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Harry lugged his heavy rucksack to a quiet corner of the school playground. It was an area that teachers never visited and this is why he had chosen it.
Harry was a smuggler, an arms dealer even. At least, that’s the way he liked to think of it in his young teenage mind. In a different time or place he might have been a target for bullies or a loner with no hopes of enjoying school, but he seized the opportunity when it came and never looked back.
Little by little the other children came to him and he would hand out the goods in exchange for money. It was tough working alone, he had to watch his back all the time, but the other kids knew what was good for them and would have raised the alarm if any teachers walked within eyesight of these underhand dealings.
The bullies always came first, but they knew the rules and, even with their rebellious natures, they made way for preferential customers. Such was Harry’s power over them. He helped them in return by keeping some of the heat off their activities, but never intentionally. He always remembered where he could have been without this business and where he could still be if it was all taken away.
On this particular day it almost was. A call rang out from one of his customers; a teacher was heading their way! He must have seen the queue and got suspicious. Damn! He stuffed everything back in the bag, but some of the loose coins were scattered on the ground. Too late to pick them up, Harry quickly looked for any evidence of his activities. Not finding anything, he turned and walked swiftly away from the bench where his business was conducted.
The teacher, Mr Henderson, arrived just to see a few kids milling around by the bench. He spotted the coins and asked a small kid what had been going on. Harry gritted his teeth as he looked on from a distance. He could never be sure that the smaller kids would hold out against a teacher.
“Sorry sir.” Said the kid. “We were turning each other upside down and all my change fell out.”
The teacher looked at the kid, sizing up his excuse, then at the kid next to him with his shirt hanging out and grass stains on his trousers. “You’d better pick it up then.” He paused for a moment. “That’s an awful lot of money to be carrying around at school, isn’t it?”
Harry could see the kid think hard. He crossed his fingers.
“My mum wanted me to buy some birthday cards on the way home. Sir.” Said the kid, looking for a reaction.
It seemed to satisfy Mr Henderson and he walked away.
Harry let the kid keep the change. It was worth it. He’d made a good profit today anyway and his chance of making another one tomorrow was safe.
He daydreamed about being asked about his success in later years. They would ask “Is there anyone who you’d attribute your success to?” and he’d say “Yes. There is one man. Someone who made it all possible.” Getting out his rucksack and checking the contents he pulled out a cold chip and popped it in his mouth. “Thanks Jamie Oliver.”
Harry was a smuggler, an arms dealer even. At least, that’s the way he liked to think of it in his young teenage mind. In a different time or place he might have been a target for bullies or a loner with no hopes of enjoying school, but he seized the opportunity when it came and never looked back.
Little by little the other children came to him and he would hand out the goods in exchange for money. It was tough working alone, he had to watch his back all the time, but the other kids knew what was good for them and would have raised the alarm if any teachers walked within eyesight of these underhand dealings.
The bullies always came first, but they knew the rules and, even with their rebellious natures, they made way for preferential customers. Such was Harry’s power over them. He helped them in return by keeping some of the heat off their activities, but never intentionally. He always remembered where he could have been without this business and where he could still be if it was all taken away.
On this particular day it almost was. A call rang out from one of his customers; a teacher was heading their way! He must have seen the queue and got suspicious. Damn! He stuffed everything back in the bag, but some of the loose coins were scattered on the ground. Too late to pick them up, Harry quickly looked for any evidence of his activities. Not finding anything, he turned and walked swiftly away from the bench where his business was conducted.
The teacher, Mr Henderson, arrived just to see a few kids milling around by the bench. He spotted the coins and asked a small kid what had been going on. Harry gritted his teeth as he looked on from a distance. He could never be sure that the smaller kids would hold out against a teacher.
“Sorry sir.” Said the kid. “We were turning each other upside down and all my change fell out.”
The teacher looked at the kid, sizing up his excuse, then at the kid next to him with his shirt hanging out and grass stains on his trousers. “You’d better pick it up then.” He paused for a moment. “That’s an awful lot of money to be carrying around at school, isn’t it?”
Harry could see the kid think hard. He crossed his fingers.
“My mum wanted me to buy some birthday cards on the way home. Sir.” Said the kid, looking for a reaction.
It seemed to satisfy Mr Henderson and he walked away.
Harry let the kid keep the change. It was worth it. He’d made a good profit today anyway and his chance of making another one tomorrow was safe.
He daydreamed about being asked about his success in later years. They would ask “Is there anyone who you’d attribute your success to?” and he’d say “Yes. There is one man. Someone who made it all possible.” Getting out his rucksack and checking the contents he pulled out a cold chip and popped it in his mouth. “Thanks Jamie Oliver.”
Good stuff.
I would say something else but tnc beat me to it.
I would say something else but tnc beat me to it.
Haha, brilliant!
It was pretty simple, but worked well and actually held my attention.
The twist made it, but even without that it would have still been able to hold it's own as a well-constructed short story.
It's got the added bonus of being pretty much exactly what this SSC requires, short, sharp and to the point.
Unless of course, RO misses the reference or something similiar. Oh yes, I AM bitter about him not guessing my story's direction, but then I suppose it was a bit obscure..
anyway, good stuff
It was pretty simple, but worked well and actually held my attention.
The twist made it, but even without that it would have still been able to hold it's own as a well-constructed short story.
It's got the added bonus of being pretty much exactly what this SSC requires, short, sharp and to the point.
Unless of course, RO misses the reference or something similiar. Oh yes, I AM bitter about him not guessing my story's direction, but then I suppose it was a bit obscure..
anyway, good stuff
Harry lugged his heavy rucksack to a quiet corner of the school playground. It was an area that teachers never visited and this is why he had chosen it.
Harry was a smuggler, an arms dealer even. At least, that’s the way he liked to think of it in his young teenage mind. In a different time or place he might have been a target for bullies or a loner with no hopes of enjoying school, but he seized the opportunity when it came and never looked back.
Little by little the other children came to him and he would hand out the goods in exchange for money. It was tough working alone, he had to watch his back all the time, but the other kids knew what was good for them and would have raised the alarm if any teachers walked within eyesight of these underhand dealings.
The bullies always came first, but they knew the rules and, even with their rebellious natures, they made way for preferential customers. Such was Harry’s power over them. He helped them in return by keeping some of the heat off their activities, but never intentionally. He always remembered where he could have been without this business and where he could still be if it was all taken away.
On this particular day it almost was. A call rang out from one of his customers; a teacher was heading their way! He must have seen the queue and got suspicious. Damn! He stuffed everything back in the bag, but some of the loose coins were scattered on the ground. Too late to pick them up, Harry quickly looked for any evidence of his activities. Not finding anything, he turned and walked swiftly away from the bench where his business was conducted.
The teacher, Mr Henderson, arrived just to see a few kids milling around by the bench. He spotted the coins and asked a small kid what had been going on. Harry gritted his teeth as he looked on from a distance. He could never be sure that the smaller kids would hold out against a teacher.
“Sorry sir.” Said the kid. “We were turning each other upside down and all my change fell out.”
The teacher looked at the kid, sizing up his excuse, then at the kid next to him with his shirt hanging out and grass stains on his trousers. “You’d better pick it up then.” He paused for a moment. “That’s an awful lot of money to be carrying around at school, isn’t it?”
Harry could see the kid think hard. He crossed his fingers.
“My mum wanted me to buy some birthday cards on the way home. Sir.” Said the kid, looking for a reaction.
It seemed to satisfy Mr Henderson and he walked away.
Harry let the kid keep the change. It was worth it. He’d made a good profit today anyway and his chance of making another one tomorrow was safe.
He daydreamed about being asked about his success in later years. They would ask “Is there anyone who you’d attribute your success to?” and he’d say “Yes. There is one man. Someone who made it all possible.” Getting out his rucksack and checking the contents he pulled out a cold chip and popped it in his mouth. “Thanks Jamie Oliver.”
Harry was a smuggler, an arms dealer even. At least, that’s the way he liked to think of it in his young teenage mind. In a different time or place he might have been a target for bullies or a loner with no hopes of enjoying school, but he seized the opportunity when it came and never looked back.
Little by little the other children came to him and he would hand out the goods in exchange for money. It was tough working alone, he had to watch his back all the time, but the other kids knew what was good for them and would have raised the alarm if any teachers walked within eyesight of these underhand dealings.
The bullies always came first, but they knew the rules and, even with their rebellious natures, they made way for preferential customers. Such was Harry’s power over them. He helped them in return by keeping some of the heat off their activities, but never intentionally. He always remembered where he could have been without this business and where he could still be if it was all taken away.
On this particular day it almost was. A call rang out from one of his customers; a teacher was heading their way! He must have seen the queue and got suspicious. Damn! He stuffed everything back in the bag, but some of the loose coins were scattered on the ground. Too late to pick them up, Harry quickly looked for any evidence of his activities. Not finding anything, he turned and walked swiftly away from the bench where his business was conducted.
The teacher, Mr Henderson, arrived just to see a few kids milling around by the bench. He spotted the coins and asked a small kid what had been going on. Harry gritted his teeth as he looked on from a distance. He could never be sure that the smaller kids would hold out against a teacher.
“Sorry sir.” Said the kid. “We were turning each other upside down and all my change fell out.”
The teacher looked at the kid, sizing up his excuse, then at the kid next to him with his shirt hanging out and grass stains on his trousers. “You’d better pick it up then.” He paused for a moment. “That’s an awful lot of money to be carrying around at school, isn’t it?”
Harry could see the kid think hard. He crossed his fingers.
“My mum wanted me to buy some birthday cards on the way home. Sir.” Said the kid, looking for a reaction.
It seemed to satisfy Mr Henderson and he walked away.
Harry let the kid keep the change. It was worth it. He’d made a good profit today anyway and his chance of making another one tomorrow was safe.
He daydreamed about being asked about his success in later years. They would ask “Is there anyone who you’d attribute your success to?” and he’d say “Yes. There is one man. Someone who made it all possible.” Getting out his rucksack and checking the contents he pulled out a cold chip and popped it in his mouth. “Thanks Jamie Oliver.”