Imagine That: Eyeball

"What a wimp!"

That stung. Of all people, I had to have Cropper's respect. He was older than me, and cooler. He knew how to push bad manners to the limit and get away with it. He had the teachers round his little finger. I admired him for that.

We came to the entrance to a mall. Cropper took my arm and steered me in. The noise of the street disappeared. There was soft music playing, and crowds of people moving about. I resisted Cropper all the way through the mall as far as the flea market.

"This would be a good spot," whispered Cropper "There's loads of stuff here. All small. No-one'd notice if you took a ring or something!"

"I'm not doing it." I said weakly.

"Come on," said Cropper, ignoring me.

We went about the tables and racks, pretending to be interested customers. The people behind the makeshift tables eyed us coldly. They were bored. They would be there all day, and sell only one or two things. They knew two boys wouldn't buy anything.

We came to a table that was festooned with trinkets and ornaments. They were all made out of wire, or cardboard. A large woman sat on a small chair and watched us. She smiled slightly and opened her eyes wide. They were like two green lakes. I had never seen eyes like that before. They reminded me of the story about the tinderbox. There were three dogs, which all came when the box was struck. They all had with huge eyes.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"No, thanks," said Cropper with a false smile.

The woman closed her eyes to slits so only a sliver of emerald showed.

"I may be able to help you," she said softly.

Cropper picked up two things from the table and looked at them. He put one back and moved on. It was done so well I hardly noticed it. He was a real professional! We moved slowly and casually to the entrance to the shop and merged with the other pedestrians.

"There you go!" said Cropper.

He opened his palm to show me what he'd stolen. It was a box. A match box. It wasn't even painted or decorated.