Wild Hearts

Different

The last thing I expect as I turn the corner into my street is the blinding blue lights of a police car parked outside my front door. Two officers stand in the doorway, chatting to my dad.

I immediately drop into a crouch and duck behind a nearby car.

Crap! They really did it! They really called the police!

I mean, they always threaten it, make a big fuss and all. But that's all it is. A big fuss!

What am I supposed to do? How can I make this work in my favour?

The truth is. I really can't.

So I raise myself up, brush off dust and dirt from my hoodie and stroll forward, acting casual.

Dad spots me through the blaring of the police lights and pushes past them, charging at me. I grin, shrugging as if this is all some misunderstanding—which it really is, and then I gulp as I see murder in his eyes.

Grabbing my shoulders, he shakes me, muttering things at me a million miles an hour. He squeezes me tight into his chest, and I laugh through the tears. I really hate him holding me like this, and he knows it. Knows it but doesn't care.

"Dad, um... what's up?"

A panicked, but familiar voice sounds over my shoulder. I glance up, and I see mum, night robe on, weary eyes and lines showing. The police officers hover a little ways behind her, and I'm glad of that fact. I really hate attention like this. I'm only glad this is the middle of the night. If this were during the day, I'd die of shame, imagining all those eyes, staring at me through half-closed shutters.

"What on Earth has gotten into you?" dad panics, almost shaking me. His eyes are red, but I don't know if that's from lack of sleep or crying.

"Wh... what do you mean?"

Mum cuts in. "No, enough of this! Aiden." Mum's Irish accent bleeds through. "Irresponsible, pigheaded... especially after we already had this conversation! Would you care to explain yourself?"

My mouth opens and closes, air going in and out, but words a foreign concept. I just bow my head, and I know I don't have to fake the tears. I really, really hate this.

"Thank you, officers," mum asserts, nodding at them. "We can take it from here."

One of the officers, the more senior looking of the two, mumbles something to her, and I can only make out fragments.

"... special... adventurous mind... not the first time... yes, thank you."

And then they glance at me as they pass, the senior officer patting me on the shoulder. I frown and watch as they get into their car, and only once they disappear around the corner do I feel dad's grip on my shoulder tighten, a vice-like grip that I can't escape from even if I wanted to.

Sighing, I accept my fate, taking the walk of shame back inside, wondering what's the worst punishment two mostly absent parents can really stick me with.

***

We sit in the kitchen, mum and dad groggy-eyed, dad making some coffee. I tried to avoid eye contact as much as possible, and I choose to stare out the window, watching as the grey light of early morning bled slowly through the clouds, pouring out across the rooftops.

"Why did you tell them that?" I murmur, eyes focused on the wooden swirls of the table, staring until my vision blurs.

"Excuse me?!" mum exclaims, falling into the chair opposite me, face falling into her palms. She sighs, a pitiful thing, a long exasperated hiss, like air releasing from a balloon.