A work of flash fiction where an encounter at a confectionary serves as a reminder that honesty still endures in this mixed-up world of ours…
by: Arvilla Fee
His chestnut-brown eyes meet mine as he stands on tiptoe to keep his chin above the counter. I’d seen this kid a handful of times, always with his mom. Neither were ever particularly well dressed, but clean. Impeccably polite. I’d seen him eyeing the plastic bins of bulk candy, the longing so palpable on his face, I was certain he could feel it all the way to his toes. But his mother would always buy him an orange instead. Or a banana. Occasionally an oatmeal cookie. Can’t say that I blamed her. A dollar’s worth of taffy or gummy worms certainly wouldn’t put any meat on the kid’s bones.
Today the kid is alone and slides two pieces of candy towards me — one pack of Smarties and a wrapped Hershey’s Kiss. I smile down at him, noticing the cowlick at the back of his head, which makes his reddish-brown hair stick up like a rooster’s tail.
“Is this all for you?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, standing a little taller.
I ring up the candy. “That will be 40 cents,” I tell him.
He dumps a handful of coins onto the counter, and I count. He has twenty-eight pennies. My heart sinks, but I know what I have to tell him.
“I’m sorry, sir. That’s not quite enough. You need twelve more cents.”
He drops his gaze, digs through his pocket, comes up with lint.
I don’t want to wear the badge of town baddie, but I don’t feel right just giving him the candy. Especially when I know his mom prioritizes healthier options.
“I don’t have more pennies,” he says, hanging his head. Then he glances up, eyes brighter. “What can I do to earn them?” he asks.
I laugh, surprised. “Earn? You mean like work?”
“Yes!”
I scan the inside of my small country store and tap my chin. “Well, let’s see…” My mind runs through the hundred ways this could go wrong: getting sued for violating child labor laws, an angry mom screaming at me, other kids asking me for jobs.
“Hmm. Let’s start with your name and age,” I say.
“Miles. I’ll be nine next month,” he says.
“OK, Miles. Well, first, does your mom know you’re here?”
Miles stiffens but answers honestly. “No.”
“What would she say if she knew you were here buying candy?”
Miles fidgets. “Umm, well. The candy isn’t for me. It’s for my mom.”
I suppress a grin.
Seeing doubt on my face, Miles says, “Honest, ma’am! She’s been sick! When I asked her what would help, she told me probably candy. So I snuck out when she fell asleep and came straight here. These two kinds are her favorites.”
I nod slowly. “I see. Well, you can unload that little box of cups over there. Just place them all in the cup holder. Then you can put a package of straws in the plastic tray. Then hang those bags of chips on that peg. That would earn you 12 pennies.”
Miles’s mouth rounds into an O. “It would?”
I nod, and Miles hustles away, doing the three chores exactly as I’d instructed. A couple other customers come and go, but no one notices — or no one says anything about — the kid putting items away.
When Miles finishes, he returns to the counter. “Is that good?” he asks, motioning to his completed tasks.
I nod, open the register, and count out twelve pennies. “Your wages, sir,” I announce with a slight bow.
Miles giggles and pushes them right back to me. I ring up his candy and place the two pieces in a tiny brown bag. He exits with a hearty thank you and a backward wave.
I shut the register drawer, figuring I’m either the smartest store owner in the world for teaching a kid how to earn money for things he wants to buy or the dumbest store owner for believing the candy is for Mile’s mom.
Two days later, Miles and his mom walk into the store. I feel heat creeping into my cheeks and brace myself for the scolding I know I probably deserve.
The woman approaches and leans across the counter, hand extended. “I’m Gloria,” she says as I stretch out my own hand, and we shake. “Thank you for allowing Miles to earn money for the candy he brought home to me. Honestly, that was the best medicine I’ve ever taken!”
Her laugh is like tiny silver bells, and I laugh with her, relieved that Miles had told the truth — even more relieved that Gloria had not thought me a beast for giving her son chores to earn pennies.
“My pleasure,” I say, my hand now over my heart as I match Miles’s wide grin.
Arvilla Fee, from Ohio, runs her own literary magazine, has been published in numerous presses, and her poetry books, The Human Side, This is Life, Mosaic: A Million Little Pieces, and The Stars Above Us are available on Amazon. Arvilla’s advice: Never travel without snacks. Her website and magazine: https://soulpoetry7.com/.
