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DAYLIGHT HAS DESCENDED when they reach the police station. The ominous building glooms across the street, and neither of the teens have a good feeling about this.
"All right. I'm just gonna be real with you right now. You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose." JJ, leaning over the seats, pats an advising hand on John B's shoulder. "It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."
"Your old man's an abusive liar." Kiara retorts from the front seat.
"I agree with JJ," Pope sniffs loudly, clutching a half-smoked joint between his finger and thumb. "Fuck the police."
"Yeah? You goin' to the dark side now?"
"When's the last time the police ever helped us?"
"Peterkin looked out for us, all right?" says John B, peering back at his little sister. "Tried to, at least. They need to know."
Silence consumes the vehicle. They know they can't argue with that. Judy occupies the space in the back compartment beside JJ, thankful that the palpitations are starting to die down.
The pain is still very much present, but subdued. The oxygen floating through her nostrils and into her body feels halved, like the air is being stolen from her lungs. Restricted from flowing freely into her windpipe. She's hoping that'll calm down soon though too.
"Want me to come with?" She offers, feeling the need to give him a hand to hold. Another person to back up his statement.
"No, I've got this."
The back door opens, and shuts, confirming her brother's temporary departure.
"I still think this is a bad idea." JJ murmurs, despite knowing it's too late to change the decision now.
"Shut up, JJ." Huffing, Kie combs an exasperated hand through her hair, eyes trained on the entranceway into the building.
Pope continues to choke down clouds of smoke. Judy shifts uncomfortably, not wanting to inhale any more of that shit in than she needs to.
Which, sure, is contradictory after what she did with JJ. But she wasn't on the brink of a heart attack that night.
The pretty blond boy, face to face with her a few inches away, gently prods her foot with his own. Their eyes meet, but at first, nothing is spoken. Her statement from earlier is still circulating around his brain. I'm not yours to lose. What does she mean by that? And why did it hurt so much?
