When we reached the lobby, he said, “Take a seat. It will be a while before Mary gets around to calling your parents. It’s been a busy night.” He glanced over at the waiting room’s other occupant, a teenage guy.

He sat in the middle of the only row of chairs, flipping through a magazine without paying attention to it. Before the detective left the 36/356

room, he sent me a humorless smile. “Hope you’re not out past your curfew.”

I sat down on the last chair in the row. I had remained outwardly calm so far, and I’d been proud of myself for staying tough. But now my hands shook. I wasn’t tough. And I was alone sitting in the police station. The last thing I wanted to do was cry, but the tears ran down my cheeks without permission. The most I could manage was to choke back the sobs that pulsed in my throat.

I hadn’t noticed the teenage guy move, but he sat down on the chair next to me, holding out a box of tissues.

“Thanks.” I took a couple and blew my nose. I had never blown my nose in front of a stranger, let alone a guy who was my age and good-looking. And he was good-looking. I wouldn’t have even glanced at his face, except I wondered if I knew him from school, and once I saw him, the handsome thing was sort of hard to overlook. He had wavy brown hair, tanned skin, and dark brown eyes that made him look like he’d stepped off a movie set somewhere. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans, the kind that have been worn comfortably thin, and an olive green T-shirt that fit snugly across his broad shoulders.

I hoped he had already graduated from high school, because the fewer people from Rock Canyon High who knew about my trip here, the better. Then again, he was here too, so he couldn’t look down on me for being hauled into the police station.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a soft lull in the large room.

I nodded, then laughed at my automatic reaction. I clearly wasn’t okay. I took another tissue from the box and wiped tears from my cheeks, trying to pull myself together. I must have looked like a mess.

“So what brings you here?” I asked.

He grinned like it didn’t matter. “Same thing as usual. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You drive your truck through a 37/356

park, do a few spinouts, and these guys get all bent out of shape.” He stretched out his legs. “What about you?” I let out a grunt. “I should use my one phone call to contact The Guinness Book of World Records. Because I’ve just had the worst date in history.”

“A date, huh?” The guy looked around the lobby. “So where did he end up? Do they have him in the back?” Now that the police were gone, I suddenly wanted to talk about what had happened. I wanted some sympathy before my father came down to the station and ripped into me. “No, he left with his friends when they saw the police coming. At least, that’s what I assume. I was around the back of a building making a phone call.”

“Oh.” The guy nodded philosophically. “Girls using cell phones while on dates. I see your boyfriend’s point.” I smiled despite myself. “That’s not how it was.”

“Just joking.” He held up a hand like he was taking a pledge. “Personally, I would never leave my girlfriend talking on a cell phone while the police closed in.”

Hmm. I guess that made him a loyal criminal. I shouldn’t have found that attractive in a guy but I did.

He surveyed me, his dark eyes resting on mine. “So what was so important that you had to make a phone call while your boyfriend was out committing a crime?”

“I was asking advice on how to make my boyfriend stop committing the crime.”

“Ahh.” The guy drew out the sound. “That’s irony. Or bad timing.”

“That’s my usual luck.”

He raised an eyebrow at my statement. “Do you come here often?” Then he smiled. He had gorgeous straight teeth. “That sounded like a 38/356

pickup line, didn’t it? Hey, if your boyfriend is the jealous, violent type, forget I said that.”

“I’ve never been here before.” I glanced around the lobby at the gray plastic chairs. “And somehow I don’t think it will make my list of favorite date destinations.”

The guy lowered his voice. “So how did a date with your boyfriend turn into a crime? Did he say, ‘Hey, do you want to catch a movie, and then we’ll hold up a convenience store?’ ”

“He didn’t tell me where we were going,” I said. “And I thought he was doing it for me—taking on city hall, or at least breaking their windows.” That didn’t make sense, so I added, “Bo wanted to get revenge for me.”

I hadn’t realized I said Bo’s name out loud until the guy said, “Bo Grimes?”

“You know Bo?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, Bo and I go way back.”

It figured I would run into one of Bo’s friends in the police station. I wondered why I hadn’t seen this guy at Indestruction’s practice.

On second thought, I didn’t really wonder that. He probably had some musical taste.

“Let me guess who his friends were.” He ticked the names off his fingers as he spoke. “Gibbs Johnson, Mike Hunsaker, and Steve and Brandon Hart.”

“Yes,” I said, with as much surprise as if he’d done a magic trick.

“You know them too?”

The guy leaned back in his seat, trying to hide his smile. “Of course.”

Of course. The detective had told me everyone knew each other in small towns. Apparently it was true. He had also said that people talked. And judging by the fact that the police knew who I was, people 39/356

hadn’t been saying good things about me. This night would just give everyone more to talk about.

I wadded the tissue in my hand. “This is a stupid hick town. I can’t wait to move back to New York.”

“Right,” the guy said with a slow drawl. “ ’Cause the police don’t hassle teenagers in New York.”

The guy had a point, but I didn’t concede it. I glanced at the front door. Dad and Sandra would be here soon and I still wasn’t sure what to tell the detective. It was a desperate thing to do, asking advice from a stranger in the waiting room of the police station, but he was the only one around. Besides, looking into his deep brown eyes, I felt he would understand my predicament. He knew I was in trouble, but he was also cut from the same cloth as Bo—he was someone who bucked the system. I whispered, “The detective said if I don’t tell them who was with me, they’ll pin everything on me—including a bunch of other vandalism jobs. Can they do that?”

The guy shrugged. “They’ll try all sorts of things to mess with you.

Sometimes it’s best to give them what they want.”

“But I can’t turn in my boyfriend and his friends. How low class is that?”

“Not quite as low class as leaving your girlfriend to be arrested for your crime.” He sent me an incredulous look. “Do you still want Bo as your boyfriend?”

The reminder stung. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I want him dragged in here by these minions in blue shirts and charged with a bunch of stuff he didn’t do.” I glared down the hallway where I’d last seen Officer Frisky McFriskerson. “The police are a bunch of power-hungry jerks.”

“Jerks,” the guy repeated mockingly. He probably would have chosen a stronger word.

40/356

I looked down at my wrists, still seeing the handcuffs that had been there earlier. “I’ve only gone to school here for a month; if I turn in my friends, I’ll never get any new ones.”

“Maybe you should just try hanging out with guys who aren’t criminals,” he said.

This is when I realized that even though the guy had said he knew Bo and his friends, he’d never said he liked them.

My gaze went to his eyes, trying to read his expression. He wasn’t looking at me, though. He waved at someone across the lobby. I turned to see who it was, but the only one in the room was the lady behind the desk. She motioned to someone behind her.

I didn’t understand what it meant. I turned back to him with a question on my lips. It never got past my lips because the detective opened the lobby door and walked over. I expected him to come talk to me. I braced myself for it, but he barely looked at me. He went over to the guy. “Well?”