Page 2 of The Thief
“Try to make it to the end of the day without fucking up,” my dad sneered, and I ignored him, opening the car door and stepping out.
I’d barely shut the door when he raced off, his tyres kicking up the loose gravel of the car park as he sped towards the exit, racing to get as far away from me as he could.
Good riddance.
The drive over here had been the longest we’d sat together for ages, and I wasn’t rushing to get a repeat performance. Tomorrow, I’d catch the bus. Maybe walk. Or perhaps I’d bin it off altogether and go into town. See if I could put my skills to better use on the streets and make a bit of cash.
Speaking of cash…
I watched some guy in a crumpled, badly fitted suit lift a box from a pile at the front door to the building. He disappeared inside for a moment, then came back out to pick up another one. Never one to overlook an opportunity, I strolled over, my hands in my pockets and my eyes roaming the area, pretending to be lost in my own world as I whistled absent-mindedly. As he came out the door for a second time, I bumped into him, accidentally-on-purpose, said my apologies and offered to carry the last boxin for him. He was grateful. He was also a prize fool because his wallet was now burning a hole in my pocket. He hadn’t felt a thing.
“Thanks, lad,” he huffed breathlessly from his exertions as he gestured to the other boxes in the foyer to let me know where to stack the one I was carrying. “That’s your good deed done for the day.”
“No worries.” I smiled back, my heart warming from the prospect of what I’d find in his wallet. Good deeds did fuck all to warm my empty heart. But no one else needed to know that.
“Are you new?” he asked, his eyes shining with a kindness that was lost on me.
Why smile at the snake that bit you?
The naivety of most people never ceased to amaze me.
“Just started today.” I grinned back. Then I shrugged, feigning humility as I glanced around at the beige, wood-panelled reception area, and gave a slight grimace that would make him think I was intimidated by the place and what lay ahead for me. In reality, I just wanted to get my attendance mark, keep social services off my back, and get the hell out of there. Maybe I’d head into town today instead of tomorrow and spend some of the cash from his wallet.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, patting my arm. “I’m Mr Porter, the site manager, but everyone here calls me Alfie. What room are you in for registration?”
“I think it’s a Mr Radley… Randall… something like that.”
“Mr Rankle,” he corrected. “It’s just along this corridor.” He started to walk ahead, then called over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll take you there.” I sped up a little, moving to walk in step beside him, and he began to talk quieter, saying, “There’s quitea few characters in that class. But if you keep your head down, a decent lad like you should be all right.”
I knew when to keep my head down and when to stick my neck out. I didn’t need the pep talk, but I thanked him anyway.
“Here we are,” Alfie suddenly announced, stopping and then pushing a door open to reveal a pretty empty classroom. I say classroom, but it was more like a cupboard. The white walls were bare. There were no educational posters or motivational crap pinned up in here, not like they’d had at my old school. The floor was cheap linoleum. The kind that stuck to the bottom of your shoe as you walked in, making that ripping sound, like every one of your steps was ripping the band-aid off the shittiness of your situation, exposing the gaping wound of crap underneath. The lights were those cheap strip ones that buzzed annoyingly throughout the day and gave you a headache. And the off-white ceiling tiles were stained from where there’d been a leak years ago but no one had bothered to replace them. It was a perfect metaphor for the kids that came here. A dumping ground for life’s rejects. A shithole to house the shit.
I stopped and stared at the five or six desks dotted around and the teacher’s desk at the front of the room.
So, this was going to be my new hell for the next few years.
I never realised hell would be so... plain, white, and boring.
There were only four other boys inside, and no teacher to oversee things. The boys were just sitting on the desks, staring at me blankly like I was coated in shit.
“Your teacher won’t be long,” Alfie said, giving me an encouraging smile. “Good luck, lad.” Then he closed the door, leaving me to glare back at the other four in the room.
The two sitting towards the back looked me up and down,their lips curled in disgust that I’d dared to enter their space. Then eventually, they got bored with staring and turned their backs on me to carry on scrawling something on the wooden table with the pen knives they were holding. I’d seen David Attenborough documentaries about chimps with more grace and intellect than those two appeared to have. So, I strolled forward, choosing to sit at a desk closer to the other two lads by the window, lads who looked pretty similar, with dark hair cut short and moody looks on their faces.
I slumped into a chair, leaned back, and placed my feet on the table. A ripple of satisfaction at how much it’d piss the teacher off when he came in surged through me.
“You’re a good thief,” one of the guys behind me announced out of the blue, as he stood up and came to lean against the window beside me.
From the corner of my eye, I could see he was tall, and his arms were folded over his broad chest as he watched me, waiting for a response. I could feel the eyes of the other one sitting behind me, boring into the back of my head. But I didn’t look at either of them. I just stared straight ahead.
“Thanks,” I replied proudly, glancing at my nails and then adjusting my tie like I didn’t give a shit. But it was nice to be acknowledged for my expertise.
“You’re not agreatone, though,” he sneered, pushing himself off the window and coming to stand over me, placing his hands on my desk to try and get a rise out of me.
I gritted my teeth, anger bubbling inside. How dare he leer over me like this. I didn’t like anyone getting into my space. He needed to back the fuck up.
I was seconds away from standing up and knocking him the fuckout. Only, he looked harder than me, stronger. But still... He had some fucking nerve.
