Play With Me

leg. People surrounded us like this was a stupid
carnival, only they all had the same judging look in their eyes. Heck, they’d
caged me in. My stomach slid to my feet. No chance of escape.
    Oh dear Lord, I
was in deep shit.
    The tall officer
ripped my raggedy backpack from my shoulders before he shoved me to the
pavement. He dug his knee into my spine.
    Brilliant. Just the position I always wanted to be in.
    I thought my
shoulders would pop out of their sockets when he wrenched my hands behind me.
Cold metal closed around my wrists. The ominous click of the cuffs resonated in
my ears, sending a red haze of hysteria through my head. Oh please, not again.
    Debby’s first
rule when caught shoplifting: deny everything.
    Swallowing hard,
I gathered what was left of my courage. “Leave me alone!” The words were
muffled with my cheek grinding painfully against the pavement. “I did nothing
wrong!”
    My long hair
caught in his hand as the officer yanked me up. I winced. This was going to end
nastily. I needed a Plan B. Fast.
    The officer
named Riley rummaged through my backpack. Then he laughed harshly. “Of course
you didn’t do anything, kid. Let me guess, you’re a kleptomaniac, and you’ve a
medical certificate for legal pilfering in London?”
    Making fun of
me ?
    Debby had also
taught me not to show fear in these moments. And she’d taught me well. I stuck
out my chin. These jerks wouldn’t get the best of me. “Take off the shackles
and I’ll fucking klepto your balls!”
    “Watch your
tongue, Missy. You’re in no position to threaten a police officer.” Riley gave
me a hard stare. “Is this your backpack?”
    I returned his
glare with a snarl and exhaled loudly. “Nope. Never seen it before.”
    “Ah, that’s
funny. Because in it there is an identification card from the Westminster
Children’s Home, which coincidentally holds your picture.” He held up the ID,
grinning broadly. If he moved his hand an inch closer, he could’ve shoved the
small yellow card up my nose.
    “I lost my
wallet last week. Someone obviously found it.” I fought to keep my expression
neutral.
    “Of course. And
that person forced this bag on you then. Oh, and the sales lady stuffed this—”
He pulled out the purple sweater and dangled it in front of me. “—into the
backpack as you walked by her shop, right?”
    I stared him
straight in the eye and cocked a brow. “Shit happens.”
    The tall man
behind me grabbed my shoulder and shook me. “That’s enough. You’re coming with
us.”
    He pushed me forward.
I cast a sneer over my shoulder. “How could I ever resist when you beg so
nicely, Officer?”
    The muscle on
Riley’s jaw ticked, but he restrained from speaking. His grip on my arm
tightened as he led me out of the market. Shaken, I walked alongside the
officers with my gaze on the ground to avoid the curious stares of pedestrians.
Their stares tormented me more than the steel cuffs cutting into my wrists.
    Across the
street from the patrol car, Debby- the-bitch -Westwood lurked in the
doorway of a dirty gray house, with a snide gleam in her eyes. I stopped short,
my anger heating my blood. “I hope you’re happy now!” I jerked my arm free from
the officer and marched forward.
    But Debby
disappeared even before the bobby grabbed me again and pulled me back to the
car. “This one’s mental,” he whispered to Riley.
    Bearing down on
my molars until my jaw hurt, I scowled at the two men.
    The taller
officer shoved me into the backseat and slammed the door shut. My body shook as
the truth of my situation washed over me.
    The officers
climbed into the front seat. My gaze hardened once more as Riley inched the car
into London’s traffic. “I always wonder what drives kids like you to steal.”
The tall one curled his lips as he glowered at me through the cage partition.
“Doesn’t the system provide you with all the luxury you need?”
    I gathered my
saliva to make a good spit at him. But that wouldn’t exactly help my situation,
so I struggled to swallow my anger along with the phlegm. He wasn’t the only
one in London who rated homeless children as lower than dirt.
    “I get a kick
out of riding in police cars,” I replied, my tone dripping saccharin sweetness.
“It’s always the highlight of my week.” The steel around my wrists dug
uncomfortably into my back. I shifted a few times, ending up propped against
the door with my legs pulled to my chest and my dirty boots resting on