I was ten at that time and spent a lot of time with some kids that were 2-3 years older than me.
They used to go in the mini market near the school and buy some candies but actually they got out with the bags full of chocolates, stickers and lollipops. It was 1995 and it was still war here, stores didn't have any cameras or alarms like now. So they were stealing from that mini-market and they were too skilled for that poor saleswoman. She was the only worker there during the morning shifts and it was easy to trick that older lady.
Three of those kids always had the same scenario.
They would enter the mini market and one of them would ask that saleswoman about some donuts or something else while other two "examined" the shelves. Later we would have a little party in the school playground.
One day they told me that my time has come!
It was my turn to steal something from the mini market and I was so excited about it. I was the smallest and the youngest kid there, it was time to prove myself. But when I came into mini market, my knees started shaking. I thought that the saleswoman doesn't take her eyes from me, although my "friends" were distracting her. I was so nervous that I accidentally pushed some things from one shelf and they fell on the floor. I picked them up and put one humble chewing gum into my pocket. I took a pack of football stickers and payed for it.
Later, at the school playground, my friends asked me what have I stolen from the mini market.
I took that miserable chewing gum from my pocket and they all started laughing at me. They were mocking at me telling that I am incapable to steal from the store.
I was sad about what happened and on the way home I put the chewing gum into my mouth.
It tasted so strange and I felt like I had some acid in my throat. So I spat that damn chewing gum out.
When I came home, I was so pale that my parents got worried. After the lunch I started vomiting.
After I threw up dozen times, they took me to a doctor.
They examined me, took my blood sample, even sent my poop for the analyze. No, they didn't find nothing, so the doctor told to my parents that maybe the cause of my sickness is smo kind of nervousness and suggested them to talk to me about what was happening in school and stuff. But I told them nothing, I didn't want to be a snitch.
That night I was dreaming how the saleswoman was searching for me with a bloody knife in her hands and that I hid in the sewer from the police.
I woke up in sweat in the middle of the night and realized that I wasn't person who would steal from the store. And that my friends were not my friends at all. I couldn't get rid of the image of that poor saleswomen from my head. I still avoid that lady when I see her in the town.