Apparently, Mrs. Gowtha wasn't the only person who seemed to know everything that happened in their little part of the city. By the time that the constable had gotten Vance home, his mother had somehow already been made aware of his "arrest" - as much as an unsupervised school-aged child could be arrested for attempted petty theft - and wasted no time in handling the situation. She glowered and began yelling at the boy so sternly that the normally-calm peacekeeper immediately began to back away. His motion only served to remind her of his presence, and she made short work of getting rid of him with promises that she'd take care of the boy's behavior. His civic duty apparently met, Terrence hastily made his exit.

As soon as he was gone, and her introductory rant - peppered with slaps and small blows - was finished, she paused for a few moments and calmed herself down in order to make the circumstance into a kind of teachable moment for young Vance, in her own inimitable style. "There are three problems with your actions today. First, you were dumb enough to get caught. Second, you came home empty-handed. Third, now you're going to be watched, and it'll be even harder for you to actually do anything worthwhile." Vance hardened his eyes and briefly thought back to a mother who would have asked if he was OK, who would have cared what had happened to him and comforted him.

"You've got to learn to keep your hands clean, fool. You're smart enough, and you know what to do. The real power comes when you get other people to things for you. Especially now that you'll be watched, at least in the neighborhood you've been, shall we say, frequenting, you'll need a better plan. Your brother has to do the hard work himself, but you could do better than that. And you'd best figure out how to, soon, or you'll be hungry and out on the streets. Pull your own weight, boy, as everyone has to." She sighed. "I've wasted enough energy on you today, and you've got nothing for me...just go to bed."

Vance left, mildly surprised that he hadn't been beaten again, and with a torrent of thoughts in his mind. His mother said that everyone had to pull their own weight, but he wasn't certain exactly what she spent the day doing. Honestly, he had never really known what she did, other than judge him and Richard on what they accomplished (or didn't), normally reminding them that it wasn't good enough. It wasn't so much that Vance was angry, but it was like something had clicked into place for him. The power that his mother spoke of was that power that she wielded over them, getting them to do the dirty work, and to take the risks, while she enjoyed most of the reward.

While his mother and brother ate dinner, and his mother loudly complimented Richard on his "earnings" for the day, Vance began to plan. He decided that his mother was right about a few things. Primarily, he needed to get out of the business of doing the actual stealing himself; this was the answer to the problem he had been considering, in that his age was starting to serve as more of a hindrance than a help. But how would he use his time to do something more? And could he trust anyone else to do the work and not double-cross him? Most importantly, he needed to be sure that whatever happened, he was making a clear path out of this life, going from day to day in fear and hunger, trying to survive.

In that moment, Vance reached a turning point in his thinking, without necessarily noticing it; although years later, this evening would come back to him and see it as obvious. Vance realized that it was all very simple, if he wanted it to be. Even if it was a naïve notion, he could put almost everything in the world into a few categories - things that helped him get what he wanted, things that he used to get what he wanted, and things that prevented him from getting what he wanted. If he had a crystal-clear and unwavering approach to how he dealt with each of these categories, life could become very simple. Most things around him, and most people for that matter, could be turned into tools.

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Vance had much on his mind, and a lot of new plans to make. He knew it would mean taking on risk, but that the bigger reward would also mean providing himself with a way out of his current situation. After years of psychological and physical abuse, the very notion of hope for a brighter future was surprising. He drifted to sleep with an empty belly and a smile on his face, and the last thought he had before the night took him was that he needed to have a talk with Ben.

The next day, Ben did his best to avoid Vance; although between the small schoolhouse and the classroom that they shared, there wasn't much room to hide. It was clear that Ben either regretted his decision to flee, or feared Vance's retribution - perhaps even a touch of both. In any event, as the day ended and they got ready to leave, Vance cornered Ben and said "Come on, I'll walk with you - we should have a chat."

As soon as they got out of the door and out of everyone else's earshot, Ben immediately started to apologize. "Vance, about yesterday, I - " But Vance waved his hand to stop him and said "I know, I know. We do need to talk about yesterday. But we need to talk about tomorrow, too. And the next day, and the one after that. Things have to change, or what happened is just going to keep happening, and it'll get worse until one day or us doesn't make it home." Vance thought briefly about his father as he spoke, but banished the thought from his mind.

"I know that you ran at the first sign of trouble yesterday, Ben. Honestly that was probably the best thing you could have done, even if it didn't feel that way. It certainly didn't feel that way to me...but at least this way nobody recognized you, they won't link you with me, and hey - you still have our haul from earlier in the day, right?" Vance's tone and narrow eyes made it clear that there was only one acceptable answer to the question. He may not have been as big as Richard the bully, but Vance's personality was already very imposing, and Ben scrambled to reply.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course I do, you know I wouldn't keep it from you. Just let me get it for you when we get back to my place. It's just, I don't know...I've been thinking that maybe..." Vance could tell that Ben's hesitation was leading to him pulling out of their little arrangement, a situation that Vance couldn't allow; so he jumped on Ben's pause. "You've been thinking that maybe we need to get smarter, and put ourselves out of harm's way a little more, I'll bet. And you're right. I've actually been thinking about this before, and it's a shame I didn't get to an answer before things went south for us. Frankly, I'm surprised we lasted as long as we did in this - we should have been planning our next move together. Good instincts."

Vance continued quickly before Ben could protest his deliberate misinterpretation. "I tell you what, Ben, I want you to keep our whole haul from yesterday. It's yours." As Vance expected, Ben had a complete change of spirits from caution to excitement almost instantly. "We're going to do a lot better than that, trust me. But it starts with a new focus . If we're going to go bigger and better, we're going to need more help, and more coordination. I think rather than just grabbing unattended belongings, we have to find a way to get people to want to give us money. No begging - sales."

Ben furrowed his brow as he tried to follow Vance's train of thought. "Think about it, Ben. Everyone who is rich sells something, and to people who want to buy. We start doing that, and we'll have the kind of money we need to start other things up, and to make our way out of here. We need to get money and save it, spending only what we really need. That's our real path."

Vance looked at his friend, who was completely out of sorts. Ben had expected to be chewed out, maybe worse, but here he stood not only totally fine, but being offered a bonus and planning out a future away from this dismal slum. It was all very sudden and confusing. As he took it in, the first problem jumped into his head. "But wait, Vance. How are we going to sell things to people? We're kids. People will take advantage of us, rob us, whatever. Even if we had stuff to sell - whatever that stuff would be - don't you think we'd be stuck with it?"

A smile crept over Vance's face, making him look older and somehow far more sinister. "You've jumped right ahead to the meat of the plan. I figure the best thing to get people to buy is something they've already proven they want. Their own stuff."