Neal

Introduction

Never in my life had I been more proud of myself. That feeling of accomplishment and pure joy was the absolute best feeling I had ever experienced. So as Sam and I were running, huge grins were plastered on our faces.

People screamed, lights flashed, but we didn't care. We had just stolen enough money to last weeks. As long as we didn't get greedy, that is.

Sam's arms were locked around his chest as if the bag of money hidden under his red jacket was the only thing that could keep him alive. The funny thing, though, is that it probably is the only way for him and I to survive.

With that in mind, my determination grew and I sprinted faster. Sam saw me pull ahead of him and he tried to match my speed.

The sounds behind us progressively faded and the only thing I was focused on was the growing distance between us and the store. Whatever pain or stress I had been feeling was lifted and replaced with excitement and adrenaline.

Running felt so good.

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I'm not sure exactly what happened afterwards, but I do know my heart is still beating and blood is still traveling through my veins, both much slower now. We somehow made it out alive through the blur of shouts and lights.

Now I safely lay on my back on our beat up sofa, in the calm darkness of our small house.

Remembering what had happened makes me think. Maybe we shouldn't have stolen that money. But if people care so much about "feeding the poor" and "helping the needy" then why are Sam and I, along with so many others, still starving? Someone eventually has to take action, and charity work is not so popular around here anymore.

Nonetheless, being a criminal was definitely not my career of choice. Sure, I'd love to be a doctor or a scientist or an engineer. However, fifteen is a little too old for a much needed middle school education.

I sigh and turn to my side to face our TV. Electricity can be expensive, but I feel like I deserve a break tonight.

Before any thoughts of protest can stop me I press the button on the remote and immediately the room lights up.

"Mick!" yells Sam from across the house. "What the hell? I can't watch TV, but now you can? I thought you didn't want to have to pay extra for the electricity?"

I don't answer him. Maybe it's guilt, maybe it's not. Instead, I ask, "Do you wanna watch Family Feud with me? It's only ten minutes into the episode."

Sam walks into the family room and stands over the sofa with his hands on his hips.

"Are you sure you aren't sick?" he asks with sincere concern. Then, more jokingly, "I thought that being the childish brother was my job."

I laugh. "I guess I'm just tired today. Let's go to sleep and I can get back to bossing you around tomorrow. How does that sound?" I ask with a drowsy smirk.

"Sounds more like you."

The house returns to darkness when the TV is turned off and I head down the hall to our bedroom. Sam follows. With my head on the cold pillow my throbbing headache seems more prominent, as well as the pain in my ankle. Yet, blissful sleep eventually takes over and the pain vanishes for the time being.