"Dammit, Ashton," Alex's whisper-yell barely reached my ears as we pressed ourselves against the cold, unforgiving bricks of the alleyway. Our breaths came out in silent, frosty puffs, mingling with the shadows that cloaked us. I could feel the tension rolling off him in waves, a silent storm brewing in the dim light of the streetlamps.
We'd been in this new, sprawling town for months, and the weight of the expensive rent hung over us like a dark cloud. Alex's mom worked tirelessly, but ends rarely met, leaving us—two kids who should've been worrying about school and friends—with the heavy responsibility of food detail. Our stomachs often growled in protest, a stark reminder of our dire situation.
Back in our small hometown, we had honed the art of moving unseen, of being little more than whispers in the wind. Now, those skills were our lifeline. We slipped through the bustling streets like phantoms, our eyes sharp for the chance to swipe a loaf of bread or a piece of fruit. Each successful steal meant another day without the gnaw of hunger, another night where we could sleep without the ache in our bellies.
It was a game of cat and mouse, played on the razor's edge of necessity and survival. The townsfolk, oblivious to our plight, became the unwitting donors to our cause. We took no joy in it, each act of thievery, But what choice did we have? The alternative was a hunger we were all too familiar with, a desperation that clawed at our insides and threatened to tear us apart.
As we waited for the coast to clear, I caught Alex's eye, and in that brief glance, we shared an unspoken promise. We'd get through this together, just as we had weathered the storm of losing our home. Our past had shaped us into survivors, and this new challenge was just another obstacle on the path to a better life. We'd do what we had to, until the day we could walk in the sun without the shadow of theft trailing behind us.
"Wasn't my fault," I whispered-yelled back, my frustration seeping into my voice as I rolled my eyes. "My ass! You just had to go and punch the guard."
"Hey, 'Alex'," I continued, using air quotes to emphasize my point, "it looked like you were struggling to get out of his grasp after he caught you. So, of course, I had to punch him. Wasn't my fault you got caught." I said matter-of-factly, trying to defend my actions. But this time, Alex rolled his eyes in response.
Hearing the footsteps approaching, Alex's warning was a whisper, "Shhhh, they're coming." We both pressed ourselves against the cold wall, our breaths coming out in shallow huffs as we tried to silence our panting from the frantic run. We stilled, holding our breath, becoming nothing more than shadows in the dim light.
The guard's voice was a growl of frustration, his words laced with the promise of retribution. "Tch, those damned kids, I'll kill 'em one day," he muttered, the bruise on his cheek a testament to our earlier encounter. His buddy grunted in agreement, and their footsteps began to fade as they moved away.
I dared a glance at Alex, and our eyes met. In that silent exchange, a plan formed without words. We both knew it was time to slip away, to make the journey back home. With a mutual nod, we seized the moment, our movements synchronized and silent as we retreated into the safety of the night.
Alex was more than a friend; he was like a little brother, and my instinct to protect him was as fierce as ever, As we made our way back.
"mom were back", alex said as we walked through the door as we both carried a sack of potatoes and put them on the wooden counter.
"Mom, we're back!" Alex called out cheerfully as we stepped through the door, our arms laden with sacks of potatoes. We carefully placed them on the worn wooden counter, the weight of our efforts evident.
"Oh, that's good! I was expecting y'all to come back later," Mom replied with a giggle, her warm smile lighting up the room. As she approached us, her eyes landed on the two sacks, and they lit up with delight. "How did y'all manage to get this much? It'll last us a whole month!" she exclaimed, clearly surprised. I glanced over at Alex, who seemed a bit nervous.
alex was a horrible liar and ontop of that his mom doesn't know we steal the food.
Alex's face was ful of guilt, his usual easygoing charm replaced by the signs of a man who's not quite mastered the art of deception. His mom, unaware of our activities, was the picture of innocence in this whole charade.
He sent me a look that screamed for help, his eyes wide with the silent plea of someone who's about to be caught. I shot back a glare that could only mean 'you owe me big time,' and then, with a deep breath, I stepped forward.
"We've been helping out at the farm," I began, my voice steady and my face an emotionless mask. "The farmer was grateful for the extra hands and insisted we take these as a token of his appreciation for our hard work." The words felt heavy on my tongue, each syllable a tiny betrayal. I kept my gaze fixed on a knot in the wood of the counter, knowing that if our eyes met, my resolve might crumble and the truth would spill out.
Alex's mom beamed, her heart full of pride at our supposed generosity. I could almost feel the weight of Alex's relief as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping an inch. We had dodged the bullet this time. "That's all the way on the other side of town!! Y'all must be worn out and tired from walking there and back, awe my poor babies," she exclaimed, her arms outstretched.
But I sidestepped the embrace just in time, leaving Alex to bear the full force of her motherly love. "You know I don't hug, sorry ma," I mumbled, a touch of affection lacing the words. She wasn't my mother by birth, but life's unpredictable winds had blown me into her nurturing arms, and she had welcomed me without hesitation. 'Ma' was a term that carried the weight of gratitude and respect, a nod to the sanctuary she had given me when the world seemed to crumble at my feet.
"ok boys y'all wash up and ill make some dinner" she exclaimed with excitement as she began to wash the potatoes, leaving me and Alex to walk towards the stream of icy water.
"You know, you lie pretty good, Ash. It makes me wonder," he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he playfully looked at me.
"Well, I didn't lie...we did get it from the farmers," I replied, trying to defend myself. But he couldn't resist butting in, "We stole it." I quickly continued, not missing a beat, "We did work hard...we had to bring it across town and not get caught...and we were exhausted afterwards."
He just glared at me, clearly not convinced by my creative storytelling. "What? I'm not intelligent, but I'd say beating around the bush instead of going straight through it helped us all. If your mom knew, she'd kill us personally," I chuckled, surprising Alex since I usually don't.
I looked over and saw Alex smiling, his happiness evident as I began to loosen up. It felt good to see him happy.
As we started to take off our clothes, revealing the scars on our bodies inflicted by the villagers, I couldn't help but notice the scar on my shoulder from the fire. It served as a constant reminder of that fateful day, etched into my skin forever.
After quickly cleaning up, we decided to train, despite just having taken a bath in the stream. Who cares, right? We were determined to push ourselves and improve, no matter the circumstances.
Soon enough, we were called for supper, but not without getting yelled at for being clean.
After what felt like an hour-long lecture, we finally sat down to our usual dinner...potato soup. It may not have been the most extravagant meal, but it was comforting and familiar.