I sense her agitation, and it concerns me. Scared people do stupid things, just like scared animals.
“Relax,” I tell her. “This will work out.”
“I can’t relax,” she says, and she taps hard on the partition, trying to get the cop’s attention.
“I’m sure this is a mistake, Officer.”
“I’m sure it is, too,” the cop says. “We’ll give your dad a call at the station and get it all sorted.”
Junebug looks at us apologetically.
“I told you, my dad’s a maniac,” she whispers. “He said if I ran away again, he’d have me arrested. I thought he was bluffing.”
“You ran away?” Chance asks.
“I told you already. I heard you guys were in trouble, and I came to your rescue.”
“How is that running away?”
“I didn’t tell him I was leaving.”
“Or that you were taking his car,” I say.
Junebug shrugs. “He’s usually not paying that much attention. Not to me.”
The cop calls into the station, reporting that he has two minors in custody and he’ll arrive in five minutes.
He leans back to talk to us.
“When we get to the station, I’ll put you in a room to chill out, and we’ll call your parents and social services.”
I smell the sweat break out under Chance’s arms.
“If they call social services, it might affect the hearing,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?” Junebug asks.
“I have to go to Family Court with my mom on Thursday.”
“Sounds rough,” Junebug says.
“It’s going to be okay,” I say, concerned that the kids are getting overly upset. “They’ll release Chance and me when they find out we have nothing to do with the car, and they’ll release you when your father vouches for you.”
“If he vouches. He might want me to spend some time in juvie so I learn my lesson.”
“I’m totally screwed,” Chance says.
The cop’s cell phone vibrates. “Now who’s this calling?” he says.
He answers the phone, and I sense his energy change. He speaks quietly and glances at us in the rearview mirror multiple times.
“Roger that,” he says abruptly, and he ends the call.
We turn a corner, and the Culver City police station comes into view. The cop drives right past the entrance and keeps going.
Junebug throws me a What’s up? gesture.
“Something’s wrong,” I say.
“Wasn’t that the station?” Junebug asks.
The cop doesn’t respond. I tense, my body warning me of impending danger.
“Where are we going?” Chance asks.
“Different station,” the cop says.
“Which station?” Junebug demands.
“Too many questions,” the cop mutters under his breath. He seems upset, and he refuses to look back at us.
Who did he speak to on the phone?
The cop turns south, and the houses get smaller and more run-down.
“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Chance says.
“I think he’s heading for the Ballona Wetlands,” Junebug whispers.
“What are those?” Chance asks.
“Isolated marshes near the ocean,” Junebug says.
“Isolated? That doesn’t sound good at all,” Chance says.
I’m looking around the backseat, frantically searching for a way to escape. I press on the rear window, wondering if I can force my way through, but I feel the thick layers of wire-reinforced glass. We’re in the back of a police car that has been designed to prevent escape.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Junebug asks me.
“Give me a minute to think—”
Chance grabs for Junebug’s hand. Their fingers entwine, knuckles white with tension.
The hackles on the back of my neck stand up, my instincts on high alert.
This is my fault. If it wasn’t for me, these kids wouldn’t be here right now. They’d each be having a quiet Sunday at home, safe and sound.
“I’m going to get us out of this,” I say.
“But how?” Chance asks.
The cop stops at the light, and I hear the roar of a truck engine close by. I look to our right and see a large black-and-red truck with a lightning bolt painted on the hood barreling toward us.
I watch for a moment in disbelief, certain it will slow down or swerve to avoid us. But it does the opposite, speeding up on a collision course with the police car.
“Hang on!” I scream.
I barely get the words out before the truck hits us at full speed. Metal grinds against metal and glass shatters. For a few seconds the patrol car is airborne, and then it crashes down hard, rolling over on itself, flinging us violently from side to side.
I hear the children screaming, but there’s nothing I can do to help or protect them. This is my fault, I think again, as the crash seems to go on forever. We spin end over end, until suddenly we’re upside down, and the world goes black.