by C.P. Kemabia
Justin’s mind returned to his very first encounter with Solene, in the small convenience store appended to the Flanagan Condo. Justin was full of innocence then, with his flat and tame face. His body was still undeveloped, not like it was now.
In that store, Justin was contemplating a display rack filled with little action figures. The one he wanted – a power-suit armored superhero – he couldn’t have, because he was seven dollars short according to its price tag. But still, he couldn’t keep his eyes off the damn toy. And he wouldn’t see another dollar for four weeks when he got his allowance. And he knew from experience that a hot toy like that wouldn’t last four weeks unbought.
“Take it!”
A mischievous voice had rippled over to his neck. The young girl who had spoken, was standing inches away from his back. How long had she been standing there? Justin had no way of knowing. But in that moment, his first impression about her had also been his final impression.
She was bad news.
“Who are you?” Justin had asked her.
“Go ahead, no one’s watching.”
Because Justin had been looking at her as if she were speaking a different language than his, she said again,
“You want that toy but you can’t afford it, can you? Then just take it.”
“You mean steal it.”
“It’s not stealing if no one misses it.”
“But it’s not mine to take.”
“It could be yours”
“No, it’s wrong.”
“Says who?”
“I’m not going to take it.”
“Then you’re chicken!”
His heart had clenched. A fit of spite had overwhelmed him. Who was that dumb girl who was calling him chicken?
“No, you’re chicken!” Justin had snapped back. “Why don’t you take it yourself?”
“I’m a girl.” She had said with pride. “I don’t play with those.”
“Yeah –– and what do you play with?” Justin had mocked her. “Princess Dolls? Do you have her drink tea, or do you like combing her hair instead?”
He’d been damn near laughing at her because he thought Princess Dolls were silly toys designed for silly girls.
“Unlike you, I don’t play with stupid little things…”
She had shut him up good with that response, and she moved away from the display rack of action figures to the cookie aisle. And Justin had watched her as she was peeking out toward the old proprietor and a female customer while pocketing two candy bars.
“Solene!” The female customer had called out to her at last. “Come on, let’s go!”
“Alright, Mommy!”
Before the girl who was named Solene had joined her mother out front, she had thrown a sardonic look toward Justin.
“Chicken…”
And so, her bittersweet voice had resonated in Justin’s skull long after she was gone.
“Chicken… Chicken… Chicken…”
To make it stop, Justin had decisively palmed the superhero figurine and had gotten away with it. Since that day, to reclaim the rush that comes with the act and the thrill of the success, Justin had found himself guilty of numerous petty thefts. It had become a nasty habit. Even when he didn’t need to, his fingers were so addicted that they acted on their own.
For starters, one steal every other month was enough to keep them in check. Then, before he knew it, his compulsion grew worse. He could no longer control it. He would steal anything that was within reach, anytime, anywhere.
It was Aunt Beatrix – his sister’s mother – who had blown the whistle on him a year ago, after figuring out that several of the missing items from her beach house were linked to the Delacroix’s visits. And Aunt Beatrix had had lots of visits from Justin and his mother.
Mrs. Delacroix had wept over the sins of her son. And when she’d run out of tears, she’d wept her eyes out. Not only had that image broken Justin’s heart, but it’d also killed his compulsion. Literally killed it. And by the time he was being thrust before a therapist, he’d already sworn off stealing. And nobody – not even that armchair therapist whose only show of competence had been to identify the disorder as Kleptomania – had ever discovered that the root of his evil had a name.
Solene Greaves.
Chapter XIII
THE THEORY OF CHAOS:
A PIECE OF SOLENE’S MIND
