Page 19 of Not a Word

Called the cops.

Gage’s so-called friends bailed, leaving him there to face his fate alone. A Yorkton Hill officer showed up, put Gage in the back of his cruiser—at least he wasn’t handcuffed—and let him sweat it out there for a while. The doors wouldn’t open from the inside and he couldn’t put down the windows, which was too bad because there was what looked like dried vomit on the floor by his feet and his own stomach was starting to heave. The cop left him there for about twenty minutes while he was in talking to the shopkeeper. When he came out, he said his parents would be called, that they’d have to come down to the station for a chat.

The cop let Gage make the call himself, and instead of calling his mother or father, he called Grampa.

He explained tearily what he’d done, that he’d been caught. “On my way,” Brent said.

“Please don’t tell Mom and Dad,” Gage said.

“We’ll see.”

When Brent arrived, no one challenged him about whether he was the boy’s father. Sure, he looked a little old to be his dad, but you never knew.

Gage and his grandfather and the arresting officer sat at a table in an interrogation room. Gage had not yet wet his pants, but he was close. He was already wondering whether he would be sent to prison. Could you go to jail for stealing Doritos? What would happen to a kid his age, locked behind bars with grown men? Gage had seen prison movies. He knew what could happen.

“There are a number of ways we can proceed,” said the officer, whose name was Glidden, like the paint. “Given that Gage here is only twelve, and has no previous record of getting into trouble, this would typically fall into the area of the Youth Criminal Justice Act of Ontario.”

Criminal, Gage thought. I am so dead.

The cop said a bunch of other words, like felony and misdemeanor and rehabilitation and how old a kid had to be to get sent to jail and Gage wasn’t taking in any of it because all he could think about was what might happen in the prison shower, but his grandfather was listening very closely, and being super-respectful and thanking the officer for his time, and asking whether it would be appropriate to take Gage back to the 7-Eleven and apologize to the store manager.

When Gage walked out of the station with Brent, he’d never been happier to see the light of day. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened.

“You got off with a warning, and now we’re going to the 7-Eleven and you’re going to tell them how sorry you are. Honest to god, nearly throwing your life away for a bag of Doritos.”

Gage didn’t think anything was to be gained by saying it was two bags of Doritos.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Brent asked.

“My friends dared me.”

“Oh well, now I understand,” he said as they got into his car. “Good thing your friends didn’t dare you to jump in front of a bus. At least then all I’d have had to do was scrape you off the grille.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“You gonna tell my parents?”

His grandfather didn’t answer right away. “I should,” he said, starting the engine. “Let’s discuss it once you’ve made your apology.”

Brent had driven to the station in his old Barracuda. Any excuse, Gage figured, to take it out for a spin, even getting your grandson out of jail. They drove straight to the 7-Eleven. Brent accompanied him as they went inside. Listened while Gage told the guy behind the cash register that he was sorry, that he would never steal from him again.

“No kidding,” the man said. “You’re banned from this store. I never want to see your sorry ass in here again.”

Gage nodded.

Something hanging on the wall behind the register had caught Brent’s eye. He said to his grandson, “Wait in the car. I’ll be right out.”

Gage got in the Barracuda, watched as his grandfather made some purchases. He came out of the store, tossed a bag into the back seat. Gage caught a glimpse, saw a new phone in a clear plastic clamshell container.

“This is your one get-out-of-jail-free card,” Brent said. “Literally. I won’t tell your mom or dad about this episode. But pull a brain-dead stunt like this again, don’t call me. Call your folks. I won’t save your ass a second time over something this stupid. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t be there for you if you get in trouble again. Sometimes things happen that aren’t our fault. This? Today? That’s all on you. But there’s something you need to know. Your grandpa would give his life for you if he had to. I love you. Just don’t grow up to be an idiot.”

“Okay.”