Things We Didn't Say

Chapter 32

Dylan



Hey, Romeo,” says the female cop again, this time coming in with a bottled water.

I’ve been dozing on a chair, my feet up on another chair, leaning on the wall. I sit up and nod, swinging my feet down to the floor.

“Not much for talking, huh?”

I shrug.

“Alrighty. Well. Your dad just called from the road. The storm has slowed him up, but he’ll be here in a few hours.”

Oh, jeez. I’m such a baby. I can feel my eyes getting wet again. At least it’s a lady cop and not that mean detective.

“So, what was so bad you had to run from, huh?”

“N-n-nothing.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve.

She sits in a chair across from me, leaning on the table. “You don’t fool me, kid. It wasn’t just your Juliet, not that she isn’t a lovely girl. What’s up? You have trouble at home?” Her face shifts, just a little, from her relaxed, just chatting look. Her eyes harden a little. “Anyone hurt you at home?”

“NO.”

Her eyebrow goes up, and now I think, Shit, she’ll think I’m lying, I’m trying to convince her too hard. I don’t want to get my dad in trouble, or Casey.

“I hate my school.”

She nods, a look of recognition on her face. It’s embarrassing to think she’s heard it a million times, but also a relief. Maybe I’m not such a freak. She might even understand.

“My grandpa made me go cuz they f-f-f—” I take a deep breath. Slow down, calm. “They found a gun at my old school. Now I’m not even in band. Hate it.”

She notices my sax case on the floor next to me. “Why didn’t you just talk to them?”

I shrug. Like that would help. My dad is all about doing “what’s best,” whether the kids want it or not. Nothing ever changes around my house, anyway. Even the divorce didn’t change that much. Mom is still nuts half the time, and they still fight. Only now we have to stay in her shitty apartment every other weekend where I can’t practice because my sax disturbs the neighbors.

“I made friends with this . . . girl and it sounded like she had a bad . . . time of it.” Sometimes I pause instead of stammer, but that’s only slightly better. It still sounds weird. Anyway, I could talk for an hour, and it’s not like any of it would make sense.

It sounded great just to go away, when Tiffany suggested it, like hitting a big “delete” button on everything bad.

“You know,” the lady cop says now, “adults can help you. But you have to say something. There’s no reason to suffer alone.”

I look at her from under my hair, which I’ve let fall over my face.

“You know, most adults were once teenagers. The ones that didn’t spring into being from a pod in a lab. Give your folks a chance, will ya? Better than running off.”

The cop slaps the table. “Well. Gotta do some paperwork. So much paperwork. If I’d known about all the paperwork I might have been a lumberjack or something. Anyway, I’ll let you know when your dad is here.”

When she goes, I rest my head on my arms and let my eyes go unfocused. It’s like being in a cave.

I really want my dad to hurry up.

Tiffany didn’t look at all relieved when her dad showed up. It didn’t take too long; he lives right in town, after all.

Tiffany got up to leave with the officer, and looked back at me. I didn’t get why she looked so wrecked exactly. I thought she was going to barf.

“He’s never going to let me talk to you again,” she croaked out.

I stood up and came over to hug her. She hugged back, too hard. “C’mon, it won’t be that bad. You’ll be grounded, but not forever.” I was thinking of her “bars on the window” story and was convinced by then that he was just a normal strict dad.

“No, he’s going to take away my phone for good and ban me from the library and everything. He’ll find a way.”

I didn’t know what to say to this. I couldn’t tell her she was wrong because I didn’t really know. And even though she’d been annoying me pretty much from the moment I saw her in person, my heart dropped when I thought of never chatting online again, or talking on the phone.

She hugged me one more time, and then the cop sort of pried her off me, and she looked back over her shoulder the whole way out, her face soaking wet by then. There was a circle of her tears on my shirt.

They didn’t let him in the room with me, but I heard him bellowing outside, probably loud enough for me to hear him on purpose.

“I want that kid charged!” he screamed.

They’d already explained to us that running away was not a crime, after Tiffany had started to panic about going to juvy.

Still. It made me nervous to hear that. I thought of all the e-mails I had that would show she went willingly. Anyway, she met me at the bus station. I didn’t drag her out of her house.

The cops’ voices were lower, so I didn’t hear them. But he screamed again. “I will take out a restraining order against this little pervert! He better not contact my daughter ever again, or I’ll make him regret it!”

“Dad!” Tiffany’s voice was panicked and squeaky.

“That’s enough! I made a mistake trusting you even this far, haven’t I? And to think I could have lost you like we did your mother . . .”

At this his voice broke.

All I heard after that was Tiffany sobbing her way down the hall.

And by then I figured she was probably right and I would never hear from her again.

I’d never felt so lonely in my entire life and I decided to sleep. While I was drifting off, I kept thinking about what her dad had said, about “lost you like we did your mother.” Tiffany didn’t talk much about her mother, but she didn’t mention not having one, either.

Geez. With that kind of history, she doesn’t stand a chance.