DEPUTY

  The crowd starts to thin, and everyone is heading into the cafeteria where the music is. Someone synced a couple of speakers together and mixed music on their phone. Which is encouraging everyone into excited motion as they begin to dance.

  Club Warehouse will start trending any minute on socials. Again, another reason to make this invite-only next year.

  Shesho and Cynthia pair off with their respective partners, while Mackenzie and I huddle with people we knew from junior high. It’s nice to see some familiar faces, but none raced and qualified as shouldn't have been invited. Just roll with it, Sam.

  We all laugh as they tell me the gossip among my old classmates. Who’s gunning for which college, pranks that got them arrested. Actually, not really; they just tell me who got really cute.

  Rebecca gives me a sly look. “Remember Jake? Totally hot now. Even got a modeling deal.”

  “Really? I remember we went to the movies, and he spilled his drink on me.” I replied.

  “He’s single if you're interested.” She gives me every sign her body can make. A wink, a nod, a sly smile.

  “Why aren’t you interested?” She’s trying too hard to get me to be interested.

  Our friend Georgia elbows her. “Because he spilled his drink on her at the movies. He’s a complete klutz.”

  I snort and try to hide my face in embarrassment. Mackenzie, unhelpfully, breaks out into a laughing fit at my expense.

  Rebecca rolls her eyes, undaunted by my social faux pas. “He won’t leave me alone; the boy won’t take a hint.” Then she stops mid-rant.

  Everyone becomes a mixed bag of dreamy eyes and glares as they stare behind me. Only one human could get this reaction.

  I whip around. “What are you doing, Jared?”

  He seems to command attention while approaching me. Even more so from my calling him out. People sneak glances in curiosity. They better only be curious. I will break phones if people are videoing this.

  “I was thinking of dancing, unless you have other ideas.” He moves into my space, creating an electric feeling that rides the inches between us.

  “Maybe I’m waiting for someone?” I should tease him and leave him hanging. He deserves a good taunting after tossing me over his shoulder.

  “I’ll keep you company.” That electric feeling intensifies.

  “You had your chance, and you released me.” The chemical cocktail in the room is affecting me. My heart starts to race.

  “Maybe I wanted to see you win. Next time I won’t let you go.” He said.

  I don’t think this plan is having the intended effect. “You’ve already had your fun. Fran was giving me the death stare; you should see what she’s up to.”

  “That wouldn’t be fair. I’m still caught in your eyes.” His smile is charming and sincere. Movie stars are amateurs compared to him.

  I laugh to break out of his spell. “I adhere to a catch and release program. You are released back to the pond.”

  “You're the only one I want to dance with.” He offers his hand, and I struggle not to take it. Pull it together Seril. That racing heart goes into the red zone.

  This is not what I would consider taunting him. God, this has to be how he can be such a lothario and still have women willing to go out with him.

  “I think you have me confused with someone who likes you.” I said.

  He starts to respond just as someone runs their hands up his back. “I don’t think she’s interested.” Fran slides me out.

  That was serendipitous. This was not going the way I planned. I take the opportunity to escape when everyone’s phones ding or vibrate. The crowd in synchronized form, checks them like Pavlov's dog.

  There was supposed to be something really important when my phone vibrated. Like, avoiding jail time is important. My cop buster app has alerts indicating officers heading toward this warehouse with lights active. Thank god for the Internet and crowd-sourced apps.

  Jared chuckles. “I guess the party's over.”

  The room erupts into chaos as people go in every direction, bumping and bouncing off each other. I need to find Shesho and Eric. He drove.

  I text Shesho.

  Me to Shesho: Where are you?

  Shesho to me, Get to the car!

  That sounds a lot easier if a mass of teenagers wasn't blocking my exits. I go right and run into a mob. Left, and it’s the same problem.

  Jared grabs my hand and laughs. “Come on, Seril, I don’t want to see you get arrested.”

  He pulls me to a different door. “This is the other side of the building; how do I get to Eric’s car from there?”

  “I already told Eric I’m taking you home.” He says that, like, he and Eric are the best of buds. I'm pretty sure Shesho would have harsh words with him if that was true. At least I would've thought she would.

  “What? He agreed to that?” Letting him lead me around like a child is so humiliating. Not to mention rumors are going to start circulating.

  “Agreed is a strong word. More like a heads-up.” He leads me down the back stairs with the rest of the football team. Next year this will be invitation only.

  Outside, people jump into cars by twos and threes, but Jared takes me to a motorcycle. It’s cherry red with unmistakable headlights. “Wait.”

  He looks annoyed at me. “Sam, we need to go.”

  Not if you're kidnapping me. “First. Shesho and I have tracking apps. Second, is this a 996?” Honestly, the bike may actually be a bigger deal than him potentially kidnapping me. Where the hell did he find one of these?”

  He tosses a jacket at me and raises his eyebrows. “You're a Ducati fan?”

  “I don’t know a lot. When Mom and Dad didn’t buy me a car, I looked into motorcycles.” He climbs on, and I realize he’s my only ride home. He’s unlikely to be kidnapping me if he’s about to leave me. “Wait, you jerk.” I throw the jacket on and shove the helmet on my head.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Forced to grab his waist, I find a position that isn’t me, wrapped around him like a present. Then Fran skids in front of us. She’s on a Honda bike. “Seriously, everyone has transportation but me?”

  Jared laughs. “Hang on, Sam.” Rather than racing for the road, he drives into the heart of the industrial park. Like deja vu, Fran is hot on our heels.

  We reach a patch of forest, and I’m sure we’re going to need to be bailed out of jail. Then he turns onto a grassy path wide enough for the bikes. With headlights off, this escape route is a creepy horror movie. Tree limbs scratch against my helmet like skeletal fingers. Just as I’m about to ask if we’re lost, we drive into a small lot for hikers to park in.

  I can’t process what happened. Flipping open the visor, I’m slack-jawed and flabbergasted.

  “What was that, Jared?”

  He laughs at my shock. “Always know your exits. Come on, Fran, we’ll take the two-lane roads past the reserve and avoid the cops. Where do you live, Sam?”

  Always know your exits. Easy for him to say. He has something to exit on.

  “Do you know where Hollow Tree Hills is?”

  He nods. “Yeah, that’s a nice place.” Nice place, he says. I live in suburban hell. A 1980s planned community with a pool and managed golf course. I have no idea what houses are worth, but other kids have insinuated my neighborhood is high-end.

  I put the visor back down with a click, and as casual as can be, we pull onto the road. I hold on to him as the bike hits 30 and then 45. He’s definitely built for football. Everything feels solid and conditioned.

  Oh god, Sam, think about something else.

  It doesn’t take long for something else to happen.

  A siren runs electricity up my spine,and my heart pounds a million miles an hour. We pull over along with the cop who pulls up behind Jared and Fran. Then they make us wait and stew.

  Jared exudes calm. “Just sit tight.”

  “Because Fran and I, wearing running shorts and ripped shirts, aren't suspicious at all.” Then I hiccup. “Also, I may be a little tipsy.”

  “Lightweight.” He smirks like he’s enjoying this way too much. I hiccup again and feel betrayed by my involuntary spasms.

  His comment makes Fran snort. She respectfully turns away in embarrassment. My only satisfaction is I am not the only one.

  The cop walks up and shines a light. I flip up the visor and try to smile as she blinds me.

  Jared uses his superhuman calm powers to make this scene look completely innocent.

  “Hi, officer. Was I speeding?”

  She looks at us and chuckles. “It’s deputy. License and registration, please.” He produces the documents from his back pocket, an unfortunate place as I try to maneuver out of the way of his hand.

  Looking over his ID, she chuckles again. “Everything looks in order, Mister Walker.” She glances at me. “Is he treating you well, Sam?”

  “Yes, Deputy Mercer, things are going just fine.” I smile innocently. The innocence of someone who has not drank alcohol while underage.

  Jared glances back at me. “You two are acquainted?”

  She hands his ID back. “Sam, please ask Jamie to put more carnations in the table decorations for the Sheriff's dinner this year. His secretary always requests too many mums.”

  Deputy Mercer was a bridesmaid at my aunt's wedding.

  “I’ll let her know.” I nod and almost hit Jared with the visor.

  Now she leans in like there is a secret to be exchanged. “I heard there was a disturbance at the abandoned warehouses nearby. Who won the race?”

  “I did; Shesho got second.” I fork a thumb at Fran. “She got third.”

  “Good for Shesho.” She looks at Jared. “It’s past curfew, so take her home, Mr. Walker. Safely.”

  He nods and looks at me like he doesn’t know what just happened. “What was that?”

  “The Sheriff is my aunt’s father-in-law.”

  Jared’s jaw drops. Basically, I got him out of being arrested for trespassing. Possibly something with alcohol too. I’ll refrain from pointing out that we got insanely lucky.

  He and Fran drive me home, stopping around the corner from my house.

  “Safe and sound. Just like I told Eric.” He takes the jacket and helmet.

  “Thanks. Later. Bye.” If I just run away fast enough, we won’t get drawn into small talk, and it will be like this never happened. Nope, never saved by the school's pathological flirt and ending up riding with him on his motorcycle.

  He laughs and shakes his head. “See you at school, Sam.”

  Fran is undaunted in her mission; she revs her bike. “Let’s go, Jared. I have school tomorrow too.” Thank you, Fran, for saving me from any awkward conversation. Just don’t think about why she’s in a hurry.

  This situation exemplifies a very important point. I need my own transportation. That Ducati would be nice.

  I walk the three houses to mine and see Eric’s car parked in front of Shesho’s. I text her, I’m home. All I get back is a thumbs-up. Thank god she’s occupied and not asking about Jared.

  I go around to the side of my house to grab the hose. The plaster and other muck is still all over me, and I don’t want to track it in my house. Plus a cold hose is less likely to jog my parents out of bed versus a shower.

  Reaching the place the hose is supposed to be, it is conspicuously gone. Only the indentation in the grass remains.

  Glancing into the backyard, I see Mom playing a game on her phone by the pool. She can’t see me, so I start to step back.

  “Looking for this?” Mom holds out the hose.

  She’s smirking. I know it with every fiber of my being. She’s enjoying catching me.

  “No. I’m good.”

  “I can smell you from here. Why do you smell like baby powder?”

  I thought Fran got the baby powder.

  “I was babysitting.”

  “The guy on the bike? Seems a little old to need a babysitter.”

  This is a losing battle. She probably already knows everything. She’s my nemesis. Other teenagers do stuff their parents don’t know about all the time. My mom is practically psychic concerning whatever I may be doing. “I know I’m an hour past curfew, but at least I didn’t get arrested.”

  She laughs once. “Not that you didn’t try.”

  “Do I even have to tell you, or do you already know?” I ask.

  “You should just fess up.”

  As I’m about to speak, I get sprayed with water from behind me.

  “You should clean up first,” Dad said.

  Honestly, I saw this coming. Dad is the guy who jumps from around the corner to startle you. I shriek and turn around in circles. “Stop, I’m clean. I’m clean.”

  Dad tosses a towel on my head and wraps another around my shoulders. “Sorry. The baby powder was gross.”

  We sit in the pool chairs as I dry my hair. “I’m sorry I'm past curfew.”

  Mom hands me another dry towel. “Thank you, but it’s not the curfew. Breaking into private property and almost being arrested is more than pushing boundaries.”

  “I wasn’t arrested, so it didn’t turn out that bad.”

  Mom rolls her eyes. “Only because you got lucky.”

  She knows about being pulled over and the warehouse. How much trouble am I in? I look at my dad.

  “You technically didn’t get away with it.” He flashes a grin. “We caught you. You're going to be 17 in a couple of weeks. The consequences are going to become less trivial.”

  Mom takes over. “Society has rules. You may think you can get away with something, but you can’t get away with everything. Being convicted of trespassing could keep you from getting into a good school. You will have much more important responsibilities in the future. You need to pay attention to your choices.” Says the woman who’s banned from 5 countries.

  She’s so confusing. This isn’t the first trespassing incident, but this is the one she’s decided to go judge doom on me over? “So don’t get caught next time?”

  She rubs the bridge of her nose. “I’m not explaining this right.”

  Dad takes over. “We understand it’s not always black and white. I know you had no intentions to do more than run through that building, but if anything bad would have happened, Betty wouldn’t have let you off the hook.”

  “I’m sensing you guys just don’t want me to get caught.”

  “No, Sam. I want you to think about how decisions can get out of your control. If any of the other people had decided to do something serious like start a fire, you would be tangled up in that mess. Next time, try to keep your fun on the safe side of the law.”

  “So what’s my punishment?”

  Mom looks at Dad. She usually does this. The one time she decided on punishment, Dad told her that the proposed physical labor was frowned upon in the US.

  “You’ll be grounded from Shesho and your friends for the weekend. Including tomorrow. Work and your track meet are excluded.”

  I start to argue, but Mom gives me the don’t push it look. Again, why is this incident the one that pushed her over the edge?

  The team is getting together tomorrow night to celebrate getting to the semifinals. There was going to be cake!

  Ok, I fail at holding back. “But the team is meeting to psyche up for the semi-finals. They need me.”

  Mom sighs. “If I had to guess, your team won’t be making it to that party. Once a few parents realize this evening's activities.”

  I better shut up. “Well. I have school tomorrow. One of those important responsibilities.”

  “You're most important. Graduating high school is your priority. Even above track.”

  “Got it, Mom.”

  I take this opportunity to exit the conversation. “Love you guys.”

  “Love you too, Sam.”

  I almost make it inside when Mom stops me.

  “Sam. Who won the race?”

  “I did. Shesho got second.”

  “Good for you two.”

  She exists in this weird zone where she encourages me to be adventurous and then seems to irrationally pull back on that encouragement. To be honest, I don’t think she knows what limits she wants to set other than the amorphous responsibility decree.