The Wrath of a Thief

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
One girl's greed tears a family apart.

Submitted: September 08, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 08, 2012




Thief, criminal, delinquent, shoplifter, robber, stealer, crook, I’ve been called them all. Nobody would ever accuse my sister of anything; she’s perfect, blonde hair, clear skin, owns a charity. I was born four minutes earlier with less desirable traits. My hair is really only a little darker than hers but it’s a greasy mess that never looks clean, my nose is too long, and I have terrible acne. It’s like I was born to be the delinquent. We have the same gray eyes. We might be twins, but I could never live like she does.

The first thing I successfully shoplifted was a DVD when I was in sixth grade. My parents promised my sister, Skye, and I that if we did well on our report cards that they would let us have a big slumber party for our birthday the Friday after report cards came out. If Skye got better grades, we’d watch Night at the Museum, if I got better grades, we’d watch Scream.

But she did much better than me. She got a ninety-five on her math final; I got a sixty-two. My parents were furious. I hadn’t failed any classes completely but the sixty-nine in math wasn’t what they considered good. They decided Skye could have her slumber party the next weekend and I would stay in my room the whole night.

I went with them to the store to get the DVD, took the Scream DVD from its case and hid it in my pocket. I followed my parents and sister up to the register as they paid for Skye’s movie. We got in the car; I tried to look upset when I really wanted to smile with relief.

Skye noticed my face and leaned forward to ask, “Daddy, are you sure Livy can’t go to the party? Can’t you just take away her computer instead? It won’t be as much fun without her.”

“No, this was the deal, Olivia didn’t get good grades so now she can’t go to the slumber party,” Dad said, quite adamant, even though his angel asked for it.

“Please, Mommy,” Skye begged, switching her attention to my mother,

“Just shut up, Skye,” I exclaimed, “I don’t need your help!”

I hated her because they were so nice about it when they talked to her; they were so horrible with me. In the heat of the moment my dad had even told me I was stupid. That night was the first time I ever stole from Skye. After watching my stolen DVD I snuck into her bedroom and took her diamond bracelet out of her jewelry box. When we were seven, I had wanted to get my ears pierced as my birthday present, and she had wanted the bracelet. But when we got to claire’s, my grandma told my mom she would pay so Skye could have her ears pierced too. Anyway, at camp two weeks later I traded it for an American Girl Doll. It looked like Skye.

We were nearing the end of our senior year when everything blew up in my face. I guess it started a month before Skye’s charity ball. I was sitting at the kitchen table when suddenly the headphones were ripped from my ears and I looked up to see her staring at me.

“I said, you can either wear your dress from Aunt Sarah’s wedding and junior prom or mom’s giving us seventy dollars for this and prom,” she said waving a few twenties at me.

“I have my own money to spend on this dress,” I said taking out my ATM card.

“Isn’t that money for college?” when I shrugged she continued, “whatever. If you aren’t going to use that money for your dress, can I have it so I can wear one dress to this and a new one to prom? Money’s really tight and everyone’ll know if I wear the same dress to both.”

“No I still want it! I don’t have that much money, only enough to buy a dress for this!”

“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Skye, “Mom, please!”

“You’re right,” my mother said, “Livy can buy one and wear it to both. Its Skye’s night.”

I stormed back upstairs, but something caught my eye on the way up. The checkbook for Skye’s charity. I hastily pulled a check from the book and the banister shook when I ran up the steps. I made the check for three hundred dollars out to Help Services, an account I shared with my friend, Henry, for things like this. My mom drove us to school and I made her stop at the bank. She and Skye didn’t go in. I deposited it and came out three hundred dollars richer.

It was late on the eve of the charity ball when I returned home from stealing the tips cups at local restaurants. I heard Skye talking to my dad. She was telling him there wasn’t enough money for the charity ball. No! They were going to figure it out. I ran up to my room, the banister shook as I did, and angrily stormed around. Her charity ball would ruin everything. I tried to calm myself down by feeling the green paper of a dollar bill on my skin, but things got even worse when my parents came to my room.

“We know you took money from you’re sister’s charity and are very disappointed,” that was it. That was all they said, and then they left. They didn’t even care enough to lecture me anymore. Tears streamed furiously down my face and I threw a book at the doll that looked like Skye sitting on her shelf high above and looking down at me. The shelf cracked, the doll went plummeting toward the ground making a satisfying crash. Its head came off with the impact.

I knew I had to give the money back, it wasn’t that much anyway, I’d have it within a week if I wasn’t caught sneaking out to get it. A couple of bucks from each of the cash registers in the school cafeteria wouldn’t be missed, much. I managed to pool together a hundred and fifty bucks without going into my bank account, five from here, ten from there, fifteen from my dad’s wallet, twenty from my mom’s purse. More reluctantly I emptied the envelope I had found in my grandmother’s desk containing a hundred dollars in singles.

Then next day after I’d returned home from school, I approached my dad sitting on the couch and handed him the money.

“That’s half,” I said, “I’ll pay back the rest when I get it.”

“This isn’t half,” He said handing the money back to me, “and it’s all ones.”

“It’s a hundred and fifty!” I protested, “The hundred part just happens to be in singles.”

“Half of ten thousand isn’t a hundred and fifty, I know you’re failing math but,” He looked up at me, the same disappointed look he’d be wearing for years stared back up at me.

“I only took three hundred, I swear,” I insisted, but he just shook his head, “you don’t believe me?” I asked, “Look, I may be a thief but I’m not a liar!”

“I wish I could believe you but frankly, I can’t trust you. You have never earned it.”

“You’ve never given me the chance! All these years, I was never good enough for you just because I’m not as perfect Skye. You gave up on me when I was eleven.”

“Because you’ve been stealing since you were eleven. All the shoplifting and things going missing in the locker room, your mother and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Maybe you should think about which one really happened first,” I said throwing the money up in the air and letting it fall on the living room floor for him to deal with.

“Olivia!” he called, “Olivia! Get back here!” But I slammed the door to my bedroom.

I slipped on my sneakers, climbed out the window. I walked down to the street and hopped into the front seat of Skye’s convertible. It had been a gift from my grandparents. It wasn’t that nice, pink, with the charity logo on the front but it was a car, which I didn’t have. I hotwired it, I trick I had learned from my ex-boyfriend, a jerk, but a useful one.

I met Henry, sitting behind the school on his computer, using the school’s wifi. Though I cleared my throat he didn’t look up.

He shushed me before I said a word, “I’m working.”

“I have a deal for you,” I told him, “if you can hack into my sister’s charity’s bank account.”

He said, “fifty bucks and we’re even.”

 “Fine, fifty then we’re even,” I replied.

“Great,” he agreed, “Now I have to get back to this. I’ll call you when I get to it.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Then I drove home and left Skye’s car ten minutes form the house just to cause a little panic and walked the rest of the way home.

Henry called around five that night, ten minutes after Skye’s car was discovered missing. I had convinced them I hadn’t taken it without lying (“wouldn’t you have seen me if I left the house?”) and was free to listen to Henry’s findings.

“An account called Service Expenses has gotten two-eighty a month for the past three years, that plus the three hundred you took is about ten thousand,” Henry said over the phone, “but then it  moves from Service Expenses account to the Needy Scholarship Fund.”

“So the Needy Scholarship Fund is stealing from a charity?” I asked doubtfully.

“The manager of the account is Skye Davis. She owns Needy Scholarship Charity.”

“Skye?” I asked in disbelief, it was almost impossible, “Are you positive?”

“Definitely, Olivia what are you going to do?”

“She had the nerve to tell me I was ruining her life by taking this money! She was ruining mine! Was she just going to sit there while I scrambled to get my hands on 10,000 dollars? While I went to jail! I’ll talk to you tomorrow Henry.” I set my phone to record audio and opened the door to her room, standing in the doorway pressed record and asked,

“What were you going to do with it all after I took the blame for it?” I asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said as curled her hair for the charity ball, then she looked at me in the mirror, “You never express yourself properly through words.”

“The money, I didn’t take the ten thousand, it’s been going to the Needy Scholarship Fund,” I said, and color drained out of her face, “that’s right, I know.”

“Livy, I need that money for college!” she pleaded, “I’m so sorry.”

I took my phone from my pocket and stopped recording, “I’m calling the police.”

“You can’t!” She lunged at me but I ran from the room and stood at the top of the stairs, “Livy do you know why I need that money? Because you’ve wasted all the money this family ever had, all the fines, all the defense attorneys, the money in my college fund was gone before we started high school. You’ve brought this upon yourself! I’m sure if you sold all the things you stole you could return the money and be done with this.”

“I need those things, I need that money! You know why?” I shouted, “Because you’re so freaking perfect! They love YOU! They don’t love me. Money is the only thing I love; money is the only thing that loves me.”

“Olivia you’re being selfish, but let me warn you, if you call the police on me, mom and dad will disown you,” I lunged at her and held her dangerously close to the edge of the banister, but this didn’t stop her, “because they hate you, and love me.”

“Go to hell,” I said and I shoved her toward the banister, she fell back and there was a sickening noise as it broke under her weight and she went tumbling from the second story to the first. There was a loud crack as her head hit the floor and she lay motionless on the ground.

I didn’t go to look at her lifeless body, I ran to her piggy bank and smashed it on the floor. I filled my hands with coins and let the wave of money wash blissfully over my face. Money that wanted to be with me. The cool metal touched my lips; I rubbed the soft bills against my cheek. Money sweet money. I gathered it into a bag then gathered all my precious things and money into the bag. Then I put my sneakers on and climbed out the window. The head of the American Girl doll rolled on the floor. Thief, criminal, delinquent, shoplifter, robber, stealer, Killer.

© Copyright 2018 Clairey Cakes. All rights reserved.

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