The Choice

"C'mon, Grace! We gotta go now!" I panicked.

"Gimmie a sec," Grace, currently, and slowly, wiping her glistening hands on her pants, and paid little consideration as her smooth, curly, black hair got in her face. Her sleek, Hispanic skin held a sheen of sweat as she panted, money bursting out of her jean pockets. A few quarters, nickels, dimes, and quarters slipped out of her broken pocket. She quickly picked them up and threw them into a flower bed.

As the wailing of alarms and sirens got closer to us and our position, my mind raced for any escape ideas to get us out of the scene of the crime that we had committed, elaborate or simplistic. I knew that none of the police officers would spare us any kindness or help, now that we were sixteen. Our previous crimes paled and fainted in comparison to this one. We had murdered, stolen, and we lied about it. We could be punished to the highest extent of the law. They would arrest us, put us in a cell. They would most likely make sure we never got out. And there was only one way you can't come back to the mortal world.

They would annihilate us and the rest of Dumbeldore's Go-Getters. And they would make us watch them die and suffer.

I climbed on the strong, wooden fence encompassing the lower level of the dead owner's apartment that we had stolen all of the money from and sharply descended immediately. My breath came in short, rapid gasps as I reviewed the area in my head. They had seen through Diane's lies. I had seen her being shoved into a police car. She had her hands in handcuffs, begging and pleading for them to believe her false story that I and Grace had been at the movies. I snorted. We didn't have enough money for a pizza, let alone the movies! Ha! It was full of lies. She had been a disgrace to Dumbeldore's Go-Getters. Hm... we really gotta think of a better name for the gang-

"I'm ready!" Grace shouted cheerfully. "Let's go!" Her pink and black Nike's were tied neatly in a knot, and her hair was re-braided with a hairband. My heart ached for her. She shouldn't have been in the alley that night when she had been kicked out of her house. When she was evicted. She had collapsed on her knees to join the gang. Grace had gotten to live in a home with the others, but she was now a fugitive. An outlaw. She had relied on others to make her decisions. This was her first mission, and I was assigned to go with her. I had been outraged. I had shouted that they would make my life go to waste! I was their best member! I couldn't believe that-

"Carlos, are you alright?" Grace worried. The sirens had nearly cracked my eardrums.

I shook back into actuality. I was escaping a crime scene. I was a wanted fellow. I had to run. "Yes, Grace. I am," My voice was scarcely above a whisper.

"What should I do, then?" she asked.

"Run, Grace. And don't look back," I ordered.

Teardrops welled up in her eyes. "But they'll kill you!" Grace wailed.

"Just go..."

"I can't leave you-"

"JUST GO!" I screamed. I clamped a hand over my mouth, regretting the volume of my voice.

Grace stopped protesting, and then answered softly, "I've never made my own choice before."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Her eyes were puffy from crying. "My parents- or somebody- would tell me what to do, what to wear, what to eat and when to eat it! Today... I just needed to have you by my side."

"And why is that?" I questioned.

"You-you always are the best at being in charge. I know it sounds silly," she confessed. "but I feel lost without you."

I smiled. "Come here..." I enveloped her in a hug. Then my mind snapped back into the present. I grabbed her shoulders. "Let's go."

Grace grinned back. "I'll go first. And we'll go out through the garden."

I mock saluted her. "Aye-aye, captain!"

We both lept over the flower, herb, vine, and vegetable garden, escaping imprisonment, death, and, for Grace at least, made a powerful decision that had decided my fate. And I had lived. At least for now... But we could worry about that later. I collapsed in her arms once we landed in our get-away car, driven by Andrew, the leader and founder of our crime group.

"Hey, Carlos! Hey, Grace!" His sunglasses- he called them "shades"- blocked out the glaring heat rays of the summer sun.

"Hey yourself," Grace smirked. She looked at me joyfully. My smugness had rubbed off on her.

Andrew tipped his sunglasses- sorry, shades- down a tad bit and looked at me. "Seriously, dude? Gotta teach the little lady some sass?"

I laughed and my head flopped over my shoulders. "Andrew, this is too nuts even for you!" It was true. He usually- if he was in a good mood- just ignored us and drove to the hideout. One of the hideouts. I think that he made have gone overboard creating the gang.

"Dude, just drive us home," Grace snapped.

Andrew stopped the car suddenly. He turned around sharply. His usually soft, brown eyes glared at Grace's blue-gray ones.

"What did you say?" he asked- no, demanded Grace.

Grace narrowed her eyes into tiny slits. "I said, 'Dude, drive us home'."

Andrew smiled. "Sure. I like your attitude."

"Thanks, bro."

"Holy mackerel. Carlos, what have you done?" Andrew freaked. He gripped the steering wheel and restarted the red car. At first, I had been worried that the redness of it would attract attention to us, the thing that we wanted the least. But, here in New York City, red cars were as common as neon-yellow cars, neon-purple cars, and cars with gophers driving them!

I shrugged. "I'm just doing what I do best."

Andrew and Grace rolled both of their eyes at the same time. Then Grace spoke. "And that is...?"

"Giving you a feel of what it is like to make your own choices!" I opened my window- a risky move, I know- and stuck my hand out. The warm, still, summertime breeze flowed over and under my hand, dotted with calluses. Grace, when Andrew wasn't looking, whispered in my ear, "Thanks."

"Your welcome," I replied, for the first time in a long while, happily.