61. Blackout

Jocelyn’s been gone for a couple of hours, and I can’t stop thinking about her.

I can still see her hazel eyes looking up at me.

I can still smell her slight perfume.

I can still feel the kiss on the edge of my cheek before she left.

I can hear the sound of her engine starting, my face and hands and heart all feeling a warm kind of numbness.

I forget how quickly time passes as I check my email a hundred times. I forget that my mother’s late. I forget to take out the stuff I should take out for dinner.

When the door opens and my mom comes in, I’m upstairs and suddenly realize what I’ve forgotten to do.

I tear down the stairs, but instead of seeing Mom I see the same cop who was drilling me about the gun in Principal Harking’s office.

I try to stop halfway on the stairs, but my momentum causes me to stumble on the last few steps and fall on my butt.

An annoyed look stares down at me.

The door opens behind the cop, and my mother comes in, her face white and her eyes red and swollen.

“You okay, Mom?” I ask.

Another cop, this one probably twice the age of the first, with a thick, gray goatee, walks in behind her. I don’t see any weapons in hand, nor do I see handcuffs or anything like that.

For a moment I have a strange thought.

The gun upstairs. They’re going to search the house and find the gun upstairs.

Mom gives me a hug and tells me in a not-very-convincing voice that everything’s fine. She walks over to the couch and sits down.

The first guy, the one I met at school, casually walks through the house and looks around.

“Hey, Kev, get the lady something to drink,” the older guy says in a way that sounds like he’s used to giving orders.

“Mom?”

“I’m Sheriff Wells,” the goateed guy says as he shakes my hand. “You’re Chris, right?”

I nod.

“Your mother had an incident downtown after work, but she’s fine. We just thought it might be in her best interest to bring her home.”

The other guy brings her a bottled water. He doesn’t seem very interested in introducing himself.

“That’s Kevin, a deputy with poor manners, but he sure does what he’s told.”

“I’m fine, really. It’s okay.” Mom sips her water.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Mom?”

“Someone wanted to scare your mother—that’s what we think happened,” the sheriff says. “Someone was waiting for her when she got off work.”

“Who? Where?”

I feel like I’m on my bike riding downhill without brakes.

“We don’t know. Someone was waiting in her car and drugged her.”

“What?”

“She’s okay. Someone doused a rag or something with chloroform. It’s harmless, just knocked her out for a few minutes.”

“Did anything happen—”

“I’m fine.”

“They didn’t take anything that we know of,” Sheriff Wells says. “We brought her to the doctor. She wasn’t harmed. We don’t really know why someone did this.”

“Looks like you guys are having a bad start to your stay in Solitary,” the cop named Kevin says in a Southern drawl. It sounds mocking.

“Shut up, Kev. Listen, Chris, do you know of anybody who would do something like this?”

I shake my head.

“Nobody at all? Any other run-ins you’ve had recently?”

“Just—what I mentioned when I went into the principal’s office. Gus Staunch at school has been after me.”

The sheriff cursed, then slowly shook his head. “Gus wouldn’t do something like this. His father would tear his hide. No. Wasn’t Gus. That I know for certain.”

The way he said that makes me think the sheriff knows Gus, and knows him well.

“Anybody else?”

The only person that comes to mind is Jocelyn’s step-uncle.

But why would he do something like that?

I shake my head.

Mom looks to be in a daze. I don’t know what to say or do.

The sheriff asks me a few more questions, then stops when he sees Kevin walking up the stairs.

“Where’re you going?”

“Just taking a look around.”

He curses at the guy and tells him to get back down. Kevin follows like some trained, expressionless dog.

“Look, Chris, you keep a watch on your mother, okay? Here’s my card—that’s got my cell phone on it. Anything funny happens—anything—you call me, okay?”

I nod.

“Never heard of something like this happening around here, so can’t understand if it’s some locals havin’ fun or if it’s something else. So you keep me in the loop, you got it?”

Once they leave, I ask Mom to tell me what happened, but she tells me just as much as the sheriff did.

“One minute I was sitting in the car, and the next I was lying sprawled out on the passenger seat, my head throbbing. I must have been out only a few minutes, but I had no idea what happened.”

“You didn’t see anybody?”

“No. I just—I could feel something warm. Like—I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

But I think she does remember and just doesn’t want to tell me.

I go over to the door and make sure it’s locked.

“Maybe we pass on dinner tonight?” Mom says.

“I can make you something. Anything.”

“Maybe soup.”

I nod.

“It’s okay,” she tries to convince me.

“Uh-huh.”

“Come over here and sit by me.”

When I sit down, Mom puts an arm around me. We watch television for a long time, not saying anything.

I can’t tell which one of us is more scared.