The lady in charge looks around me to see what it was that I just saw that caused more tears.
She sees Nate, says nothing at all to me, and gets up and walks out the door. I turn around again, to see what it is she’s doing, and she stands there with Nate talking for a very long time. Is he working in my favor? Or is he so pissed he’s requesting maximum penalty? I can’t hear a word they’re saying, and it’s the unknown that’s the worst punishment of all.
I have a vision of Cassidy wearing her cheer uniform and visiting me in jail.
I think of Dad the most. What would he do without me? How will he survive? Who will write out the bills? Balance the checkbook?
I sit for eternity, turning around every few minutes. The security guards haven’t budged from their original positions, and Nate and the lady just keep talking.
After I’ve about cried myself sick, she reenters the office.
“Chelsea. Let me explain a few things to you.”
I remain silent.
“First, I’m not sure if you realize that this casino is on tribal land . . . meaning, the Cherokee Nation Security has jurisdiction over any criminal penalties. Do you understand?”
I don’t understand what this means at all, but I nod my head yes.
Her cell phone rings, she picks it up, answers, and quickly steps back outside her office.
I wait.
I assume that a higher-up has given her a call to discuss my punishment. Jail.
Will they clean out my locker at school? Will I be known as the girl who went from cheerleader to jailbird?
After a few “yeses” and a “that sounds good,” the lady steps back into the office and takes a seat back at her desk. She’s 90 percent hard-ass, but 10 percent softie. “Chelsea. Underage gambling can be a serious offense.” She pauses and takes a drink of coffee from a Styrofoam cup. “However, your friend . . . Nate . . . has assured us that we will never have this problem again. In other words, you walk out that door, and we never see you again. Well, until you’re eighteen, anyway.” She winks.
I cry more and speak words for the first time.
“Yes ma’am.” Sniffle. “I won’t come back. I promise.”
She reveals her soft side when she hands me a box of tissue and says, “Get outta here.”
I grab a few and stand to walk out.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
I want to hug her.
“Oh, Chelsea. One more thing . . . Stay away from that Nate friend of yours. He’s just bad news when it comes to girls. What do you guys call it? A player?”
My heart sinks.
She goes on.
“Honestly, I don’t know how he keeps all of you straight.”