Now where was I... oh yes.
Lizard was used to walking home from school. He preferred it to riding on the bus or getting a ride from some do-goody parent or another. Everybody always seemed like they had something they had to say, and couldn't be bothered to stop their mouths from yammering endlessly. It was one thing that drove him to want to hit them so badly: because they seemed incapable of not making noise.
But back to the weird sense he felt growing. What he never understood was why he always seemed to have a hand on a deck of cards to control it.
It started one day in a shop, and it was the first thing he'd ever nicked. He put his fingers on the box just with the intent of feeling them when he felt a tingle of intuition that nobody was looking at him. It was that same deck that he felt in his pants pocket now, bouncing against his leg with every step.
He'd learned slowly that it wasn't enough to have the deck on him, but he had to be touching it with his skin. Shortly after that discovery, he made small cuts in the pockets of all of his pants, and always kept the deck on him.
He still stole things periodically, but never food or candy. Even though he was slow on the uptake, he didn't want to go through the effort of finding that perfect moment for something that would be down his gullet in a few seconds and gone.
So he nicked books. If the title or cover were interesting, he'd pick it up. If he discovered it held something he wanted to know, it found its way home with him. Instead of puzzling his way through the words there in the store or the library, he took it with him.
And if he found disappointment waiting for him between the covers, he unstole it, though he could never be sure that he always returned it to the same place it came from. To err on the side of caution, if he just couldn't remember, they went to the library, which never seemed to stop asking for more money for more books, so he skipped the middleman and just gave them the orphaned books.