Outside (9 page)

“Disrespectful little shit,” he spits, turning on his heel to march off toward the Krispy Kreme donut case.

I pay for everything and leave as quickly as I can without looking like I’m running away. As soon as I get outside, I spot his car parked right next to mine. He probably followed me here. Or saw my car as he was driving by and decided to come in to harass me.

Fighting the urge to throw my bag of ice through his front windshield, I go around to my driver’s side door and open it. “Here,” I say, passing Alaina the white plastic bag full of candy before I drop the bag of ice on the floor next to her feet.

She opens the bag and peeks inside as I start the car. “What is it?” She pulls out the Sour Patch Kids.

“Those are the shit,” I say, backing out of the parking space. “You ever had them?”

Shaking her head, she hesitates before placing them back in the bag as I take a left onto Satellite Boulevard. “I’ve never had any of this. What is it?”

“Candy. You’ll love it,” I say. “Try something.”

She cautiously picks through the M&M’s, Skittles, and random candy bars. “We made candy in Shiloh on rare occasions. Usually after someone brought sugar back from a mission trip since we couldn’t grow it in our gardens. Elder Stedman’s wife made it.” In the glow from my dashboard, I see her smile. “I never really liked it much. It tasted like dried toothpaste. I didn’t know candy could come in any other flavor.” She pulls out a bag of Peanut M&M’s and looks to me, biting her lower lip, like she’s waiting for permission.

“Go for it,” I say. “You’re not allergic to nuts or nothing, are you?”

Shaking her head, she carefully tears the corner open and pours a few into her palm. I’m so wrapped up in watching her, I barely notice the blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror.

“Shit.” I mutter. “For real?”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her eyes go wide and panicked.

“Patterson.” I swerve to the side of the road and slam my palms on the steering wheel.

She flinches. “I don’t understand.”

“Me either,” I say, reaching across her for my registration in the glove compartment. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“What should I do? Should I hide?”

I can’t help but laugh as I close the compartment. “Why would you hide? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

Patterson knocks on my window with the end of his flashlight and I sigh, turning to Alaina. “Just, you know, don’t make any sudden movements.”

She nods as I put the window down.

“Well, well, well.” That’s all this asshole knows how to say, I guess. He leans down to see into the car. “And who’s this?” He smiles insincerely at Alaina.

I ignore his question. “I didn’t do anything, man. You can’t pull me over for no reason.”

Patterson straightens. “Oh, I got a reason; suspicious activity.”

Groaning, I let my head fall back against the headrest. “Come on. When’s this shit gonna stop? This is harassment.”

He laughs. “I’m going to need you to step out of the car.”

“Dammit,” I growl, unbuckling my seatbelt. I turn to Alaina as I open the door. She’s trembling. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” I smile, hoping to reassure her, and climb out of the car.

I’d knock this douche bag out for scaring her like this if he wasn’t a cop.

As soon as I’m out of the car, Patterson slips his flashlight into his belt and walks me to the back, shoving me against the trunk. “Spread your feet,” he says, kicking the space between my shoes. “Hands behind your back.”

Rolling my eyes, I do as he says. Resisting will just draw this out. “You need a hobby,” I say as he slaps cuffs on my wrists. “Take up tennis or something. You seem like a tennis guy.”

Patterson yanks me backward by the cuffs, walking me to the curb. “Have a seat while I talk to your girlfriend.”

I shake my head as I sit on the curb. “What the hell is wrong with you? Just riding around, stalking people so you can harass them and feel like you did some shit? It’s sad. You’re a grown man, picking on a seventeen-year-old kid.”

“I’m so sick of you,” he sneers. “Cruising around in your fancy Lexus, thinking you’re hot shit because your daddy’s an attorney, disrespecting people, running your mouth. If you were my son, I’d bust you in the teeth.”

“Lucky for me, you’re not my dad. And lucky for you, you have daughters. I’m pretty sure busting kids in the teeth is abuse, cop or not.”

He leans down so we’re nose to nose. I do my best not to react to his sour coffee breath. “Do
not
talk about my daughters.”

“No problem.” The last thing I want to talk about is his daughters. Specifically Brittany.

He straightens and heads for the passenger door, whipping it open. He pulls his flashlight from his belt, shining it into Alaina’s eyes. “What’s in your hand?” he demands.

Shaking, she holds her fist out to him. He backs away, resting his free hand on the butt of his gun.

“M&M’s!” I shout. “She’s got a bunch of candy. That’s it. Can we go? My ice is melting.”

Ignoring me, he steps up to the car again. “Get out.”

Alaina freezes, staring up at him.

“Let’s go,” he says, gesturing with his flashlight.

She says something that I can’t make out.

He leans down, scowling directly into her face. “You
can’t
?”

“Leave her alone,” I call. “Just write me a ticket for whatever and let us go home.”

“Let me help you,” Patterson says, grabbing Alaina’s arm. “Take off your seatbelt and get out. Now.”

“Jesus,” I mutter. If I wasn’t handcuffed I’d be tempted to do something to help her. Patterson would probably consider it assault or something, though.

As soon as her seatbelt is off, he wrenches her out of the car and pushes her up against the back door. “Open your hand,” he barks.

“You ain’t gotta use force. It’s just candy.” No matter what I say, Patterson ignores me.

He leans his weight against her and slams her wrist against the car with a thud. Her fist opens and peanut M&M’s clatter against the roof of the car. Finally, he backs up and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Have a seat,” he says, spinning her toward the curb.

She stumbles away from him, rubbing her wrist, near tears. Lowering herself onto the concrete curb, she refuses to look at me.

“Are you okay?” I whisper.

Nodding, she draws in a ragged breath.

She’s a terrible liar.

Patterson starts searching my car without asking or having any probable cause. After what feels like an eternity, he comes to stand over me.

“You’re lucky, Grayson,” he says. “All I’m gonna cite you for is a broken taillight.” He yanks me to my feet by one arm.

I scowl. “My taillight ain’t broke.”

“Not yet it ain’t. Keep talking and it will be.” He unlocks the handcuffs and hands me a ticket. “Have a nice evening.”

Patterson is back in his car when Alaina finally stands up.

“Sorry about this. Are you sure you’re okay?” I search her face.

“What did you do?” she blurts, then lowers her head and mutters, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” We lean against the back of the car and watch Patterson pull off. “I really didn’t do anything. I mean…” I trail off and glance at her, shrugging. “Two years ago I was dating his daughter and we got pulled over. I had some weed in the car. No big deal, you know? Like, mostly just shake.” She probably doesn’t know what shake is. “Mostly crumbs,” I clarify. “Not very much. But we both got arrested and then we broke up.” I leave out the fact that it was
her
weed, and the part where she didn’t take the breakup well, ended up in rehab, and is still delusional enough to think we’ll get back together some day. Instead I shake my head to get rid of the memory. “He messes with me whenever he gets the chance.”

She eyes me, silently, for a long time. “So, you’re not a criminal?”

I raise my eyebrows. “A criminal? No. I mean, the possession charge was just a misdemeanor and it falls off my record in a few months when I turn eighteen.” Smiling down at her, I ask, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, opening and closing her hand. Under the street light, I make out colored indentations in her palm where she squeezed the M&M’s.

“Good. Let’s get back to the party before all that ice melts.”

Alaina carries the bag full of candy up the steps. She stopped shaking when we got to my neighborhood, but her face is still pale.

I lead her past the empty living room where Drew’s giant glass water bong sits in the middle of my dad’s expensive-ass imported coffee table. Out back, most people are in the pool, some fully clothed, others not so much.

Alaina’s eyes boggle when Bree Taylor runs up in a dripping wet white t-shirt.

“Adam! Oh my god!” she squeals, throwing her arms around my neck, pressing herself against me. “Come swimming with me!”

I lift the bag of ice and hold it against her back. She shrieks and shoves me. “Not funny!”

“I’m busy. Swim with Bryce or something.” I nod at Bryce Pierson who’s already in the pool with a girl under each arm.

Bree’s eyes narrow before darting to Alaina. Slowly, her wheels spin and things click into place. “Whatever. You suck,” she grumbles, turning away. Before she gets too far, Roberto Ramirez scoops her up and tosses her in the pool before diving in after her.

There’s one drunken hook up I definitely regret. Now every time she sees me at a party she assumes we’ll have a repeat of that one terrible mistake of a night. Incidentally, that was the night I vowed never to drink again. Totally not a coincidence.

“Come on,” I say to Alaina. “Let’s drop this off and get out of here.”

She doesn’t move, though. Her eyes are glued on something in the pool. Following her line of vision, I see Holly in the corner of the pool with Drew trying to be inconspicuous. The way they’re pressed together and considering I can’t see Drew’s hands, I’d say they were doing more than having an innocent chat.

“Come on,” I say again, nudging her arm. I feel sorry for her. Tonight has probably been more traumatizing than fun. Welcome to the real world, where cops are total assholes and your cousin gets felt up in front of thirty people.

She finally moves and I guide her to the cooler next to the keg on the other end of the pool. Dumping the ice into the cooler, I wad up the bag and toss it in the keg tub. “Let’s go.” I touch her elbow to guide her toward the door, waiting for her to pull away from me. She doesn’t. We head back inside and for once, I’m kind of glad not to have to hang around with the idiots that are defiling my pool.

CHAPTER NINE

ALAINA

My head pounds and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Sitting up in bed, the room spins and my stomach burns.

I’m sick. I must’ve contracted an illness last night when I was socializing with Adam. Diseases are more common outside of Shiloh. Elder Berman explained that it was due to the sinful way people interact with each other. He says the constant fornicating, touching, and standing in close proximity spread illness like wildfire.

Stumbling across the hall to the bathroom, I close the door behind me and stare at myself in the mirror. My hair is fuzzy on the side I slept on and my face has taken on a sickly green tinge. I barely recognize myself.

Last night was too much. A mistake. The sin is practically etched on my face between the freckles, deep in the lines and creases from the pillowcase.

Images of Adam flash through my mind. Why did he have to be so kind? Why couldn’t he have been obviously wicked? I crossed the line with him, and it was too easy to forget; I’m supposed to be observing, not participating.

I suppose that’s the point of a test, though.

Trudging down the stairs, still wearing the clothes from last night, I find Beth in the kitchen, leaning against the counter holding a mug. She’s wearing a gray and pink zigzag top and black pants that expose her ankles.

“Good morning,” she says, brightly.

I’m careful to avoid eye contact. I don’t want her to know that I compromised my faith for a few fleeting moments of fun.

“Are you okay?” she asks as I ease into a chair at the kitchen table.

“I’m…” My eyes are glued to the tablecloth. I shouldn’t lie. “I’m not feeling very well.”

She’s at my side in a heartbeat. “What is it, sweetie? What’s wrong?”

I touch my head. “My head hurts and my stomach is upset.”

Noise in the kitchen doorway makes me look up. Holly breezes in wearing striped blue pants and a small sleeveless shirt with blue X’s on it. She looks like she always does, despite the fact that she spent the evening drinking and doing things with Drew in the pool that women of the Lord save for marriage.

“Sugar hangover,” Holly says, going to the counter where Beth was standing. She gets a mug from a cabinet and pours herself a cup of whatever is in the glass pot on the counter. “Spent the whole night eating candy and drinking Coke with Adam Grayson.”