Anarchy

Chapter 10: New Friends & Old Scat

After lineup, I was ushered into the kitchen for dinner. That is, if you call a peanut butter and jelly sandwich dinner.
Since Milo and I arrived later than the standard dinner time and the cook wanted to go home, we were given sandwiches and sent on our way.
Which is fine with me actually—I love pb&js.

After gobbling that down (hey all I had to eat all day was a sandwich...and a couple sour patch), I made my way upstairs. Iza had told me there was a secret rooftop spot where I could make personal calls.

As I ascended, my thoughts drifted to Greensville; I had been so distracted by Maine I forgot all about this morning.
Had Jamie gotten in trouble after the horse stunt? Was the Sheriff still chasing after it? Gosh that would be amazing.

And then I thought about Dad, probably sitting alone in the kitchen eating cereal for dinner.
And don't get me wrong—that's his idea of a good time; peace and quiet. Plus he loves Lucky Charms (I got my sweet tooth from him).

Reaching the top of the stairs, I pushed open the door to the attic. It was dark and there were boxes stacked to the ceilings, a thick layer of dusk and cobwebs covering everything.
Spotting a pathway through the boxes, I followed that to a window which opened out onto the roof below.
I made my way out onto the shingles and sank down into a comfortable-ish position. Pulling out my phone I dialed 1 of the 3 numbers I knew by heart.

The phone rang.

And rang.

And then I got voicemail. Hanging up, I called again.
This time he picked up after the second ring.

"Hey Ana," I heard Jamie whisper in a rush. "Can I call you later? It's..kinda a—" on the other end I could hear some sort of commotion and some yelling. Suddenly it silenced and Mrs. Rowe's calm voice came on the line.

"Hello Ana, I hope your trip went off without a hitch." Before I could say thanks, she continued. "Unfortunately, Jamie has been grounded and will not be getting his phone back until further notice."

In the background I could hear Jamie groaning, complaining that it wasn't fair. Mrs. Rowe shushed him and continued.

"Now I don't blame you for what Jamie did because he is responsible for his own actions," I could imagine her giving him a pointed look, "but I do hope Maine goes well for you."

"Uh, thanks Mrs. Rowe," I said, unsure what to say, but adding, "But I kinda did threaten him that I would—"

"Ah-ah," she cut me off, "Like I said, he is responsible for his behavior. Now, do you need anything sent to you? Are they keeping you fed?"

"Yeah I'm fine." Knowing Mrs. Rowe, she would probably ship a box full of goodies anyways—she worries too much about kids going hungry.

"Okay well you let me know. Goodbye dear."

"Thanks, bye." I hung up.

Drat. I had really wanted to speak to Jamie: I had to know how in the world Sheriff Hopkins had gotten his hat back. Did he chase the horse around town? Or wait for it to calm down? Had he perhaps had to hop on to reach the hat? Tutu and all?

I guess I'll have to wait a few weeks. Mrs. Rowe took grounding very seriously and involving Jamie in a prank on the Sheriff probably would make it at least two weeks until I got to talk to him. Maybe three.

I felt weird. Almost...guilty?
Maybe I shouldn't have involved Jamie. He's a good kid and now he's grounded. Not that he really leaves the house anyways, but still. I felt...bad.

Sighing, I dialed the second number I knew.
This time it went straight to voicemail; either his phone was off or he was ignoring me. Probably the later because he's a drama queen.

The voice recording started playing;
"Hi you've reached Sheriff Hopkins. Please leave a message." The voice paused, before adding "Unless you're Analise: then please don't."
What a cutie leaving special instructions just for me.
I hope he doesn't mind that I ignore them.

The recording cut off and a beep signaled I should start talking.

"Hi Sheriff. Just wanted to say thanks for my send-off this morning; it was really touching of you to take the time out of your busy day to say farewell." I smiled, imagining him listening to my message, his face turning beet red with anger at the recollection of today's events. "Anyways, I'm doing well and have made a bunch of friends, which we can of course chat about later, and have already picked up a few new tricks from my fellow delinquents, so thanks for that as well."
I was definitely going to steal the handshake shock trick from Luca and Daniel, minus the cheesy pickup line.
"Hope you're doing well! Oh and before I forget, you may want to check your filing cabinet; I left you a parting gift."

And with that, I hung up, gladly knowing that even if he didn't open my message, he would find the remnants of my last prank the next time he opened those drawers.

And by remnants, I mean duck poop, which I had bagged very carefully (with gloves on!) and placed in Gracie Bennett's nearly spotless file.

I was readying myself to dial the third and final number when I heard a low voice speak up from behind me.

"Friends with the Sheriff, huh?"

I turned around slowly, trying not to fall off the roof while simultaneously trying to locate whoever spoke.
Squinting my eyes in the fading sunlight, I spotted a silhouette leaning up against the side of the house, the overhang from the roof above casting a shadow across their face and torso. It was a boy, I could tell by the pitch of the voice, but I couldn't see his face— only his outstretched legs.

"You could say that," I replied, a smirk making its way into my face.

"And yet despite being buddies with law enforcement, you still ended up here," the voice drawled out, teasing me.

"Yeah, some friend," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I heard the boy let out a low chuckle. "So what about you? Friendly with the fuzz?"

"Related, actually."

"Oh yeah?"  That was interesting. "Mom or Dad?"

"Both, but it was my older brother who sent me to this hell-hole."

"That's gotta sting."

"Eh, not really." He paused. "I make more money in a week than he does in a year so it kinda evens out."

"Wow. Brag much?"

"Sorry being coy just isn't my style."

"So you have a style? A bit pretentious if you ask me."

"Everyone has a style."

I didn't know how to answer that. I mean, what does that even mean?
Instead, I changed the subject. 

"So what do you do, or used to do, that makes you so much money? Steal cars? Launder money? Cheat at monopoly?" I mean it had to have been something sinister if he was here.

The boy shifted, emerging from the shadows.
As the golden rays of the sun hit his face, I couldn't help but let my jaw drop just a little.

I never expected that.

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Happy New Year Everyone!!

Please don't hate me for not posting in a while 🙈

Love you all!
❤️ Rose