Free A Little Rain by Dee Winter Page B

it over my arm.  There are
lots of people bustling round me.  There’s a security guard too but he’s
looking the other way.  When I’m sure no eyes are on me I slip it under my
jacket.  Now be cool.  I concentrate on looking normal but feel anything but.  Cheeks
warming, pulse jumping, heart a flutter.  I look at a red hot mini-dress that I
would wear if only I had a place to wear it to.  Then I see some baby blue
pedal pushers, sweet, soft, not really me.  Then a pair of bright pink jeans
that I would make a real statement in but they are just too expensive and
tagged.  All the time my heart’s beating faster and my face is getting hotter.  I
think enough is enough and I walk out.  My heart is pounding as I go out the
door and I anticipate an alarm going off or a hand clamping down on my
shoulder.  But nothing.  I calm a little but still a buzz with excitement.  I
head straight to the toilets to tear out the labels then hide it on me, tucking
it round my belly into my waistband.  Before I do this, I try it on.  It’s a
little bit big, a bit baggy.  But it is very pretty and a shiny stretchy plum,
with lace down the centre and thin spaghetti straps that fall off my shoulder. 
I think about whether I have the nerve to take it back and try to exchange it.  I
think no, absolutely not.  I’ve tested my luck enough for one day.  That’s me
done.  But I can see the reason why people get addicted to this kind of thing.  It’s
a drug-free high, but still illegal.  I love danger and I of all people, with the
most addictive personality could easily be getting hooked on something like
this.  It’s the fear in me that stops it.  I am scared of getting caught.  It
would upset my mum just too much.  She thinks I’m gold.  Her buttercup.  I’m
not a dirty thief, that’s for sure.  She thinks of thieves like scum, all the
same.  I think there are subtle differences.  People who burgle homes yeah scum
outright, but grafting from a big brand department store or eating sweets from
the pick and mix, surely that’s a different thing.
    I skip around the shopping centre with a smile so
broad I can barely keep myself from laughing.  But I do.  I don’t want people
to think I’ve escaped from a nuthouse.  I’d probably end up arrested anyway.  I
look in a few more shops.  I see some silly flower power rings and jangly bangles
in one, and then some beautiful but expensive diamond rings I could never ever
afford in a hot lit window.  Eventually I feel I’m done and I head to the
mini-market to get the shopping I set out for.  I hope a basket will be big enough. 
The light is incredibly bright.  I feel fluorescent and hot, especially with
the stolen goods, like a built-in hot water bottle round my belly.  I quickly
get a loaf of white bread, two pints of milk, four packets of plain crisps, six
eggs, a pack of bacon, tin of beans, a litre of orange juice, one box of chocolate
finger biscuits, one packet of custard creams, a family-sized bar of chocolate,
cigarettes and spearmint gum.  Then I remember to go back in to get Benny’s rolling
papers.
    When I get back to the flat I hear Benny talking loud on
his phone.  I listen in as I pack stuff away in the kitchen and wash up a few
cups and bowls in the sink.  I think it must be Tobes.  Then Benny starts
talking all koochi-coo.  He must be talking to Demi.  I don’t get jealous.  I
don’t care.  I would never tell Benny this, but I don’t really Love him.
 I love him, sort of, for company, for sex, but if I found out he was cheating,
I wouldn’t really care.  A part of me would be hurt but I would be more worried
what I might catch.  I would never ever tell him some of the things I get up
to, Jon, for example.  I think Benny wouldn’t tell me everything he’s up to.  Maybe
we’re making fools of each other but somehow it works.  I think there must be a
lot of couples like us.  I don’t know.  I’ve never truly felt what