
Peter pursed his lips, trying to stifle his mirth, but his eyes were
positively giddy.
“Do you have any idea what they would’ve done to us if we’d been
caught?” Nick snapped.
Peter shook his head.
“Why they’d, they’d—” Nick stopped. Peter was trying so hard not to
laugh, trying so hard to look serious, concerned, and sincere. Nick couldn’t
help but grin and that was a mistake, because when he did, a bellyful of
laughter escaped from between Peter’s lips.
“Ah, man. You spit all over me!” Nick cried, wiping his face, but by
then they were both laughing, big belly laughs. And it was the moment
Nick realized that he was having fun. That he was happy, and it’d been a
long time since he had been happy.