Lawrence Looks for Treasure

Part 2 - Chapter 30

30

Boy was I relieved to hear my friends' voices. I hadn't heard from them—had no idea where they were—since back at the campground. That was only several hours ago. But so much had happened since. One thing really: my friends had been taken by the police. Now I would take them back.

My foot was still kicked through the window screen of the police station. I moved it around to widen the hole. Then I lowered myself slowly through the window into the station.

Below the window was a desk. My feet landed on it, and from there I hopped to the floor. Not an officer was in sight. But across from me was the whole gang: Ema, Chris, Matty, Stinky Mike and all his friends. They were seated together in a holding cell, the only cell in the station. I was glad to see them, though the sight was distressing. They were in serious trouble. Yet they seemed happy to see me too.

'Lawrence!' Ema said. 'I was so worried about you.'

'You were worried about me? I was worried you!' I said.

I was shocked. Even after I told Ema I liked her, even after she rejected me and I said all those nasty things to her, even after she'd been arrested, she still found time to worry about me. There's a lesson in there about friendship, I have to admit.

'What happened?' I asked.

'Before we talk,' Chris said. 'There's a camera aimed at us.' He pointed to a surveillance camera at the corner of the ceiling.

'One sec.' I said. I grabbed a roll of tape from the desk and taped over the lens. Then I turned back at them, proud to display my courage and resourcefulness. I was an adventurer, alright. Chris was laughing in disbelief.

'Oh man, dude, I'm so glad you're here.' said Stinky Mike. He was sitting at the other end of the cell, away from the group. 'It was so horrible, man.'

'Mike, shut up for a sec.' I said. 'I just want to hear from my friends.'

Mike looked down. I felt bad. He was awfully fragile and I was awfully rude. The funny thing was, I actually liked the guy. We had a great chat by the fire. He spoke more sense than most people I'd talked to on the adventure. He just made me uncomfortable—I hated how his ideas, ideas I agreed with, led him to be the person he was. Disheveled, unemployed, drugged up. Maybe, on some level, I worried that he might one day be me.

'So what happened?' I asked.

Ema began again: 'We were doing the same thing we did before you left—just having a good time. It was dark. The officers were quiet. We didn't notice them until they were beside us.'

'Scared the shit out of us,' Chris said, laughing.

'Anyway,' Ema continued. 'They saw the weed and the booze, and they were terrible about it.'

'Yeah,' I said. 'I thought so. What happened next?'

Ema sighed and looked at Chris.

'Don't blame me,' Chris said, looking back at Ema, in an amused sort of way.

'What did you do Chris?' I asked.

'They were treating us like criminals,' Chris said. 'Interrogating us like we committed murder or something.'

'Well, I know my rights. My dad's a lawyer.' He continued. 'That's what I said. I said, 'listen guy, we don't have to answer. We don't have to do anything.''

'That really pissed them off.' Ema said.

'They brought us to their cars.' Chris interrupted. 'I asked to speak to a lawyer. They said we'd have to wait until tomorrow morning.'