Wish I May, Wish I Might

Chapter 4

Here's a fun game you should totally not play with your friends - waiting in a police precinct, waiting for your working parents to come to pick you up and wondering if they'll be okay with the fact that you got arrested because it was for a good-ish reason, or if they'll completely annihilate you. Even worse, when you're being forced to sit next to the person who got you into this situation in the first place, and his trash-talking accomplice. The three of us were given an extreme tongue-lashing about getting into fights and causing problems, and then the accomplice was allowed to leave, thanks to being nineteen.

The leftover punk and I sat together in an uncomfortable silence, the dislike between us so thick you could cut it with a knife.

While we were waiting, one of the nicer cops gave each of us an ice pack to put on our bruises and our phones. I hadn't gotten to see myself in a mirror yet, but Royal Punk had a pretty spectacular red blossoming bruise on his face and the throbbing in my face told me I didn't look any better. I unlocked my phone and knew immediately from the number of notifications that I was in even more trouble than I had thought.

Someone got it on video and posted it to Snapchat and Twitter, Cash told me.

I groaned out loud and turned off the screen.

The punk and I knew when our parents arrived at the precinct, thanks to the sounds of loud yelling and car doors slamming from outside. The nice cop paled a little and looked like he would rather be on desk duty for a year rather than deal with angry parents. I gave him a small smile, trying to assure him that my parents, at least, would not destroy him. I supposed I could wish that my parents would let me get off easy, but then again, I had a rule of not messing with people's heads, and my parents were high on the list of people I wouldn't mess with.

My parents and the mayor stormed in together, glaring daggers at each other. The mayor was a woman who had a background of old money aristocracy since the town had been founded and had never liked my new money parents with their ideals of getting rid of the town mayor and switching to a town council. The police officer gestured for the punk and I to stand up and our parents swooped. I could tell that the punk got the same firm grip on the shoulder that I got, and for the first time, we had a mutual understanding, which was "ow".

"Come on, Carter," my mother said, pushing me forward.

The mayor had arrived there alone, her husband had disappeared some twelve years ago, and since then, she'd driven a long black car that I always thought resembled a hearse. As both of us were being herded to our family cars, I noticed that the mayor had more than just a look of anger on her face, her expression was something closer to hatred.

Let's make this clear: I didn't like this kid. I don't like anyone who picks on someone weaker than them. And I especially don't like people that pick on homeless people. But I also knew that this kid was taking out his anger about something on other people. Call it intuition.

Don't do it, I tried to tell myself as my dad opened the passenger side backseat door for me. He made fun of that guy and hit you, he doesn't deserve your help.

But what can I say, I'm a sucker for a sad face.

"I wish that his mother doesn't punish him worse than any other parent would. Or any worse than I would," I whispered the moment before my parents finished their conversation outside the car and got in. Maybe a bad wish, but I didn't know exactly what was going to happen with or without the wish and I didn't want to be too specific. To do such a wish was bordering on altering people's minds.

The car was awkwardly silent as we drove home. I eventually had to speak up. "Mom...?"

"Why did you hit back?" she asked sharply, and I winced for a second time, then winced again because doing that had made the bruise hurt more.