“But you’re bleeding . . . ” Portia continued.
“What’s going on?” Ms. Oullette said as she came into the classroom. By now a handful of students had gotten out of their seats and formed a semicircle around Andy.
“I’m fine, guys. Really.” And aside from a tiny cut, he was mostly—except for the fact he was red with mortification.
“Well, fine or not, you’ll need to check in with the nurse,” Ms. Oullette said. Andy nodded and accepted Pete Nash’s hand, using it to pull himself off the floor.
“Ms. Oullette,” Pete called over his shoulder, “Andy probably needs someone to accompany him to the nurse’s office—like me, maybe. Who knows if he’s concussed or not?”
“Nice try, Mr. Nash,” she responded drily, “but you wouldn’t want to miss the pop quiz I was just about to administer.”
There were a bunch of exaggerated groans as Andy slunk out of the classroom. He looked at Em as he passed, and she stared back with wide, unblinking eyes. I did that, she thought, terrified. I hurt him. Just because I was angry.
Em could barely focus during the quiz; she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d completely failed it—but she didn’t even care. After turning it in she excused herself to go to the bathroom, slung her bag on her shoulder, and never came back.
? ? ?
When you combined all the money from last year’s summer gig at the YMCA day camp, plus her savings from occasional babysitting jobs here and there, Em had about three hundred dollars. She’d been hoping to put it toward a new laptop, but getting Crow out of jail was slightly more important. After raiding the Mason jar at the back of her closet (her “savings account”), Em sped to the police station with two hundred dollars in twenties, tens, fives, and singles.
“Thank you,” Crow mouthed as soon as she’d signed the paperwork and they brought him through the heavy sliding doors.
“Thank you, officers,” she said, praying that no one she knew would see her coming out of the Ascension Police Department with Crow at her side. “What is this?” she hissed as soon as they were back in her car. “What were you thinking? What happened?”
He reached over and put his hand on her arm. She’d never seen him so serious.
“I’m sorry, Em,” he said, and she could tell that he meant it. He was sober. ?Tired. And his eyes were full of gratitude. “I don’t want you to . . . I went back. After you left, after your mom picked you up. I kept messing with that guy—the bouncer. I was so pissed off, Em. They called the cops on me, and I got arrested for disorderly conduct.”
Em shook her head slowly. “But that doesn’t make sense. Wouldn’t they have just let you out this morning?” She remembered the same had happened to Gabby’s brother, Sam, the night he turned twenty-one and started stripping drunk in a gas station parking lot. They’d taken him overnight and let him out the next morning; he reported back that he’d been thrown in a big cell with a bunch of other drunk people and a whole lot of vomit on the floor. Nothing too traumatic, though definitely impressionable enough to never do it again. But either way, there was no bail involved.
“Yeah, I just . . . I might have told an officer to fuck himself. . . . ”
“What?!”
“And then smiled at a judge the wrong way . . . ”
“You had to see a judge this morning?!” ?This felt way out of her league.
“Listen, Em, it wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s just that I pissed off some cop and so he pulled up my record—and now that I’m eighteen they don’t cut me such a break. . . . ”
“Crow, stop.” She took in a deep breath, trying to form a coherent thought in her head. “It doesn’t matter how it happened, not really. I’m just . . . I’m really worried about you. You’re going off the rails. Drinking too much, getting into fights, getting arrested, telling off cops? All of this could’ve been avoided. Why couldn’t you just talk to me? Why the hell did you run off like that last night?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s the darkness . . . these visions. They’re driving me crazy.” He rubbed his palms on the front of his jeans, his large hands shaking. It was torture—for both of them. As he did his best to deal with these visions, he only spiraled deeper—further and further away from her. She couldn’t withhold any information from Crow. Not anymore, not at this point.
“Can we go somewhere to talk?” she asked, looking around.
“Aren’t we talking now, princess?”
“I’m serious. Somewhere private.”
“My house?” he said quietly. “Let’s go get my car and meet back at my house.”