Josh stood silently in front of his family, just as he had in the store. His head caste down and his eyes locked on the rug at his feet.
“We’re waiting, Josh.”
“I’m sorry,” Josh mumbled.
“What’s that? Speak up. We all want to hear what you have to say for yourself,” announced the boy’s mother.
“I’m sorry,” Josh repeated with a little more volume than before.
“Yes, I imagine you are, but not half as sorry now, as you’re going to be in a few minutes. Do you have any idea how embarrassed you made me feel at the supermarket? — or how much you’ve disgraced our family? You know better than to steal. Elizabeth knows better than to do something like that, and she’s only eight.