Just an Apple

By Molly McTernan

Just one more step. Now nudge your glasses up to appear casual. Smile, and reach behind you…

 “Oy! What are you doing, girl?”

Now run.

I tighten my fingers around the apple before darting from the stand, almost running into another seller while I do so. Why do I always have to make a commotion?

I hear pounding footsteps behind me but shove my glasses farther up my nose instead of turning to look back at my pursuer. There’s no need—I’ve seen enough angry faces before.

I dodge into an alley at the back of the market and flatten myself against the wall. If the seller had followed me this far, he wouldn’t continue past this point. It’s just an apple.

Well, hopefully. In this town, you never know what magical tricks people will play.

After a minute or so, I let myself take a few deep breaths. My tongue plays with the gap in my front teeth while I think about what to do next. After hearing only silence, I peek around the corner, see that the coast is clear, and venture back into the street.

I nod and smile at the different vendors and walk as quickly and inconspicuously away from the market as I can. Humming a catchy tune, I toss the apple back and forth between my hands and try not to think too much about what I just did.

Stealing? Well, yes, I guess it could be called that. But I wasn’t stealing for myself—at least, not this time. The starving woman dressed in rags was going to appreciate this apple more than any shopper ever would.

Snapping out of my revelry, I realize I’ve walked down a side road and am now headed towards the river. As I near the water, I swear the apple is getting hotter in my hand.

Robin Hood did it; why can’t I?

Stepping up near the pebbly bank, I stare at my reflection in the water. Mismatched colored eyes, frizzy hair, and a guilty expression shine back up at me.

When did I become a regular thief? I glance away from my reflection to the apple.

Right now, I’m faced with three options. The first is to bring this apple to the woman. The second is to chuck it as far into this river as I can. The third?

The third is to turn around and go back and… return the apple. I’ve done it before. I stole a book and casually put it back within a few minutes before any customers observed my behavior. The shop owner never noticed it was gone.

If I went back to the market, there would be people everywhere. They’d see me, and they’d know what I’d done. And who knows how the seller would react?

I drop to the grass and sigh. It’s just an apple, right? What difference would it truly make to bring it back?

But I can’t ignore the warning in my chest. Or the fact that the apple really does feel like it’s getting hotter.

“You gonna eat that, ma’am, or just keep staring at it like it’s alive?”

I start and scramble around, finding a young boy staring down at me.

“I’m sorry?” I say, standing and clutching the apple that seems to stand out like a sore thumb. Does he know I stole it? Can he see the thievery in my eyes?

“I was just wondering what you’re going to do with that apple.” He scratches his head. “You’ve been looking at it for a really long time.”

“Oh, yes, the apple.” I nudge my glasses up my nose, wishing my hair were just a bit longer to hide behind. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it.”

He blinks, clearly confused. “Well, isn’t it your apple? Eat it!”

“No, it’s not my apple.” I blurt. Why would I tell this boy the truth?

If he looked confused before, he looks bewildered now. He even starts backing up a little, perhaps recalling warnings his parents gave him about talking to strangers.

“You should”—his voice drops—“give it back, then.”

Instead of directly answering him, I rub my sleeve on the apple’s red skin. It’s warmth seeps through my jacket. The seller didn’t… put some sort of tracking magic in this, right?

A tingle of anxiety rises within me. Though I hated to admit I had been wrong, I knew he was right.

“I should give it back.” I make eye contact. “Thank you.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and I cringe thinking about the conversation that was bound to happen soon with his parents. So before I risk second-guessing myself or being confronted by anyone else, I wave and dart back up the road.

The market isn’t far, and before long, vendors’ calls and customers’ conversations bounce off the buildings around me. As I walk back down the main street, I try to keep my head down and my glasses up on my nose.

Then I see it.

The fruit stand seems to loom like a tall building, and I might have turned around if not for the memory of the boy and the growing heat in my hand. When the large man turns to me, he doesn’t look angry, and I sigh in relief as I hand him the apple.

“I’m sorry. I’m just bringing this back.”

He smiles. “And I am grateful. You’re brave, you know. When most people feel the warmth of my stolen fruit, they usually hide it. Just a simple magical precaution I have for tracking thievery.”

I nod and turn around. I’ve learned my lesson—a wrong couldn’t equal a right, and I could find a better way to help the woman.

But before I get more than a few steps away, I feel something roll against my foot. An apple sits on the ground, and I turn once more to see the seller wink at me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Molly McTernan is an author who writes with one desire: to glorify the Creator. When Molly isn’t writing, she can be found reading, playing her violin or spending time with her family and many pets. Molly loves going for bike rides, buying a multitude of used books, receiving and sending letters and emails, and Australian licorice.  You can find her online at her website mollymcternan.com where she blogs about faith, reading and writing.

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