Read 90 Packets of Instant Noodles for Free Online Page B

this, and I will.
    I will.
    She’s worth it, man, she is so worth it.
    After I wind down a bit I turn to the little purple present. I pull away the tissue carefully along one end. A stone the size of a twenty-cent coin rolls out, and a tiny gift card. It’s the smoothest pebble, like a river stone. On it is painted the yin–yang symbol in black and white.
    There’s a square of paper with it, which says:

    In Chinese philosophy and art, the yin is the female element and the yang the male element. They are considered to be two halves of a perfect whole; one cannot exist without the other’s balance.
    I read that over before turning to Bella’s card.

    I love this idea about the parts balancing.

    Love, B xx

    â€˜When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.’

    â€”Ralph Waldo Emerson
    I lean back and look at all this stuff in front of me. It all makes sense. It comes down to one thing, really.
    Bella. Bella makes sense to me.

12
    It was never like I was going around snatching old grannies’ handbags or the coin cups out of streetside amputees or anything. No, I only ever did it where it couldn’t touch anyone directly—well, initially that’s how it was—like knock off a bunch of stuff at Coles, or Kmart. It’s not like anyone in particular suffers in gigs like that. These joints are all insured by big companies whose bosses earn a few million a year plus bonuses, so it’s no skin off their noses to lose a few CDs or some fishing gear every now and then. Kmart and places like that are making a rude amount of money, anyway, they’re always boasting about huge profits, so I think they can afford it. Dad spends a couple of hundred bucks a week on groceries and stuff at those places. I reckon Coles and Kmart (probably the same company with different names, anyway) owe me some gear after all that loyal custom. That’s how I rationalised it when things were still relatively simple. It made me feel okay about it.
    The lifting’s so easy it’s laughable. All those scanning thingos at the front of the store don’t make any difference if you know how to handle them. The bottle shop gig was a different story, though.
    It all changed that night with Craggs and Sull—and it was scary, maybe because we did it at night. Late at night, when most people are sleeping. Maybe I should have listened to the fear.
    Things started out okay, but it was the tequila that fucked us up in the end. That stuff wires you. It was like Craggs was on speed or something—hyper, like nothing could ever touch him. I tried to get him to cool down but it was all happening before my eyes. It was like I was on a crazy long conveyer belt that wouldn’t stop; it just kept moving forward, onwards until it had gone too far, until we had crossed a line I had never imagined we’d cross and then it was done. It was done.

13
    When the grog shop alarms go off after about thirty seconds, Craggs feels himself go cold all over, realising how way over their heads they are this time. It had seemed so easy: just go in, get the gear, get out. But it’s chaos, fucking mayhem—the three of them running around grabbing bottles of tequila and cartons of fags like bad guys in a cartoon, but, shit, Craggs thinks, looking at these guys, it’s hardly meant to be an episode of Road Runner . They need to get out of here but he wants to make the whole thing worth the effort. He looks over just as Joel sees the CCTV camera. It’s too late: the kid is staring right at it like a total moron. A stunned mullet. Craggs registers then that this is his last blast. The end of a beautiful thing. He slows down a bit, remembers to grab a bottle of Stoli.
    Finally they load up and split. They drive around the southern suburbs, but it doesn’t matter how far away they go, the alarms are with them all the way. Craggs glances at the back: Joel is lying down. Toughen up, mate , Craggs wants to