Circumstance, genes, dna, or a product of environment. Was it something that was always meant? I really don’t know, to this day I have no idea. Just to be clear, I never smoked weed till about seventeen. I was clean of naughtiness, I was an innocent little kid till I met my stepbrother, thanx to dad meeting his mom. My badness begun. Home from school one particular day he pulled me to one side and put it to me. Was I up for being a lookout? I could say no or yes I was under no pressure to tag along but the bad inside must of been strong. I went along. We walked over to the flats and that’s when I asked about the cash. He said it depends what we get from the parcel he had stashed. A lot of adrenaline mixed with a dose of fear washed through my frame, my first intro to the crime game. I was ok with it from the beginning, nervously grinning, we reached the flats and scouted the area real good. Still in our own hood, just on the far side. Seeing the place was quiet we made our move toward the flats and skipped to the side, to the bin cupboard door, open we went in without hesitation. The place needed sanitation. It was the bin shed so no surprise there, we did not care, about the smell. I stayed by the door while he climbed up the side of the communal bin, he dropped in. “Is it there?” I whispered to him. I heard him rustling about in this massive bin. In no time a perfectly square brown paper parcel came flying out from inside. “Yes!” I cried out. Then I heard him shout “help me out” I did right away grabbing his arm. Then we casually strolled out of the flats to the park nearby to check the prize out. Ten packs of ten Benson and Hedges, all neat and shiny gold, I was eleven years old. We shared equally five packs for him and five packs for me. Then we headed home for tea.