Forgotten

Amaya

    My life sucks, I thought watching the cop standing watch over a store. My store - the one I was going to steal from. I knew I could get in fine, but as for getting out safely... My little brother's face flashed before my eyes. I couldn't risk getting caught.

    Sighing, I disappeared around the corner and continued on. I had a few other stores I could try, but I also needed to get home soon. If Johnny woke up before I returned, he would try to find me. Not a good idea - he would get lost, or taken. That would not happen. Reaching the other store, I saw no police at all. I walked in with a group of people. Constantly watching them to make sure they didn't leave, I grabbed a few small boxes of cereal, a few apples and a pack of granola bars. Stuffing them under my oversized sweatshirt, I wandered the aisles, staying out of sight of the register, while always watching the group.

    In my wanderings, I found a 6-pack of small water bottles - Aquapods or something. Slipping them into my knapsack, I walked away from the aisle. Finally, the group was ready to leave. Slipping back in the group, we left. As soon as the alarm sounded, I bolted. Pushing the people behind me, I twisted around corners hoping to escape. Stopping in a few alleys to catch my breath, I listened for the sirens. Even though I heard none, I sprinted away. Eventually, I slowed, panting as I pushed aside the wood barricading the entrance. No one had followed me, and I had food too keep us going. That's all that mattered at the moment.

    Dropping the bag on the counter, I emptied my pockets and put everything away. Then I moved to the one "bedroom", really a crumbling linen closet, and smiled at the sight. Johnny lay on the moldy blankets, swamped in Dad's old leather jacket. His wheat-colored hair contrasted sharply with the leather, accenting his regal cheekbones and pale lips. He looked his age - 9 - and at peace. Not the weary, hungry young boy I see when he's awake. It's a sad difference - he should look happy both times.

    I know I wan't that way when I was 9. I frolicked and played and laughed - I was a child. Not a young adult fighting for survival. As soon as that thought appeared, an onslaught of memories hit so hard I went weak at the knees. My parents faces showed mirth as they watched me, mom's blonde hair waving in the wind. Dad stood behind her, his dirty-blonde hair riffling as he adjusted his glasses. And me, laughing as I chased a butterfly on chubby-baby-legs, just about to catch it then tripping. Then getting up and continuing.

    Or, the first day of 5th Grade. Or a birthday showered in lavish attention and gifts. Or curling up on Dad's lap in front or the fireplace on Sunday, playing a board game and sipping hot cocoa. Or playing with my little two-year-old brother, helping him walk, helping him learn to talk. Going on vacation to Florida, and going to grandma's, getting a puppy. That's what nine-year-old's should be doing.

    Smiling at the memories I move closer to Johnny. Gently shaking his shoulder, I moved the jacket away from him. "Come on Johnny, you need to wake up." I whispered, pulling him up into a sitting position. He groaned, eyes flickering. Sighing, I started tickling him, on his stomach, under his arms, the back of his neck. Giggling burst from the boy until he finally tried tickling me back.

    "I'm up Aya, I'm up!" He yelled, pushing my hands away. I smiled slightly, rolling back on my heels.

    "Good. Now go get dressed."He grumbled, standing up slowly and hanging the jacket back on the rusty nail hanging half-way out the wall. Turning out of the closet, he stumbled on his way to the "bathroom". Really it was just an open hole surrounded by creaky floorboards (that were slowly rotting away) with some leaking water from a old pipe. But there was a knob to make the water flow increase, and it was clean water. Better than the rest of the run-down warehouses we could have chosen from. 

    Returning to the area designated as our kitchen, I opened the granola bars and grabbed two. Setting them in a knapsack designated as Johnny's book-bag, I also dropped in one of the water bottles. 5 left, I thought worriedly, then it's back to drinking from the pipes. Shaking my head, I scowled. No, I'll steal more. I'll do what I have too.