Jacket

 

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Introduction

He was but a boy. Poorer than all of us. 

She was but a girl. As average as any middle class teenager.

They met when he tried to rob her.

 

They have been almost inseparable since. 

Almost.

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1 >> Jacket

He sat on the curb. He watched. All around him were people, walking to god knows where. Had it been any other time, he might have stopped to wonder where they were going, what kind of lives they had. But it was not so. He wasn't there to wonder about the lives of the people who ignored him on a daily basis. He was there because he needed something. He was there because he didn't have enough to give, and therefore, he could not receive.

 

That was when he saw her. She wasn't special at first glance. She had a backpack, and she was tall, so he assumed she was either in college or her senior year of high school. He liked tall people. He was envious of them, to be completely honest. He wanted to be tall, like them, but he wasn't. The only person he was taller than was his mother, thanks to his father. He wished he could have been there when his father was killed. Their neighbourhood was closely knit, so everyone knew everyone. If he had seen the man who killed his father, he could give a description and anyone would know immediately who the man was.

 

The girl was passing nearby him. She had a loose grip on a purse, and was busy looking at an expensive-looking tablet and glancing upwards every now and then to make sure she didn't bump into anyone. His eyes trained on the purse. He assumed that her money and keys and such were kept in that purse. He smiled maliciously, and waited for a clear view to her. When he got what he was waiting for, he darted up from the sidewalk and ran to the girl. He zig-zagged, so she wouldn't be suspicious of him. He reached her and grabbed the purse tightly, then yanked it out of her already-loose hold and ran off.

 

"Hey!" she shouted, but he didn't stop. He also didn't notice that she had put away her tablet and was running after him, hot on his tail.

 

"Hey, you!" she shouted again, and the shock made him jump and trip. He fell, scraping his knee on the sidewalk in the process. He groaned in defeat when he realized that the girl had retrieved her purse. He hissed in pain when he tried to stand up, realizing that his knee was bleeding.

 

The girl was still there, purse in hand. She was watching him, and that fact alone made him extremely uncomfortable. He sighed and watched her back, waiting for her to drag him off to the nearest station by his ear. Instead, her expression softened and she dropped her backpack to the ground. He watched her in confusion and stepped back cautiously as she took off her jacket and held it out to him. He narrowed his eyes at her.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked her carefully, as if one wrong word would push her to attack him.

 

"Giving you my jacket," she replied, not fazed at all by his question.

 

"Why would you give a thief your jacket?" he asked again after a minute had passed and she hadn't taken it back.

 

"Because once I had a very close and dear friend and he told me, 'if a man tries to steal your purse, give him your jacket as well, because he probably needs it more than you do,'" she answered with a warm smile.

 

He watched her for a while, then looked around. "You're shitting me," he said in disbelief. "Where are the cameras? This isn't funny, taking advantage of a poor kid."

 

She laughed and shook her head, wrapping the jacket around his shoulders. He looked up at her with parted lips, though the corners of his mouth were twitching, almost betraying a smile.

 

"Aren't you going to take me to the station?" he asked with furrowed eyebrows. This girl must be crazy if she was going to let him go.

 

"No," she answered, shaking her head again. "Why would I?"

 

Then, he smiled at the girl. It was a thankful smile, and he was grateful for this girl. He slipped his arms through the sleeves of the jacket, and that exact moment was the start of something truly beautiful.

 

"Oh shit, your knee!" she swore, and took out a pack of lemon-scented hankies. She knelt down in front of the boy and gently dabbed his knee. He hissed in pain, and she gave him an apologetic frown. When she was satisfied with the speed that he was bleeding at, she wrapped a cloth she had in her bag around it.

 

"Do you need money or something?" she asked him as she stood up, and he nodded slowly, still adjusting himself to the jacket on him and the makeshift bandage on his leg. "How much?"

 

"I don't know. Marcus always lowers his prices for us but he never tells us the original prices," he murmured, remembering yet another reason he had always disliked Marcus.

 

She frowned. This Marcus, whoever he was, sounded like he was taking advantage of them. Either way, she took her wallet from her purse, then looked around. When she was satisfied with the absence of other people, she took out three ten dollar bills and folded them up. She stepped closer to the boy and put them into his hand, then curled his fingers around them. He smiled at her and nodded thankfully. She patted his head and looked him over again. He was just a few years younger than she was.

 

The sound of a phone ringing surprised them both, and the boy's eyes widened. The girl sighed and gestured for him to stay as she answered the phone call from her best friend. "Kells? Yeah, I'm on my way. No, I'm not hooking up with Dane. That's disgusting of you. Something came up. I'll be there, Kelly, just stop worrying," the girl said quietly, then hung up and put her phone back in her purse.

 

"What's your name?" she asked the boy. He frowned.

 

"Momma told me to never tell a stranger my name."

 

"Well, a stranger never gave you her jacket and money before, did she?" the girl asked, and the boy shrugged. He couldn't really care less. He was grateful but it was better that he head back home before dark.

 

"I really need to go back home," he said cautiously, looking up at the sky. "It isn't safe when it's dark."

 

The girl smiled. "I get it," she said. "My name's Kathleen, by the way."

 

"You're a senior," he said, and Kathleen nodded.

 

"You're a few years younger than me," she replied. "You don't go to school, do you?"

 

He shook his head and grinned. It had been a while since he had a normal conversation with anyone. "No money. I'm poor, remember?"

 

Kathleen smiled back. "Of course. Well, you should get going."

 

The boy's grin widened. That was nice of her, to be considerate of the fact that he had to get home before dark. He waved and said his final thanks to the wavy-haired brunette before attempting to run off into the distance, despite the slight limp. He kept the hand containing the thirty dollars clasped tightly shut, so he wouldn't lose them the way he had almost taken Kathleen's purse. He turned around before he went around the curve to see her wave at him one final time.

 

Kathleen watched as the boy disappeared around the bend, then picked up her bag and put it back on. She was a little cold now because she didn't have her jacket anymore, but that didn't bother her. She didn't regret giving that boy her jacket and that money. She could have bought something for herself with that money but instead it went to a boy buying food for himself and his family. It went to their survival, hopefully, and not buying drugs and alcohol. In a shady neighbourbood where you needed to be home before dark to escape getting murdered, they probably gave beer and coke to ten-year-olds.

 

She turned around and walked back to the main street. She really needed to get to her best friend Kelly's house as soon as possible or else she would have to face being embarrassed in front of Kelly's brother again. And Kelly's brother would stop at nothing to ruin Kathleen. Despite his good looks, Kathleen hated Kelly's brother with a burning passion, and she was sure that he felt the same way about her.

 

She started down the street, seemingly unable to stop thinking about the boy, but then her phone rang and all thought of him was lost within seconds.

 

The boy's gait slowed as he got closer and closer to home. His knee was still bleeding, and the girl's jacket proved to be both a blessing and a curse. Before, yes, he was cold on the way home, but he blended in with everyone else. Her jacket brought attention to him. He became more conspicuous, and in his neighbourhood, conspicuous was the definition of dead.

 

"Hey boy, nice coat," sneered one of the older men who spent their days smoking weed in alleys and scaring children.

 

"It was a gift from your mother," the boy hissed, and the man let out an angry roar.

 

"What was that?!" the man shouted, and the boy stood there, taunting him.

 

The man charged towards him, but the others held him back. The boy grinned and attempted to run off as fast as he could without causing any further injury to his knee. He put his hand in one of the pockets of the jacket to make sure that the money Kathleen had given him was still in his possession. He smiled when it was and his grin became even wider when he saw home just around the bend.

 

He entered the dingy building, and carefully climbed the steps, knowing exactly which ones to be wary of. He walked down the hall, and when he reached the fifth door down, he knocked on it four times in quick succession. It opened a crack, just enough for his mother to see who it was. When she saw the face of her son, she gasped and ushered him in quickly.

 

"Where did you get this?" she asked when the door was securely locked, not even noticing that his knee was wrapped up in a bloody cloth. She shook his shoulders. "Where?"

 

The boy grinned. "A girl gave it to me," he admitted shamelessly.

 

Her eyes widened. "She gave you a jacket? Who was this girl? What did she do?"

 

"She said that someone said that if a man tries to rob you, you should give him your coat because he needs it more than you."

 

"You tried to steal?" his mother asked, eyes wider than saucers. She was in shock. First a stranger, a girl, gives her son a coat, and now he's been stealing! "I didn't raise you like this!"

 

The boy frowned, disappointed in his mother’s reaction. Why couldn’t she just stop criticizing everything he did and be grateful for once? "Mama, we have nothing! You can't expect me to just sit here and wait for them to pick us off!"

 

"I expect you to earn money!" she exclaimed in exasperation. This was too much for one day for her. "I raised you better than stealing! I don't want you to be a thief!"

 

Suddenly, the boy felt angry. His mother had no respect for how he had been providing for them. She would rather have a son in danger of being shot on the street than one who earned money and stayed in jail a few hours. Angry didn’t even touch it. He was furious at his mother for being so narrow-minded. “I would rather be a thief than selling drugs for Marcus!” he shouted. “You're lucky you aren't addicted to any of his product, because I would have left you to suffer the withdrawal on your own while I was getting money for us to eat at night!”

 

Then, his mother did something she rarely did. She slapped her son, hard and sharp, against his cheek. The sound echoed throughout the apartment as they both stood there in shock. The boy was the first to react, as his lips curled into a scowl and his eyes narrowed.

 

“They say the children have no respect and are lazy bums unless they sell cocaine for Marcus,” he sneered, taking out the thirty dollars from the jacket and holding them up in front of his mother. Her eyes softened, but he didn't care for her sympathy any more. The damage had been done. “Here! I have money, and I didn't have to earn myself a criminal record to get it!”

 

Then the boy stalked off to his room and slammed door, surprising his mother and crumpling the thirty dollars in his fists. He shoved then into the jacket, then dragged a chair—his only chair— to the door and stuck it under the handle so she couldn't come in and attempt to apologize. He then moved to the bed and carefully slid off the jacket. He decided to go about searching it, just in case Kathleen had forgotten a few dimes or a quarter in it previously. Instead, in his searching he found a somewhat hidden pocket on the inside. He decided to hide the money in there, as it blended in almost completely with the interior of the jacket, but something else surprised him.

 

A small white piece of paper fell out of the pocket, and the boy picked it up. He unfolded it carefully, trying to smooth out the folds. It was a photo of a girl who looked like a younger version of Kathleen and a blond boy who looked slightly older than her. A year, probably. The two were smiling, and they looked truly happy. He wished that he could be that happy. His smiles never reached his eyes.

Then the boy sighed and ran a hand through his hair as the realization hit him. She didn’t mean to give this to him. She had probably forgotten about it completely when she gave the jacket to him. He was going to have to find Kathleen again to give her this photo back. He wasn't planning on seeing her again, but now he was going to have to.

 

"Porca troia," he mumbled, then he carefully folded up the photo again and put it back into the pocket. He was never going to find her again.

 

 

"Kathy!" Kelly exclaimed, and hugged her best friend. "You finally made it!" Kelly's brother snorted and Kathleen glared at him. She had never liked the arrogant brunet. He always made subtle digs at her and flirted not-so-subtly.

 

"Mind your business, Noah," she snapped, and he laughed.

 

"I'm making it my business," he said, smirking at her. He was always under the impression that Kathleen hated him so much because she was attracted to him and didn't want to cheat on her boyfriend. "So, what kept-"

 

"Oh my god, you're freezing!" Kelly exclaimed, cutting off her brother. She had never seen a day where Kathleen had forgotten her favorite jacket. "Didn't you take your jacket?"

 

"Long story," Kathleen sighed, and sat down on the couch, next to Noah. Noah, for once in his life, didn't look at Kathleen with hatred. He was actually interested in the loss of her jacket, but she mistook it.

 

"Don't look at me like that, Noah," she snapped defensively. She was tired of his games. He threw his hands up in surrender and scooted away from Kathleen. She was impossible.

 

"What happened, Kathy?" Kelly asked as she sat down next to her best friend. "Did you get robbed?"

 

Kathleen then burst out into a fit of giggles. Kelly always knew the best things to say in any moment, whether she knew that she knew it or not. Did you get robbed? Did she get robbed? Technically, no, she didn't get robbed. She willingly gave up part of her belongings to someone who needed them more than she ever would.

 

So Kathleen laughed. She laughed at Kelly's question, she laughed at how the boy was expecting some cameras to pop out, she laughed at how Noah still tried to flirt with her and she laughed.

 

"No, Kells," she said, wiping away a tear of laughed from her eye. "I did not get robbed."

 

Little did she know, she had been robbed by the poor boy who tried to steal her purse, just not of something tangible.

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2 >> Jacket

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