Truth and Lies by Norah McClintock

toppled it. Sour keys spilled out all over the floor. Vin muttered something, then shoved open the door. The three smallerboys set down their bags and edged toward it too. As soon as they were close enough, they darted through it. Mr. Kiros charged the door to try to catch them. He’d decided that they were all thieves. But he lost his footing on all the sour keys on the floor and buckled to his knees. When he stood up again, slapping at his pants to get the dust and sugar off, he turned on me.
    â€œThat boy,” he said, “you know him?”
    â€œYeah,” I said. Jeez, they should have some kind of rule: if you’re going to run a candy store, you should at least have to pretend that you like kids. “He’s a friend of mine.”
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    I opened my mouth to answer, but something about the question bothered me. So instead I said, “Why?”
    â€œHe stole from me.”
    â€œNo he didn’t.”
    â€œI told him, empty your pockets, and what does he do? Talks to me with no respect—did you
hear
what he said to me? Then he runs away.” He held up the package of candy cigarettes he had taken from Vin. “What’s his name?”
    â€œHe didn’t steal anything,” I said. “He paid for those.”
    Mr. Kiros’s eyes narrowed. “What’s his name?” he said again, only this time his voice was low, like a growl, like if I didn’t tell him, he was going to bite me or something.
    â€œNo way,” I said. “He didn’t steal anything. He paid for that candy.”
    Mr. Kiros went stiff all over. His chin jutted out as he glowered at me. His face got all red. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. He reminded me of a little kid holding his breath until he got his way.
He’s waiting
, I realized.
Waiting for me to give up my friend for something he didn’t even do. Well, forget it
. I stood behind the counter where the cash register was, looking right back at him. Vin hadn’t done anything wrong. Neither had I.
    Mr. Kiros must have calmed down a little because he started breathing again, big, even breaths. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I thought. It looked as if he might be willing to listen to what I was saying.
    â€œYou’re fired,” he said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œEmpty your pockets,” Mr. Kiros said.
    â€œNow you think
I’m
stealing from you?” I couldn’t believe it. I had been working for Mr. Kiros for nearly a month. I always showed up on time. I always stayed later than I was supposed to. And now he was accusing
me
of being a thief?
    â€œYou kids,” Mr. Kiros said. “You all think you’re smarter than everyone else. You think I don’t check things? You think I don’t know that there’s a discrepancy between inventory and the cash you take in? How many of your friends come in here?”
    He
was
accusing me of stealing from him—or at least of helping my friends to steal.
    â€œIt’s not me,” I said. “What about that kid of yours?He comes in every day and takes a couple of dollars, worth of stuff. And what about your wife? She works here more hours than I do. Maybe she—”
    Mr. Kiros could move fast for a big man. One second he was standing in front of a row of bins. The next second he was in my face, grabbing me by the arm, dragging me out from behind the counter, his hands plunging into the pockets of my jacket, then grabbing at my backpack and unzipping it and dumping everything out, spilling out my binder and pens and some homework notes. He pawed through everything while I stood there, too stunned to do anything except watch. When he didn’t find anything, he shoved all of my stuff back in the backpack and thrust it at me. He didn’t say he was sorry for accusing me of something I hadn’t done—not that I would have accepted an apology.
    I zipped up my backpack and shouldered it.