The Child Thief

SO MUCH JOY over a pair of shoes, Peter thought and felt the sting of
jealousy as Nick’s simple joy made him aware of all he’d lost. He had to
remind himself that soon shoes would be the last thing on Nick’s mind.
Nick started and jerked around. “Shit, man. You scared the piss out of
me!”
“Killer shoes,” Peter said, putting on his best smile.

---

Nick studied Peter for a moment, then glanced down at his shoes. He
licked his finger and touched the laces, making a sizzling noise. “Watch out,
man,” Nick said, grinning. “I’m lethal in these babies.”
Peter laughed.
“Hey, man. Check this out.” Nick stepped over to a rack of skateboards,
snatched one up, and dropped it on top of his shoe, flipping it onto its
wheels with a flick of his foot. “Slick, huh?”
Peter nodded.
“Out of the way,” Nick said, hopping on the board, kicking hard, and
shooting down the long center aisle. He kicked the tail of the board,
catching some air, but when the board landed, the back end slid out on the
slick linoleum, sending Nick into a rack of men’s sweats, taking the entire
rack down right on top of him.
Nick’s head popped up between the hangers and sweats, looking
disoriented and embarrassed.
Peter let loose a howl of laughter. “Impressive!”
Nick frowned. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see what you got.”
“Oh, you want me to show you how it’s done? Is that it? Why, I’m the
skateboard king.” Peter snatched up one of the boards. He’d never ridden a
skateboard before, but if this kid could do it, he most certainly could. He
dropped the board on the floor and set his foot on the deck, shoving off with
his other foot, kicking hard like he’d seen Nick do. The board wobbled and
he wheeled his arms for balance as he careened straight toward Nick.
“GANG WAY!” Peter cried, fighting for control.
Nick’s face changed from mirth to panic as he scrambled out of the way.
Peter tried to swerve, lost control, and landed hard on his butt. The board
shot out from under him like a missile, slamming into the leg of a nearby
mannequin. The mannequin toppled and the head bounced down the aisle
and landed right in Nick’s lap, its charming face smiling blissfully at Nick.
Nick stared back in astonishment, then up at Peter, and both cracked up.
“Oh, my God,” Nick wheezed. “Oh man. That’s the craziest thing ever.”
He got to his feet, holding the head, took aim at a row of basketball hoops,
and shot. The head bounced off the backboard, but completely missed the
rim and net. Nick raised both fists in the air. “He shoots! He sucks! The
crowd pisses their pants!” He did a little foot dance, kicked his skateboard
back out into the aisle, hopped on, and raced away. Up and down the aisle

---

he went, doing spins and hops, sliding, skidding, and carving his way
around the displays.
Peter got up, rubbing his butt. He gave his skateboard a disdainful look.
“That one’s defective.”
“Yeah, right.”
Peter frowned, grabbed another skateboard from the rack, scrutinizing it
before setting it on the floor. Nick zipped past, laughing hysterically, almost
knocking him over. Peter hopped on his board and raced after him,
wobbling and fighting to keep the board from flipping out from under him.
Nick cut sharp, wheeled the board around in front of the entrance. Too late
to stop, Peter crashed right into Nick, slamming the boy into the door. The
impact shook the entire storefront and an alarm began to blare.
“OH, SHIT!” Nick shouted over the noise. “WE GOTTA GET OUT OF
HERE!” Nick tried to open the door; it was locked. He slapped the door in
frustration and tried to yank it open. No luck. “WE HAVE TO GO BACK
THROUGH THE BASEMENT. QUICK!”
“NO WE DON’T.”
Nick looked at Peter, confused. Peter pointed at a swirly pink bowling
ball sitting in the display window.
It took Nick a moment to get it. “OH, NO,” he called, shaking his head.
“WE CAN’T DO THAT.” Then a spark lit in his eyes. Peter knew the look
well. They all got it, once they truly realized they were free.
Nick hefted the ball, locked his eyes on the big display window, his
mouth tightened into a hard line. Peter saw the anger, the hostility, and
knew this was about more than getting out of the store, more than an act of
vandalism, or simple mischief, this went far deeper. Nick needed to strike
out—to break out. Nick was like so many of the runaways he’d
encountered, too many years of being bullied and mistreated, of being
stifled and ignored. They just needed someone to show them how to let it
out. And once it was out, once he’d taken them that far, the rest was easy.
After that, they’d follow him anywhere.
“GIVE IT TO ’EM, NICK,” Peter cried. “GIVE ’EM THE BIG FUCK-
YOU!”
Nick gritted his teeth, snarled, and hurled the ball like a shot-put.
“FUCK YOU,” he screamed. “FUCK ALL OF YOU!” The ball smashed
through the plate glass, shattering it into a thousand glittering shards.
“YEE-HAW!” Nick screamed over the warbling alarm.

---

The ball bounced onto the sidewalk and rolled into the street, picking up
speed as it headed down the sloping avenue.
“AFTER IT!” Nick cried, snatching up his skateboard and leaping
heedlessly across the broken glass.
Peter couldn’t have grinned any wider. He’s mine. He snatched up his
own board and caught up with Nick in the middle of the street. A host of
men and women had come out from the bar to see about all the commotion,
some so drunk they could barely stand.
Nick grinned at them savagely, raised both hands in the air, and gave
them the double bird. “FUCK THE WORLD!” he screamed. “FUCK THE
WORLD!”
The crowd raised their bottles and returned the salute. “FUCK THE
WORLD!”
Peter turned his head to the sky and howled, basking in the spreading
madness, aware that sometimes even these dull-eyed adults could let loose,
could remember.
“The ball went that way,” Nick cried, slapping his foot atop his board
and kicking off down the hill.
Peter let out one last hoot, hopped on his board, and, fighting for
control, chased after Nick. It’s a good night. A very good night. Can’t
remember a better one in the last hundred years.

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