Cops & Robbers

Chapter One (Revised)

“Lame! You can eat dinner later! Let’s play ding-dong ditch.”

“Okay,” I agreed easily since it sounded like fun.

“I can’t for a couple of reasons,” Ben said bowing out as usual, “First, because my mom will kill me and second because I’ve got to pack.”

“You can pack-wait. What do you mean pack?” I asked frantically as my little heart began to beat double time. I'd have known if he was going on vacation.

“He’s trying to say that he’s moving Midget.”

“But you can’t move!” I exclaimed as I grabbed his hand in both of mine.

Ben gave me a sad smile. “My dad got a new job so I don’t have a choice. I-”

“But you’re always telling me that we always have a choice! You can stay here with me and my grandma!”

“Adrienne, you know that’s not possible,” he told me patiently.

I wanted to say that anything was possible, but even at the age of ten I knew that it wasn’t true. It was a lesson I'd learned a long time ago. “When are you leaving?”

“My mom says the movers will be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“How long have you known you were gonna move?” I asked completely shocked by how little time I had left with my other best friend.

When he shrugged and said, “A couple weeks,” I thought I might pummel him then and there. Keeping my temper in check had never really been my strong suit; that’s what Ben was here for, not that he'd be here to help me for much longer. For the first time in our long friendship, it was Alex that kept me from swinging at Ben.

“Cálmate Midget!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” I made a quick attempt to jump out of Alex’s reach, but his ridiculous height advantage made my attempt an effort at futility.

The last thing I told him before I ran away was, “I would say that I never want to see you again, but it looks like you beat me to it.”

It looked like my words hurt his feelings, but I was too busy hurting over him abandoning me that I didn’t care.

“Let’s go play ding-dong ditch,” I sniffed, yanking on Alex’s wrist. I saw Alex send Ben a repentant look, but as I knew he would, he followed me without a word.

That was the last time I saw him; he tried to come over the next day to say goodbye, but I refused to come out of my room like the immature child I was. He slid a piece of folded paper under my door and when I heard the pitter patter of his feet and the front door shut a few minutes later, I finally walked over to my door to see what it was. He’d made me an “I’m sorry” card, his name written sloppily on the inside at the bottom.

It was then that I realized I had made a mistake. I ran out of the house hoping to catch them before he left, but it was too late. Their car and an orange colored moving truck were already turning off our street and onto the main road.

I cried like a baby every night for a week after he left and every night Alex would sneak into my room and comfort me. The problem with bad boys is they don’t usually come across their titles for no reason and without my good angel on my shoulder to pressure me to do right, things only went downhill from there.

Present Day

“Put your hands up! This is a stick up!” he shouted to the few people unlucky enough to be at the convenience store in the middle of the night.

Some preppy blonde passed out like an idiot when she saw the glint of my gun. I had to deepen my voice to ask for a bystander to check for a pulse, because the last thing I needed was for someone to die on my watch.