How to Be Cliche (A Novel)

(41) No Me Gusta Smiley

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                       Officer Mustache locked me into the neighboring cell from Jock's.

                  "No PDA between your cells, hooligans, or you get no breakfast." Turning to only me, he then said, "It's always the cookie bakers that are the bad eggs, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I trusted you..."

                  "I'm not selling any drugs!" I motioned to Jock. "He is! I'm just a victim!"

                  "Sure."

                  Jock threw up his hands. "Yo, way to throw me under the bus!"

                  Officer Mustache put his hands on his hips. "You threw the poor boy under a bus? That's some impressive arm strength, young lady--!"

                  Jock went red. "I'm not a boy!"

                  "You're a girl?" Officer Mustache stroked his stache. "Well, I would have never guessed, but I'm not one to judge--"

                  "No, I'm a man, is what I meant--!"

                  "Are you even allowed to lock us up yet? I want a lawyer!" I demanded, attempting to rattle my cage bars. "Officer Mustache, this is ridiculous! This is child abuse!"

                  Officer Mustache shook his head at me then walked away. Panic sunk in deep down in my chest. I was in jail. In jail, and my "Secretly- Elite-Hunters-Lying-Sack-of-Parents" could find me locked in jail and take advantage of my vulnerability! Was there any way to defend myself against an attack? Was I hopeless?

                  Most importantly, when was the last time I had used deodorant, because I was sweating bullets.

                  I sniffed my armpit.

                  Still good.

                  "Don't you turn your back on me, Officer Mustache! I'm a woman!" More desperately, I added, "Don't leave me with this idiot!"

                  "Yeah!" Jock shouted afterwards, "I mean--no! I'm not an idiot!"

                  I turned sharply at him, pinning him with questions. " We hurt without moving. We poison without touching. We bear the truth and the lies. We are not to be judged by our size. What are we?"

                  "Words!"

                  I narrowed my eyes at him. "Mr. Blue lives in the blue house, Mr. Pink lives in the pink house, and Mr. Brown lives in the brown house. Who lives in the white house?"

                  "The white man!"

                  "The president! The president lives in the white house!" I hit my head against the bars. "We're done for!"

                  " I'm not an idiot!" More quietly, he added so only I could hear, "I'm smarter than you think I am, Pepper! And I'm just as scared as you are being locked in here. Hell, I'm a constant target as of last night, I have every reason to pee myself right this second but I'm holding it in because that's socially not acceptable!"