He wanted to spend more time with his brother. Ever since they moved into their uncle’s house, Declan had started hanging out with a new group of boys and was barely home anymore. He also started fighting a lot more and even beating on Isaac when he thought Isaac had done something worthy of a knuckle sandwich.
Yet, even with all the beatings and name-callings, Isaac still missed his older brother and wanted to do whatever he could to prove that he could be cool and just as much fun as the other boys his brother hung out with.
That, and the fact that he wanted to get out of the house and away from his uncle—who was either passed out drunk or throwing bottles at their heads.
“Good. Don’t fuck this up,” Declan reminded.
The bell dinged overhead as Isaac entered the tiny “Reed’s Smokes” and made his way over to the counter.
The man behind the counter looked ancient. He must have been pushing seventy, if not eighty. Isaac wondered if perhaps this was Mr. Reed himself, in the flesh.
“What ya lookin’ for?” the old man asked, giving Isaac a hardened stare. He was missing both of his front teeth and a few toward the back.
“Umm, Pops asked me to grab some traps for them mice. Got any?” Isaac asked, hands stuffed in his pockets so that Old Man Reed wouldn’t see his hands shaking.
“Second aisle over there. Next to the dish soap,” the man mumbled, pointing over at the aisle three rows down.
Isaac waited for the man to come round the counter to help him search but realized quickly that the man had no intention to. He didn’t blame him. If Isaac were a thousand years old, he probably wouldn’t do any walking unless it was absolutely necessary as well.
Now what? Declan was going to beat his ass if he didn’t get the old man to follow him.
Trying to figure out a solution, he walked over to the aisle and pretended to search for the traps. Sweat broke on his forehead as he tried to think of a solution. He couldn’t fail his brother.
“Umm, I can’t find ’em. Can you come and help me?” Isaac asked, popping his head around the corner of the rack.
The man let out a huff, then made his way around the counter.
“You kids these days, fuckin’ useless. If it’s not on a bag of crisps or plastered onto the front of a poster, you can’t find your own dick in the side of a wall.”
Isaac looked at the old man like he was crazy. None of what he just said made any sense. Isaac stepped aside to let the man pass.
Then his eyes spotted it.
Standing right beside the crazy old fart was the cooler with beer in it.
How were his brother and his friends supposed to nick some beer with the old man standing right next to the cooler? This plan made no sense.
Panicked, Isaac gave a jump at the sound of the register till being smashed open at the front of the store.
That sound was followed by a dull snapping that could only be described as plastic breaking. Was someone breaking into the shaky old case that held the cigarettes behind the register?
“Hey! What are you punks doing?” the old man shouted, forgetting all about Isaac and rushing toward the front of the store.
“Taking your cash and smokes, you batty old man,” Isaac’s brother gloated, rushing past Mr. Reed with a sack full of cash.
Eric and Doyle hopped over the counter, each carrying a plastic bag full of smokes and candy as they ran after Declan.
Isaac had no idea what was going on.
His brother had said that they were just going to steal some beer and candy and then hang out on the porch right after.
“Hey, Declan, what are you doing?” Isaac asked, confused as his brother ran by him.
“Heading home, you little shit,” his brother snorted with a cocky grin plastered to his face.
“Hey, you! Stop right there!” the old man shouted, doing his best to hobble after the three hoodlums who had just robbed him.
“Eric, Doyle, move your ass!” his brother shouted.
