It's Complicated: A Zombie Romance Novel

Cop Cars and other forms

I always imagined the back of a cop car to be supremely uncomfortable. I mean, you would think that those insane, drugged out people that cops pick up would have torn the fake leather seating to shreds, but no. It was actually quite comfy. At least compared to bus seats. If I hadn't been off to jail, this might have been a pretty enjoyable experience.

But since it had been a ride to jail, it kind of wasn't. I'd told the officer I was no threat. The only time I'd even gotten a little bit ruff was when the other cop took my transcripts. That's when they'd told me that they were evidence, and I couldn't have them back.

I'd left the house arms raised and followed every instruction they'd given me. Even the one about putting down my weapon, even though I didn't have one to put down. Being as cooperative as I was, you would think that they'd have just put me in the car, or maybe even let me go once they heard the whole story about this being partly my house and all, but no. As soon as the cop was done patting me down he'd slapped cuffs on me.

When I'd tried to even mention my story he said, "Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do," and helped me into the back of the police car.

It couldn't have helped that David's lawyer had shown up with the cops, screaming how I was dangerous and armed. Both of which were not at all true. Plus, how would he even know if I was armed or not, let alone that I was in the house at all? The answer hit me hard in the stomach. They were watching the house just in case one of us came back. I might have just lost Mom her case simply because I'd needed to graduate this year. I was such a selfish idiot. Of course he was saying those things about me. He wanted this on record so he could use it against us. Now there was no way I was making it back to school in time to turn in my transcripts.

When I'd asked the other officer as he was getting into the car if he would just listen to me and how this was all a misunderstanding he'd said, "We read you your Miranda rights and are calling your mom," and that was that.

The car ride had been comfy and the trip short. Downtown Bellevue isn't that long of a drive from the house. That's where they process all the criminals. Which I guess I was one now, having committed a felony and all.

There was another mini station up at Crossroads. That's the mall Mom worked at. I was wondering how they got to the house so fast. They'd probably come from there and wanted to get back. There had been three cop cars on the scene when I'd come out of the house, which was two too many in my opinion. Apparently unarmed teenage girls breaking into their own homes was considered a big crime in Bellevue nowadays.

The processing personnel weren't much better. They took anything off my person that might be useful. Not that I had much. Then she asked, "ID?"

Since I don't drive I only had my school one in the wallet that she'd already taken.

"In there," I said pointing with my shoulder. They still hadn't removed the cuffs yet. Not that I was doing anything that would warrant having cuffs on. Maybe they were doing it all just to scare me straight. Trust me, I was scared. But not graduating Saturday scared me more.

She took everything out of the wallet and gave me a frustrated look.

"ID," she said again, in a less than happy tone.

"It's right there," I said, pointing at my school ID again with my shoulder. She picked it up reluctantly.

"Miss," she said waving it at me, "this is not ID. I need regulation ID. Driver's license, passport, anything state issued with a photograph."

I shook my head. I didn't have any of those things. I'd never driven, never left the state, let alone the country, and my Social Security card was locked back up in the house I'd just been caught breaking into. This was SO not my day.

"Fine," she said, stamping my paperwork. "Next." I shuffled out of the way.

'What's wrong with a school ID?' I thought. I wasn't about to say it out loud.

The next part was pictures and fingerprints, followed by having me sign some papers. I told them that I was under 18 and therefore they would have to get my mom's signature for these to be legal. The lady behind that counter just stared down her nose at me. What was up with all these condescending police women, anyway? Then it was off to jail. I did not pass go, I did not get my phone call. Maybe it was different for minors. You rarely see minors going to jail in the movies.

It was a group cell with an open toilet. There were other guys and girls, which I thought was weird. Did they not separate the sexes in jail? Again, not too many movies or TV shows to go off of here. So my guess was no. I thought about taking a seat as far from the open toilet as I could. I might have really needed to go, but there was no way I was going in front of boys. Especially hot boys my own age.

I slid down between two other people, trying to draw as little attention to myself as possible. Being the klutz I am, I bumped one of them by accident.

"I am so sorry," I said, reaching out a hand to help him up.

"S'k" he said, taking my hand. A shock wave went through me. I knew that voice.

Of all the people I thought I might be sharing a jail cell with I never in a million years thought that it was going to be Gideon.