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Emma
She was too late. The police were already in Jason’s driveway. A few people lingered on the sidewalk, watching them. She started walking faster and by the time she got to the driveway, a policeman was bringing Jason out of the house. His hands were handcuffed behind his back.
“Wait!” she cried and then felt foolish. What was she going to say next? What could she do?
The policeman looked at her, not unkindly.
“It’s not his fault,” she said lamely.
His father stood in the doorway of the house, looking furious.
“Jason,” she said, feeling frantic, “tell me what to do!”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” The fear in his voice terrified her. This was big, tough Jason DeGrave. He was fearless on the field and on the court. He ruled the high school hallways. He’d been so brave when he’d pounded her father’s face in. Now he sounded like a scared little kid.
She looked at his father. “What do we do?”
“We don’t do anything. I told him not to go over there, and he didn’t listen. As usual.” He slammed the door shut.
The policeman put Jason in the car and shut the door. Then he looked at her. “We’re taking him to the county jail. If someone posts bail, he will be released. And he’ll need a lawyer.”
She nodded, her throat too dry to speak. How was she going to post bail? She had no money. And she didn’t know any lawyers. She watched them drive away and then started walking. She needed to talk to her mother, but she really couldn’t. Firstly, her mother was standing right beside her father, and secondly, whose side was her mother even on? She’d seemed happy that Jason would be arrested.
Emma felt sick. She cut across a few backyards and then followed Mrs. Patterson’s fence to the front of her house.
Mrs. Patterson answered on the second knock. She looked surprised to see her. “Come on in.”
Emma followed her through the kitchen and into the living room.
“I saw you talking to the jock.” She sat down in her armchair. “How did that go?”
“Not good. He beat my father up, and now he’s been arrested.”
A smile played on the older woman’s lips. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying? “He beat your father up?”
“Are you okay?”
She nodded quickly. “Of course. He beat your father up?” she asked again.
“He sure did. That part wasn’t so bad. But it was made worse, I think, by the fact that my father didn’t fight back. I don’t know if it was because he doesn’t know how to fight or if he didn’t want to hit a kid, but—”
“Are you sure that boy is a kid?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that, if he is eighteen or older, he might be in a lot of trouble.”
“He’s going to be a junior, so I don’t think he’s eighteen yet, but I still think he’s in a lot of trouble. Do you have any idea how this stuff works? I need to help him. The policeman said that if someone posted bail, then Jason would be released and that he would need a lawyer. But I don’t have bail and I don’t know any lawyers.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t get involved.” She wouldn’t look at her. She stared at the television, which was on mute.
“What? I’m already involved.”
“Not really. Not with this part. That boy made a decision, and there will be consequences.”
“But it wasn’t his fault!” How was it that no adult could see that?
“Don’t be ridiculous. His mother did a stupid thing. No one held a gun to his head and made him do a different stupid thing.”
What? She’d thought Mrs. Patterson was on her side. “But he was so angry at my father!”
“Yes, he was. And he has a right to be angry. But he doesn’t have a right to go assault someone.”
Emma tipped her head back to keep more tears from falling. She was so tired of crying. She needed less crying and more action. Everything was spiraling out of control, and she needed to find some part of this mess, some small part, that she could fix. But she didn’t think she could do it alone. She needed Mrs. Patterson’s help. But how to convince her?
“Why did you open the door for Raven?”
“Who?”
Emma looked at her. “My jerk friend. A few days ago, she knocked on your door and then ran away?”
Mrs. Patterson looked down at her hands. “Oh, that.”
“Yes. Why did you open the door?”
She hesitated. “Because she looked scared.”
“And me?”
“What about you?”
“Why did you see me all pathetic, crying on my lawn and invite me into your house?”
“Because,” she muttered, “you were also scared.”
Emma leaned forward. “Jason is a kid. And he is scared. I’ll admit that I don’t know him that well, but I know he’s not a bad person. He’s not violent. He’s not evil. He’s really smart and he’s got a bright future ahead of him, but right now, he’s just a scared kid.” She paused. “And he’s in jail. I doubt he’s ever been in trouble in his life, and now he’s in a grown-up jail.”
Mrs. Patterson let out a long sigh. “How much is his bail?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hmm...” She looked contemplative. “We could call the jail and find out, but you’d have to do it. I don’t talk on the phone.”
“You don’t talk on the phone?” Her mother spent most of her life on the phone.
She shook her head. “Sure don’t. I wouldn’t even have one but I’m worried the house might catch fire. Won’t his folks post bail?”
“I don’t know. His father didn’t seem to care, but I don’t know if his mother will do something.”
“So you should call her. She might already be on her way to the jail. If she’s not, which I find hard to believe, then you can call the jail and ask them how much bail is.”
“You want me to call the woman who slept with my father?”
Mrs. Patterson shrugged. “Do you want to get your Jason out of jail?”
Emma narrowed her eyes. “He’s not my Jason, and stop trying to make this out to be a crush thing. It’s not. I don’t think of him in that way.”
“If you say so. Either way, if you want to help him, the first step is to call his mother.”
