Heart Rate

The night air is brisk, caressing my cheeks and collarbone. Their laughter fills the air. The fire cracks and beer bottles crash on the leaves when they drop them. My back is being stabbed by a short stubby stick, poking out of the tree stump I'm leaning on. The music bounces in the background and some of them dance and fall over. They look like ducks walking in a foot of water. But I'm not allowed to drink. My doctor told me not too, even though I'm 15. A giggle raises up in my throat but I contain it. Angela trips over a tree root and falls backyards; laughing drunkly lifting up her head after dumping her beer bottle all over her.

"Get me another Andrew!" She yells, almost screaming like she can't hear herself. I try to keep a straight face but the look on hers is irrefutable. I get up off the tree stump and walk over to the cooler, because Andrew is half-passed out. The cooler is almost empty, we've been here for maybe 3 hours. I reach in and my fingertips freeze at the touch of the bottle. She is still on the ground so I help her up and she falls over on top of me when she comes up. Steadying her, I hand her the bottle. A pang of guilt hits my chest, and I realize I shouldn't have given it to her. She's had enough for tonight.

The music stops suddenly and I look over to the speakers. Three policemen. Two tall men and a hefty woman stand staring at us. Busted. What will my parents think? A little fifteen year-old at a party with drunk kids; much older than myself.

"What do ya'll think your doin'?" The woman asks, she has a southern accent, that pitches when she says 'doing'. She shines a flashlight in my face, noticing how young I look. I speak up, because I'm the only one sober.

"We, we were just having a party..." I trail off.

"In the woods?" One of the men asks. He wears a blue uniform like the rest, but has a star shaped badge on his chest.

"It's better than a club." I blurt out without thinking, not meaning to sound ignorant.

"It would be better in my office," The sherif says, "Your coming with us."

So I help the others to their feet and the police officers take their hands down and secure them in handcuffs. They hurt. The cold metal on my dry skin feels like ice is burning me. We walk though the leaves, sticks, and trees for a few yards to their three police cars. Beyond the cars, I see are many more. How many of us were they expecting? Then I see caution tape and flashing blue and red lights. Did they think we were criminals or something? Voices from walkie-talkies buzz in the air and what appears to be a witness talking to a woman in a long brown overcoat with a notepad. She raises her head and her gaze lands on me. Her piercing brown eyes cut into my heart. A reappearing question pops up again in the back of my mind: what will my parents think? I try to get a better look of whatever is surrounded by caution tape. I inch my head up, but the police woman restricts my view. She opens the car door and pushes me in.

"Rotten girl..." She murmurs to herself.

Angela and Andrew sit in the back seat with me. I close my eyes, trying to hold back a yelp or a cry. Something that will let go of the heaviness in my chest or the lump in my throat. She starts the ignition and slowly we start to drive to the road. I try and eavesdrop to her radio thats giving her orders. I pick up on key words that are easy enough for my to hear. 'Teenagers-interrogation-criminal-' and the last one horrifies me. 'Murderers' my palms start to get sweaty behind my back. Something metal pokes into my spine from the handcuffs. I lean back, breaking my perfect posture, trying to relax. I can't do this here. Not now. They will think I'm crazy or insane, that I killed somebody. I attempt to steady my breaths. This isn't going to happen in this car. Not in front of Angela. I try not to focus on the car or the party. On my family? No, that's not a good topic. If my mother could see me now. What would she think? That I was a disgrace? Probably. But I can't afford to think about it. It'll make things worse. My dog? Yes. My dog, daisy. I think of her cute little scrunched-up face, her curly tail, and how she freaks out when she sees a bubble. Then I think of bubbles, then back to daisy. I haven't even realized we've been driving the whole time, and at Warrington's Criminal Intent building. The word 'criminal' is is bold red letters on the building. I try to stay as calm as possible, justifying my posture back to a perfect line. The woman opens the door to my right and I climb out after Angela and Andrew follows me. Drunk words come form their mouths questioning silly things, like a street light blinking, or the yellow grass, or why the building was so tall. Each time they burst out in laughter at each other. I purse my lips together and the dread of my parents being in the building towering before me sinks into my heart.