Chapter 1: The Robbery
Arial's POV
I paced back and forth impatiently as I waited for Wesley's ugly blue station wagon to pull back into his driveway. I could feel my anxiety growing as every second slowly ticked by. I can not believe he would be stupid enough to go through with this, this will be the last time I will ever let Wesley drink at a party ever again. Wow, I sound just like a nagging parent.
I couldn't help but release a cry of joy when I saw Wesley pull up in the driveway, I bounced in place while I watched the three boys all pull off their ski masks, each carrying a black trash bag. No need to question what was inside them.
The split second Wesley stepped foot into the house I launched myself at him. Startled, he dropped his own trash bag in order to hold me up with both arms. After obtaining a proper grip on me, he used one of his hands to wave the two boys away.
"We'll figure those out later, leave them in the garage." I can only assume that he was reffering to the money.
Meanwhile, I was sobbing uncotrollably into Wesley's shoulder. Ilooked up briefly and watch with blurry vision, the two boys grudgingly toss the three trash bags into the garage, they then left in their own cars. Wesley was rubbing my back and murmuring reassuring words into my ear.
Regaining my composure, I dropped back down onto my feet and wiped the salty tears off my face. Now feeling the anger wash through me, I glared at Wesley and slapped him across the face and kicked him in the shin.
"I swear if you ever do anything like that to me again I will personally kill you myself." I said, slapping him once more upside the head for emphasis.
I uttered a few cuss words before I ordered him to go change his clothes and toss them into the washing machine. On my way over to the bathroom I caught a glimse of myself in a mirror, I look like I just took a stroll through hell. I washed all of the dried up tears and snot off of my face and used some of his mom's makeup to help myself look more presentable.
When I came back into the living room, Wesley was sitting on the couch pale faced and stiff.
"Wes, what's wrong." I asked slowly, not really wanting to know the answer to my question.
Slowly his head turned in my direction, "I didn't take the license plates off of my car."
The icy feeling of dread crept up my back and I'm sure my face now reflected Wesley's look of complete horror.
"Well, maybe no one saw..." My voice trailed off as Wes shook his head.
"No, I'm sure everyone saw when I-"
I never got to hear the rest of his sentence when the sharp sound of knocking came from the front door, followed by a muffled voice saying, "Open up, this is the police."
YOU ARE READING
Taking the Blow (ON HOLD)
Teen Fiction"My 3rd grade teacher always told me that I would never graduate high school. That I was going to be a juvenile delinquent. In a way, I guess she was right."
