Tristan looked down at the Xbox game in his hands and glanced over his shoulder to check for watchful eyes. Quickly and with shaking hands the teenage boy ripped off the plastic covering the box and removed the white sticker that would set off the alarm at the door. He stuffed the slim box into his black leather jacket under the crook of his arm. Trying to be as casual as possible he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his torn up jeans and walked down the isles like he was interested in the merchandise on the shelves. Tristan finally made his way to the front counter and grabbed a candy bar from it. He tossed the sugary treat on the counter and waited for the man to ring up the price.
“That'll be $2.75,” the man said. Tristan was looking around nervously not making eye contact with the middle aged man. The young boy reached into his pants pocket to pulled out a 5. The imprint of a triangular object outlined on the inside of his jacket as he stretched. The cashier raised an eyebrow at the boy as the boy struggled to obtain the bill.
“What have you got there, young man?”
Sweat started to appear on Tristan's forehead and his hands felt clammy. Looking down at his feet Tristan gingerly took the game out from his coat and handed it to the man.
“I hope you know you’re in big trouble young man...but at least you're honest.”
“I know,” Tristan mumbled as he shuffled his feet from side to side.
I guess 2 weeks of community service isn’t too bad. Tristan thought as he got in the passenger side of his father’s black truck.
“Why can’t you just get a job?” asked his father as he started the car.
“There aren’t any, dad, I’ve been looking.”
“Well look harder, I don’t want to deal with your shit.” His father looked straight ahead with cold eyes as they drove home.
Tristan stayed silent and looked out the side window, gritting his teeth.
Once they got home Tristan went straight to his room, passing his worried mother who was asking questions frantically.
“You spoil him to much, Megan. He doesn't even have the sense to get a job!” His father said.
“I'm sorry,” Tristan's mother whispered.
“You better be, when is dinner gonna be done?” Tristan's anger boiled but he just laid on his bed clamping his mouth shut and staring at the ceiling.
“Alright young man you’ll be doing your community service here at St. Michael’s Hospital. You will do things from reading to patients to cleaning bathrooms. Down the left hallway are mostly older patients and down the one to the right there’s short term patients. Today you’re going to read to a nice old man.” said a young nurse.
The nurse seemed to be in a hurry and practically shoved Tristan though a pale yellow door into a room with sickly green floral walls. To the left was a shelf with baubles and nick-nacks galore and on the right wall was another shelf with books, journals, and scrapbooks. A window was above the shelf on the right and overlooked the grounds of the hospital. In the middle of the room was an electronic bed and blue sheets and a frail old man occupied it. Next to the bed was a wooden side table with a glass vase on top with wilting flowers inside and an old wooden chair. The nurse crossed the room to the window and reached up to close the shutters.
"Oh, please don't do that, it's such a beautiful day and I never get to see the sun,” said the old man inhabiting the room.
“I’m sorry sir I have to it’s time for you midday nap,” said the nurse as she closed the pale yellow shutters over the window.
