Betwixt, Before, Beyond (23 page)

Chapter Ten

The police take my finger prints, my mug shots and then shove me into an interview room to sweat it out. I have no idea what will happen to me. The room may not have bars, but it feels just like a jail cell. I'm still hand cuffed. I don't know if I'm supposed to be, but I got a bit lippy with the officer on the way in. His evil glare spoke volumes, and I swear he smirked when he closed the door on me. There's a table and chair in the middle of the room, but I go for the corner.

Slumping against the hard walls, I pull my hoody over my head and rest my arms on my knees.

I've known for months that I've been walking a dangerous line, but I never thought I'd end up here. Part of me wants to fight for pride. This is going to make me a legend amongst the guys, but a bigger part of me, the part that will not shut up, is reminding me that only losers end up in jail.

I stole a freaking car! What the hell was I thinking?

The truth is, I haven't been thinking. I've been riding these waves of angry rebellion for nearly a year. Sure, I started out slow, but I knew where this was leading months ago. I was just too pissed off with my parents to acknowledge it.

I grip my head in my hands, wanting to squeeze my brain out and erase the last few months of my life.
The "I should never haves" swirl through my head. Regret after regret pile high until I feel like I might be crushed beneath them.

And then the door clicks open.

I recognize his shoes and keep my head down. I don't want to see which expression Dad is wearing right now. It'll either make me mad or just break my heart even more. He walks into the room and pauses on the other side of the table. I notice he's holding a paper police bag...all the stuff they took from my pockets when they checked me in. Damn. Dad will have seen it all. A second pair of shoes stops just beside him.

I
look up with a frown and spot my brother-in-law, Julian. With a sigh, I tap my head against the back of the wall and close my eyes. He's not wearing a tie, his hair's all mussed up, and he's missing his standard brief case. I don't know if he's here as a lawyer or support for my dad. Either way, I don't like it.

I clench my jaw and keep my eyes shut tight.

"I've tried my best, but the owner's determined to press charges. You'll have to appear in court in about six weeks. I'll let you know the date when it's confirmed." Julian's voice is calm and quiet.

In contrast, my insides are going nuts. Court? Shit!

Julian sighs. "I'll go with you."

Relief makes me open my eyes and look at Julian. I wish I hadn't. His unimpressed glare makes me feel like a maggot. He shakes his head. "I don't know if you've done this before, but whatever you're into...stop. Stop now."
He opens his mouth to keep going, but Dad grips his shoulder to silence him.

"Thanks for coming down
, Julz. Apologize to Rachel for me. I didn't mean to make her worry, I just wanted a lawyer's opinion."

"No problem, Dad. I'll call you in the morning."

"Thanks."

Julian gives me one final deadpan stare before leaving the room. I catch Dad's eye and swallow.

I struggle to stand as an officer walks into the room and rids me of the cuffs. Keeping my head down, I slump out of the room. No one gives me a second glance as I leave the building. Dad doesn't say a word until we're nearly halfway home. Pulling off the main road, he glides to a stop on some random street and cuts the engine.

"What are you doing?" I glance at him.

Dad runs his hand over the wheel. "I can't say what I'm going to say and drive at the same time."

My shoulders tense and I shove my fists into the pockets of my hoody.

"I don't really know what I can say. I never...I never thought I'd be collecting my fifteen-year-old son from a police station."

I look out the window and swallow.

"I know you've been mad at us for a while now. I know we've been strict, and you probably feel as though we've been unfair or too hard on you."

Biting my lip, I prepare myself for yet another lecture that will do no good. When is he going to understand that talking shit to me just does not work?

"I'm sorry," Dad sighs.

What?

I turn to look at him.

He gives me a glum smile and nods. "We should have told you the truth about Rachel. We...it was a really hard time. Losing your mother for those ten years nearly killed me. We loved each other so mu
ch. We weren't trying to be bad...we just..." He shrugs. "We just couldn't control ourselves. When she told me she was pregnant, my first feeling was joy...but then reality kicked in a second later, and everything fell apart."

My heart is thrumming double time. This is the first 100% honest speech I've ever heard from my dad. The glossy veneer he usually coats his eloquent words with is missing. I can feel his raw emotion as he relives the past.

"You know, they didn't even let us say goodbye to each other. They just packed her in a car and drove north. They wouldn't tell me where she was. I lost her and the baby in an instant. I was devastated. But, my Dad packed my bags and sent me off to seminary. It's a miracle that I found your mother ten years later, and we had to fight to be together then. I was being set up to marry the senior minister's daughter from the church I was pastoring at. She was perfect for me...accordingly to everyone else. My family was livid when I brought Mary and Rachel home and told them my intentions. I guess that's…” Dad’s mouth curves into a wobbly line as he blinks at tears. "I guess that's why we tried so hard with you kids. We love you. We—we wanted to protect you from facing that kind of pain. Being ridiculed and judged for everything you do is exhausting. One foot out of line and people were all over us." Dad grips the steering wheel. "Everyone expected us to fail, and we wanted to prove all of them wrong. Rachel was so easy..." Dad's chuckle is dry. "But you...you just kept on fighting us. I didn't understand why until this afternoon when you let it all out." He sniffed. "It hurt, Dale. What you said hurt your mother and me deeply...and then to get that phone call from the police. I..." Dad sighs again, running a hand through his hair. "I want to make things right for our family, but you have to play fair too."

I lick my bottom lip and sniff. "Don't send me away." My voice is so small and pathetic. I wanted it to come out strong and confident. I hate that I sound like a scared little mouse.

"I don't want to, but..."

I sigh.

Dad lays his hand on my arm. "But, this life you're leading has got to stop. No more partying with those friends of yours. No more...well, whatever you're getting up to at those parties." Dad looks suddenly awkward, and I figure he must have spotted the condoms in that damn police bag. "No more stealing cars." He sounds sick even saying the words.

I've totally shamed
him and for the first time in...well, maybe forever...I feel really bad about it.

"
Is this like my final warning or something?"

"Do you need me to make it that?"
Dad's voice is soft.

I frown and look out the window.

"Dale, you're a smart kid. You've always had a thinking brain inside that head of yours. Start using it. What kind of life do you want? You really want to end up in jail again...or get some girl pregnant? Do really want to fail school?"

Of course I don't!

I can't say that though, my throat is too clogged to speak.

"I know you hate these rules, but I don't know how else to protect you. So here it is...you're grounded for the rest of high school if needs be. No more Hugh. No more smoking. No more drinking. No more stealing. You get up, you go to school, and you come home. That's it. That's your life until I say otherwise."

My softened feelings while Dad was giving his apology speech quickly fade. His firm voice is back and I hate him for it.

"And let me guess, on the weekends, I'm lucky enough to attend church and frickin' youth group."

Dad flinches. "Dale, I'm doing it because I love you. I'm trying to protect you."

"From who? My friends?"

"Yourself." Dad squeezes my shoulder, but I flick him off. He looks a little heart broken by my wrath. "Son, I know you want nothing to do with your maker right now. I know you think He's all rules, but whether you like it or not, He loves you even more than I do. And on the days I want to quit and give up, He's the one reminding me not to let go. No matter what you do, Dale, I'm not letting go. Which is why, if you don't start toeing the line, I'm sending you away. I know you'll hate it, but I love you enough to do it."

I can't respond. I can't even look at him. My fingers are bunched so tight my nails are practically cutting my palms. Dad starts the car
, and we drive home in silence. As soon as the engine cuts off I jump out of the car and make a beeline for my room.

Chapter Eleven

I'm awake all night. It's not until the sun is lighting the sky that I finally fall into a fitful sleep. My parents are smart enough to leave me alone. I drift in and out. A soft knock on my door rouses me, but I ignore it. Eventually, things go quiet and I drift back into a nightmare of images. No matter how my dreams begin, they always end with me back in the police station and then standing before an irate judge in an empty courtroom. The gavel slams down, and I'm done for.

Finally
, I can't hack it anymore and force myself to wake. Sitting up, I scratch my curls and scrub my hand over my face. Grabbing my watch, I read the time and flop back down on my bed. Midday. My stomach is going nuts, and I know I need food, but I'm not quite ready to face everyone. Unfortunately, I have no choice. I'm busting and if I don't move now, I might just wet the bed.

I shuffle to the bathroom and when I'm done, decide I can't ignore my stomach either. Padding down the stairs, I try not to disturb anyone, but
I shouldn't have bothered. Mom is in the kitchen looking puffy eyed and fragile. She's baking up a storm, something she always does when she's being all emotional about something. Blueberry muffins and chocolate slice litter the counter tops. I grab a napkin and reach for a muffin, keeping my eye on Mom. She won't look at me. She sniffs delicately and keeps stirring a bowlful of cookie dough.

It's an awkward, icy silence that I'd do anything to shatter, but I don't know what to say. There's nothing left to do, but turn and head back to my room.

The phone rings.

I reach for it, but am jerked back by my mother's terse voice. "I'll get it!"

She answers with quiet politeness, but her body goes stiff instantly and all pleasantries are flung aside.

"No, he's not available to chat
, and I would prefer if you did not call here again." With that, she slams the phone down.

"Who was that?"

Wiping her hands on her apron, she flicks a curl off her forehead and gives me a hard glare.

"So, I'm not even allowed to talk to my friends anymore?"

"We confiscated your phone for a reason." Her voice is small and tight. "It's for your own good."

"They're my friends."

"Not anymore." She dusts the flour from her shaking fingertips.

"You can't do this to me."

"Then I suggest you pack your bags. Your father can drive you up to my grandparents tonight if you like." I don't miss the tremor in her tone and lean my head to the side.

"Mom, come on."

"Don't!" She raises her hand at me. "Dale, just don't. Go up to room or start packing your bags!"

"Can't we talk about it? I mean, can't we just find some kind of compromise or something?"

"Your father had to pick you up from a police station last night!" Her eyes fill with tears, her expression crumpling. "You have to appear before a judge. In court! You're only fifteen, Dale." She sucks back a ragged sob. Covering her mouth, she blinks several times to gain her composure. Shaking her curls, she breathes in and stands tall. Her voice is still shaking when she speaks, but there is a hard tone that's impossible to miss. "You lost your chance."

I drop the muffin on the counter, my appetite vanishing. "I never even had a chance in the first place," I scoff. Brushing off my fingers, I skulk back to my room. I fling myself onto the bed and cover my eyes with my arm. This sucks.
It more than sucks.

I hate feeling option
less. Sure, I don't want to go to jail, and I really don't want to hear what the judge has to say.

The weird thing is, I don't want to see some of the people I've been hanging out with lately either.

But then a housebound sentence is hardly something to get excited about.

I feel totally cornered. I hate my future.

Toeing the line will keep me in LA, but do I honestly want to stay here if all I have to look forward to is mind-numbing days of school, homework and church based activities? The idea makes my stomach surge with bile.

On the other hand, I could keep playing the role of
a rebel. I like that idea. It's the only one that involves freedom and this feels good to me, but then I can't help asking myself if it really does make me happy. When I think back over the last few months in particular, I've been miserable...restless...looking for an out.

I groan and thump the bed, willing sleep to take me so I don't have to think anymore.

"Dale?" Dad's voice wafts down the hallway.

My gut clenches and I scramble for my headphones. Popping them in, I quickly hunt for a playlist as I jump across the room and press my back against the door. The doorknob jiggles as Dad knocks on the door again. I find my favorite Granite album and pump up the volume. The heavy rock music thrums in my ears as I lean my head on the wood. Dad keeps knocking. I can hear his muffled speech and grit my teeth until he gives up.

Thankfully, it doesn't take long.

I spend the rest of the night, lying on my bed in peaceable silence until something starts hitting my bedroom window.

I lurch up and pull the headphones from my ears. The music died hours ago, along with my iPod battery. I glance at the time - 1am.

Pulling back the curtain, I lift up the window and nearly get nicked in the head by a stone.

"What the hell, man?"

I hear Hugh's chuckle and can't help a grin.

"Finnigan, get your ass down here."

"Are you kidding me?" I do that whispering shout, hoping my parents won't hear this.

"I've been trying to call you all day, dude. You so have to tell me about last night, man. You are epic, and the guys want details."

"I can't,
I'm under house arrest. I mean it's serious this time."

"Come on. When's that ever stopped you? We'll just go for a quick ride
, and I'll have you back here before the sun rises. I swear."

Gripping the windowsill, I sigh as my will to break free wrestles with the conscious thought that going would be a really bad idea.

"Fin-ni-gan. Oh, Fin-ni-gan," Hugh sings.

I chuckle, "Alright. But just for an hour, okay?"

Shoving on my shoes, I shimmy down the drainpipe, convincing myself that this is a good idea. I'll tell the guys exactly how it went down and then maybe they can help me come up with a plan to ease my parents into early release or something. As long as I'm home within an hour...two at the most... I'll get away with this. My parents don't have to know a thing.

Running across the grass, I chase Hugh down the street. We turn the corner and find Luis, Jack and Travis waiting for us.

"Where'd you get this?" I hop in the back of the pristine vehicle. Luis shuffles over to the middle as Hugh and I sit either side of him.

"We picked it up three blocks from here." Jack's driving, looking nervous and on fire at the same time.

Travis laughs and slaps Jack on the shoulder. "Go man!"

We screech away from the curb and head to the hills. The guys start pestering me the second we're on the road. Hugh passes out beers as we cruise along
, and I retell the details. My initial plan was to make it sound really bad, but I can't help adding a little flair to my story. The guys' laughter and cheers spur me on, and I'm soon coming off like a bad-ass legend. I can't help seeing the funny side of it all.

I crush my beer can and throw it at my feet as Jack starts his descent back to Glendale. I have no idea what the time is, but I know I should probably start heading home. The thought is depressing, but also a little safe. I can't figure out why, but the urge to get home quickly becomes overwhelming.

Maybe it's the strong smell of beer in the car, or maybe it's the fact I don't want to get caught and sent north, but I need to get home...like now.

No one else in th
e car notices my tension. They're all still busy laughing and joking about all the hideous things that could have happened to me in jail. I laugh along, feeling no humor. My gut's getting tighter by the second.

Luis cracks one of his standard one liners
, which has everyone but me howling with laughter. Jack spins in his seat to look at Luis, and then it happens. I don't know what Jack does, but the car is one minute on the road and the next flying through the air, cartwheeling over on itself. It's like being inside chaos. That's the only way to describe it. A mixture of screams and crashes, pain and fear. All the sounds merge together in a whirlwind. For a moment, we're flying and then the car lands, skidding down a bank and slamming to a halt.