Never Look Back

• Emily Suffolk, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2013

Running. Breathing. Never looking back. Pushing branches out of his face as he stumbles over tree roots, his feet crunching on the dry leaves that cover the forest floor, but he never stops, always running, never looking back. He can still hear the sirens, and when he closes his eyes, the blue and red lights are still their, as if burnt into the back of his eyelids. His mind wanders back to that conversation, the agreement - “Don’t stop, don’t look back”- and the look on the old shopkeeper’s face as they ran into the shop, knocking displays to the ground. Then he remembers the woman that Mars punched lying unconscious on the ground, and the burly shop assistant punching Mars back. Then there were the police cars, the officers pushing Mercury and Pluto to the ground, handcuffed, and now here he was, running for his life, away from his crime, but still keeping a firm hold on the plastic shopping bag in his hand. The boy swerves around a large tree, and now he can see the sign. ‘Kingsgrove Estate’, it says. The boy vaults over the wall, lands running on the other side, and sprints up the nearest dimly-lit street, heading for one of the many-cloned houses.

The boy sits on his bed, tipping the contents of his bag onto the quilt. He guesses around $30, with some gum packets thrown in for good measure. In the background, he hears the front door open, a low man’s voice and the voice of his mother. His father is home. He tears the wrapper off a gum packet and puts it in his mouth. It tastes good, but doesn’t cure the empty feeling in his stomach. But he is used to that, as he often goes without meals so his mother can eat. Suddenly, his bedroom door opens, and the owner of the man’s voice stands there. It is not his father, but a police constable, and now he can hear his mother’s words, pleading, saying “Don’t take him away”. The boy stands there, unable to defend himself, as the constable takes in the plastic bag, the money and the gum, all the evidence he needs in court lying there in front of him. Stupid, the boy tells himself. That’s what my codename should have been. Not Cupid, but Stupid.