A Glass of Crazy

I wanted to bolt, but Rafa was in no condition to run, plus the rain pounded harder. When a policeman stepped up to the car in a bright yellow rain jacket, I pushed the button on the door that opened the window and within seconds, my hoodie was drenched.

  The policeman bent down and got a puzzled look on his face. "I need to see your driver's license."

  A million answers streamed through my mind, like: I forgot it. I lost it. I'm practicing for the test. I'm a fourteen-year-old driving prodigy. But the truth actually made more sense and would probably be easier in the long run, especially if they checked the computer and found out I'd lied. So I pointed to the groceries in the back seat and said, "My mom's sick and I'm bringing her something to eat." He probably thought I made it up because I sounded like Little Red Riding Hood, but it was the truth.

  "Do you have a driver's license, Ma'am?"

  "No, Sir," I replied.

  He peered in at Rafa. I couldn't see what Rafa was doing and I really didn't want to look. I just wanted to go home.

  The policeman cocked his head. "How old are you?"

  "Fifteen," I said, "both of us."

  He asked more questions and when I explained the car was Mom's, he said, "All right kids, I'm gonna have to take you in."

  Should have followed my first instinct and bolted.

  The policeman waved someone over and another policeman went to Rafa's door.

  "Please step out of the car," my policeman said. "Both of you."

  Rafa and I got out at the same time and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to put my hands in the air like I was being arrested, or behind my back to make it easier to put on handcuffs, or what. It turned out I didn't have to do anything except walk over to the police car and get in the back seat. By the time I got there, every inch of me was drenched.

  "I need the key," my policeman said.

  "Why?" I asked, shivering.

  At first he seemed annoyed, but then he got a nicer look on his face and started explaining it to me like I was six. He said they had to impound the car, which meant tow it to a city parking lot.

  "And how's my mom supposed to drive to the city lot without a car?" I asked.

  The officer said nothing, so I handed him the keys.

  "I don't need all the keys," he said, handing them back, "just the car key."

  I peeled the Mercedes control off the keychain and realized Mom wouldn't be able to lock the apartment door when she came to get me out of jail because I had all the keys. I was in way more trouble than I thought. At the other end of the back seat, Rafa rested his elbow on the door and peered out even though there was nothing to see except rain splattering the window.

  "Excuse me, Sir," I said to the policeman before I realized he was talking to someone on a radio. Finally, he turned around.

  "Can't you just take us home?" I asked, which seemed like a perfectly reasonable request.

  A voice blared on the radio. "It's registered to Doreen Alexander. Isn't that the Senator's wife?"

  The two policemen in front gave each other looks and the one who arrested me said into the radio, "We're bringin' 'em in."

  I scooted over next to Rafa who was squeezing his eyes so no more tears could come out and wrapped my arms around him.

  "Mam? will not understand," he said, fighting sobs.

  "I'm sorry," I said, rubbing his arm through a soaking wet denim jacket. A sick feeling hit me in the gut. I was truly sorry-sorry I had dragged him into the mess my life had become. I was used to things going from bad to worse, but Rafa wasn't. He didn't deserve this.

  "Put on your seatbelts," Rafa's policeman said.

  I went back to my side of the seat and did exactly what I was told. "My friend can walk home from here." I clicked the belt. "He didn't do anything."

  They ignored me and the police car moved out into the street toward the police station. For Rafa's sake, I hoped this wasn't going to be on TV.

  All the way to the police station, rain fell hard and the windshield wipers sliced through it. The car stank like vinyl, BO, and aftershave, but not the good smelling kind like Dad's, and when the heater kicked in, the odors got worse. I couldn't stop worrying about Mom because she had no food at home and I had her keys and the city parking lot had her car.

  When we got to the police station, the policemen escorted us inside where there were no TV cameras anywhere. They made us sit in metal folding chairs in front of a desk, where a female officer with orange hair, red lipstick and pink fingernails smirked. I wanted to tell Rafa that if the fashion police were here, she'd be the one who'd have to answer some questions. He would've at least cracked a smile, but clearly Rafa was not in the mood, so I didn't.

  The orangey haired lady leaned in. "Officer Topple," she said in a super-loud voice. "And who are you?"

  I had to look away because some of the red lipstick stuck to her teeth and it was grossing me out. Eventually Rafa cleared his throat to get my attention and I said, "Abigail Alexander."

  Officer Topple nodded in slow motion. Never taking her eyes off me, she said, "And your parents are?"

  "John and Doreen Alexander."

  "As in Senator Alexander?"

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "I'm going to need your parents' phone number." Each word had been stretched out while she lifted the receiver.

  At first I wanted to give her Dad's number because he could handle this way better than Mom. A magazine article once said Dad could charm the gun off a bank robber and since Officer Topple had a gun, I was pretty sure she was easier to charm than a robber. But Dad was in Mexico and Mom was here, which meant I had to give the officer Mom's number even though she couldn't come get us.

  Rafa looked relieved that Officer Topple forgot to get his name. I just wanted to get out of my wet clothes.

  "Is this Mrs. Alexander?" she asked. "This is Officer Topple. I have Abigail at the police station and we need you to come down here." She bounced a pencil on its eraser. "Operating a motor vehicle without a license. Yes, Ma'am, she's okay. They were lucky, though. The officers who picked them up said the car hydroplaned and nearly fishtailed in the Gulf."

  God only knows what Mom was saying.

  "Okay," Officer Topple said. "Thank you."

  Probability that Mom was freaking? One hundred percent.

  Officer Topple fixed her gaze on Rafa. "Son, what's your name?"

  "He wasn't driving," I burst in. "It's my fault."

  She never took her eyes off Rafa.

  After a long silence, Rafa crossed his arms and muttered, "Rafael Espinoza."

  Office Topple was still scribbling his name when my policeman came over and said, "Don't put anything in the computer 'til we talk to the Senator's wife."

  "You mean ex-wife," said the other cop and they both snickered.

  Seriously? Kids at school did that all the time, but I thought grownups weren't supposed to act like that.

  "We can't ask you any questions without a parent present," Officer Topple said, "but you can tell us what happened on your own if you want."

  The two cops who arrested us stood behind Officer Topple and all six eyes were on me. Even though I didn't have a good feeling about this, I figured if they knew the truth, they would finally get it that we weren't criminals.

  "Okay, so my mom's been in bed with a migraine for a week," I explained. "I was trying to help out by doing the grocery shopping."

  My policeman started acting all fidgety like he wanted to ask a question, but remembered it wasn't allowed.

  "We were out of food and I was hungry!"

  Officer Topple's eyes widened. "Is that lady from CPS still here?"

  "What's CPS?" I asked.

  "Child Protective Services," said Officer Topple, but I still didn't know what it meant.

  "Whoa," said my policeman. "You don't want to be on the news for putting John Alexander's little girl in a foster home."

  "I was helping my mom!"

  "You should stop talking," said Rafa.

  "And
that's the other thing," I continued. "Rafa had nothing to do with it."

  The cops went into a huddle and I couldn't hear anything they were saying, but I heard some commotion at the door where two younger cops escorted a man in handcuffs and forced him to sit at another desk. He looked kind of scary and I hoped they weren't planning on putting us in a jail cell with him.

  I glared back at the cops in the huddle. What could they possibly be talking about? I'd explained it to them like they were six. Hello! What part of "hungry" did they not understand?

  Our cops were still chatting to each other when Mom stormed in collapsing a wet umbrella. With a green scarf and no makeup, she could've had the flu, which helped my case since I'd said she was sick.

  "Don't say a word," Mom said, rushing over. "I'll handle this."

  "Mrs. Alexander!" Officer Topple's eyes grew big. "I didn't recognize you, but your daughter said you haven't been feelin' too good, so I reckon that's why."

  Mom glared at me.

  "I'll take these children home," Mom said. "Where's my car." It was more of a demand than question.

  "We had to impound it, ma'am," said Officer Topple. "Don't worry, we'll get it for you right away." She snapped at Rafa's cop to go get the car.

  Rafa and I peered at each other and grinned. "I think your mom is better now," Rafa whispered.

  When the policeman returned with Mom's car key, he said, "Better keep this in a safe place. You know how kids are."

  Mom ignored him and led us out the door. Rafa was inches behind Mom, like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

  "Tell your dad we wish him lots of luck," Officer Topple said. Before I even got out the door, I heard another cop say, "He already got lucky. Did you see his hot girlfriend?"

  I don't know what all Mom heard, but in the parking lot she muttered, "This town would still love that man if he outlawed barbequed crabs."

  Rafa got in the back seat. After I fastened my seatbelt in front, my hands got all sweaty. Obviously the hydroplaning, fishtailing experience had affected me more than I realized because now I had a fear of riding in the car. Mom gave us the silent treatment, which was fine since I needed to focus on breathing.

  We pulled up in front of Rafa's house and the silent treatment ended two seconds after he got out of the car.

  "Are you crazy?" Her teeth were clenched. "Stealing my car?"

  Since it was our family car, I never thought of it as stealing. "Mom, I just-"

  "Don't you say a word." She gripped the wheel and screamed, "Can't you see what you're doing to me? You're killing me!"

  I wanted to shrink into a little ball and disappear. Mom had no idea how much I cared about her. Nothing was said the rest of the way home, but her last three words kept echoing in my mind. I felt a million miles away.

  - 13 -