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Four months later
What turned good people into bad people?
For so long, I had just accepted the notion of there being bad people in the world. I saw it day in and day out with Jimmy.
But now that I’d been living like this for the last four months, I started to see things differently.
Because I was learning all about survival, and realizing that maybe it all wasn’t so black and white. People were a product of their environment, and all too often, there were things that were far outside of our control.
To some extent, I guess I put myself in this position. I didn’t have to be living the way that I was right now. I could have been home with my mom and Jimmy, but that certainly wasn’t the better option.
I could say that with confidence now.
I’d lived long enough in such an awful situation with the two of them, and where I was now was infinitely better, even if I had started questioning my morals.
Archie and Garrett had been the blessings I didn’t know I needed in my life. They’d done just as they said they would and looked out for me. I was beyond grateful for them, and I questioned just how well I would have survived being out here on my own. I certainly wasn’t convinced I had the grit to do so much of what they’d taught me over the last few months on my own. It was likely that if they hadn’t found me that day they did, I might not have made it. I might have succumbed and gone back to my mom’s house.
Or, at the very least, I knew I wouldn’t have been doing as well as I was.
Of course, that notion of doing well was all subjective. Because in my mind, as long as I wasn’t being beaten or sexually assaulted repeatedly, ate regularly, and felt safe, everything was great.
But it was the means in which most of that was happening that had me doubting the kind of person I thought I was. Part of me had become unrecognizable.
Because survival in my current situation meant that I was doing things that weren’t exactly indicative of me being an upstanding citizen. I was questioning my morals more often than not.
Then, after we’d done whatever we did that had me feeling that way, and I saw Archie and Garrett eating, putting on weight, laughing, or being warm in their coats and under blankets in the dead of winter, it became a little easier for me to justify it all.
We weren’t stealing for the sake of doing it. We weren’t attempting to get rich. We just wanted to survive.
And we were kids.
Sure, we were all getting older, and Garrett had gotten a part-time job, but there were three of us, and it just wasn’t enough for us to survive on. We needed to supplement. The only way for us to do that was to get what we needed via other means.
The other thing I told myself was that even though I reaped the benefits of our actions, I was never the one who actually walked out of the store without paying for it. But I still made sure that Garrett and Archie could.
Just like I was about to do now.
It was the middle of winter, and Garrett had gotten sick two weeks ago. It was so bad, he couldn’t go to work.
Without any money, we’d gotten into a bit of desperate situation. None of us had had anything to eat in days, and we needed food.
So, we were in the grocery store.
Generally, I was the lookout. I knew what the guys were going to do, I watched what was happening, and I made sure that nobody messed with them.
Ever since we walked in, I’d noticed a man watching us. He was the man whose picture was posted on the front wall of the store, indicating he was the store manager. I didn’t like how it seemed as though he was watching us wherever we went, and I knew I needed to give the guys some time to get the bare minimum of what we needed.
So, I made my move.
I separated myself from the boys, noting that the manager was struggling to figure out who to keep watch on. When he ultimately settled on the boys, I had to think quick. Someone had left their full cart in an aisle, and there was a wider end-cap display set up for the Super Bowl. It was filled with soda, chips, and jars upon jars of salsa. I felt bad about what I was about to do, but there was no other option.
Moving fast, I went in that direction. Just as I was about to cut the corner too short and run it into the display, another customer came around the side. Our carts collided, and she accidentally pushed my cart hard into the display.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she declared, her voice raised over the sound of the salsa jars crashing to the ground.
If the breaking glass wasn’t enough to cause a commotion, the two-liter bottles of soda that fell and burst open would have been.
Soda was spraying everywhere.
