❝It is like a small child going to it's father and saying, 'Daddy, give me sixpence to buy you a birthday present.' Of course, the father does, and he is pleased with the child's present.❞
— C.S. Lewis

5 || sixpence none the richer

time || morning transitioning to midday

I don't know why I chose the mall.

Havendust's mall is so tiny, I wouldn't even consider it a mall considering the lack of escalators, elevators, and stores. Besides most people at my school go to the mall in Andersville (a town 10 minutes away from Havendust), which is bigger and has more options when it comes to the stores, and the biggest food court ever.

Brolin says we have money to spend, and if he wants us to do that. Why not go to one of the most spendable places in Havendust? I'm glad that it's comparable to a ghost town in here, opposed to the crowdedness one would expect in a mall. I wouldn't want to run into someone I know here.

We're currently in Claire's (a store that carries jewelry and accessories), not that I'm going to buy anything. I can't tell if it's just me, but I see that this store hasn't put up any new stuff since the last I've been in here—which was about a week ago.

"You know what," Brolin says, as I'm trying on a pair of glasses turquoise glasses. "I have a cousin who works at the arcade here. Wanna go there, and play some games?"

I put the glasses back on the rack, and think for a minute. I suck at playing video games, arcade games, app games, board games... whatever game, you name it. I'll suck at.

"Sure," I say with a shrug. Why not? Blowin' money on arcade coins isn't a bad way to spend part of your day.

:: :: ::

There's no one in the arcade really, except two boys who look to be in middle school. I've been here for 5 minutes, and I can finally come to the conclusion that they're arguing over which game they're going to spend the last of their two coins on.

When the word "LOSER" flashes across the screen of the arcade game I'm playing on, for the millionth time. I take this opportunity to give the boys the rest of my coins. I know they enjoy playing these games much more than me, not to mention they're fucking Picasso's when it comes to playing these arcade games. Unlike me, who just seem to suck at ALL of them. No matter how much effort I put into it.

I walk over to the boys.

"Hey, you guys can have mine."

The boys stop arguing, and look at me. The redhead doesn't look as if he heard me correctly—the look he's giving me says this, "Beg you pardon?". And the other one (the brunette) is giving me a questionable look. "You guys can have the rest of my coins. Here." I hold my coins out for them to take.

Their face expressions don't change.

"Christopher and Eddie, I know the girl's hot. But take the damn coins before she takes them back. I'm not giving you guys any more free coins." Fern shouts from the counter.

The brunette takes the coins from my hands, and before heading towards one of the arcade machines, they both don't fail to thank me.

"You didn't have to give those shitheads the rest of your coins," Fern tells me. I watch the boys play on their game for a bit, and going over to the counter—the one Fern is tending to—I don't even try to defend my actions. Besides, I was losing every arcade game in here and I was tired of seeing the word LOSER.

I shrug. "Where's Brolin," I ask, casually looking around. I haven't seen him since we first walked in here and he'd introduced me to his cousin Fern.

"He's changing," he tells me, shifting his eyes towards the back where the bathrooms are.

I nod. I forgot to ask Brolin, what was on his shirt, but I decided not to. It didn't look disgusting or anything, I just didn't want to hear more about his bad morning. I mean that stain didn't just appear out of no where.

"Which school did you attend?" I ask Fern, trying to make small talk. I know he's graduated.

"War-zone high. What about you?" I throw him a knowing grin. He's an alumni of Warner High. War-zone high is a nickname that either our rival school Wayward likes to give us (because of the assholes that go my school, and the fact there was some gang conflict in the 80s, that resulted in two people's deaths).

I think the name fits.

"Warner," I simply answer, then I reconsider and move my head to the side. "Or War-zone high."

He eyes me for a minute. Not in a "checking me out" kind of way, more so in a way that's telling me he sees through my bullshit. Brolin must've told him that I was 21.

"You still go to Warner, don't you?" he says.

I nod. "Yeah, but just don't say any—"

"Say, what?"

I freeze.

Brolin stands beside me clad in his changed clothes; a green Graphic T, jeans, and some converse. He gives both me and his cousin a curious glance. I try to play coy, which kind of works. But the way I'm doing it, makes it seem like I'm flirting or really hiding something.

Fern is having a hard time containing his laughter, knowing plain well I'm not convincing anybody.

I flush.

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