Hello, Goodbye, and Everything in Between(38)

“Yup, totally fine,” she says again, trying too hard to keep the impatience out of her voice. “Is Scotty okay?”

He takes off his hat and rubs at the shiny bald spot on the top of his head. Then his face reddens slightly, and Clare gets the distinct impression he’s trying not to laugh. “Yeah, he’s fine,” he says. “We had a nice little chat about boundaries and responsibility and trespassing and underage drinking. But seeing as he’s a first-time offender, and that it’s everyone’s last night in town, and he wasn’t causing any real trouble, we agreed that a warning would be sufficient.”

“That’s great,” Stella says, calmer already. “Does that mean… will he be able to leave now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Officer Lerner says, chuckling a little. “He’ll be out in a minute. He’s just… getting cleaned up a bit.”

“Cleaned up?” Aidan asks, looking confused.

“Yeah. You guys keep an eye on him from now on, okay?” he says with a wink as he opens the door behind him. “And don’t be getting into any more trouble tonight, you know? Tomorrow’s a new beginning. You want to start it out right.” He replaces his hat, then gives them a little wave. “Good luck with everything.”

When he’s gone, they all three exchange mystified looks. Clare is about to say something to Stella, but then the door bangs open again, and this time a younger officer appears, smirking and shaking his head.

Scotty is only about two steps behind him, and when he enters the lobby, he stops and bends in a deep bow. “Ladies,” he says, looking from Stella to Clare, and then at Scotty. “Gentleman.”

This is met by only silence as they stare at him, openmouthed. He must have lost his T-shirt somewhere along the way, and he stands there now wearing only his low-slung jeans, his plaid boxers sticking out at the top, and his bare, skinny chest is completely covered in black fingerprints. On the side of his face, there’s a dark black square that goes from the corner of his mouth all the way up to the place where a bruise is starting to bloom beneath his eye, as if he face-planted straight into an ink pad. He looks like something out of either a children’s book or a horror story, like a piece of Swiss cheese, or maybe some kind of insane spotted animal.

“What the hell?” Aidan asks, his jaw still hanging.

The officer behind him is full-out laughing now. “He was disappointed that we’ve switched to electronic fingerprinting.”

“So I found the ink pad on one of the desks!” Scotty says proudly.

“Really,” Clare says, trying not to laugh.

“Next time,” the officer tells him, “maybe you should think twice about stealing anything from a police station.”

Scotty turns around and salutes him. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

“I already told you, I’m not a captain,” the man says, rolling his eyes. He looks over at the rest of them. “You’ll get him home?”

Aidan nods. “Thanks so much for being so understanding.”

“That ink isn’t coming off for a little while,” the man says with a chuckle. “I think that’s punishment enough.”

Stella hasn’t said a word yet. She’s still just standing there, staring at this swaying, staggering, polka-dotted version of Scotty. But as soon as the officer leaves, and it’s just the four of them in the empty lobby, she takes a step forward, giving him a hard look.

“You could’ve been arrested,” she says, thrusting a finger at him. “You could’ve been charged with something.”

Scotty holds up both hands, which are smeared with black. “Yeah, but I wasn’t.”

“I know this night is hard for you,” Stella says in a low voice, “but you can’t do this kind of thing anymore. You just can’t. We’re not gonna be around to fix things for you after tonight, so it’s time to grow up. You get that, right?”

The grin on Scotty’s face disappears. “Hey,” he says in a pleading tone, but she’s not listening. She’s already turned on her heel and is walking out of the building, letting the door slam shut behind her as she disappears into the darkened parking lot.

There are a few seconds of clanging silence, and when she turns back to Scotty, Clare sees that his arms are hanging limp at his sides. His broken glasses are balanced at an odd angle on his nose, and there’s an injured expression on his battered, ink-stained face. She lets out a sigh.

“I’ll go,” she says. “Just give me a minute.”

Outside, Stella is already halfway across the parking lot, which is still slick from the earlier rain. By the time Clare catches up with her, she’s breathing hard.

“Hey,” she says, grabbing her friend’s arm, and Stella whirls around. “Why are you so upset? I mean, it’s Scotty. He does this stuff.…”

Stella gives her a cool look. “I thought you were done caring about me.”

“I never said that. I only said I have to stop needing you so much.”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not, actually,” Clare tells her. “And I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just… I don’t know. You clearly can’t be bothered to act like my friend anymore, so what else am I supposed to do?”