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temperature had dropped, and a wind was up from the sea.
They spent their last money on a hot dog and orange drink that they shared,
standing in the mouth of an alley—two ragamuffins. An occasional
passerby stared at them. They looked forlorn and began to feel so.
    “Let’s turn ourselves in,”
Sammy said. “I’m tired and hungry.”
    “Not me,” Alex said.
“They’ve got to catch me.”
    Sammy’s face screwed up, close to
tears. “It isn’t fun anymore,” he said. “It’s
going to be cold tonight.”
    Alex felt hot anger. “You wanted to run
away yesterday morning. You wanted to steal that knife. Go if you want to. You
can turn yourself in.”
    Sammy hesitated, and Alex turned into the
darkness of the alley. It was the way back to the bicycles. Seconds later Alex
heard running footsteps as Sammy caught up with him.
    On the coast highway the white brilliance of
the headlights flashed across the two boys on bicycles. The wind of passing
vehicles beat upon them. About five miles outside of Long Beach Alex saw
the small grocery store, on the seaward side of the highway. There was a small
frame bungalow across a driveway from it but the mingling roar of the highway
and the nearby surf would erase any sound. The bungalow’s lights were
out, and there was no car in the driveway.
    The idea of breaking into the store came
full-blown to Alex. He turned into the driveway and Sammy followed. They were
in the dark shadow of the store wall.
    “What’d you stop for?”
Sammy asked.
    “You’re hungry, aren’t
you?”
    “Sure I’m hungry.”
    “There’s some food in here.
We’re gonna break in and get it.”
    “Oh, man, that’s really serious.
If they catch us—”
    “Shut up, dammit! Turn yourself in if
you can’t take it.”
    Head bowed, Sammy followed Alex. They went to
the rear and found a door that was half glass. The lock could be opened by hand
from the inside. “Find a rock,” Alex said, excitement beginning to
pound in his throat as he bent over the moon-whitened ground, the dirt mingled
with sand. The beach was only a few feet away, and beyond that the ocean glistened silver and black. The boys were shadows. Alex found
a small piece of concrete and told Sammy, “Go out front and see if you
hear anything. Keep a lookout until I call you.
    Sammy disappeared down the driveway. Alex
waited a minute, then stood a couple of feet from the door and hurled the
concrete through the glass. The velocity punched a hole slightly larger than
the missile itself. The rock rattled around inside for a second after the
tinkling glass was silent. Alex had ducked around the corner of the building,
heart pounding, his ears tuned to hear any sound breaking the rhythm of the
night.
    Nothing had changed; nobody had been aroused.
He reached through the hole and unfastened the lock, then pushed the door open.
He was in a small storeroom, and a lighter shadow ahead indicated an arch.
Through the front window he could see the passing traffic and make out
silhouettes against the background of the lights. He went and got Sammy.
    “What if somebody comes?” Sammy
said as they entered again.
    “Nobody’s coming. Get some
snacks.”
    “Where are they?”
    “Probably by the
counter.”
    “This is robbery. They’ll really
send us to reform school if they catch us.”
    “Catch us! Catch us! You’re
always scared. You shouldn’t have run away if you’re so
chicken.”
    “This isn’t stealing small
stuff.”
    For a few minutes they were furtive, and then
they became confident.
    In the meat locker they found wieners roped
together and took a long strand. Alex opened a quart of chocolate milk, guzzled
part of it, and spilled the rest on the floor. He took several raw eggs and
hurled them up against the wall. But it was not his nature to take pleasure in
vandalism, and he was immediately sorry.
    Sammy was gathering packages of bologna and
several loaves of bread. He took quarts of milk and large bottles of root beer
and