The Little Boy

(A second attempt to short story writing.)

Wendell was aboard a passenger’s jeep that early morning of June 1. She was on her way to the university. For the first time, she will be earlier than her buddy, Eileen.

Lola Abbey gave her this morning an 18K gold necklace with a shimmering crucifix pendant made of gold, too. She was a favorite. Wendell knew it. No apo was doted like her. She felt blessed being treated that way.

As the jeepney started rolling slowly, a little boy, barefooted, dressed in what seemed like rags and oversized clothing, jumped aboard holding onto the jeepney’s railing. Everybody inside the jeep almost shouted. Their stomach heaved at the sight of the little boy hanging on the jeepney’s railings. “Hey, little boy! You might fall. Come inside!” an elderly man said to the boy. The little boy just smiled showing his teeth with cavities, but looking stonily at Wendell, who was seated just next to the railing.

Another woman coaxed the little boy, “Little boy, come inside. I have food for you.” At an instant, without warning, the little boy grabbed the necklace from Wendell with his right hand, and slipped from the jeepney, which was moving faster now, unscathed. He then raised his hand with the necklace like that of a trophy being awarded to a winner, and zigzagged across the street, sidestepping among the vehicles that were racing on that highway.

Wendell was shocked, and so were the other passengers, too. Regaining from it, she shouted with all her might, “Hey, give me that! Give me back my necklace!” She continued shouting though the boy was nowhere in sight already. Then a passenger beside tried to comfort her and told her it was all right. “Anyway,” said the woman, “it could be replaced anytime.” To which Wendell cried the more saying, “But it was my Lola Abbey’s gift to me. She had given it to me this morning.” “We can’t do anything about it anymore, Miss,” a younger man stressed, ”Those kids are street smart. We can never find him anywhere. Just tell your grandma that it was snatched from you. It is not your fault.”

The whole day was like a day of mourning for Wendell. Her Lola Abbey was very kind enough to understand when she learned of the upsetting incident. She told Wendell it was not her fault and pacified her with a hug and a pat on her shoulder.

A month had passed and it was like Wendell had forgotten about that ill-fated day. She had to buy a Bible at a store along the boulevard. When she reached the intersection where her necklace was snatched, she boarded off the jeepney and trailed a narrow street to the store. Her eyes slit like that of a cat’s upon seeing a familiar figure along the narrow street. There among a crowd of street children was the same little boy who took her necklace. He was still wearing the same oversized pair of clothing, the neckline of the shirt hanging loose on one of his shoulders this time. He was frolicking with the other little boys, talking incomprehensibly, like a drunken man, only that he was just a little boy.

Wendell walked briskly towards the little boy when suddenly a yell from a woman ensued. “Alonto!” cried the untidy, squattish woman addressing the little boy. The little boy suddenly stopped as if expecting something from the woman. His expectation came as a forceful rap on his head landed. “What is it, ‘Nay?” touching the portion of the head that received the abuse. “Where are your earnings?” The little boy scratched his head then replied, “E, ‘Nay, I was not able to find, e..” To which he received a more forceful rap on his head again. “How will you find money if you are here playing? Hah? Move! We have nothing to eat for supper!”

Alonto passed by where Wendell was. He did not even remember Wendell. He walks scratching his head, looking more like perplexed than worried. He looked thinner and his eyes were hollow. His cheekbones are more prominent than anything in his face and the lips are very pale.

A tear fell from Wendell’s face. The necklace’s worth is nothing compared to the loss of this boy’s youth.