Oh My Goth by Gena Showalter

Author:Gena Showalter
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Nine

I think the great Captain Kirk once said, “Why can’t we all just get along?” Wait. Maybe that was Tiny Tim. Either way, it seems like an impossible dream.

Frisked, cuffed, and helped into a police car.

Sound fun? Exciting? Adventurous? It’s not.

They confiscated the papers I’d stuffed into my pockets, and even took my pocketknife.

“Dr. Laroque hooked us to a computer and now we’re inside a virtual reality game,” Mercedes blurted out as she was shoved in beside me. “We just want to go home.”

Several policemen laughed. I glared at her, silently commanding her to close her freaking mouth. All her words would get us was a psych exam.

“I’m serious,” she whimpered.

“No, you’re begging to be tested for drug use,” one of the cops said. “Now shut up.”

Thankfully she did.

We were driven downtown, and neither of us spoke a word to the other. My emotions were still too raw. Maybe hers were, too. One of the officers informed us that we’d tripped a silent alarm when we busted the window and the owner — Dr. John Laroque — had called them.

We hadn’t been read our rights or anything like that, and weren’t actually being arrested. We were being taken in so our parents could be notified. The owner, apparently, declined to press charges — the first and only nice thing Dr. Laroque had done for us. I could only hope guilt was eating him alive like a flesh-eating bacteria.

Would nothing go right today?

At the bustling station, I noticed the criminals being booked and processed were dressed liked Barbie clones, wearing conservative pastels and tidy button-downs and slacks. The male police officers, I realized in the light, wore black eyeliner and sported multiple tattoos.

The switch was startling.

Mercedes and I were locked in a small, bland room that offered nothing more than thick, musky air, a scarred table, and a few unpadded chairs. We were escorted to opposite ends of the table and uncuffed.

Leaning back, I stretched out my legs and sighed. The officers left us then, one of them muttering, “Be good. We’ll be watching from the two-way.”

“This is all your fault,” Mercedes said the moment the door closed.

My mouth opened and closed with a snap. “My fault?”

“You’re bad luck, obviously.”

“Ever stop and consider the possibility that you might be the bad luck charm in this relationship?”

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You could have helped me out and told them what happened to us.”

“Like you helped me with my friends? They could have locked us both away, Mercedes. What then, huh?”

Mutinous, she turned away from me and faced the wall.

The clock ticked away the ensuing hour of silence. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat a thousand times, my nerves so frayed they threatened to break apart at any moment. I was thirsty, tired, stressed, disappointed, and frustrated. Not a good combination.

Where was my dad?

Finally, hinges squeaked as the door glided open. A policeman I didn’t recognize stepped inside. He had bright, bottlered hair, and white doughnut powder around his mouth.

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