“W-where did you get that?” I stuttered, taking the photo and looking up at the lady, who was currently tapping her hot pink fingernails impatiently. We’ve barely been here for five minutes, so I guess girlfriend doesn’t know how to wait.
“Oh, I took it with my camera!” She said with fake cheeriness, holding up a Canon, marked with the price $698.
I ran my fingers through my messy-wavy hair. “Um, if it’s yours, why is it marked with a price?”
The lady rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t this generation know anything? It’s called selling. I’m selling the camera. And it’s photos.”
I grunted and put the photo down. I knew things, all right. The photo was obviously stolen. And I’m no detective, but I am 99 percent sure that the lady with the pink fingernails had something to do with it.
If I was going to get all of this information, I needed to tell somebody. It couldn’t be my Dad, of course, because I told him that nothing was going on. My Mom- I don’t think she would hear a word I said, since she was too absorbed into looking at our town history books, which was probably stolen too. The only person left was Joshua.
Groaning, and with no other choice, I walked up to Joshua. “Josh, I need your help.”
Joshua looked surprised. “My help? What did I do to deserve being sucked into your world?” He asked in a phony British accent.
“Shut up,” I said, kicking him. “Please just be serious for once. I actually need you to help me.”
“Why should I?”
I sighed, thinking for a minute. Then a light bulb went off in my head. “Because I’ll give you my allowance for the rest of the month.”
“Well, in that case,” he said, brushing off his jeans and giving me a goofy smile. “I will be happy to.”
After whispering to Joshua about what happened, his eyes widened. “You mean we get to capture a criminal?”
Is that all you got out of that? I thought in annoyance.
“Sorta,” I said. “But the photo was stolen. And we know who. Know we just need to get rid of them.”
Joshua’s eyes widened even more. “We kill the criminal?!”
“No, we make the “criminal” go to jail.”
Joshua danced around a little a bit. I narrowed my eyes. “Before you say it, no, we’re not cops!”
Joshua didn’t stop dancing, at least, not before I dragged him away to start our plan. I whispered, “remember, talk to the lady with pink fingernails. Keep her busy.”
“And what do I do again?” He asked.
I sighed. “The only thing you could understand. Talking.”
Joshua rolled his eyes and said, “c’mon. Don’t need to be snippy.” Then he walked towards the lady and instantly started a conversation about robots.
And before I could even think twice about Joshua and his boring boy conversations helping me, I bolted away and started my part of the plan.
I took my iPhone out of my pocket and dialed a familiar number to all of the children of the world- 911.
“Hi. My name is Bridget Danielson... I’m currently at a garage sale... please come quick because somebody stole a photo!”
I hesitated a bit after the next question was asked. “Yes... I’m with my parents.”
After a minute more of talking, I thanked them. They said they would be here as soon as possible- and glancing at Joshua, who was still blabbering away, I knew the lady was not going anywhere.
Around five minutes later, sirens were blaring, people were yelling, and Moms were wearily pulling their children closer to them. It was complete and utter chaos.
I didn’t want to glance at the lady because I was afraid if I did, she would know it was me. But still, I looked at her. She was busy arguing with the cops, which I knew from watching Cops on TV would probably earn her more time in jail.
I watched as the cops handcuffed her and led her into the car. I heard the lady scream something that would get me grounded for weeks, then watched as the car drove away.
I ran towards the photo on the table, took it, then ran back to a police officer that was trying to calm everyone down. “Excuse me, sir, but this is the stolen photo from the museum! And I don’t know for sure, but I suspect a lot of things are stolen.”
The cop nodded and took the photo from my hands. “That is the stolen photo, all right. Stolen yesterday.” He walked over to the table and scanned it. “And so are these. Not from our museum, but from the next town over’s.”
I nodded as I listened intently to the officer talk. “You were very brave today, Bridget. Thank you for telling us.”
I shrugged. “Of course! I wasn’t about to let my favorite photo be sold illegally!”
The cop smiled. “That one’s your favorite? It’s mine too!”
I smiled back. This cop was nice.
Just as I was about to say something, my parents rushed up to me. “Bridget, are you alright? What happened?”
I nodded. “I saved everyone from buying stolen photos from museums. That’s all.”
My Mom wrapped me in a tight hug. “That’s all? Honey, you’re so brave!”
“Thanks Mom. Joshua helped me too.”
Mom looked a bit surprised. “Joshua? Well, I’d better congratulate him too!”
As my Mom walked off, my Dad turned to me. “Good job, Bridget.” He reached his hand out for a fistbump, and for once, I accepted, laughing.