Chapter 8
Busted

That gravelly voice has yelled in my head dozens of times since the night Mom bailed on me and I broke into the shed. All over again, I remember that guy’s boozy breath on me and his flashlight shining in my face. I’m sure he got a good look at me.

Finn is instantly beside me. “Do you know what Lucas’s grandfather is talking about?”

I open my mouth but no words come out. I just nod my head. Finn stares at me for a moment, then turns toward the class. “Everyone’s going home a bit early today,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

Their eyes are on me as they leave. Meanwhile, the old guy’s face is bright red as he sputters about his broken ankle and what he thinks of young punks like me. My gut is telling me to run. But that would be pointless — just like trying to deny that I was the kid who broke into his shed.

Finn grabs his phone from his desk. “Is Constable Haddad still in the school?” He pauses for a moment. “No? And he isn’t coming back here today?”

Finn has to yell into the phone to try to speak over top of the old guy.

“. . . and as a veteran with twenty-five years of military service, I deserve to be treated with a bit of respect!” When he finally stops ranting, it’s only long enough to pull out his cell phone. I know exactly who he’s calling. The cops.

Lucas shifts on the couch. I don’t know what to make of the stony look on his face. I can’t sit still any longer. I’m pacing at the back of the room when two cops arrive.

As soon as they set foot in the room, the old guy — Mr. Wilkie K. Giezenman, as he keeps repeating — starts filling them in about me breaking into his shed. He goes on forever about how I made him break his ankle. That pisses me off. I sure as hell never told him to play the hero and chase me through the ravine.

“If you ask me,” he continues, “young punks like that need to be locked up. Then maybe honest citizens can feel safe in their own homes.” He nods at Lucas on the couch. “And this while I’m keeping care of my grandson.”

“Did you file a report at the time?” one of the cops asks him.

“No, I didn’t file no damn report,” he says.

“You’ll need to go downtown to the station to do that,” the cop says. He motions at Lucas. “Are you okay to take this young man home first?”

“Of course I am,” the old guy sputters. “No thanks to that little punk!”

Once he gets Lucas settled into the wheelchair, he takes off out the door. He has to partly lean on the wheelchair while Lucas holds on to both their crutches. At least I get a break from listening to him ranting.

That’s the only upside though. The other cop is peppering me with questions. My name, any gang involvement, and finally —

“Where are your parents, Zaine?”

I glance at the name on her badge. I don’t know how to answer Constable Persaud about my missing-in-action mom. It’s the same with my father, the Japanese mystery man who Mom dated for a few months.

“I live with my aunt,” I finally answer. I give her Aunt Sarah’s name and phone number.

Constable Persaud is trying to reach Aunt Sarah but she’s not getting through. I keep hoping Aunt Sarah is out somewhere with the twins, like maybe playing at the park. Anywhere — just so she’s not at home to get that call from the cops.

Constable Persaud finally turns to Finn. “So this young man is your student?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“I can’t reach his aunt,” she says. “Are you available to come down to the police station with him instead?”

“Um, sure.”

It’s pretty decent of Finn to join me. I’m sure he never planned to spend his afternoon riding downtown in the grubby backseat of a cop car. Neither did I, come to think of it. I scuff my feet across the gravel on the floor mats, keeping my face down the whole time.

We get to the police station sooner than I hoped. Our timing is lousy too. Just as we step into the orange brick building, Mr. Giezenman is on his way out. At least Lucas isn’t with him.

“You!” He stabs his gnarled old index finger toward me. “I’d like to see you haul your butt over to my place and repair the damage you caused.” He pauses to adjust his crutches. “You’ve got no respect for other people and their property. Do you, you little smartass!”

For the second time today, everyone is looking at me. The old guy goes on and on about how his cast screws everything up. About him being fit and active all his life — up until now. And about him being a military veteran and a retired boxer.

A boxer? Jeez. I was luckier than I knew getting away from him that night.

“Once I get this cast off,” he says, “you’re welcome to pull on the gloves and step into the ring with me. I’d be happy to teach you a lesson or two.”

It’s only then that Constable Persaud tells him to settle down. “You’ve made your report,” she says. “Now it’s time for you to leave.”

The old guy sucks in his breath with a loud snort. He’s still sputtering when Constable Persaud leads Finn and me down the hall. The room she takes us into has grey walls and a cold tile floor. An ‘interview room,’ she calls it.

A chill has gripped my whole body. I can’t stop shivering as I drop onto the hard metal chair closest to the door. Finn pulls up a chair beside me. From the corner of my eye, I can see his eyelid twitching. Maybe I’m the first of his students to ever get arrested.

“See that camera?” Constable Persaud points. “The rest of our conversation will be videotaped. That’s to make sure we’ve followed all the necessary steps.”

Next, she starts reading me my rights. I hope Finn is listening, because my brain has totally shut down. I just barely catch the part about my right to have a lawyer present.

Constable Persaud points toward a phone and a phone book. “Go ahead,” she says. “Make some calls.”