I inhale a deep breath and open the car door.
Dylan and Jim and I step out, arms raised. Jim’s hands are noticeably shaking and the loose skin around his biceps quiver. I’m standing across the car from Dylan, next to Jim and soon three cops are heading our way. They’re all wearing silver, reflective sunglasses and they walk as stiffly as robots.
Two of the cops grab onto Jim before he can make a run for the fields. Cars slow down along the highway to watch the arrest. I notice people taking pictures from cameras and cell phones. Excellent.
I set my hands on top of my head as a cop starts to search me.
“Wait,” Dylan says across the hood from me. I look over at her. Her eyes are wide with fear as a cop fastens handcuffs around her wrists. For once in her life, Dylan looks scared. I can’t wait to hear the words “I WAS WRONG,” escape her mouth. I wait for the satisfying sentence to drop.
“I have to tell you something,” she says. I stare in her eyes and she doesn’t look regretful, or remorseful. It’s worse. She looks guilty. Her eyes are flooding with guilt. My mouth falls open and I think the worst. She’s been on a robbing spree all summer and Jim is her accomplice. She’s wanted in eight states for armed theft.
“Nick is gay!” Dylan shouts.
I stare at her across the car as the words sink in. She isn’t making any sense.
“What?” I shout back.
“I need you to know the truth, in case we’re arrested and I never get to speak to you again.” Her eyes are pleading for me not to be upset. It’s a little late for that.
“Shut up,” one of the cops shouts at us. “You don’t speak unless we ask you a question.” An officer fastens handcuffs around my wrists. I’ve always wondered what handcuffs would feel like, but in my mind it is played out in a much kinkier, private situation.
I hear the cop mumbling something to me, but it’s inaudible against the thoughts screaming in my head. I blink at Dylan and try to wrap my head around this new piece of knowledge.
“You mean, you’re not dating him?” I ask her.
“Nick. Is. Gay,” Dylan repeats.
The cop next to me tells us to be quiet. But they could use a stun gun on me and it still wouldn’t get my attention.
I glare at Dylan. “As always, your timing is impeccable,” I shout at her across the car.
“That’s it, split these two up,” the female cop shouts. I stare at her massive biceps, stretching her uniform fabric to the point of ripping it apart, and I shut my mouth. The cop next to me grabs me around the back of my neck and nudges me toward his car.
Dylan
“I’m sorry,” I say to Gray as I slump into the back of the cop car next to him, behind a mesh of steel wire that divides us from the front seat. I look through the metal bars at all the monitors, lights and keypads. It looks like a time traveling machine. I stare down at my handcuffs. They’re heavier than I imagined and just when your hands are confined, your body suddenly starts to itch in the most awkward places.
“Just don’t talk to me right now,” Gray says as one of the cops shuts my door.
“Okay,” I say, a little hurt.
“You’re insane!” Gray says to me and my head perks up. I look at him and he’s irate and I’m so happy I could scream. I smile at the two glowing words. I’m no longer in a cop car that smells like leather and male deodorant. I’m floating into the sky, rocketing towards the sun, high on Gray’s words.
“Don’t you dare say thank you,” Gray reads my response. “It’s not a compliment.”
Officer Greg and Officer Bryan (I was polite to use their names during the arrest; good manners will only win you brownie points) get into the front seat and start the engine. We pull off onto the highway.
Gray looks out the window as two detectives pick and prod their way through his car. Jim already confessed I only offered him a ride, and we had nothing to do with the robberies. At least he was a polite felon. But the cops are making us go down to the station as part of the standard investigation procedure.
“How far away is the station?” Gray asks.
“It’s in Amarillo,” Officer Bryan says. “Enjoy the drive.”
“Texas?” I say with excitement. I close my mouth. Tight. I’ve always wanted to go to Texas, but now probably isn’t the time to point out that my favorite part of road trips are the unexpected detours.
Gray mutters out a sigh. He sinks his head back against the car seat and closes his eyes.
***
Two hours later we’re sitting in the Amarillo Police Department, across a wide metal desk from the two police officers. Officer Greg is filling out paperwork and talking on the phone, while Officer Bryan seems to be in charge of babysitting us. They look like they could be brothers—both with blues eyes and light blond hair that’s buzzed close to their heads. They’re taping our cell phones, emails, and bank accounts for any final traces that we could be linked to the robberies. I’m fascinated by the entire procedure and I end up asking the cops more questions than they ask us.