Writing Prompts

Writing Prompt #3

"So what if I broke my arm I'm still doing it."

Here we are again. Friday night, eight o'clock - just like we planned. I mean, he did most of the planning, I did all of the listening. Nothing new really. My head felt like it was splitting. God, I hated this! All this sneaking and hiding and running and even more hiding. How he managed this with a giant cast on his left arm is beyond me. I stole a glance at the bulky, lime green extension and then at his face. He didn't look bothered by anything, he never did.

We crept into the bushes, kneeling in the dirt as the security guard patrolled the area. A minute or so passed, if the fake mall cop kept the same pace, he should be a few blocks down the road and we took off running again. Trespassing came easy to him, and me, not so much.

A small current ran up my legs as I landed wrong. I squatted down as to not put so much pressure on my knees and to wait for me, what should I call him, partner? to arrive. Right now, he was taking his time climbing the fence, not that I minded. Last time we tried to pull this stunt one of the neighbors saw us both climbing at the same time and called the cops. They almost busted us of not for my quick thinking. Yet that same quick thinking is what broke my partner's arm. Hence here we are again, for round two, a vengeance I never asked for.

I found myself sighing as my neck craned to get a proper look at the building in front of me. Past the medium sized trees was a curved cobble path that led to two big double doors. Tall windows seemed foggy and gray, kind of hard to see through and from what I could see the chain and lock that kept the town out was rusted. There was no doubt no one was inside. Hopefully anyways. The building it reminded me more of a skyscraper instead the old abandoned elementary school I used to go to. To be more specific, I only stepped foot on the sixth floor, anything higher was a mystery. I remember always seeing men in suits, powerful in every step with their eyes trained forward. Not once did any of them acknowledge me. Come to think of it, why was there a school in here?

"Psst, a little help?" A voice called from the direction I just came from. My partner was stuck in an awkward position on top of the fence.

He pathetically offered a weak smile and waved me over for assistance which I begrudgingly gave him. I maneuvered my hand through the chain fence, not sure if I should be proud my thin wrist easily slipped through and unhooked his cargo pants from a loose wire. He slung his leg over to the area I was already trespassing on and hopped down. A grin rested on his face as he dusted himself off. Whatever emotion he was feeling did not resonate with me. I wanted to go home and watch Bones. I had no reason to be outside, especially not at eight pm on a Friday and especially not with him.

"Do I have to be here?" I hoped he'd say no and let me off the hook. There's no way he blamed me for his arm being broken, at least not entirely. He wouldn't hold a grudge against me for something as petty as that, right?

"Yes, you do. Next question." He answered without a moment of hesitation. A sigh escaped my lips once more as I didn't have any more questions.

Together we made our way to the front, no longer running or ducking or hiding. If anyone saw us here it would be game over. It was an all-or-nothing risk my partner was willing to take.

"I don't think this is a smart idea," I warned but I had better luck convincing a brick wall to do a somersault.

He slapped my shoulder with his good arm, "Don't be a little bitch!" He laughed as my body jerked forward. "Hand me the stuff," he commanded.

Silently, I shrugged off my bag, stretching my arm into the giant abyss. Reaching until my fingertips brushed against a smooth surface and pulled out the source of the dense, heaviness that's been weighing me down this whole time: a black case filled with God knows what. I didn't know if he wanted the entire case or the stuff inside but I didn't chance it. Handing the bag over to him felt kind of like handing ransom over to someone who kidnapped your first born. He gladly accepted the case, cracking it open immediately as we arrived in front of the steel double doors. He pulled out a few cans of spray paint, one green, one gold and a lot of black.

"What?" He asked me as he unpeeled his stencil and pasted it on the doors. "You look like you're constipated."

"Should you be doing this?"

"What, like, ethically?" His head leaned from shoulder to shoulder, shifting his perspective to see if the stencil was crooked. It was but I wasn't going to tell him.

"More like could you?" I fiddled with the straps on my bag. "Aren't you left-handed?"

He shrugged as he shook one of the black cans. "I'm ambidextrous actually. Dunno if I told you but I'm kind of a big deal."

"So your cast isn't inconveniencing you?"

My partner scoffed, "So what if I broke my arm, I'm still doing it." A high-pitched hiss escaped from the spray can as he began to create his art. I turned away and decided to fake being lookout. For some reason, I didn't particularly mind being caught since I didn't want to be here anymore.

Maybe half an hour passed until my partner was done. He's what you'd call a perfectionist. I didn't bother to look at his work, I'd see it all over the news tomorrow.

"Wait, why don't we use the door?" He asked, pulling the gate with the fingers peeking out of his neon cast, the other arm gesturing towards the exit. I gave him a bored look, tired of his games and walked through the gate. "You're not going to ask?" He called after me. I ignored him. Hopefully, this makes us even.