Annie On Writing

June 22, 2016

Caroom by E. W. Farnsworth.

Filed under: Writing Tools — Annie Evett @ 1:00 am
“Caroom!” Randy Morley shouted.
With his clear bag of recyclables, the boy roller-boarded across Baseline before the yellow light turned red.
He kicked up onto the pavement and stood tall while he sailed down to the mall scanning the area for bottles, cans and whatnot along the path.
On a good day Randy collected a hundred aluminum cans, netting him five dollars, but for him the money was not as important as the game. He had fierce competition, particularly from Sam the bone-thin rag picker and Caramia the raging torch-haired teen.
Ahead pushing his overflowing shopping cart was Sam, inching forward, his laser eyes focusing on the minutiae most mall denizens missed: the baseball card peeking out from a trash receptacle or the penny whose edge shone at the edge of the grass.
“Hey, Sam!” the roller-boarder cried in cheerful greeting.
The rag picker paid him no attention. He kneeled to pick up a few pearls from huge cracks in the sidewalk.
“Hey, Randy!” Caramia sang out ironically in response to Randy’s greeting.
Her board slipped right in front of him, missing his board by less than an inch. She laughed raucously and held high a red T-shirt. “What do you think?” she asked him.
“Goes with your hair, Caramia. Try it on?”
She did not slow down but pulled on the shirt as she flew hopping down the risers. Her red gorgon’s hair flowed behind her in locks like snakes. She easily stood a head taller than Randy even off her board.
Randy stopped to pick up two cans and a bottle. He deposited them in his bulging bag, which he swung over his shoulder. He stepped back on his board to shove off.
Ahead Caramia had stopped to talk and laugh with a tween with matted hair. Across the back of Caramia’s T-shirt Randy made out the words, “THE SAME TO YOU!” Below was an enormous hand with one raised finger.
As he zipped by her, Randy whispered, “Cool shirt!”
She smiled, “Up yours too! Hey, watch out!”
Randy looked around too late and crashed into a pair of running men. He skinned both knees and felt lucky. The men rolled on the ground in pain.
Among the littered bottles and cans that had gone down with Randy were jewels and coins the like of which Randy and Caramia had never seen in the mall outside jewelry stores.
The mall policeman, who had been pursuing the two men, shook his head.
“Nice tackle, kid! Now stand back while I take care of these thieves.”
The cop handcuffed both men to a bench. He got on his hands and knees to pick up the stolen jewels and coins.
“Kid, can I borrow one of your bags for their loot?”
Randy scrambled to find a bag with a solid bottom. He handed it to the officer.
Caramia asked, “Do you want us to help you search?”
“You’d better just stay clear. I don’t want you to be accused of taking any of the stolen goods even accidentally.”
“Those are my bottles and cans, officer,” Randy exclaimed.
“Don’t worry. Once I’ve completed my search, you can pick up whatever remains.”
The officer continued picking up the loot. He kept glancing at his prisoners to be sure they were still on the bench.
The bearded jeweler who had been robbed came over and watched the officer working. He knew he could not pick up his property as the jewels and coins were now evidence. He shook his head and glared at the thieves.
When he had finished picking up the loot, the officer took the thieves and the evidence away. The jeweler followed them.
Randy and Caramia picked up the bottles and cans and placed them back in Randy’s clear bag.
Sam wandered by and spotted a gleam in the cracks of the pavement. He stooped and pulled out a stone. When he held it to the sun, the stone sparkled.
“That’s a diamond!” Caramia shrieked.
Sam coolly reached in his pocket and fetched out a jeweler’s loupe. He examined the stone. “It’s costume jewelry made of paste.”
Randy said, “Maybe you should take it to the mall police in case it’s evidence.”
Sam put the stone on the ground and ran his shopping cart over the stone, shattering it. “See? It’s costume jewelry.”
“Why do you carry that eyepiece?” Caramia asked.
Sam laughed. “Because one day I’ll find a real diamond. My Dad’s in the trade.” Then he inched forward, scanning.

1 Comment »

  1. Sam seems a bit suspicious to me. Perhaps he was casing the joint!


    Comment by ganymeder — June 27, 2016 @ 8:07 pm | Reply

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

Say something constructive... or nice at least.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at

%d bloggers like this: