Marnie had been in Marks & Spencer for twenty minutes, and the security guards had been following her around for ten.  No matter which aisle she went down, one of them would appear at the end, watching her out of the corner of their eye.  Clearly she was up to no good, and nothing would convince them otherwise.

They’d given special assemblies at school:  There is no official crime called “shoplifting.”  It’s classed as theft, and you’ll be treated like any other thief.  Every other issue of Mizz and Shout had a story about somebody who was cautioned and banned from Woolworths after trying to steal something to give their best friend for her birthday.  Marnie had heard that story so many times that she felt like she’d actually lived it.  Even if you’d never even thought of stealing something, you worried that anything you looked at for too long would just materialise in your bag and incriminate you.        

If those security guards suddenly pounced on her and demanded to know what she was actually going to buy, Marnie didn’t have anything to say that would satisfy them.  What do you mean, you just came in to look at the birthday cake?  No-one just comes in to look at the birthday cakes!  It’s not a bloody art gallery!  Or maybe she could make something up… and have them find her out immediately, because they were trained experts in rooting out the truth and Marnie was bad at lying even at the best of times.          

She gave up.  No more looking around the shops today.  She took an exaggerated step away from the shelves, keen to show the security guards that she hadn’t slipped any of the cake decorations into her pocket, and went off to the exit.  Hopefully they’d let her leave without any fuss.           

In those stories in the magazines, the friend whose birthday it was usually told them she was glad they got caught because she wouldn’t have wanted a stolen present anyway.  Marnie honestly didn’t think she’d care one way or the other.  Presents were presents.

*           

It was Sunday night, which meant that Marnie had to work her way through all seven hours of homework she’d got last week so that her mum could sign her homework diary and she wouldn’t get in trouble tomorrow.  In the next room, her brother was watching King of the Hill.  For the first two hours, Marnie had hoped she’d be finished in time to watch some of it, but now it was pretty clear that she wouldn’t, so she tried not to listen in.  She had to concentrate.            

It had started with the safety poster for Home Ec, which hadn’t been that bad.  Then there had been the worksheet for Geography, with her mum popping in and saying that she was sure Marnie’s teacher would want more detailed sentences than that.  Then the end-of-chapter questions in Science, of which Marnie had understood about one word in every three, which meant that she’d written down complete guesses.  Right now, it was Maths, which wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that there was so much of it.  And after she was done with that, there would be English, IT, History and Music.  Marnie wondered if she’d ever get out of this room.           

Her mum called her a “brinksman,” and said that she really should have made a start on this homework sometime yesterday.  Or even Friday night, when all that knowledge had been fresh in her mind.  Except that nothing felt fresh at the end of a school day.  You felt as if you’d been crumpled up and stamped on.  All you wanted to do was get home and lick your wounds.  Besides, a lot of this stuff wasn’t even due in until Wednesday or Thursday.  If it wasn’t for the homework diary thing, Marnie would have been done hours ago.           

In the next room, the ad break finished and the show started again.  Marnie had to stop listening in.

*           

When Marnie first went outside in the morning, it always felt as if the world was a little more intense than usual.  As if you had to be prepared for attack at all times.  As if the sky itself was bearing down on you.           

At the bus stop, one of the older boys (Marnie wasn’t sure of his name) was examining a new poster on the side of the shelter:

We will not tolerate…

• Racist crime
• Homophobic crime
• Vandalism

“I can understand racist crime,” said the boy with a laugh, “But homophobic crime?  Come on!”

Marnie frowned.  “What’s wrong with ‘homophobic crime’?”

The boy grinned at her, and snapped his fingers.  “Exactly!”

Marnie started to tell the boy that he’d made a mistake, that she hadn’t been agreeing with him, that she’d meant “what’s wrong with them putting the words ‘homophobic crime’ on the poster,” but before she could get more than two or three words out, the bus arrived, and everyone was more focused on cramming themselves through the door.

*

“The homework was quite a mixed bag,” Marnie’s Science teacher told the class, “The highest mark was 80%, and the lowest mark was 47%.  That’s quite a large gulf, and I think it’s indicative of…”

Behind Marnie, Heather Runcorn and her mates broke into giggles.  “Oh my God, what idiot got 47%?”

Marnie was pretty sure she knew what idiot had got 47%, and she was pretty sure that the whole class were going to find out in thirty seconds when the teacher read out everyone’s score.  She swallowed, and tried not to look sick.

*

The food shop down the road had one of those posters that said, “A free ride in a police car for all our shoplifters!”  If Marnie had been in a good mood, she might have smiled at it, but she wasn’t.  What if somebody put something in her bag without her seeing?  Someone from school with a grudge against her, or a total stranger who just wanted to see what would happen?  Or what if she picked up something and just forgot she had it in her hand until she was halfway out of the door?  What then?

Marnie knew what then.  Criminal records.  Juvenile court.  Dirty looks and bans from everything you enjoyed.  A free ride in a police car.  And no matter how hard you tried to keep your wits about you, you knew it could happen at any moment.

*

One evening, Mum took Marnie and her brother out to dinner at the new restaurant by the seafront.  They sat by the big window so they’d have a view of the sea while they ate their meal.  They chatted away, soaking up the atmosphere.  They barely ever got to go out for dinner since Dad had moved out.

But no matter what happened, all Marnie could think of was the big pile of homework that was waiting for her when she got back.

*

Marnie had just turned her bag upside-down on the table when her Geography teacher snarled, “That is it.”

Marnie looked up, confused.

“Every day, I have to deal with one of you crying to me that you’ve ‘lost’ your homework.  Well, I’ve had it.  Get out your homework diary- you’re in detention.”

Later- far too late- Marnie found the worksheet she was supposed to have handed in.  It had slipped to the bottom of her bag and got trapped under a couple of textbooks.  If the teacher had just given her another twenty seconds, she’d have found it.

*

On Saturday, Marnie ended up back in Marks & Spencer again.  She couldn’t help it.  She liked looking at the cakes.

From out of the corner of her eye, she saw a girl about her age in one of the other aisles.  It took her a moment to realise that it was Heather Runcorn, from her Science class.  Marnie was just wondering whether she should go over and say hello (they weren’t friends or anything, but it seemed like the polite thing to do), when she saw Heather take a little box of sweets off the shelf and slip it into her coat pocket.

Almost by instinct, Marnie looked around for the security guards.  No sign of them.  You should find one and report her, she thought, Otherwise, when they catch up with her, they’ll think you were involved.

Marnie stayed put, and watched Heather leave.  It looked like she was heading for the exit.

Go on.  Report her.  Prove to them that not all kids are shoplifters.  Prove to them that you’re good.

Marnie didn’t move.

She laughed when you got 47% that time.  She deserves it.

Marnie counted to a hundred and twenty in her head.  Enough time for Heather to have made her escape.  Enough of a gap that no-one would think they were together.  And then Marnie wandered out of the shop, taking her time and looking at whatever she liked on the way.

And when she got outside, the sky suddenly seemed a whole lot less oppressive.

The End