We've all heard and devoured the classic trope involving the shenanigans of a jock, a princess, a nerd, and a criminal. Although who knows of the trouble capable of ensuing when The Breakfast Club isn't PG-13 anymore?
That's the 2007 freshman batch...
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New experiences can go either way. But in my case shit has always gone down hill.
Police is just as terrifying as I had thought, and watching the criminals getting beaten to pulp in the interrogation process, only adds up to the fear. In fact, it reminds me of the time I had been caught along with a few guys for breaking in a local stadium at two in the night.
Nothing bad happened, though... mostly because my father took care of the matter before we could become convenient outlets for these frustrated officers. I wasn't expecting it, but he handled the whole thing quite maturely. Instead of making me feel the brunt, he got the stadium owners in a controversy, which eventually led to its closure. Did I not mention that he is an attorney? That's one of the reasons why I am a little comfortable whilst leaving an ass print on this metal chair.
Kylie's mother, on the other hand, seems quite unfazed. Then again, my assumption is purely based on the sweet sound of building blocks aligning on her phone screen. According to the game's statistics, she is the second fastest player to cross fifty levels in a single day.
I wasn't on-board with this interrogation at all, but my refusal could create problems for me and Emma. I still curse my undying curiosity, which led me into this mess in the first place. This would be so much easier if I was clueless, if I didn't need to protect anybody. "Care to join them?" The detective's voice makes me realise that Kylie's mom is already getting up from her seat. Despite acknowledging the sarcasm in his voice, I nod and shoot a smile at him like a fool.
I walk behind Ms. Williams, only spotting a white shirt barely fitting the huge arms of the suspect on the other side of the table. As she gradually unblocks my view, I find a lump forming in my throat. The same ruffled hair, the same slumped stance, and one of his legs set on the corner of the table... just like it were a bench in the classroom.
How is this possible? Jacobs... Brandon Jacobs?
His eyes catch mine, but he quickly dismisses it, instead of crookedly grinning at me. He probably doesn't even remember me, I try to explain to my shaking calves. Making it past Ms. Williams, I take a seat after assuring that the line of vision between his eyes and mine is a little subverted.
I try to rest my hands on the table, but it is weirdly cold and painful, reminding me of the wounds on my body. The sound of his wrist watch screeching on the table, pounds in my head like a nightmare that doesn't want to leave. Every second of being in the same room with him... it's nothing but torture.
"Did you ever take Kylie out of the city? At a beach maybe?" Ms. Williams sharply gazes at him, looking more than just prepared.
"So you found the sand coated handcuffs, huh?" He chuckles to himself, while I fail to push my intrusive thoughts aside, and let an imagery of the scene form in my mind. Just the thought makes me want to puke.
