Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(26)

My heart is beating so fast I think it might stop from exhaustion at any moment—the rhythm hurting my chest from the inside. I look up as the officer presses down on my neck, lowering me into the backseat of the squad car, and Emma’s eyes lock on mine.

“No!” she shouts, and I see her pulling away from the medics trying to help her, the woman holding her arm and keeping her still. “No, Andrew!”

I can’t hear her second scream, because the door is shut on me. I only see her lips moving, her arms jerking and her legs fighting to get to me. She’s trying to get them to stop, and she’s probably trying to take my place, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t want her to, either. She needs to stay with them, to wait for her parents, to go home and to be safe.

She doesn’t need to be afraid. She is not going to lose anything. She can’t and she won’t. And I’ll be okay.

I’ll be okay.





Chapter 5





One month later



Emma, I’m sorry that this has to be a letter. It’s the only thing I’m allowed to do. I wanted to call you, but there really wasn’t an opportunity. I didn’t know where to call, either. All this time, and I still never asked you for your phone number. I’m such a jerk.

I’m sure you heard. Dwayne, I mean Mr. Chessman said he would let you know. I hope you didn’t get in any trouble. And I hope whatever you were afraid of losing is still with you, or still yours. I hope one day you’ll explain.

I’m not proud of some of those things you’ve probably learned. But I had to explain, and I know you’ll believe me. I’m not a druggie. That weed wasn’t mine, either. It was my brother’s friend’s. He was visiting me, and he dropped it. Not that it matters. It sounds so cliché, and I laugh even now about how perfect it all is. Not a funny laugh. Nothing funny about this. But, I’ll still be okay.

I did smoke a little. It was a stupid move, I know. But I was trying to feel less alone. Maybe I wanted to fit in. Fuck, if I’m honest, peer pressure is a thing. It’s real. And I missed you. You had been gone for a week, and there was a part of me that thought maybe you’d never come back. I think maybe I thought I’d imagined you, too. Only, if I imagined you, I’d close my eyes now and you’d be here. Believe me, I’ve tried.

Anyhow, none of that matters, and I own that bad decision. I fell to peer pressure, and it kicked my ass. My mom kicked my ass, too. Owen—he won’t talk to me. Which hurts. But I know that won’t be forever. I’m sending him a letter, too.

They won’t let me make any phone calls for at least three months. My schedule here is very…rigid. It’s not military school, but I imagine it’s not far off. At least my classes aren’t boring. They aren’t quite college-level, but the work keeps me busy. I have duties every morning until seven, and I’m in class until four. We have counseling at five, and then sometimes they give us recreation. I call this place juvie, but I guess that’s not really accurate. It’s more of a reform school, part of the bargain I got. Lake Crest Boys Academy.

I should be able to start back with the Excel Program in a few months. This isn’t forever, and I’m okay. That’s what I’m really writing about. I’ve been talking about you to someone here. She’s a counselor, sort of, though, I’m not really sure how qualified she is. Don’t worry, I don’t tell her everything. Just…that you were with me, during the accident. She mentioned that you probably feel guilty about this, and I don’t want that.

I’m okay, Emma. I’ll be okay. And I’ll be home soon.

I miss you.

Andrew





Two months later


Dear Emma,

Did you get your gift? I made you something for Christmas. I get to go home for the holiday, but I don’t have a lot of time. It’s not even a full day, really. I want to visit. I hope you know that. But, I may not be allowed.

I miss hockey. I know that probably sounds selfish, but I do miss it. I’m honest with you. And as much as I miss my family, my boring routine and that shitty apartment, I miss kicking someone’s teeth in on the ice more.

They have basketball here. Owen would love it. Me…not so much. I suck to the point where I’m literally the last one picked during rec time.

A lot of these guys are real *s. And a lot of them actually did some bad shit, but nothing really bad. Petty theft, fights, drugs—things like that. I mean, it’s reform school. They call it boy’s academy. I guess that makes it sound better.

Oh hey, I got a letter from Owen, by the way. They let me get mail. I’d love to hear from you. Please write if you have time. I get phone privileges next week for being “good.” I’ve already been offered twenty bucks to make a call for someone who doesn’t get them. I’m thinking of taking him up on it.

Anyhow, I guess I just hope you’re okay.

Andrew





Seven Months Later


Emma,

I get to come home next week.

I’m not even sure why I’m writing this to you, because I know I will have the choice to see you in person next week.

I say “choice” because…you know why I say choice. I think you know what I’ll choose. I’m sure you’re hoping for it.