Eighteen (18)(73)

And even though I want to scream and shout that I am getting blamed for something I didn’t do, there is this little niggling thought in the back of my head that I deserve this.

I should’ve noticed something was wrong. Do babies really sleep that much? I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had a baby. But there’s this thing called the internet and I’ve had access to it for most of my life. One search was all it would’ve taken to look some of this up. One search after Jill died about the possibility of opiate addiction in babies was all it would’ve taken.

I could blame Mateo. I want to blame Mateo, if I’m honest. And there are so many ways I could justify that copout. But he’s not her aunt. He wasn’t living with her for the past six months.

I could blame Jason. He’s the one who drugged his kid to make her sleep, so it really is his fault. Maybe that Dana chick participated, I wouldn’t know. But I knew Jason was a bad guy from the start. I didn’t need Danny Alexander to tell me that.

I look for Danny at the jail, since presumably he was booked in too. But there are only women in here. Some of them I recognize from the party. Even one of those gang girls who tried to fight me. She’s not looking so tough now.

The place gets more and more busy as the morning approaches and then a guard comes and says, “Drake?”

I get up, but he waves me back. “Alesci said to hold tight.” And then he walks off.

The gang girl snickers at me. “I guess the narc’s girlfriend doesn’t get off as easy as she thinks.”

My spirits sink even deeper. As mad as I am at him, I had a little hope that he’d come through and get me out of here.

Welcome to eighteen, Shannon. The age when life gets to kick your ass over and over and all you get to do is stand there and take it. I didn’t think anything could suck worse than seventeen, but obviously I am lacking the wisdom of experience, as Mateo pointed out when we first met. Because my adult life has been nothing but non-stop bullshit.

I sigh and lean my head back, watching the minutes tick by on the clock, and when morning finally comes and the place gets busy with the activities of a new day, they come for us and chain us together like prisoners.

I can only hang my head as they lead us out to the hallway and tell us to keep on the right side of a yellow line that divides it down the middle. I’m last, so I follow along until they stop us at the door and unchain us from each other as we enter another holding cell.

“Drake,” a guard says, putting his hand up to prevent me from entering the cell. “You have a personal appearance in front of the judge. Stay here.”

I stay. The prisoners are told how to behave and that they will be on closed-circuit TV for their appearance. Then he closes the door and uncuffs me. “You’re going home, so relax.”

“How do you know?”

“Alesci has been talking to Judge Otero for two hours. They’re dropping the charges. But you still have to make an appearance.”

The relief is real. It floods through my whole body and I suddenly want to cry.

“Just hold it together a little bit longer, OK?” the guard says in a sympathetic voice. “We know it wasn’t you. There were other kids at that house last night and they tested positive for drugs too.”

“Do you know how my niece is doing? She was taken to the hospital last night for an overdose.” I sob the word. I can’t believe my little niece had an overdose. “She’s only six months old.”

“I think she’s OK. I think we would’ve heard if it had gone bad. We arrested Dana Alexander too. And we would’ve charged her with attempted murder instead of child endangerment if anything was happening at the hospital.”

I bite my lip and try to stop crying.

“Come on. Alesci is waiting for you in court.”

I am led down more hallways and the guard keeps his hand on my arm as we walk. We stop in front of a door and we are buzzed through. It leads directly into the courtroom and I see Mateo and another man at a table on the far side. They are both wearing suits.

Mateo smiles when he sees me, and I swear to God, I just want to go home and cry. But the courtroom is packed with people, and I am taken over to a table in front of Mateo and told to sit.

Mateo leans over the railing that separates us. “You OK?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly as I turn in my chair to see his face. “Is Olivia OK?”

He nods. “She will be. We’ll talk about that later. But right now, you just have to sit and let the lawyers do their thing, and then I can take you home.”

I turn back around and face forward. I don’t even have a home.