The clerks looking at us from the corner of his eye, a young guy probably 2 or three years older than me, wearing a tight collared shirt. Heís visibly tense a fine blue vein raising under his skin as his jaw clenches in anticipation, itís guys like this who make me want to steal something, pitiable, laughable with expectation.
I slow down, make a left and walk through the refrigerated isle. A 6 pack of Yogo sits against glistening satchels of black label vintage cheddar, I donít really want the yogo, Iím not even hungry but that guys still looking at me.
Iím not sure what time it is, probably donít have to be back tonight anyway, leaning back casually I can see around into the next isle where Jason is slipping a 2 liter bottle of sprite up his hoodie; most obvious grab ever but gas clerks never call the cops anyway.
Ok so itís decided the Yogo and maybe a packet of skittles for good measure. Man thatís good when youíre drinking, the sweet sugary taste when you just bite into a skittle and the tiny granules roll around in the filmy grit of your mouth, brushing away the fur on your tongue, leaving a sticky residueÖ double check and great, there just hanging off those black sales hooks near the front of the store anyway. Jason and Cassie move towards the door clothes bulging, gotta pick up the cold packet and move.
The weedy cashier is starting to say something to us reaching his hand to the phone, Jason half out the door with Cass in tow shifts to look at me, with those eyes that tell me to hurry the fuck up. Still nonchalant I walk a little faster shoving the skittles into my jean pocket; the guy tells me to stop all nervous and twitchy his eyes flit back to the phone then fix on me. I give him a face I know is bad ass, the heavy drinking drawing down my eyelids, lowering my head in that way which shadows your face making it look like youíd stab someone the first chance you get. That stops him, lowers the receiver an inch.
I laugh out loud, give the security cameraís the flip and get the hell out of the store.
Walking, breathing, walking across the petrol stained lot, a thick alkaline scent clings to my nostrils mixed with the sea air rolling in from Bronte. The Yogo tub is freezing dripping icy water down my stomach catching at my belt and forming bleached rings on my jeans. Flinging my arm onto Jasonís shoulder a heady inebriation kicks in half of it chemical the other half made by the sound of our feet echoing on the pavement.
Behind us thereís a hard beat bouncing off the asphalt road, the guy must have worked up the guts to chase us. Manic now Ö.. RunÖÖ laughing Iím gliding through the night, oh shit, oh shit a wonderful brilliant white hot burn in my chest. Cassieís in front she was always the better runner, me and Jason vying to get around the next corner first. He stops chasing us, I keep running, too pumped too sharp too invincible to stop now. Weíre running past the low wall near Waverly bowls; in front I turn up Douglas Street, an uphill slug still pushing my legs harder and harder to see how fast I can go. Jasonís yelling at me to stop
ďCassieís throwing upĒ he pushes out between wheezing breath and laughter
Iím at the top of the hill, drenched in sweat deep marks on my skin where the packet pushes into my arm and belly. I can see cassie, Sheís wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she turns to me and smiles, thumbs up. I grinÖ glorious.