“Did you get a look at what he was wearing,” Officer Hogue asked after my dad nodded for him to continue.
“I think he was wearing jeans, and a jacket. It looked kind of like the jackets they wear on CSI.”
“Did his jacket say CSI?”
I went to shake my head no, and almost lost my balance. “No,” I said closing my eyes. “It just looked like those jackets … but I don’t know what they’re called."
“I think he means a windbreaker,” dad supplied.
“No, not that, you know those jackets you all thought were cool in the eighties, Will Ferrel wears one in Night at the Roxbury,” I said.
They all stared blank faced at me and I tried to remember what those stupid jackets were called and then it clicked. “A members only jacket, that’s what it was. I think. Then again it might have been a windbreaker.”
“I see,” Officer Hogue said, “Did he have a weapon?”
“No,” I said, “I don’t think so. It all happened so fast and …”
Officer Hogue tapped on his notebook and then tucked it into one of the pockets of his shirt. “Mr. Castle,” Officer Hogue waved over another officer who was examining the garage.
The officer came over, "Yes sir," she said stopping next to Officer Hogue. She was a petite woman with dark red hair wrapped into a tight bun.
I don’t know whether it’s my dad’s baritone voice, or the six foot two, athletic build of a forty year old man, but women swoon over my father, as Officer Fields was doing now. Her eyes never left my dad’s face and she kept biting her lip. One thing I wondered was if my father was only acting oblivious to her obvious interest, or if he was in fact oblivious to it. Lucky for me the ice-pack was covering up the faces I was making.
“… officer Fields is going to take a walk with you through the house, I want you to note to her anything out of place, and what, if anything is missing."
"Okay," dad said. They headed toward the house, I followed until I couldn’t breathe. If I didn’t feel like a puss before, I did now. Having a panic attack after being thrown around like a rag doll in my own house, where was my man card? I took one step up the porch stairs and stopped, the ground kept looking like it was right below my chin. I turned around in time to see the black Charger creeping by with its driver side window cracked. The engine roared and the car sped away just as I threw up. I couldn’t even be casual about tossing my cookies, because when I threw up again my vision blurred and the next thing I knew the ground came up to greet my face.
“James if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes,” a thick Jamaican voice said.
When I opened my eyes I was staring at the roof of an ambulance, a dark skinned woman with a short afro was staring down at me. "There you are," she said. She had a nice smile. “Can you tell me your name?”
“James,” I said. My eyes fluttered closed again.
She snapped in my ear, “James, I need you to stay with me.”
My dad’s face joined hers in staring down at me, etched with worry. I attempted to sit up and the woman pushed at my chest keeping me lying down, “Stay still, you have a possible concussion.”
I turned my head to look back at my dad who smiled and squeezed my hand before wiping a stray tear at the corner of his eye. "You’re going to be fine," were the last words he said before I blacked out again.
The chains creaked and rattled as I kicked my feet trying to go higher. There was no way she was going to end up with my pudding cup. Being the highest swinger meant two pudding cups, it was a rule, Kevin said so. Kevin was smarter than all of us on account of his glasses. Everyone knows smart people wear glasses. Tina, our babysitter, wears them and she’s super smart.
Chloe was giggling. Don’t look, don’t look. But I had to. She was looking back at me and smiling and then she let go of the swing and jumped. For a minute she was flying eclipsing
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