Jagged Little Pill by Eric Smith

Author:Eric Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2022-04-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Bella

The car ride downtown is mostly silent.

The quiet inside the car is broken only by the occasional sniffle from my mom, her hands gripping the steering wheel like she might break it off. I pray for no more red lights. The first one we stopped at, she let out an exhale for so long that I thought she might deflate like a balloon in the driver’s seat.

The brakes squeak as she slows to a crawl in front of the police station, and I can hear her knuckles crack when she lets go of the wheel. She looks at me, her face weary, the whites of her eyes tinted red from all the crying. Or it could be from a burst blood vessel, with the shouting she and my father did. Not at me, but with each other and on the phone, raising hell with Andrew’s family, who keep denying he did anything wrong.

“Are you sure?” she asks, reaching out to me. Her hand grips my shoulder. “I want you to stand up for what that . . . boy did to you. But this isn’t going to be easy.”

“I know,” I say.

She leans back in her seat. “I’m sorry your father didn’t come.” She shakes her head. “It’s not you. He’s not mad at you. He’s afraid of what he might do if he has to face that family. If Andrew showed up.”

“It’s okay, Mom.” I clear my throat, my heart hammering in my chest. “It really is.”

She glances back at me, and I realize she’s crying again.

“My girl. I’m so proud of you.”

Relief washes over me. I don’t know why I expected this to go so much differently. I just saw, I don’t know, the two of them falling to pieces. But instead, ever since I told them what happened, they’ve been bastions of reason and resistance.

I practically throw myself over the center console of the car and hug my mom, who squeezes me tight, sniffling again. When I let go, she wipes at her face, a bit of makeup streaking her cheeks. She laughs, pulling her hands back at the black trails on her skin.

“All right.” She glances at her phone, cheeks slick. “I’ll be here when you’re done. Let me know if they need me in there. Chances are they will.”

“Okay.” I open the car door and hop out, anxiety just rushing through me. “Love you, Mom.”

I make my way toward the police station, and that’s when I notice Frankie and Jo, sitting on the small wall lining the building, shrubs and flowers behind them. The two hop off at the same time and stroll toward me, pensive looks on both of their faces. The last time I was here was . . . I don’t even know. When we were little, I think, and they did this whole “don’t do drugs” talk with our middle school and took us on a tour of the station. It was all smiles and gentle warnings, while at the

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