County Line Road by Marie Etzler Page B

cool air conditioning. He caught his reflection in the glass, and for a split second wondered if it was really him he was looking at. As the police officer fastened the cuffs on him, Jimmy hung his head.
    The officer walked him through the mall to the police sub-station, all the way on the other side of the mall. He felt like he was on parade, that everyone was looking at him, staring and gloating.
    The security guard followed, smugly escorting Double A behind them. At the station, the guard hung around, hitching his waistband and sucking on his front teeth with his tongue.
    Inside the station, the police officer directed Jimmy and Double A to sit on the bench against the wall.
    “Slide over here,” the officer said to Jimmy and pointed to a metal ring. Jimmy looked at it with fear as he realized he was going to be locked to it, like a dog on a chain. The officer held Jimmy’s arm until he’d clasped the cuffs to the ring, and then he turned to the security guard.
    “Thanks for all your help,” the police officer said to the guard. “We’ll need you to write up a report.”
    “Affirmative,” the guard said and sat at a table, looking like he was just asked to sign a presidential decree.
    The officer took Double A’s driver’s license from his shaky hand and pulled Jimmy’s wallet out of his back pocket.
    “No license?” the officer said. Jimmy shook his head no. “Then we’ll have to call home.” The officer looked like he enjoyed saying that to teenagers.
    Jimmy swallowed hard, trying hard to remember if his father was home. He gave the officer his phone number, praying Rich would pick up the phone and come get him.
    “There’s probably nobody home,” Jimmy said. Jimmy’s voice at first sounded nervous so he coughed and tried to sound tough, like he didn’t care. His tone of voice only brought out the officer’s ugly side.
    “Boy, show some respect when you talk to me,” the officer said. The officer glared at Jimmy long enough to get Jimmy to look down at the floor. The officer went into a small inner office with a glass window to wait to talk with another officer who was on the phone.
    Double A was sweating, and he switched the store bag back and forth from one hand to the other, wiping his free hand on his jeans. The bag from the jewelry store was so crumpled and worn it looked as if he’d been carrying it for days.
    Jimmy knew he’d made a mistake, a big one. Then the thought hit him he’d have to explain this to Allison. She’ll think I’m a loser! He felt sick, thinking he’d lost her. This summer already sucked. Now his father will find out and tell the coach. Shit, Jimmy imagined himself telling the policeman at the desk, Give me that gun, officer, and I’ll just end it here and now.
    After a while, Double A’s mother showed up. Gray-haired and petite, Mrs. Anderson looked worried and tense. She went straight to the officer and listened as he explained what happened. As he talked, the tension drained from her shoulders, obviously relieved that her son was not at fault. The officer dismissed them, and she turned to take him with her.
    Double A hurried out behind her then paused at the door. “I’ll call you later,” he said to Jimmy.
    “No, you won’t,” Mrs. Anderson said defiantly. “You will not call him, and you,” she pointed to Jimmy, “will not come over to our house. That’s all I have to say to you right now, James Bodine.” She took Double A by the arm and led him away.
    The officer gave Jimmy a smirk and went back to his paperwork.
    In the silence of the station, Jimmy could hear the clacking sound of the keyboard as the officer worked on his computer, typing slowly for what seemed like an hour.
    From where he sat chained, Jimmy could see people pass by the glass windows of the mall police sub-station, staring in at him, wondering what happened. Then Jimmy saw someone he didn’t want to see.
    Linda swung open the glass door of the police sub-station and rushed