My arch-rival, Cassie, left her sweater on the back of a chair in an empty classroom. It was a well-made wool cardigan, in the style that was popular that year, with an Inca-inspired pattern knitted into the back and sides. I wanted one, but the price was beyond my clothing allowance. Of course, Cassie would have one; somehow, she always had whatever I wanted, from perfect hair, to the teacher’s praise, to my now ex-boyfriend.
Classes were over for the day, and there was almost no foot traffic in the hallways. I picked up Cassie’s sweater, knowing that if I stole it, I’d never be able to wear such a recognizable item. I could take it upstairs to the Administrative Office and turn it in as lost and found. Instead, I carried it into the restroom. Ready to dash into a stall if someone came in, I tried it on and gave myself a whirl in the mirror. It felt solid and looked great. I could imagine how much fun I'd have in that sweater, with all the admiring eyes on me, and I was a little bit sad when I stuffed it into the trash can.
R.K. West is a co-editor of Sudden Flash.
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