Holding Out For A Hero

Grape Juice

Simple instructions on how to rob Stop and Go gas station for late dinners. Step one, be as quiet as a mouse while hanging around the roof. The green dumpster below may smell like four day old egg salad but ignore the urge to barf because that will get you caught.

Step two, when Hugh (or Sheryl on Sundays) is locking up watch carefully where the key ring is thrown. The boy usually hides them under the closest trash bin. If it's Sheryl keep a close eye on her. She enjoys placing them in between the metal pipes.

Step three, is patiently awaiting for their cars to leave the parking lot. This takes awhile since Hugh like to talk to his transportation and Sheryl checks herself in the glass, adding make-up touches to her face before taking off. Do not get frustrated even if it feels like forever. They'll leave sooner or later.

Step four, this part is easy just take hold of the keys and go ahead inside. No worries about security cameras, the ones in back were taken down to save money but please avoid the front cash registers and entrance. If you pass by any of them you will get caught.

Good luck, Bumble-Bee and only take the things you need not want!

"Rar-Rar, look! Hugh left!"

I looked up from my loose bind notebook to see Blake standing towards the edge of our secret hiding spot. The eight year old boy eagerly pointed his finger to the road where a silver Volvo sped down. It vibrated with the loud beat of heavy metal music yet I took caution and pulled us to the ground.

Blake's head hit into the concrete with a crack and he held onto my leather jacket frighten.

When the engine was far enough to not be heard we sat back in normal position; a settled crouch. Me, still alert with all my seven senses and Blake, keeping a close eye on the holes in his shoes. Luckily the coppers weren't around and the small village shops were closed at nine.

It's okay Rarity, nobody heard him.

"Are you okay, Bumble-Bee?"

He looked to the middle of my face. In his tired hazel eyes they held sadness. He bit his chapped lower lip ready to cry.

"I'm okay, Rar-Rar. It doesn't hurt too bad."

"Let me see," I said.

He threw his blond hair away from his forehead where a purple bruises the size of an egg begun to grow. I contained my gasp and softly traced a finger over it. He tried not to winch. Blake never let anybody see him hurt. He could've gotten hit by a bus and still try not to sob near me.

"You can stop pretending, B. That wound probably hurts like a bitch ."

He shrugged, "it is a lot less of a bitch than the injuries Navy Night gave those guys who kidnapped that little girl!" He flashed a quick smile pretending to punch invisible villains. "They say he was all like boom and pow and crash!"

Giggling quietly at Blake, I begin to pull his chubby cheek. His soft skin felt nice against mine. This boy some times, a second he could be on the verge of breaking and the next minute could be a loyal Navy Night fan.

Maybe that's how he's survived so long on the streets. He had high hopes and nothing broke them. I hadn't the courage to tell him his favorite hero would think of him as a criminal for robbing stores or helping others high jack vehicle for petty cash. And I hoped he never stop dreaming.

He had to get an education. He needed to learn how to live an honest life where you didn't have to look over your shoulder. I promised him he would go far away from our dumpster of a life and rather than savaging for food he'd be serving it.

Flexing slightly at the thought I pulled him closer. "What do you want to eat, big guy?"

He pat his hand against his chin, "can you get me a muffin and purple grape pouch? With the bugs upon it, please?"

"The bug juice, that shit is horrible for your teeth. How about grape flavored water?"

His face puckered by the words. "No way, those are always so sour."

I open our carry-on duffle bag, shoving through our things (a basic tooth brush, plastic comb, few clothes, comic books, text book, teddy bear, and my journal) to collect cash. Last I checked we made ten dollars from Max.

"Please Rar-Rar, it can be an early birthday gift. I won't ask for another."

"Those unnatural syrups are messing with your brain. Your birthday was last week remember?"

He frowned and turn to the edge of the roof. This was my cue to leave him alone. It was a Blake-fit moment but I went towards him anyway and placed a soft grip on his shoulder as a sorry before winking. "In return I'll grab us a chocolate bar. Deal?"

"Deal," he whispered. It was a soft reminder we couldn't stay mad at each other for too long. On the streets life was more dangerous than the inner one and never would we know when our last breath come. This meant forgiveness was key.

"Alright, I'll be back in a matter of minutes. Don't do anything stupid."

I buckled my knees and took hold of the roof wall.

***

The option was hard. I stood between the ail of candies, hands carrying about four bottles of flavored waters. Each chocolate bar sat eagerly awaiting my choice but I couldn't decide between cookie and cream or dark chocolate. The healthier choice seem to be better to grab yet the white wrapped chocolate seem to scream for attention.

What is cheaper?

I groaned to myself at the thought and took the dark chocolate. I knew Blake would be upset by this but I went back to the waters and traded a bottle of strawberry sparkling water for juice.

The cartoon insect character seemed to laugh as I willingly put the purple bottle along the rest. It look like cancer among the goods. Its high in sugar including the unfavorable corn syrup. The thought made me shudder. This stuff cost about three dollars.

Why was it the items that were most unhealthy cost less than the healthier foods? Was this some sort of bribery?

Shuffling through the tile floor, I begin to question how much money I would need to leave as a decent tip. You see, I never had enough cash to pay for the groceries me and Blake bought yet we did have petty change so as a thank you I left some. People think it's ridiculous to even spare a dime. that they could track me down with but even though we lived on the street I was trying to teach Blake manners.

An action which I had learned from my mother and hoped to teach him twice as well so he never would end as a run away like myself.

I sat the stuff on the closest check out and was digging in my pocket for a few bills when a magazine got caught in my vision. It was one of those twenty five cent gossip reads. On the cover was Navy Night trying to avoid cameras. His headline was "Photo Shy", it made me giggle a bit.

I always thought pretty boy be pretty key on becoming famous. He had the charming tough look that could make any girl go goo-goo eyed for. His rich blackish brown bangs curled perfect above his head and that smile, good god the world could just stop for a minute but I didn't like him or anything. It was his fault my parents abandon me after all.

"Rar-Rar! Rar-Rar!"

Quickly I turned towards the front doors and saw Blake drag our bag inside. He had a half smile on his face which I didn't quite understand. He sat on the floor, watching the doors patiently.

"What's wrong, Bumble-bee? Why aren't you outside?"

He'd never risk getting himself caught on film if something wasn't going on. What could it possibly be? Please not the cops, I can't do jail at the moment.

Then the glass doors both flew open.