"Put your hands where I can see 'em, Kid."

I turned around, slowly raising my arms above my head. "Is there a problem, Officer?"

"You tell me," the LAPD officer snapped. "The jewelry store clerk just saw a teenage girl matching your description walk out with a pair of diamond earrings."

I widened my eyes in innocent surprise at the middle aged cop. "Well, were the earrings locked up? Sounds to me like that was the store's fault."

"Alright, Smart Alec," The cop glowered, "empty your pockets."

I nodded and thrust my hand in my front pocket. I pulled out the earrings and then threw them in the bushes.

The distraction worked. The cop dove for the jewelry as I made a break for it.

"I need backup!" I heard him shout into his radio as I tore off down the street.

My feet slapped against the cracked pavement. I suppressed a smile as the warm Los Angeles wind blew in my face. It was strange how even this close to capture I felt so free.

I looked behind me, where the officer was at least twenty yards away, puffing as he struggled to keep up. I waved at him, then slipped into an alley. I wasn't far from home. What a perfect note to end the day on.

I took a couple turns and slowed my pace. There was no way he'd ever find me now. As I walked leisurely down the street I reached into my other pocket and pulled out the matching diamond necklace.

Oh, Rosie, you bad girl, I thought, examining the silver design encasing the large stone set into the necklace's center.

This might even please Mom.

I pictured the corners of Mom's thin lips lifting into a cruel smile.

"Good job, Rosie. You might just be useful after all."

My heart swelled with pride.

I pulled the hood of my black sweatshirt over my head, covering my blonde hair. I let the ends—which were dyed hot pink—poke out a little. I liked the vibe they gave off, like I was untouchable, mysterious.

I turned onto my street, yawning. It had been a long day, and I was excited to show Mom the loot I had procured. A drawstring bag on my back was full of change and trinkets.

"Stop right there!"

I turned in surprise. The cop from earlier was there, surrounded by at least a dozen others.

"Wow," I whistled. "You brought out the whole squad for me? I'm flattered."

Five of the men charged me. I turned on my heel, but ran straight into the arms of an officer I hadn't noticed behind me.

"You're in a lot of trouble, girl," she snarled.

*****

"Are you kidding me?"

Fear gripped my heart at my mom's soft, cold voice on the other end of the phone. I had expected her to yell, to curse, but she was silent except those four words. For some reason that made things all the worse.

"I'm sorry, Mom!" I stumbled over my words. "I didn't mean to get caught—"

"Do you realize you have a record now? How am I supposed to use you when if you get caught again it'll be more than just a slap on the wrist?"

Tears swam in my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Well, have fun." I heard a click as Mom hung up.

A police officer grabbed my arm and led me back to the holding cell. I sat on a cold wooden bench and tried to think.

What would I do now? Mom wasn't going to bail me out. She wanted me to learn my lesson the hard way. Would I go to Juvie?

The door opened, startling me. The new police officer took my arm and led me from the cell.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he led me down a hall.

The officer ignored me.

We finally stopped at an office in the heart of the police station. A plaque on the door read "Chief."

Oh, no.

The officer I was with knocked on the door. The sound startled me. He then opened it and herded me inside.

A middle-aged man sat behind the desk rifling through some papers. The nameplate on his desk read "David Wilson."

"Sit," he said to me, his chocolate-colored eyes not leaving his paperwork.

The officer pushed me into a chair before the desk, then settled himself into the one beside it. His strong hand never left my upper-arm.

After what felt like an eternity, Chief Wilson looked up. He fixed me with a stern stare. I looked into his tan face, trying not to waver.

"Why did you take the necklace and earrings, Rosie?" He asked. It wasn't a harsh demand, only a simple question.

I swallowed. "Because."

"Because why?" He leaned forward in his chair. "Because you're a criminal? You were bored and that was the only way you could think to amuse yourself?"

"No."

"Then tell me why you stole the jewelry."

I looked down at the gray carpet. I couldn't tell him the truth.

Come on, Rosie. I then chided myself. You don't owe this guy anything. He doesn't have to know your business.

I glared up at Chief Wilson, sealing my lips shut.

"Silent treatment, clever." Wilson leaned back in his chair, folding his hands. "I hope you realize, Rosie, that right now I am the only thing standing between you and jail."

Wilson stared at me. I stared back, my resolve strengthening. We stayed locked in that battle for five minutes, before he shrugged.

"Okay." He nodded to the officer still gripping my arm. "Take her back to the holding cell. I'll be calling the Juvenile Detention Center."

"Wait!" I gasped as he reached for the phone next to his two desktop computers on the edge of the desk.

Wilson gave me an innocent smile. "Yes?"

I clenched my teeth. I couldn't tell him why I stole the jewelry. If I threw Mom under the bus she'd kill me.

"Rosie," Wilson looked at me. "I'm sentencing you to six months of community service. Maybe when it's over you'll be more willing to talk."

"Community service doing what?" I asked as the officer stood and yanked me to my feet.

Wilson smiled. "You'll be volunteering at Whistlewood Studios."

*****

I gulped as my house came into view. I felt the eyes of the neighbors as I stepped from the squad car pulled up in front of the most wretched looking trailer in the park.

Picking my way up the sagging front porch steps, I tried to assemble my thoughts.

There were a dozen cops, I rehearsed. There was nothing I could do. I fought as best as I could, but—

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

My blood ran cold. I turned slowly to where my mom sat on the worn couch. The room was dark and the shadows cast around her made her look all the more menacing.

"Mom—"

"Did I not raise you better?" Mom shook her head, her disgust tearing me apart.

"Mom, there was nothing I could do! They—"

"You are an idiot, Rosie." She huffed. "Why did you go for the jewelry store? Of course they would have cameras and sensors! You were asking to be caught shoplifting there."

I looked down. "I-I'm sorry."

"I can't believe I trusted you. You couldn't even do this one simple thing. What is wrong with you?"

"Mom, I don't want to steal," I blurted.

Mom stopped. She looked at me. "Do you not want to live here? Do you not want food? What about those clothes you're wearing? Do you not want them?"

"Mom, please—"

"Rosie, the only way we can stay afloat is if you steal. I don't like relying on you not to mess up any more than you do. That's just the way things have to be." Mom crossed her arms.

"But—"

"Go to your room." She turned away from me, done talking.

I started to retort, then sighed and slouched over to my room—a curtained off section of the living room large enough for a thin mattress sitting atop stacked boxes.

I threw myself upon the makeshift bed.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

How did I let this happen? I wished the cops would have just shot me or something. Then I wouldn't have been able to see the look of anger on Mom' face.

In the other room I heard the sound of my mom opening a can of beer. I sighed. Great. My mistake had triggered her old habit. So much for trying to quit.

I flopped onto my squished pillow. I had to do community service. What would that consist of? Wilson had said I'd be working at Whistlewood Studios. What was that?

With a sigh, I reached over and turned on my thrifted alarm clock, deciding I would go to the library first thing the next morning and look up the studio on the computers. Maybe if I told Mom I had to go to the library for a school assignment or something she wouldn't push me as hard to come back with all the stolen loot I could carry.

Don't be stupid, Rosie. I imagined her snapping. Why would you have homework in the middle of summer?

I lay back onto the mattress, wondering if I would possibly be able to sleep. One thing was for sure, no matter where I carried out my community service it was going to suck.