snapped.
"We're ... in some trouble," I stammered.
"I wasn't born yesterday," she muttered, her jaw barely moving, like she was trying not to be overheard. "This looks like some chapter from my office files. Only problem is, my son is in it. What is going on?"
"Mom..." I heard Bo scream out the word
liar
again as the cops hollered for him to shut up. "Mom, please trust me. You gotta help that kid in there. He's innocent."
"Innocent of what?" Her mouth didn't move again, but the tone of her voice was totally pissed.
"Mrs. Creed wants the cops to pin Chris on him. He didn't do anything. Okay? You have to believe me and help him. He's a boon, so they're being mean to him—"
She jumped a little in her chair, to let me know I had said enough.
"Do you know anything about that kid in there, Torey?" she muttered again. "I don't care if he's from Guadalajara. They're not picking on him because of where he's from but because he's got a record as long as your arm. I have personally seen that kid in court five or six times, did you know that?"
"For what?" I asked, feeling my stomach sink through the floor.
"You name it. Breaking and entering, mostly—"
"Mom. He's stupid about it. He's not cut out to be a thief. That's why he keeps getting caught—"
She jumped around again, then cleared her throat, smiling at Chief Bowen's deputy, who went back to Mrs. Creed's little room, shouting, "Mrs. Creed, Chief Bowen says you have to calm down!"
"You are being very stupid right now, young man," my mom said. "I might be a lawyer.
First,
I'm your mother. As your mother I'm telling you: This is not the type of person to whom we expect you to endear yourself, considering we are paying five thousand dollars a year in property taxes to send you to Steepleton High School."
My brain leaped to Ali's house and Bo stomping up those stairs like it was nothing. I thought of him standing on the curb with me, talking about his sister Darla and Ali....He had to have so much courage just to live his life. He saved Ali. I didn't really care about the rest.
I shut my eyes tight as Chief Bowen kept nabbing at Bo. "Look, forget Egg Harbor, forget the juvenile delinquent slumber party up there. You want to go to
Jamesburg,
Richardson? You got one foot in real jail, mister. You have pushed us and pushed us for years—"
"I'm not arrested," Richardson spouted back. "You can't send me to Jamesburg. And besides, I'm telling you, I did not break into that woman's house! I don't know what happened to her dorky kid, but I'll bet you she does!"
"Richardson, when you go to the chair, I'm pulling the switch!" Mrs. Creed's voice dive-bombed the place from across the hall. I almost pissed myself again at the sound of her voice. I shut my eyes and thought,
God, do something here. Because I can't cope with this all by myself.
Ali was wailing, Mrs. Creed was screeching, and my mom was talking about her taxes.
Mom stood up. She looked too calm and too slow in this storm. She turned and looked me dead in the eye and said, "You need to do two things: Stay calm, and keep her calm."
She did not look thrilled, and she said it like it was a military order. I reached down and bodily picked Ali up from her heap on the floor, dumping her back in the chair and keeping both arms around her so she wouldn't slither down again. I kept muttering "shhhh" to Ali as my mom walked toward the door to the room where Bo and Chief Bowen were. The door was open about halfway.
"Guys," she said in a calm voice that stopped Chief Bowen, "are you going to charge this boy with something or not?"
"What're you doing here, Susan?" Chief Bowen asked. He sounded annoyed. "Oh, that's right. We've got your son out there. Mrs. Hoffsteader saw him out her bay window, standing in front of the McDermotts', having a cigarette with this outstanding citizen here."
I wasn't smoking!
climbed halfway up my throat, but in a haze I realized that being accused of smoking was a fart in a windstorm. My brain
"We're ... in some trouble," I stammered.
"I wasn't born yesterday," she muttered, her jaw barely moving, like she was trying not to be overheard. "This looks like some chapter from my office files. Only problem is, my son is in it. What is going on?"
"Mom..." I heard Bo scream out the word
liar
again as the cops hollered for him to shut up. "Mom, please trust me. You gotta help that kid in there. He's innocent."
"Innocent of what?" Her mouth didn't move again, but the tone of her voice was totally pissed.
"Mrs. Creed wants the cops to pin Chris on him. He didn't do anything. Okay? You have to believe me and help him. He's a boon, so they're being mean to him—"
She jumped a little in her chair, to let me know I had said enough.
"Do you know anything about that kid in there, Torey?" she muttered again. "I don't care if he's from Guadalajara. They're not picking on him because of where he's from but because he's got a record as long as your arm. I have personally seen that kid in court five or six times, did you know that?"
"For what?" I asked, feeling my stomach sink through the floor.
"You name it. Breaking and entering, mostly—"
"Mom. He's stupid about it. He's not cut out to be a thief. That's why he keeps getting caught—"
She jumped around again, then cleared her throat, smiling at Chief Bowen's deputy, who went back to Mrs. Creed's little room, shouting, "Mrs. Creed, Chief Bowen says you have to calm down!"
"You are being very stupid right now, young man," my mom said. "I might be a lawyer.
First,
I'm your mother. As your mother I'm telling you: This is not the type of person to whom we expect you to endear yourself, considering we are paying five thousand dollars a year in property taxes to send you to Steepleton High School."
My brain leaped to Ali's house and Bo stomping up those stairs like it was nothing. I thought of him standing on the curb with me, talking about his sister Darla and Ali....He had to have so much courage just to live his life. He saved Ali. I didn't really care about the rest.
I shut my eyes tight as Chief Bowen kept nabbing at Bo. "Look, forget Egg Harbor, forget the juvenile delinquent slumber party up there. You want to go to
Jamesburg,
Richardson? You got one foot in real jail, mister. You have pushed us and pushed us for years—"
"I'm not arrested," Richardson spouted back. "You can't send me to Jamesburg. And besides, I'm telling you, I did not break into that woman's house! I don't know what happened to her dorky kid, but I'll bet you she does!"
"Richardson, when you go to the chair, I'm pulling the switch!" Mrs. Creed's voice dive-bombed the place from across the hall. I almost pissed myself again at the sound of her voice. I shut my eyes and thought,
God, do something here. Because I can't cope with this all by myself.
Ali was wailing, Mrs. Creed was screeching, and my mom was talking about her taxes.
Mom stood up. She looked too calm and too slow in this storm. She turned and looked me dead in the eye and said, "You need to do two things: Stay calm, and keep her calm."
She did not look thrilled, and she said it like it was a military order. I reached down and bodily picked Ali up from her heap on the floor, dumping her back in the chair and keeping both arms around her so she wouldn't slither down again. I kept muttering "shhhh" to Ali as my mom walked toward the door to the room where Bo and Chief Bowen were. The door was open about halfway.
"Guys," she said in a calm voice that stopped Chief Bowen, "are you going to charge this boy with something or not?"
"What're you doing here, Susan?" Chief Bowen asked. He sounded annoyed. "Oh, that's right. We've got your son out there. Mrs. Hoffsteader saw him out her bay window, standing in front of the McDermotts', having a cigarette with this outstanding citizen here."
I wasn't smoking!
climbed halfway up my throat, but in a haze I realized that being accused of smoking was a fart in a windstorm. My brain
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