The Junior Senior

My friend and I wandered down to the café one day,
It was early in the morning, just hours into the day.
We were tired and starving, we craved something sweet,
But our pockets were empty, no money to eat.

My friend had a scheme, his usual way,
Calling out to strangers, hoping one might pay.
“Hey there, buddy!” he’d call with a grin,
And somehow or other, he’d rope someone in.

A boy turned around, looking hurried and keen,
My friend acted caring, all nice and serene.
“What do you need?” he asked with a smile,
Pretending to help but scheming all the while.

The boy shrugged and said, “A quick snack, I suppose.”
My friend handed him candies, striking a pose.
“How much?” asked the boy, expecting a deal,
My friend said, “Twenty rupees”—with a grin of steel.

The boy frowned and replied with a smirk on his face,
“I got twice as much yesterday, same time, same place.”
Quick on my feet, I jumped in with a laugh,
“He’s got small hands—can’t carry more than half!”

The boy chuckled, then reached in his pocket for change,
But instead of twenty, he gave ten—a bit strange.
My friend’s eyes grew wide, his temper on fire,
He shouted, “Only ten? Where’s the rest I require?”

The boy just grinned and didn’t seem fazed,
He replied, “It’s simpler to count—let’s call it fair trade.”
“I’m just looking out for you, don’t you see?
I’m caring for you, just like you did for me!”

With that, he bolted, my friend’s face went red,
While I burst out laughing, couldn’t stop once I’d started.
He’d been tricked at his game, a taste of his own,
And I teased him all the way as we walked back home.

Now, that friend of mine doesn’t pull that old trick,
No more sweet-talk or scams, no words slick and quick.
Since that day at the café, he’s learned to beware—
Never to barter with kids who have flair!

By Riyan Marsh D’ Almeida ( grade 10, blue house)

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