1As we all piled into the car, I knew it was going to be a fabulous day. My grandmother was visiting for the holidays; and she and I, along with my older brother and sister, Louis and Susan, were setting off for a day of last-minute Christmas shopping. On the way to the mall, we sang Christmas carols, chattered, and laughed. With Christmas only two days away, we were caught up with holiday spirit. I felt light-headed and full of joy. I loved shopping—especially at Christmas.

2The shopping center was swarming with frantic last-minute shoppers like ourselves. We went first to the General Store, my favorite. It carried mostly knickknacks and other useless items which nobody needs but buys anyway. I was thirteen years old at the time, and things like buttons and calendars and posters would catch my fancy. This day was no different. The object of my desire was a 75-cent Snoopy button. Snoopy was the latest. If you owned anything with the Peanuts on it, you were "in." But since I was supposed to be shopping for gifts for other people and not myself, I couldn’t decide what to do. I went in search of my sister for her opinion. I pushed my way through throngs of people to the back of the store where I found Susan. I asked her if she thought I should buy the button. She said it was cute and if I wanted it to go ahead and buy it.

3When I got back to the Snoopy section, I took one look at the lines at the cashiers and knew I didn’t want to wait thirty minutes to buy an item worth less than one dollar. I walked back to the basket where I found the button and was about to drop it when suddenly, instead, I took a quick glance around, assured myself no one could see, and slipped the button into the pocket of my sweatshirt.

4I hesitated for a moment, but once the item was in my pocket, there was no turning back. I had never before stolen anything; but what was done was done. A few seconds later, my sister appeared and asked, “So, did you decide to buy the button?”

5“No, I guess not.” I hoped my voice didn’t quaver. As we headed for the entrance, my heart began to race. I just had to get out of that store. Only a few more yards to go and I’d be safe. As we crossed the threshold, I heaved a sigh of relief. I was home free. I thought about how sly I had been and I felt proud of my accomplishment.

6An unexpected tap on my shoulder startled me. I whirled around to find a middle-aged man, dressed in street clothes, flashing some type of badge and politely asking me to empty my pockets. Where did this man come from? How did he know? I was so sure that no one had seen me! On the verge of panicking, I told myself that all I had to do was give this man his button back, say I was sorry, and go on my way. After all, it was only a 75-cent item.

7Next thing I knew, he was talking about calling the police and having me arrested and thrown in jail, as if he had just nabbed a professional thief instead of a terrified kid. I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

8“Jean, what’s going on?”

9 The sound of my sister’s voice eased the pressure a bit. She always managed to get me out of trouble. She would come through this time too.

10“Excuse me. Are you a relative of this young girl?”

11“Yes, I’m her sister. What’s the problem?”

12“Well, I just caught her shoplifting and I’m afraid I’ll have to call the police.”

13“What did she take?”

14“This button.”

15“A button? You are having a thirteen-year-old arrested for stealing a button?”

16“I’m sorry, but she broke the law.”

17The man led us through the store and into an office, where we waited for the police officers to arrive. Susan had found my grandmother and brother, who, still shocked, didn’t say a word. The thought of going to jail terrified me, not because of jail itself, but because of the encounter with my parents afterward. Not more than ten minutes later, two officers arrived and placed me under arrest. They said that I was to be taken to the station alone. Then, they handcuffed me and led me out of the store. I felt alone and scared. I had counted on my sister being with me, but now I had to muster up the courage to face this ordeal all by myself.

18As the officers led me through the mall, I sensed a hundred pairs of eyes staring at me. My face flushed and I broke out in a sweat. Now everyone knew I was a criminal. In their eyes I was a juvenile delinquent, and thank God the cops were getting me off the streets. The worst part was thinking my grandmother might be having the same thoughts. The humiliation at that moment was overwhelming. I felt like Hester Prynne being put on public display for everyone to ridicule.

19That short walk through the mall seemed to take hours. But once we reached the squad car, time raced by. I was read my rights and questioned. We were at the police station within minutes. Everything happened so fast I didn’t have a chance to feel remorse for my crime. Instead, I viewed what was happening to me as if it were a movie. Being searched, although embarrassing, somehow seemed to be exciting. All the movies and television programs I had seen were actually coming to life. This is what it was really like. But why were criminals always portrayed as frightened and regretful? I was having fun. I thought I had nothing to fear—until I was allowed my one phone call. I was trembling as I dialed home. I didn’t know what I was going to say to my parents, especially my mother.

20“Hi, Dad, this is Jean.”

21“We’ve been waiting for you to call.”

22 “Did Susie tell you what happened?”

23“Yeah, but we haven’t told your mother. I think you should tell her what you did and where you are.”

24 “You mean she doesn’t even know where I am?”

25 “No, I want you to explain it to her.”

26There was a pause as he called my mother to the phone. For the first time that night, I was close to tears. I wished I had never stolen that stupid pin. I wanted to give the phone to one of the officers because I was too ashamed to tell my mother the truth, but I had no choice.

27“Jean, where are you?”

28“I’m, umm, in jail.”

29“Why? What for?”

30“Shoplifting.”

31“Oh no, Jean. Why? Why did you do it?”

32“I don’t know. No reason. I just did it.”

33“I don’t understand. What did you take? Why did you do it? You had plenty of money with you.”

34“I know but I just did it. I can’t explain why. Mom, I’m sorry.”

35“I’m afraid sorry isn’t enough. I’m horribly disappointed in you.”

36Long after we got off the phone, while I sat in an empty jail cell, waiting for my parents to pick me up, I could still distinctly hear the disappointment and hurt in my mother’s voice. I cried. The tears weren’t for me but for her and the pain I had put her through. I felt like a terrible human being. I would rather have stayed in jail than confront my mom right then. I dreaded each passing minute that brought our encounter closer. When the officer came to release me, I hesitated, actually not wanting to leave. We went to the front desk, where I had to sign a form to retrieve my belongings. I saw my parents a few yards away and my heart raced. A large knot formed in my stomach. I fought back the tears.

37Not a word was spoken as we walked to the car. Slowly, I sank into the back seat anticipating the scolding. Expecting harsh tones, I was relieved to hear almost the opposite from my father.

38“I’m not going to punish you and I’ll tell you why. Although I think what you did was wrong, I think what the police did was more wrong. There’s no excuse for locking a thirteen-year-old behind bars. That doesn’t mean I condone what you did, but I think you’ve been punished enough already.”

39As I looked from my father’s eyes to my mother’s, I knew this ordeal was over. Although it would never be forgotten, the incident was not mentioned again.