feather

twelve: so i can post jail bail

"Hey, bae," Taylor said over the phone, panting heavily. 

I made a weird face that probably resembled one of a displeased walrus. "Uh, Taylor? What's up? And don't call me bae. Shouldn't you be in school? It's almost nine." 

"Not really, bae. Just, you know, running from the cops," he puffed. 

I flipped my hair over to the other side and shook my head. "Wait. What? What for?" 

"I maybe might have been in a sketchy place and the cops are chasing out people in a drug bust like foxes with rabbits. Or was it terriers with rats? I like the fox metaphor better because that means I'm a rabbit and rabbits have a lot of babies," he replied, and then whispered, "Oh shit. Jamie, okay, I'm gonna have to call you back. Bye bae!" 

Unbelievable. Taylor went and smoked some crack or something and now he's high and most likely he's going to get arrested. Not even seven hours later after school my cellphone rang again. 

"Hey, babe," Taylor's voice said huskily over the phone. Then he cleared his throat and his voice went back to normal. It was still pretty deep though, he just sounded less smoker-y. "I kind of need money for bail." 

"Call me babe again and I'll let the prison men get you," I retorted, and then rifled through my backpack to find my wallet. "How much?" 

"Five hundred dollars," he said meekly. 

I sighed. "Fine, tell me the address and I'll come post bail and get you out." 

He relayed the address to me, and then cheekily said, "Thank babe, I knew you'd pull through. On that note, you should really let me pull out when we—" 

"Never mind. Don't drop the soap, babe," I replied, and was about to hang up. But not really though, because that would have been cruel.

"Wait! Wait! Jamie, you know I was just kidding. I'll never call you babe or bae again and you're a goddess and I'll be your chair later if you want me to," Taylor begged. I snickered a little bit before hanging up. I liked to leave him on his toes. 

•••

"Oh Jamie! Thank god you're here!" Taylor's eyes lit up when when he saw me walk down the aisle of the jail cells. Cat-calls followed me down the hallway, but I ignored them. He leaned in really close against the bars and whispered, "This man in here with me is creepy. He told me my hair smells nice. I don't think it smells that nice!" 

"Oh, man up, you girl," I told him as the policeman unlocked the cell. "By the way, if I ever have to pay five hundred dollars for you again I'll drop-kick you to China." 

As soon as the cell opened Taylor dashed out and smothered his body around mine. "Jamie you're amazing. You're great. We should get married. I've had a lot of time to think while I was in jail, and I think we should run off to Venice and get married." 

"You were only in jail for like seven hours, and you stink of weed," I replied, pushing him away from me. He smelled like a weird dump; that was probably what weed smelled like. "Besides, whose pocket would Venice come from?" 

"I'll work one of those gourdula boat things?" Taylor offered.

The police man guy, who had been trying to keep a straight face before finally cracked and smiled a little. "You two are one of the weirdest couples I have ever seen," he remarked, and then shook his head before ushering us towards the checkout counter where we retrieved Taylor's belongings: a swiss army knife, an empty box of tictacs, and a condom. 

"Really?" I asked him dubiously. "I'm questioning your choice of items. We haven't even pissed off my dad enough yet, and I already have to dump you," I stated in mock disappointment. "There's no point in carrying a tictac box with no tictacs in it. There's just no point." 

 "I just like to be prepared. I have this swiss army knife in case of either a zombie apocalypse or I get stranded in a forest or on an island, I have the box of tictacs that will act as a small water carrier or preserver of dry things, and I have a condom, you know, in case," Taylor reasoned. I shook my head in defeat. I still didn't see the purpose of the empty tictac box. 

 "Whatever you say," I shook my head. Taylor was so weird. 

My phone buzzed again. Wow, I was so popular. I took it out of my bag and checked the preview on the lock screen.

Matthew: Help.