The Hyenas bolted. The girl with purple streaks was the first one to leave, her dress fluttering up farther than I thought humanly possible in the sudden gust of wind. The red-head followed close behind her, screaming, “Wait the hell up! DeDe!” The black-dress girl lingered a moment before following them.

Zachary tried to bolt too. He was up and out of his seat, opening the door and on his way out when I heard a hissed whisper. “Zach, get back in the car. Running only makes it worse.”
I looked over at Emily. She was perfectly composed, her blonde curls still in their proper place, her expression looking guilty but proud at the same time. It was so strange. She looked as if she was ready for anything, anyone. She looked strong, happy, sad. Determined.
The police-woman smiled and snapped her gum. She pointed to Zach, then back to Emily. I looked at her, not exactly in the eye but sort of off-kilter. Instead of looking back, she picked up a walkie-talkie.
The woman pressed a few buttons, and then began to talk, calmly and robotically. “Lieutenant Flyer. I’m at main, with what I think is going to be a couple of drunk, driving teenagers. Yeah.” She paused, still chewing her gum. “Well, there were six or seven, but a couple of them ran off.” More pausing, more chewing. “It was three girls that ran off, I think. I’ve got two girls and a boy here.” I could hear a voice on the other end of the phone, mumbling something about race. “Blonde Caucasian girl, brunette Caucasian girl, she’s driving, and there’s an African-american boy in the back.” The woman nodded at something, then bent over to check the license plate.
“Oh, um, here it is. TG4-621I. Yeah, okay, I’m bringing them back. Be on the lookout for three or four girls wearing slutty clothes.”
Now, the woman turned to us. Emily and I looked at each other, nervously trying to figure out what was happening. The officer smiled that same fake smile. It was the kind of smile teachers give you when they tell you that they aren’t being unfair when they really are, or when someone breaks their promise and pretends they didn’t. So sickly sweet and charismatic, with a sunny lilt, and dimples if possible. And fake. Fake, fake.
“Come on, guys. Get in the cop car. I’m sure you’ve all watched CSI at one point. The real thing and the TV thing aren’t as different as they say it is.”
I headed for the front seat, but the officer pointed me towards the back. Which meant I sat next to Emily, and she was lucky enough to be in the middle. I could see her arms touching Zach’s, and he murmured something that sounded sweet to her, and I actually had to bite my own fingers as discreetly as I could to keep from screaming.
The woman turned the radio, to 83.4 (Journey Jams—nice music for a nice trip), and we listened to Sheryl Crow and Michael Buble. Every so often, there would be a fuzzy noise, and some words about a crime down on Paller Street, or that the three teenage girls hadn’t been found yet. Then, the music would stop well the officer said something mysterious and professional into her intercom. Zach and Emily whispered a little to each other, comforting words or playful chastising, each blaming the other, even though it had been Zach’s fault.
Nobody said anything to me.
Finally we turned, and we pulled into a police station. The woman opened the door for us, and it felt vaguely like getting out of a limousine. Then she ushered us into the big police station, right past some official looking rooms, a room with sofas and tables, a room with chairs and desks and phones, and then finally the room we stopped in. It was big, with a couple of plastic chairs, a water fountain, a large desk, and shelves all around the room. There was one more than one video camera and there were monitors and photographs, that may or may not have been mug shots, everywhere.
The woman motioned for us to sit in a couple of chairs, and she sat next to us. It reminded me oddly of the guidance counselor’s office.
“Okay, guys, I’m Officer Ilene Flyer. I arrested you for drunk driving, but I suspect that there are several other reasons for me to have arrested you.” Officer Ilene Fyler waited, as if hoping we would confirm her suggestion. I managed a nod, Emily said something along the lines of yes, and Zach just rolled his eyes. “We’re going to ask you to tell us what happened, and then to spend the night here so we can take pictures, do Breath-O-Meter tests, check your records, check the cars records, and so on. We have a lot of paperwork here. But let’s start with basics—I don’t to know some standard information.
Zach spoke first. His voice was clear, but nervous. “Zachary G. Ward. I live over in Fairfield, 634 Madison Street. I just turned 18. Um, do you want my date of birth?”
Officer Flyer nodded. “September 3, 1992. Anything else?”
“Not for now. Okay, you.” She jabbed a finger (perfectly manicured, with light blue tips) at me.
“Julia McBath. I’m 15.” I winced. A three-year gap. Granted, my birthday was only a few days away, but even so. Emily was probably 18. “My date of birth is March 16, 1995. And I live over on the north side, between Westbridge and 12th, 433 Maplewood.”
“You were driving, right?” She didn’t stop for an answer. “And you do have a permit.”
“Yes. But not with me.” I repeated. I was shooting for a whisper, but it came out more like a croak. “My birthday is in less than two weeks, though, so—”
“Right, right. Okay, I’ll talk to you later. You, tell me about you.”
“I’m Emily Cooper. I’m 18. My birthday was Monday, actually. That’s February 26th,, 1993. I live over on south 5th Street.” Of course. That was where all the people just out of college lived. Anyone under the age of twenty-five was sure to own a house there, and Emily and her family probably fit right in. She was his age, had cool parents, and was girl-next-door gorgeous. Not fair.
“Alright, awesome. Can any of you tell me who the other people in the car with you were?” Officer Flyer looked so innocent as she asked it, but I knew she was well aware of the position she was putting us in.
I glanced at Emily and Zach’s faces, to see if they were feeling the same way I was. Emily certainly did. The confliction was showing in her eyes, in the way she kept biting her lip. Since she was perfect and loved everyone, some of the Hyenas were her friends. Turning them in would mean losing their friendship, but lying would mean lying to a police officer, which was a crime and also against moral code. For me, tattling on them would mean getting a ‘tattle-tale’ reputation, because we really hadn’t outgrown third grade. And for Zach, it meant losing the adoration and cuddling of the girls that admired him so much.
So, needless to say, I was fairly surprised when Zach told her that he knew the red-head was Faith Bronson, and that the girl with purple streaks went by the nickname DeDe. Zach also mentioned the Chinese girl’s first and last name, which was something like Elaine Hope. Emily shot him another mom look, but he just put his hand on her shoulder, as if none of this really mattered. I really, really, wished I was Emily.

Two hours later, after mug shots had been taken, parents called, and paperwork filled out, it was finally time for us to enter the really jail-like part of it.
Actually, most of it had been fairly easy. Straight-faced, intense look at the camera, a couple of signatures, and the police on the phone with your parents, and you were done. All three of us had had the chance to talk to our parents, and all three of us had refused.
After that had all been done, there was only one hard part—dealing with the fact that the car was not mine. It was Hayden’s brother’s car, and he didn’t know we had it. Officer Flyer had negotiated with Hayden’s entire family, and when Hayden got on the phone, I could hear the anger trying to mask her tears.
The love of power actually shone on Officer Flyer’s face, as she gave Zach to a young male with glasses to be taken off into the men’s ward.
Next, it was our turn. Officer Flyer pulled us through a couple of double doors, into a long, linoleum hallway, with jail cells lining them.
The cells were every bit as bad as they had always seemed, albeit being a little bit bigger. The ceilings were low, and the space was grimy, covered in dirt and dust and, in the case of one cell, some mysterious hot pink goo that lined an entire wall. Each one had numbers on them 2-12, 1-25, 1-30, 2-232. Some rooms had two beds while others had one. Single, dim light bulbs hung from the ceiling of each cell, and there were assorted pieces of furniture in each one.
About half of them were occupied. In one, a young woman sat, screaming at the bars of the cell to let her out. In another, there was a teenage girl looked like she was my age, maybe younger. I wondered what she was in for. I saw two adult females in one cell, but it didn’t look like they knew each other. Someone with a buzz cut was painting a picture. I saw an old woman, reading a book, and one woman just sitting there, staring. However, most of them were sleeping, their eyes shut tight as if to block out everything about the prison, not just the things that could actually see. I thought it was funny that so many people slept all the time, until I reminded myself that it was way past midnight, and that it made perfect sense that there would be so many people asleep.
Officer Flyer led us to one of the cells with two beds. It was number 2-53. “This will be your home for the next twelve hours, all right? There’s a bookshelf in the corner, and a TV in the recreation room. You can use that in the morning, but not a night. Breakfast is at 8:00 a.m., sharp, so wake up early.
We stepped through the doors, trying not to feel Officer Flyer’s eyes on our backs. The key was removed, there was an ominous clicking sound, and we were locked in. We were locked into a jail cell. It made me nauseous to even think those words.
Officer Flyer ran her hands through her hair, not nervously but purposefully, “I trust you guys will be okay?”
She said it like it was a question, but both Emily and I knew it wasn’t. We both nodded anyways, and Officer Flyer left us to figure out what to do with our time in prison.
“So.” I let the word hang there.
Emily checked her watch, a skinny silver chain with charms coming down that announced the hour, minute and date and day of the week. It flashed, 2:39, Saturday, March 4th. Emily sighed. “Why don’t we go to bed? I mean, it’s pretty late, and we’re going to want all the strength we can get for tomorrow, you know? Plus, I don’t think I can stand looking at how depressed this place is, or how depressing it is that I got myself stuck in here.” She looked at me, her face asking, her eyes confident that she knew what answer she would get.
“Yeah, yeah, definitely,” I agreed. Getting away from my thoughts right now seemed like the only safe possibility.
“Oh, we’re going to have to sleep in this stuff. That sucks.” Emily gestured down at her clothes, a pair of long white jeans, red platforms, and a long lace vest. Not like my own outfit would be any better; people generally didn’t sleep in red dresses and high-heeled combat-like boots. I really wished they had at least sweatshirts around here. Even prison uniforms would have been preferable.
I checked out the covers, draped haphazardly over the bed. They looked about as soft and cozy as the rest of this place did.
“That is annoying. Do you think they give us stuff here? Like, pajamas or something?”
“They couldn’t be bothered to give us pillows. Do you think they bothered to give us comfy sweats with pretty pictures of panda bears on them?” Her words were sharp, but Emily’s tone was still friendly. I looked over at the beds, only to see that she was right. They were completely pillow-less. Maybe this was why people didn’t get arrested again—they couldn’t bear to come back to this hell-hole of Officer Flyers and beds with no pillows.
“God. They’re pretty cheap in here.”
“I know.” Emily laughed, bitterly. She kicked off her boots, sending them flying in a corner, and crawled into the bed in the middle of the room. It was the less public bed, the grosser one. Damn, I hated her for being so thoughtless and selfless and not me.
“So, um, goodnight, I guess.” I climbed in to bed, tucked between the bookshelf and the back wall. The sheets were thing and flimsy, and the blanket went right through them. I was cold and itchy and not enjoying myself. In fact, I was absolutely miserable.
“Goodnight.”
I flicked the light switch about my head, and the room went black. I was surprised to find that I wasn’t scared at all. Even in a bed that I was totally uncomfortable in, even with the room completely black, I wasn’t scared. Being in a jail cell wasn’t as scary as I expected it to be. A better word was sad. Sad and run down and pathetic.
Emily’s words broke through the darkness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Zachary and Faith and DeDe and Elaine get in the car. I shouldn’t have let you drive. I mean, I know you did it ‘cause you like Zach and all, and you were trying to impress him, but I should have just told you that you were being stupid and it wasn’t going to work and we were going to get into a lot of trouble. But, I don’t know, I was kind of afraid that if I put my foot down, it would make me seem like a worry-wart, and, I don’t know, not cool, or whatever.” Emily took a deep breath before continuing. “Don’t do stupid things for a guy, okay, Julia? Especially not a guy like Zach. I’m really, really sorry.”
I didn’t answer, and Emily sighed. “Okay, I guess you’re asleep. Teach me how to fall asleep that fast, okay? Goodnight.”
I was not asleep.
I bit back tears. From anger, from humiliation. Here was the girlfriend of the boy I obsessed over, telling me she knew that I liked her boyfriend, telling me she was sorry, telling me not to be stupid. It was mean and wrong, but mostly, it was embarrassing. So, so embarrassing.
I rolled over, clenching my hands together. And, on that happy note, I fell asleep.

The tapping woke me up. It started out softly, and grew slightly louder, then faster, then slower and softer again. I looked around at the rest of the occupants of the cells, but besides me, there were only two who seemed awake. One was an adult, crying her eyes out and reading a romance novel. The other was probably in her mid-eighties; granny aged, definitely. She was knitting tiny clothes, and I wondered if they were for her grandchildren. She was the woman I had seen before.
It was not a pretty sight.
Then the tapping started up again. I found myself a little bit scared. Or, not so much scared, but creeped out. For all I knew, there could be murderers and rapists here. Surely there weren’t that many people throw in jail for drunk driving. What if one of them had an ax and was about to come kill me as a newbie initiation ritual? What was I supposed to do then?
At last, I located the noise. It was a man—weird, because this was an all-woman’s ward, and I thought that the men’s ward was all the way on the other side of the hall. The strangest thing was that this man was a police officer. He wore a uniform, and he had a badge. I guess I shouldn’t have been so surprised, but it seemed out of place. I thought that we were supposed to have some privacy here, at least from guys.
He put his hand to his lips, shushing me. I hadn’t made any noise.
“I’m Officer Rhodell. You’re…let’s see,” he consulted a sheet of paper, “Julia?”
I nodded, mute. This guy shouldn’t know my name. He shouldn’t be here, talking to me. I started to get that nauseating feeling that Officer Rhodell maybe wasn’t a cop at all. I mean, maybe I was crazy, but I didn’t think that male cops made friendly introductions to girls in the female ward.
“Don’t be scared. I want to take you out of here. I mean, help you escape. I mean, not escape, because it’s legal. I’m a police officer.” He waved his badge in my face. They sold them at Costume and Co., for three bucks apiece.
“Uh.” It wasn’t graceful, but it was all I could say.
“Trust me, we just decided that since you were so helpful and compliant we would take you out of here. Trust me, this happens all the time.” The two trust me’s weren’t particularly reasurring. Officer Rhodell didn’t look like he even believed himself. I wanted out, though, and I wanted away from Emily.
“Okay, okay, okay. Get me out of here, then.” My voice shook, but I managed to stand without falling down, which was pretty impressive.
“Great!” Officer Rhodell seemed genuinely happy, since he was grinning and jumping up and down. “On one condition.”
I’d never believed it when people said there was always a catch. But I guess it was true. It’s karma, or something. Here was the chance to get out, to get out of the way from the couple that humiliated me and made me feel bad about myself. At that moment, I think I would’ve done anything without hesitation. Except, of course, the thing he suggested.
“We’re bringing your friends.” Under his huge mop of hair, with a bald crown at the top, Officer Rhodell stared me down.
“Nope. Absolutely not. I’ll stay in here.”
The policeman looked at me. Not romantic looking at, or disapproving looking, but really looked. And because I always got this way, I blushed and covered my face. I heard a sigh, and the sigh almost sounded disappointed, as if I had let this man I knew nothing about down.
“You can stay in here with them. Or can you come out of here with them. Either way, you’re not getting rid of your friends, okay?” Officer Rhodell sounded more confident than he had been before, maybe this time because he knew he was right, and he knew he was telling the truth. And he knew I actually believed him.
I thought. I wouldn’t mind if there was no Emily in the picture. Some time with Zach, just the two of us, sounded nice. But I couldn’t think of any way to get rid of Emily. “Zach’s in the men’s ward. I mean, we can’t get him. So if we can’t get him we can’t go, right? Or at least I can’t bring my,” here, I stopped to make air-quotes, “friends.”
“That’s not a problem. It was actually harder to get in here to see you guys. I mean, I am a man. That is a man’s ward.” The sarcasm leaked through Rhodell’s voice. I didn’t know that police were sarcastic.
I realized what he had just said. “If you’re actually a police officer, then it should be easy for you to get in anywhere.” I smiled, a snide, happy smile.
“I mean, Julia, really—“
I cut Officer Rhodell off. “All right, so you’re saying you can get us out of here. If I wake her up,” I gestured towards Emily, “and you get Zach. You’ll free us, or whatever, with your magical policeman powers.”
Officer Rhodell grinned. “Yes.”
I bit my lip. “I’ll have to ask Emily. But, okay, sure. Yeah.”
Officer Rhodell grinned again. Apparently, that same stupid expression clowns get when they’ve just made a little kid laugh, was on his face a lot. I hated it, and I knew at that moment that I always would.
“I’ll go get Zach.” Officer Rhodell whispered. “Don’t forget to wake Emily up, okay?”
I didn’t answer, but I went over to Emily and started to gently shake her shoulder. She groaned, long and low, and I shook her shoulder again, a little more forcefully. I wondered if she could feel in my touch that I was still pissed about what she had said before.
As Officer Rhodell disappeared, heading down the hall, doubt filled my thoughts. It was really stupid, wasn’t it, to go off into the night with some guy I barely knew? A guy who, I was convinced, was lying to me, and lying to me about being a police officer, at that. Plus, I was now going to be responsible for two other people, one of them Zach. And I didn’t want to hurt Zach.
“Wait,” I called, my voice too loud. Romance Novel woman looked over at me and rolled her eyes. I apologized, clamping a hand over my lips as if that would erase my misstep of a minute ago.
Officer Rhodell turned around slowly, and walked back to me, his badge sort of loose, and hanging off his uniform. “What?” He whispered, his whisper was louder that my shout.
“Is this a really good idea? I don’t know you, and you don’t seem to know what you’re doing. Isn’t this whole thing, kind of, I don’t know,” I searched for the right word, “stupid?”
“You’re already in jail. How much stupider can you get?” Officer Rhodell winked at me and walked off.
As he left, I realized I hadn’t mentioned Zach’s name, but he had known.
I shook Emily one more time, almost shoving her. I almost hoped she would roll off her bed—though, come to think of it, it was more like a cot—and land on the hard cell floor. She didn’t.
“What?” Emily blinked, the sleep still in her eyes. She turned around, propping a pillow over her head, and sighed.
“Emily. It’s me. You need to wake up.” I whispered, trying to avoid another evil eye from Romance Novels. “Wake up.”
“Wait—who—oh. Julia? Is that you?” I nodded, not knowing who else it would be. Emily squeezed her eyes tight together, as if to block me out. Then she propped her arm up on the bed, since there were no pillows. “Why are you waking up? Why are you waking me up?” Emily checked her watch. Those three charms again. 4:52, Saturday, March 4th. “It’s five! Go back to bed.”
Emily rolled over, blocking me out. I felt a pang of sympathy for my mother, who had to go through this every day as I grumbled and groaned and tried to prolong getting out of bed.
“I met a…a police officer, and he said that he thought he could get us out of here. Because we’d been so good and all. He’s getting Zach right now.”
Emily rolled back around reluctantly. “Wait, so we go back to our parents and stuff? The longer that takes, the better. I’m gonna get grounded for, like, a decade.”
“No, no.” I took a deep breath, trying not to scream at Emily for being so normal and sensible. “He’s not taking us back to our parents. I don’t think.” I realized, now, that Officer Rhodell hadn’t specified where he was taking us. But somehow, I didn’t think fake police officers took you back to your real family. “He’s taking us to this good kid thing. Like, less jail or something? I don’t really know.” I shrugged, noticing how pathetic I sounded. Emily would never have sounded like this.
“All right, fine. Thought that’s weird. Are you sure this guy is legit?”
That was a reasonable enough question to ask, especially under the circumstances. The thing was, I didn’t think that Officer Rhodell truly was legit, and so I basically had to lie through my teeth, and pretend that he was just an everyday, honest policeman.
“Oh, um, yeah, he’s totally real. He had a badge. And he knew our names, and Zach’s, and he was in here. Dude, you don’t need to worry. I promise.” Lies, lies, and more lies.
“Did you just call me a dude?” Emily laughed, getting out of bed slowly. She was still fully dressed, which was so ridiculous I almost burst out laughing. Then, of course, I looked down at my own outfit, and decided that I was just as bad.
“So you’re doing it?” I was surprised at the enthusiasm that leaked through my tone.
“Yeah, what the hell. It’s better than being trapped in here for forever all the time. One light bulb? No pillows? I would walk on thumbtacks just to get out of this place.”
I laughed, in spite of myself. Emily was actually pretty funny.
We dug around in what we’d brought with us—a purse with a lipstick and eye makeup, (me) and a pack of sugarless gum and tissues (her). I did my make-up, and we waited as patiently as we possible could for the guys. I was halfway through counting all the cells in the hall. It was funny how, in times of crisis, I got ever more neat-freaky than I already was.
Officer Rhodell introduced himself to Emily and smiled at me, as if praising me for getting her up out of bed. I stared at Zach, wondering how it was possible that someone’s features could create that perfect an image.
After we managed to fit all of our stuff into one medium-sized tote bags with the words WHIRLED PEAS on it, and Officer Rhodell had slung it over his shoulder, he changed. All the nervousness and joviality he had had before disappeared almost instantaneously, and it was replaced with a hard, business-like expression, and a sharp and impatient tone.
“Let’s go. Julia, Emily, Zach. Come on guys, we don’t have all day, we have to get out of here, go!”
Zach barely leaned over, but said, almost inaudibly, in my ear, “Was he like this with you?” I shook my head no. Zach frowned. “Me neither.” I felt my palms get sweaty with excitement.
Officer Rhodell whipped his head around and stared us down. “Guys? What were you saying?” There was a warning, but for whatever reason, it didn’t seem scary at all.
“I was just wondering if, um, I could finish counting the cells?” I showed him my good-girl smile. Nice, normal excuse Julia. You couldn’t have lied? I was mad at me. But Jesus, talking to this new Officer Rhodell was like trying to impress a particularly annoying teacher.
“What, what? No, we have to go, and we have to go right now. Right now! Let’s head.”
Emily looked over at me, as if to say, ‘are you sure this guy is a police officer?’ Zach whispered to me, “Wow, I liked him a lot more before.”
The buzz from his whisper spread from my ear down to my fingertips all the way down to my toes, where it made my knees wobble. Dear god, I was a living cliché.
Officer Rhodell led us around back, and he took us to a large parking lot, where a lot of police cars were parked. He slipped a pair of keys out from his pocket, clicked them twice, and listened as one police car beeped.
It was funny, I didn’t think that crazy people who pretended to be police officer’s generally had police cars. But whatever.
The policeman motioned for us to get into the car. Emily and Zach sat in the back together almost immediately. I didn’t want them sitting together, but I definitely didn’t want to be sitting next to them as they kissed and drove me insane with jealousy. I stepped into the front seat, and slammed the door maybe a little too loud. Officer Rhodell shot me a mad look.
We drove in silence for a while. I mean, not total silence. Emily and Zach were talking to each other, but it was a private conversation, and much as I would have liked to listen in, I resisted. Officer Rhodell didn’t say a word.
Then finally Emily spoke. We had been driving for about fifteen minutes, and it was strange to hear something. I turned around just for a brief second to see Zach looking at her.
“Are we, like, gonna stop for breakfast?”
Officer Rhodell didn’t move a muscle, his hands still gripping a ten and two position on the steering wheel. His voice was still brusque, but it didn’t sound as angry as it had well we had been in the jail cell. “I’m sorry, Emily, I wasn’t aware breakfast was a must for you. I might think that you would be a little more grateful to me, you know? I mean, I just rescued from a jail cell and you cannot even thank me, before you start grumbling about how you’re hungry.”
I glanced back at Emily, who looked a little shocked at the answer her innocent question had provoked.
“I’m really—I’m really sorry. I was just wondering.” She did sound sorry. I was just about to sympathize for her again, before I realized that she didn’t need my sympathy since she had Zach and she had been a total asshole to me the night before.
Zach sighed and rolled his eyes. I was learning that this was a pretty typical Zach gesture.
“Don’t be sorry, Em, you didn’t do anything wrong.” It was Zach, and I found myself surprised that I wasn’t surprised. I pictured him as the one to badmouth teachers and other adults with positions of authority, but I’d never pictured him as the one to actually stand up to them. I guess when a pretty girl was involved, though, the limit was the sky.
“What?” Officer Rhodell said, his hands still in that same fatal ten and two position.
“I just said, she asked you something perfectly nice and respectful and you freak out at her. It was just really bizarre and stupid.” Zach was growing more confident with each word.
“Zach…” Emily trailed off.
“We’re not going to get into this right now, alright?” Officer Rhodell turned a corner a little too sharply, and I wondered if that was illegal. Was he going to give himself a ticket? No, probably not, because he wouldn’t know how. Because he wasn’t a real cop.
“Fine, whatever.” Zach grumbled, staring out the window as if that would somehow make Officer Rhodell more reasonable. We were back to silence again, but this time it was actually easier to handle, because I didn’t have to listen to whispers and kissing from the back seat.
We pulled around corners, and I watched as we drove past. Big trees, with gas stations and big houses dotting the roads. It was pretty, but not beautiful. It was the countryside, but not really. Rural and woodsy, but still somehow more urban than Lakeridge.
Nothing stood out about this place. It was in the middle of nowhere, and it was going nowhere, and we were going nowhere. I started to doubt if Officer Rhodell wasn’t just some creepy psycho killer who took juvenile kids and hid us in cars.
After all, I think we all knew he wasn’t really a police officer. I think we all understood that he wasn’t taking us to that other jail. But we were all functioning on three hours of sleep, and we had wanted to be out of that place. If there was one moment when I crossed into the surreal, it was then. But just because I was in dream world didn’t mean I couldn’t be scared.
And then he opened the glove box.
And told me to pick out any CD I wanted.
I knew then that he wasn’t a serial killer or a pervert or a pedophile. His music was just all normal. And yeah, I know that it probably wasn’t wise to judge him by his music, but still. He had mostly music from the 60’s and 70’s, sprinkled with some Michael Jackson and a couple of albums I didn’t recognize. There was no Linkin Park or Slip Knot. There was nothing that would suggest a fetish (as in, baby music or a ton of Miley Cyrus crap) and I could breathe easier. I flipped through and finally settled on The Madman Across The Water, by Elton John. It made the silence go away, and it made me feel as if somehow I was going to be okay.
Maybe.