The Game

There’s a headband made of fake pearls that isn’t where it’s supposed to be. It’s been rejected and hung thoughtlessly beside the earrings, surrounded on either side.

It catches my eye because anything with pearls will do that to me and also because I can’t stand when people put things back in the wrong place. It’s disrespectful, and sometimes it can make The Game harder. It doesn’t take long to find the right place for things, but people just don’t do it because people are lazy. That fact only sometimes works to my advantage, so most of the time it’s aggravating. I pick up the headband and examine it thoughtfully, wondering where I would wear it. Blake’s party is next weekend, but I’d probably lose it at his house considering the amount of tequila I’m planning on drinking that night. On the other hand, having an excuse to go back to Blake’s house after the party would have its own advantages.

I ponder a bit more, tapping the headband in question against my chin as I walk slowly down the remainder of the aisle, examining the earrings and eventually the necklaces. I’d just gotten a cute pair of earrings last week and none of the necklaces are really catching my eye the way the headband has, so I quicken my pace a bit and turn down the next aisle. Another rule of The Game: don’t linger too long.

This next aisle is where the headband should’ve been in the first place, and I smile when I see that the one I hold in my hands seems to be the last of its kind. Not necessarily essential to The Game, but it makes things more enjoyable for me when an item appears unique, even when it’s obviously been mass-produced and the fact that there aren’t many left probably just means a lot of other people have already bought the exact same thing.

It doesn’t matter- I only care about what’s in the store with me in this exact moment. The outside world doesn’t matter much, not when you’re locked into The Game. It’s one of the main reasons I play. After all, Blake can’t have a party every weekend and alcohol always comes with a price-tag in the shape of a heavily pounding skull and the inability to start any of the homework I’d promised Mrs. Benson I would finish on time this week.

But The Game’s only price so far has been an adrenaline rush and the notion that it could be worse if I let it.

It doesn’t sound glamorous to call it 'shoplifting,' and ‘five-finger-discount’ has always just sounded like a particularly unpleasant sexual experience to me, so I’ve taken to calling it The Game. Just in my head though- it’s not a hobby I share with anyone else, and I doubt they’d believe it anyway. I’m too well-behaved.

Essentially that’s all this is, though- a Game. I don’t take anything of value and I’m not really hurting anyone and I know for a fact that the suckers getting paid twelve bucks an hour here don’t care whether one lousy pair of sunglasses goes missing. It’s just a way to keep my fingers busy and my mind engaged, like a high-stakes version of crossword puzzles or Sudoku. We all have to keep our minds sharp in one way or another, and this way’s mine.

I’m out of the hair accessories aisle now and the headband with the pearls has been slipped smoothly into the pocket of my jacket. I’ve learned that it’s a bit like being a magician: you show whoever might be watching (usually the cameras) a distraction from the real Game. You drop something on the ground or you fiddle with a pair of earrings in one hand while the other hand is busy getting the job done. My heart is pounding loud inside my chest the way it always does when I play, and I move slowly and steadily towards the entrance of the store.

This is the part I love best.

The part where I could still undo it.

I could easily place the headband back where it was supposed to be in the first place before someone tossed it in with the earrings. I could browse the store a little, maybe walk out with a new nail polish or one of those face masks I’ve been wanting to try, the ones that don’t torture animals first to make sure the chemicals are safe. I could even pay for the headband with the money in my pocket. But I don’t do any of that.

I walk out the door.

A few paces out to the parking lot is when the adrenaline starts to wear off a little, and that’s simultaneously a relief and a disappointment. It means I’m free of consequence, but it also means that today’s Game is over.

This was a particularly good find. Sometimes I’ll go for something a bit riskier like a shirt or a CD or even a pair of jeans (just once), but today’s token is simple and easy and it’ll look good on me whether or not I hold onto the extra six pounds that have accumulated around my middle over winter break.

I’m walking around the corner and onto a side street now, far enough away that I can pull out the headband and examine it. The pearls don’t look as glossy as they did under the fluorescents and there’s a chip in one of them that I didn’t notice before, but it’s still cute. I’ve decided I’m definitely going to wear it to Blake’s party. I’ll wear it, drink too much tequila, lose it, and then have to go back and find it later. Blake will have to lead me from room to room, exhausted and hungover and maybe wearing that cute, grumpy scowl he always has after they’ve lost a football game. We’ll search between the couch cushions together and I’ll help him clean up some of the leftover beer cans so he’s not quite as grumpy about the whole thing and we’ll actually end up having an okay time stumbling around the house until we finally discover the headband that seems to never be in the place it’s supposed to be.

I’ll thank him so much for helping me and I’ll lean in to give him a little kiss on the cheek and that’ll be where the magic trick happens. I’m not sure exactly what I’m going to take yet, but Blake’s parents are fairly well-off and I’m sure there are things they won’t miss.

Shouldn’t be too hard to find something worth playing for.