field. That last one totally petrified me.
I walked into my house and went straight up to my room. I could feel this thing unwinding as I pulled off my jeans and threw them in the back of my closet. It was almost like I had already been caught. And even if we never got caught, I didn't see how I could walk into school and rattle on with my friends about the boons smelling bad or Creed's body being in somebody's swimming pool, like life was some goddamn joke and we had nothing to worry about. I had become a little like Ali, with the unperfect life. I had just done some sort of serious crime. I had done something the cops could be very pissed about. And here I was, the type who could never even lie without looking guilty as all hell.
Ten
I sat in the police station with my mom on one side of me and Ali on the other. I remember being glad that my dad had been working that night. You don't know how your parents are going to react to trouble if you've never been in any. My mom was totally blank as those cops took me away in the cop car. They had told me I could come down in her car, that they just wanted to question me. But I muttered, "I don't mind," because somehow the cop car seemed a better deal than having my guilt seated next to my mom in a closed-in car. I wished she would have gone ballistic, though my mom had never gone ballistic that I could remember. But I hadn't ever done anything like this before, either.
There were two other rooms in the police station, and I could hear hollering coming out of both of them.
In one Bo was saying, "You're wrong! I don't have to answer your stupid questions, and I don't have to talk to you about anything! I want a lawyer!"
Chief Bowen's voice came back at him. "I guess you've been in here often enough to know the law, Richardson. To get a lawyer at this point in the game, you have to pay for one. Don't forget who you are. A bigmouth with a record, with one foot in Egg Harbor and another foot on a banana peel—"
"Aw, kiss my ass."
"Don't you"—a thunder of chairs clattering made the building shake almost, and Chief Bowen's voice cut in at the end of it—"
ever
talk to me like that!"
Two younger officers charged out of the other room, which Mrs. Creed was in, and shot past us into the room where Bo and Chief Bowen were. Ali shot out of her seat, and I grabbed her by the back of the jeans and jerked her down beside me again. She had been crying and now added to the mess with louder sobs. I couldn't take her sobs. I shot up out of my chair toward the room with Bo, and my mother jerked me back down like I had done with Ali.
"Mom! They're beating him up!" I cried.
"No they're not. Stay calm, both of you." I looked at her sitting there tensely as the yelling and furniture clanging continued.
And from the other room, Mrs. Creed's voice blasted, "He either murdered my son or he's holding my son! If you let him go tonight, I will sue you for—"
"You're a liar!" Bo's voice thundered, and my mom reached over me and grabbed Ali, who was screeching with her head in her lap.
"How can you say they're not beating him?" I pleaded with her.
"They're yelling, mostly. They yanked him out of the chair and the chair fell over, then he kicked the chair, and then one of the other officers tripped over the chair."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"These noises are my life." She stared at the door, too calm.
"How can you let them talk to him like that?" I demanded. "They're the police! They're trashing him—"
"Torey." She cut me off and did not look thrilled. "I don't have time right now to give you a lesson in juvenile delinquency. Nobody is beating him, all right? There's just a language that these kids understand, and if you don't use it, you might as well speak French to them. They're just doing what cops do."
"Mom, just do what lawyers do. Please, do something for him," I mumbled, and I could feel myself starting to bawl.
"Would you care to tell me what happened tonight?" she
I walked into my house and went straight up to my room. I could feel this thing unwinding as I pulled off my jeans and threw them in the back of my closet. It was almost like I had already been caught. And even if we never got caught, I didn't see how I could walk into school and rattle on with my friends about the boons smelling bad or Creed's body being in somebody's swimming pool, like life was some goddamn joke and we had nothing to worry about. I had become a little like Ali, with the unperfect life. I had just done some sort of serious crime. I had done something the cops could be very pissed about. And here I was, the type who could never even lie without looking guilty as all hell.
Ten
I sat in the police station with my mom on one side of me and Ali on the other. I remember being glad that my dad had been working that night. You don't know how your parents are going to react to trouble if you've never been in any. My mom was totally blank as those cops took me away in the cop car. They had told me I could come down in her car, that they just wanted to question me. But I muttered, "I don't mind," because somehow the cop car seemed a better deal than having my guilt seated next to my mom in a closed-in car. I wished she would have gone ballistic, though my mom had never gone ballistic that I could remember. But I hadn't ever done anything like this before, either.
There were two other rooms in the police station, and I could hear hollering coming out of both of them.
In one Bo was saying, "You're wrong! I don't have to answer your stupid questions, and I don't have to talk to you about anything! I want a lawyer!"
Chief Bowen's voice came back at him. "I guess you've been in here often enough to know the law, Richardson. To get a lawyer at this point in the game, you have to pay for one. Don't forget who you are. A bigmouth with a record, with one foot in Egg Harbor and another foot on a banana peel—"
"Aw, kiss my ass."
"Don't you"—a thunder of chairs clattering made the building shake almost, and Chief Bowen's voice cut in at the end of it—"
ever
talk to me like that!"
Two younger officers charged out of the other room, which Mrs. Creed was in, and shot past us into the room where Bo and Chief Bowen were. Ali shot out of her seat, and I grabbed her by the back of the jeans and jerked her down beside me again. She had been crying and now added to the mess with louder sobs. I couldn't take her sobs. I shot up out of my chair toward the room with Bo, and my mother jerked me back down like I had done with Ali.
"Mom! They're beating him up!" I cried.
"No they're not. Stay calm, both of you." I looked at her sitting there tensely as the yelling and furniture clanging continued.
And from the other room, Mrs. Creed's voice blasted, "He either murdered my son or he's holding my son! If you let him go tonight, I will sue you for—"
"You're a liar!" Bo's voice thundered, and my mom reached over me and grabbed Ali, who was screeching with her head in her lap.
"How can you say they're not beating him?" I pleaded with her.
"They're yelling, mostly. They yanked him out of the chair and the chair fell over, then he kicked the chair, and then one of the other officers tripped over the chair."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"These noises are my life." She stared at the door, too calm.
"How can you let them talk to him like that?" I demanded. "They're the police! They're trashing him—"
"Torey." She cut me off and did not look thrilled. "I don't have time right now to give you a lesson in juvenile delinquency. Nobody is beating him, all right? There's just a language that these kids understand, and if you don't use it, you might as well speak French to them. They're just doing what cops do."
"Mom, just do what lawyers do. Please, do something for him," I mumbled, and I could feel myself starting to bawl.
"Would you care to tell me what happened tonight?" she
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