Chasing Sunshine | JJ Maybank

22 // Midsummers

"Knollwood, you can follow me."

Shoupe had handed JJ off to another uniformed street cop, separating us the minute we entered the small station. I hesitated to heed the deputy's instructions, watching JJ walk away with his head hung and eyes set determinedly in front of him, refusing me the courtesy of even a sparing glance. When Shoupe snapped his fingers impatiently, I scurried over to follow at his heels past the front waiting area and into the quieter recesses of the building.

"Wait in here," he told me, opening the door to what I could assume to be an interrogation room consisting of nothing but slate gray walls and three pieces of stainless steel furniture: two chairs with a table separating them. I stepped inside, but stopped him before he could close the door and leave me in solitude.

"Is he going to be okay?"

I knew the question was stupid even before I asked it and even now it sounded exceptionally childlike and pathetic when spoken aloud. Of course he wasn't going to be okay, he had just been arrested on serious felony charges but I could feel the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't just want someone to tell me that it would all just be okay.

Shoupe did not deliver.

"He'll be booked in tonight and spend the night here. Based on his record, I wouldn't be surprised if he took a one-way train to Wadesboro Juvenile in the morning," he explained shortly, not sparing any ounce of compassion into his gruff Southern twang. But he must have noticed the defeated slump of my shoulders because he paused for a beat before sighing and speaking again, much kinder this time. "Look kid, can I give you a piece of advice?"

I shrugged. What was I going to say? No? To be honest, I wasn't in any position to be turning away free life advice right about now.

"You really shouldn't be wasting your time on the likes of a Maybank man," he told me, barely concealing a sneer of distain at the very mention, "Rotten. The whole lot of them."

My exterior flipped from beaten down to icy cold in a manner of seconds, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. "Thanks for the advice. I'll be sure to tuck that little nugget away real carefully," I replied back sarcastically.

He neglected to argue with me and only shook his head disapprovingly, and the heavy slam of the door was the only sound to mark his exit. Now left on my own, I could feel my train of thought begin to spiral.

What is taking so long? He said I wasn't arrest so why am I in this room? Did I do something? Well duh Meg, of course you did something. You've been on a law-breaking spree ever since Pope ran into that goddamn boat-

The door swung open again without warning, making my head snap up at the sound. It wasn't Shoupe who greeted me this time, but a woman with a shiny sheriff's badge pinned neatly to the front of her uniform. "Sorry that took so long," she announced, voice so full of authority that it made me doubt that she was actually even remotely apologetic, "I had some other matters to attend to."

I didn't say anything but just followed her with tentative eyes as she strode into the room and sat down in the chair across from me. "I'm Sheriff Peterkin," she introduced, taking the two manilla folders from under her arm and placing them neatly on the table in front of her, "Margaret Knollwood, correct?"

"Meg," I responded automatically before shutting my mouth instantly, deciding that wasn't the most pressing issue right now. She scanned me over analytically then intertwined her fingers on top of the table and showing me a warm smile.

"They told you you weren't in any trouble, right? I just want to talk, you can relax," she explained, leaning back in her seat perhaps to give off some semblance of nonchalance.