Pursuit of the Whole

LIII. Most Pitiful Person

"Did you all hear?" Eric pops up from behind the couch, "Someone had been going around flattening car tires."

I chew onto the stick of jerky, "Damn. That sucks."

I should know better than to fight bad with bad, but I really don't.

Screw being the bigger person.

I'll be the smallest, most pitiful person in the room.

"Why would they do that?" Brenda question.

Maybe, because they're inconsiderate jerks.

I shrug.

"Look." Eric shows me a picture of a flat tire and car scratch mark.

"Oh. It looks like it's been keyed. Did he pissed off someone?" I'm a better actress than I thought - wasted talent for sure.

"Looks like it." Eric shakes his head, "Damn. I would cry if someone keyed my car."

"Good to know," I responded.

"Time to go kids!" Dad screamed.

When everyone moves toward the garage, Brenda pulls me back. "I know it was you," she said. "And I'm fucking proud." She gave me a high five.

After the much-needed praise, I wonder. If Brenda could figure out it was me, does it mean the three guys do too?

No. They shouldn't.

But, if they were to investigate this situation, could they trace the location of the last person who opened their records?

The librarian; would she snitch on me?

Even if they do figure out it was me, would the guys publicly confront me?

They wouldn't.

How do I know?

Because they're not stupid enough to throw away their futures. If the situation went public, I would be known as the crazy girl who cracked under pressure.

Them?

Model students should not and have no reason to vandalize public properties.

"Why are you smiling?" Brenda asks.

"No reason." If I didn't have Kai's case to worry about, I wouldn't mind fighting a case with them.

Somehow being in court is less intense the second day. Then, the third. Fourth. By the seventh day, everyone was sick and tired of being in court - even the jury.

I pull the sweater closer to me as we walk closer to the exit. I want to sleep. I want to eat. I should learn how to eat while sleeping.

When we walked out to the parking lot, a black car caught my eye. My phone buzzes, and I look at it to see an unknown number. I ignored it. Then, it buzzes again. I ignored it. Then, again.

I slide my thumb across the screen and press the phone against my ear, "I'm not interested."

"Really?" My legs halt. "Are you certain you aren't interested in what I have to say?"

My eyes move around the parking lot, and it lands on the black car again. The tinted window rolled down, and old wrinkly eyes made their appearance.

It doesn't matter whether or not I'm interested in what he has to say.

He's going to find a way to say it.

"Meet me in the back." He ends the call.

"Mom?" I called for her.