Curtis knew he shouldn’t do it. He could hear his father’s voice in his head, stern and unforgiving: “Money doesn’t grow on trees, boy.” But the craving was too strong. The thought of a hot, sweet coffee from Java Joe’s made his mouth water. It wasn’t just the caffeine—it was the freedom. The feeling of sitting at a corner booth, sipping his drink like an adult, watching the world move past the café window.
His father never gave him allowance money. “If you want something, earn it,” he always said. But Curtis was thirteen. No one was going to hire a thirteen-year-old for a real job, and he wasn’t about to mow lawns for pennies.
The answer was in his dad’s wallet.
The problem? His dad was sharp. He noticed everything. But Curtis had been paying attention too. He knew his father always tossed his wallet onto the counter when he came home from work. Sometimes, if he was distracted, he didn’t tuck it into his desk drawer until later in the evening. That was the window.
Tonight was one of those nights.
His father came home, sighed, and set the wallet down before heading upstairs to change.
Curtis’s heart pounded as he crept toward the counter. The black leather wallet sat there, just waiting. With shaky hands, he flipped it open. Bills peeked out from the cash compartment. A ten. A twenty. A few crumpled fives.
How much could he take without his dad noticing?
He reached for a five-dollar bill but hesitated. What if that was too obvious? He needed more. His fingers slid to a ten, and he quickly pulled it out, slipping it into his pocket before closing the wallet and placing it exactly as he had found it.
Now, all he had to do was act normal.
The Escape
Curtis grabbed his backpack and casually walked to the door.
“Where you headed?” his dad’s voice rang out from upstairs.
He froze, his hand on the doorknob. “Uh, just going to study at the library.”
There was a pause. Then, “Be back by eight.”
Curtis exhaled in relief and bolted outside before his dad could change his mind.
The walk to Java Joe’s was only ten minutes, but it felt longer because of his guilt. Should he go back? Should he put the money back before it was too late?
But then he imagined the warm aroma of roasted coffee beans, the soft hum of music in the café, and the sight of teenagers hanging out, sipping fancy drinks like they were important.
No. He was already doing this.
A Taste of Freedom
The little bell jingled as Curtis pushed open the door to Java Joe’s. The place was packed with students and young professionals, their laptops open, their drinks steaming.
He strode to the counter like he belonged there. “One caramel latte, please.”
The barista, a college-aged guy with a nose ring, barely looked up. “Four seventy-five.”
Curtis pulled out the ten and handed it over, trying to keep his hands from shaking. He watched as the man counted out his change. Five dollars and twenty-five cents. Curtis pocketed it, feeling lighter than before.
The moment he took his first sip, he felt victorious. The sweet caramel, the creamy milk, the bitter espresso—it was perfect.
He settled into a booth by the window, pretending he was an adult with important things to do. He pulled out his notebook and started doodling, savoring every moment.
The Mistake
For a while, everything was perfect.
Then, he saw it.
Through the window, just across the street, his dad.
Curtis’s stomach flipped. His dad was standing outside the hardware store, talking to someone. He wasn’t looking toward the café, but it wouldn’t take much for him to glance over.
Heart hammering, Curtis hunched down in his seat. He tried to act natural, taking another sip, but his mind raced.
What if Dad sees me? What if he comes in? What if he checks his wallet when he gets home and realizes a ten-dollar bill is missing?
His dad laughed at something the other man said and clapped him on the back. Then, to Curtis’s horror, he turned slightly toward the café window.
The Close Call
Curtis held his breath.
He grabbed a menu from the table and pretended to read it, using it as a shield. He willed himself to be invisible.
A minute passed. Then another.
Finally, his dad turned away and walked in the opposite direction.
Curtis’s shoulders sagged in relief. That was way too close.
He forced himself to finish his drink quickly, wiping the foam from his lip as he gathered his things. He needed to get home before his dad started asking questions.
The Aftermath
When Curtis walked through the front door, he tried to act casual. His dad was in the living room, flipping through a magazine.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said without looking up.
Curtis swallowed. “Hey.”
He was halfway to the stairs when his dad’s voice stopped him.
“Studying go okay?”
Curtis hesitated. “Uh, yeah. Lots of math.”
“Hm.” His dad flipped a page. “That so?”
Something in his tone made Curtis’s stomach twist. He hurried upstairs before his dad could say anything else.
The Moment of Truth
Curtis lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. He kept imagining his dad checking his wallet, realizing the money was missing, and putting the pieces together.
Morning came. Curtis dressed slowly, dreading what was coming.
When he stepped into the kitchen, his dad was sipping coffee. He glanced up.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Curtis mumbled, sitting down.
His dad took another sip. Then, after a long pause, he said, “Hey, Curtis. Do you know what happened to the ten dollars in my wallet?”
Curtis’s stomach turned to stone. His mind scrambled for an excuse. He could lie. He could say he didn’t know. But something about the way his dad was looking at him—calm but expectant—made him hesitate.
Lying wouldn’t work. His dad already knew.
Curtis swallowed hard. “I… I took it.”
His dad didn’t react. He just nodded. “And what did you buy?”
Curtis lowered his head. “Coffee.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then his dad sighed. “I’m not mad, Curtis. But I am disappointed.”
Those words hit harder than anger ever could.
His dad set down his mug. “You need to learn that money isn’t something you take just because you want something. If you had asked, I might have given you some. Or maybe we could’ve worked something out. But stealing? That’s not okay.”
Curtis nodded miserably.
His dad leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to work that ten dollars off. This weekend, you’re helping me clean out the garage.”
Curtis let out a small groan, but he knew he deserved it.
“Lesson learned?” his dad asked.
Curtis sighed. “Yeah.”
His dad smirked. “Good. Now, go grab some toast. And next time, if you want coffee so bad… just ask.”
Curtis grinned sheepishly. Maybe next time, he would.
Hope you like this story! Let me know if you want any changes. 😊
