Month: March 2017

Originally posted on March 15, 2017 by Gordon Savage

Samantha dreaded facing her father, expecting to receive added grounding for getting away with having help to finish her punishment at school. Plus she was still furious that he wouldn’t believe her when she told him she had not put the graffiti on the school.

––– # –––

One thing about Father being in the navy, his time was rarely his own. He had been called in that morning to an emergency meeting. He didn’t get home until after two in the afternoon, giving me plenty of time to stew. By the time he walked up the steps, I had had come up with a list of possible outcomes, none of them pleasant. I was beginning to wonder if getting even with him for Brian’s death was worth the difficulties I was going through.

I waited for him downstairs doing homework on the kitchen table. Mom intercepted him and told him what had happened. He came into the room with a non-committal expression. I stood up to face him and came to attention. He hadn’t told me to, but I had to show him that I understood this was serious.

He looked me in the eye for a second. “So, you pulled a ‘Tom Sawyer’ at school today?”

I wasn’t prepared for that question and had to think about it. Tom Sawyer had conned other children into helping him whitewash a fence. “No, sir, not exactly. Several kids had gathered to heckle me while I cleaned up the wall. I stood up to the most obnoxious one and told him off. Apparently it made an impression on him because he decided to help. When he did, a lot of the other hecklers joined in. I didn’t con any of them.”

A fleeting smile crossed his face. “So, what am I supposed to do with you? Your mom says you also stood up to Ashworth and got away with it.” The smile returned. “Actually, I’m proud of you. You’re going to make a fine leader someday. As far as I’m concerned you met the school’s requirements and I see no reason to extend your grounding.”

I tried not to show my relief. In fact, I decided to make one more plea for him to recognize that I hadn’t been lying. I think that if it had succeeded, my life would have been decidedly different. At least I would have quit trying to hurt him. “Sir, you have to believe me. I didn’t paint the graffiti on the school building. I’ll never convince Principal Ashworth, but you must know that I don’t lie – ever.”

The smile faded. “I know you’ve been in a lot of trouble since Junior died and your behavior hasn’t been up to your standards, so I don’t know if you’ve added lying to the list of irresponsible things you’ve done.”

All hope faded.

––– # –––

The lunchroom was noisy as usual that Monday. I did a quick scan and spotted Dwayne by himself at a table near the windows. When I had picked up my lunch, I carried my tray over to his table. He looked up as I approached. I smiled, perhaps a little too brightly. “Hi, Dwayne. I just wanted to thank you again for your help Saturday.”

He stood. “You’re more than welcome. Would you like to join me?”

Would I? Okay, he wasn’t as handsome as Bill, but he was good looking, and he was taller than I, even if only an inch or so. And he was smart. I wasn’t about to complain. “Thanks.”

I put my tray down next to his and sat. “I never did find out the big guy’s name. Do you know who he was?”

“Not really, but I’m pretty sure he’s on the football team.”

“That’s a shame. I’d like to thank him as well. If I can find the time, I’ll try to find him.”

“I hear you told Principal Ashworth off.”

I couldn’t help grinning. “It wasn’t that big a deal. I simply told him I met the terms he gave me and I wasn’t going to do any more.”

“So why did you put your initials on that quotation? I hate to say it, but that wasn’t real clever.”

I let the insult pass. I knew he didn’t mean for it to be one. “That’s what’s so frustrating. I didn’t put up the quote. Someone else did, apparently to get me into trouble.”

“And they succeeded. I wonder if it was Ingrid. I know she set up the hecklers. That’s the reason I was there.” He suddenly looked embarrassed. “Not to heckle. To head it off.”

I grinned again. “Maybe I should thank her. A lot of those guys were a help, especially the big one.”

He laughed. “They were, weren’t they?” He paused. “On another subject, do you have a date for the Homecoming Dance?”

Wow! That was a surprise. “Are you asking me to the dance?” I mentally cross my fingers.

He didn’t hesitate. “If you’re available, I sure am.”

Then I remembered. “I’d love to, but I’m grounded. I’ll have to ask. Maybe I can get a pass this once.” I could see his disappointment. It thrilled me, not that he was disappointed but that he was that interested in me. “I’ll do my best, but if you find someone else, I’ll understand.”

“I won’t be looking for someone else.” He put his hand on mine.

––– # –––

Mom initially said no. “You understand grounding is a punishment.”

“Yes, but I’m being punished for something I didn’t do. My grounding for the police prank would be over now.”

She didn’t respond right away. Finally she said, “I understand what you’re saying, but I’m not going oppose your father. If you can convince him, I’ll accept that decision.”

Okay, that put me in a difficult position. Mom had finally come around, but I knew arguing with Father was going to be a waste of energy. I didn’t want to set them against each other. That was a recipe for disaster, and to be honest I didn’t think I could convince Mom to do it anyway. “Could you at least tell him you support my request?”

“If he asks for my opinion, I’ll tell him what I think.”

I Knew that was the best I was going to get, so I resigned myself, sighed, and went up to my room.

Father got home just before dinner, leaving no time for discussing the Homecoming Dance until afterwards. While I helped Mom clean up, I had a hard time not hinting that she should talk to Father. When we were finished, I stood waiting. Mom examined me. “Do you want me to talk to him first?”

“If you would tell him I want to talk, I’d definitely appreciate it.”

I was seated at the kitchen table when Father came in. “You want to talk to me?”

I stood. “I do.” I made my request, finishing with, “This is the last big dance in high school except the prom. Up until this graffiti thing, which I did not do, I admit I had earned my groundings. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for an exception to my grounding for this one occasion. Especially since I was grounded based on something I flatly deny doing.”

I stood there waiting. I didn’t have long to wait.

“Denial or not, I don’t feel I can trust you at this time. No, you will complete your punishment before you can go on any date, including special occasions.” He started to turn away.

I was ready to plead. “Father …”

His expression stopped me cold. “This is not open to discussion.” He walked out of the room, leaving me standing there with my mouth open.

I was hurt and disappointed but mostly angry. I rushed up to my room and slammed the door behind me. Seething, I leaned back against the door and made a decision. I was going anyway.

Knowing that arguing or complaining about her ”sentence” would gain her nothing, Samantha gathered her cleaning supplies together and walked to the school on Saturday morning to start her punishment.

When I left home that morning, I was livid. Mom had offered to drive me, but the distance was less than my daily run. So I walked, and it cleared my head. I was still angry, but I made up my mind to get the job done as quickly as I could.

Dr. Ashworth was in his office. I briefly considered trying one more time to convince him I hadn’t done it, but I knew he would ignore any logic, like why would I sign something like that if I had done it. Instead, I checked in, showed him my supplies, and headed out front. On my way out I got a bucket and brush from the custodian’s closet.

What I hadn’t expected was an audience. At least thirty kids from the school had showed up while I was inside. I hadn’t noticed, but their cars had been parked on the street when I showed up. Sure enough, Ingrid Hoffman was among the onlookers.

I unloaded my backpack on the ground in front of the graffiti and filled the bucket from a nearby faucet. While I was doing that, the gallery started up catty conversations about me and what I was doing. I was tempted to turn on them and shout I didn’t do it, but that would have just let them know they were getting to me. Instead, I got to work.

A few minutes later one big jerk from the football team walked up and kicked the bucket over. “Oops.” He grinned scornfully.

I’m not sure what he expected from me, but he didn’t get it. I walked over to him silently and stopped directly in front of him. He was almost a head taller than I, but I glared at him, looking directly in his eyes until he blinked. My voice grated as I said, “You blinked first. Go fill that bucket and bring it back here, now!”

The gallery went dead quiet as if anticipating an explosion. It didn’t come. The galoot picked up the bucket and headed for the faucet. I went back to applying the paint remover. The gallery broke up and headed for their cars. The big guy brought the filled bucket back and followed the crowd. Ingrid was the last to leave.

As she did, Dwayne Lindquist parked across the street and came over. He didn’t acknowledge Ingrid. Instead he came up to me. “Can you use some help?”

I smiled for the first time that day. “Gladly.”

A few minutes later the big guy came back and offered his help. The number of helpers grew to the point we were getting in each other’s way, and I had to turn some of them away. I thanked each one profusely. With all the help we were finished in a little over an hour. I thanked everyone who had helped and headed inside. Dwayne waited.

Dr. Ashworth looked stunned to see me so soon. He almost dragged me out to inspect the work. I had to struggle to keep from laughing as he first got as close as he could and looked the work over, even taking his glasses off to examine what we’d done. Then he moved around viewing from every angle. Finally, he stepped back frowning. “You were supposed to do this by yourself.”

“You didn’t say that, and I’m not a mind reader.”

“It was supposed to be punishment.”

“My job was to get the graffiti off the school wall. I did that. With help, yes, but not getting help wasn’t in the job description.”

He harrumphed. “Well, you can finish off your punishment with detention.”

I put my hands on my hips and faced him. “That wasn’t in the job description either. If you want to punish me further, you’ll have to take it up with my parents. For now I’m going home.”

I walked out of his office with him staring at me with his mouth open. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move I could have made, but it sure felt good.

Dwayne helped me put the custodian supplies away and then drove me home. On a whim I leaned across the console and kissed him before I got out of his car. He acted surprised, but his eyes lit up. Before anything else was said or implied, I got out of the car. I waved goodbye and watched him drive off. Then I turned for the front door.

Mom was waiting for me. “You got home early.”

I could see the curiosity in her eyes. “That was Dwayne Lindquist. He and a few other students helped me get the paint off.”

“And drove you home,” she noted. “Do you like him?”

I thought about that. “Yes, but nothing serious.”

“Well, if you do, I suggest you try to keep out of trouble for a while.”

“Mom, you know I didn’t put that graffiti on the school.”

“I know that, and you know that, but staying out of trouble is the only way you’re going to convince your father. Come to think of it, he may be upset because you got off so easy.”

Now that was a pleasant thought, not!

As far as the principal was concerned the initials by the graffiti were incontrovertible proof that Samantha was responsible. She protested that she didn’t do it, but to no avail.

I never did find out who actually put the graffiti on the school wall, but I suspect it was Ingrid Hoffman. She had broken up with her longtime boyfriend, Dwayne Lindquist, and he had taken an interest in me. When he did and she noticed it, she stopped me in the hall.

Her face was red and her eyebrows furrowed. Her voice reminded me of a snake’s hiss. “You keep your hands off Dwayne, or you’ll be sorry, you hear?”

I admit I don’t take kindly to threats. I put my hands on my hips and stared her in the eye. “Are you threatening me? You don’t decide who Dwayne takes an interest in. He does, and he says you’re the one who broke up with him. So buzz off.”

She must have initially thought she could intimidate me. When I glared down on her, I think it scared her. She stepped back looking shocked, but she made one last attempt. “You’re going to be sorry.” She turned and stalked off, clearly fuming.

I know, circumstantial evidence, and it really didn’t matter. I was the one who got the blame for the graffiti. Dr. Ashworth was sure I was the one who did it, and he refused to even consider anyone else. He called my mother and demanded she come to his office. Then he took my phone and sat me down on the same bench I had waited on before. He handed the phone to Ms. Farrow and stomped into his office.

Mom showed up with Father thirty minutes later. While Mom checked in with Ms. Farrow, Father came over to where I sat. He stood in front of me with a scowl on his face. “Now what the hell have you done?”

I stood up, partly out of habit and partly because I felt less overawed that way. I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. “Someone spray painted graffiti on the front of the school and signed it with my initials. I didn’t do it.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

That made me even angrier. “I … don’t … lie! … Ever!” I glared back at him.

Ms. Farrow broke us up. “Principal Ashworth will see you now, all three of you.”

Instead of asking Mom and Father to sit down, Dr. Ashworth stood up and delivered my sentence. I was to come in on Saturday with paint remover and other appropriate cleaning material and remove the graffiti. Any further offenses on my part would be grounds for suspension.

What hurt most was that neither Mom nor Father offered any objection or defense for me. They believed I was guilty. Well, Father did anyway. That evening he notified me that my grounding would be extended another month and dismissed me.

I stood my ground. “You’re not listening to me. Why don’t you believe me when I say I didn’t do it?”

He started to walk away without saying another word.

I raised my voice. “I didn’t do it.”

He stopped and faced me. “After all the trouble you’ve gotten into lately, it’s hard to know what to believe.”

What to believe? I had long before learned better than to lie. I challenged him. “Did I lie to you about going to the mall? Did I lie to you when I pulled that stunt with the police car? I don’t lie. You taught me well.”

A strange expression flickered across his face and disappeared into his unemotional expression. For a second I thought I had hit a nerve, but he turned and walked away.

I was furious. “Don’t you walk out on me!”

He faced me again. He barked, “That’ll do! I’ll not take any more excuses from you, and don’t you ever try to order me around, young lady! Now get up to your room before I add another month to your grounding.”

The tone of his voice was absolutely frightening, and I knew I had lost my last chance to get him to listen. I ran up the stairs with blinding tears in my eyes and plopped down on my bed sobbing.

A few minutes later Mom knocked on my door. “May I come in?”

I peered up at her in the doorway. She seemed genuinely distressed. Finally, I realized I wasn’t mad at her and nodded weakly.

Stepping into my room, she closed the door and walked over to the bed. She sat down beside me and stroked my hair. “It’s not the end of the world you know.”

I was tempted to bury my face in her shoulder and just cry it out, but I resisted the urge and choked out, “It’s not the punishment. It’s the fact that you and my father don’t believe me. I’ve never lied to you, not ever. You know that.”

“Yes, I know that, dear. I’ve tried to tell that to Brian, but he won’t listen. I think you’ve hurt him the past few months and he no longer trusts you.”

I realized she might be right, but it wasn’t fair. I don’t lie.

Samantha had had a good scare. She had also violated her curfew and she knew she was in real trouble. Instead of chewing her out on the way home, her father let her stew. By the time they pulled into the garage, she was in tears.

I was afraid to get out of the car because I knew what was coming. Father walked around to the passenger side and, after he opened the door for Mom, he opened my door. Grim faced, he pointed at the doorway into the house. Reluctantly I released my seatbelt and followed Mom in.

Inside, Father pointed to the living room. I headed that way knowing I had better not say anything. I stopped in front of the couch and stood at attention, showing I knew what was coming – but I didn’t. He walked around me as though I was being inspected. Finally, he stopped in front of me. I stared straight ahead, which meant I was looking at his mouth.

The lines around it were hard, and his brows were furrowed. “You know how much trouble you’re in.” It wasn’t a question. “You broke curfew by a whole hour before you harassed two police officers. You drug one of your friends in with you and got her in trouble as well. What do you have to say for yourself?”

I knew that whatever I said wouldn’t absolve me. “I … have no excuse, sir. I screwed up.”

He surprised me by smiling. “I don’t know what to do with you. That prank was so funny, but you did break curfew.” He paused briefly. “Do you have any excuse for breaking curfew?”

“No sir, I just wasn’t watching my time.”

My answer seemed to satisfy him. “Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. For blowing curfew you’re grounded for the next six weeks.” Six weeks! No way! I did a quick check of my mental calendar. That meant I’d miss the homecoming dance. I almost objected, but he continued, and was I glad he did. “However, your prank was harmless and actually kind of clever, so I’m knocking two weeks off. You’re grounded for a month.”

He must have seen my relief. “But I want to make something very clear. The legal definition of harassment requires it to be repeated. That, and the fact that this was your first run in with the police, was the reason you got off with a warning. Any new pranks on the police, and not necessarily the same kind, could legally be classified as harassment. So be careful around the police. Do you understand?”

All I could do was nod.

“Good, now get to bed. … We’ll go pick up the Mustang from impound tomorrow. Incidentally, any cost comes out of your allowance.”

––– # –––

I was so relieved I missed that last part and went right to sleep. Father knocked on my door at six in the morning. After breakfast we went straight to the impound lot and picked up the Mustang. There were no fines, but there was a towing fee. $90 took a healthy toll on my allowance.

It didn’t matter much. I was stuck in the house or at school for the next month. Unfortunately, trouble was waiting for me at school. It hit two weeks into my grounding.

“Samantha Pederson report to the principal’s office.” The announcement came over the public address while I was putting my books away for lunch. What now? I closed my locker and made my way to the school offices.

Ms. Farrow was standing at the counter when I came in. She was a heavy set woman in her late fifties. She was wearing a green sheath that did nothing to hide her bulges. Her hair was died auburn and she wore it shoulder length. Her eyes were a pale brown, and I could catch the glint of contacts in them. “The principal wants to see me?” I made it a question.

She pointed to a bench across from the counter. “Have a seat. I’ll notify Principal Ashworth you’re here.”

I sat … and waited. It was at least fifteen minutes before Dr. Ashworth came out of his office. Stern faced, bald, and overweight, he walked up to me like a charging rhino. He was wearing a dress shirt and a tie, and I could see where the shirt was soaked with sweat under his armpits. “Come with me young lady.” He headed for the door without slowing down. I had to rush to catch up.

We went out the front entrance and turned left. A few feet from the steps he pointed to the brick wall. “What’s the meaning of this?” It was a spray painted version of a quote from Winston Churchill, “Men stumble over the truth from time to time, but most pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing happened.”

“It’s a quote from Churchill. He claimed that people avoid the truth they don’t want to believe.”

He smiled at me ravenously as if I had just swallowed the bait. “So you know this quote?”

“One of my favorites.”

His smile became even more predatory. He pointed to the end of the quote. There were three letters: “SRP.” “Aren’t those your initials, Samantha Ruth Pederson?”

I’m not slow. I just hadn’t noticed them. A chill went through me. “Now wait a minute. I didn’t write that.”

He stood with his hands on his hips and continued smiling as if he had just tricked me into confessing. “I checked. You are the only student in the school with those initials, and you just admitted it’s your favorite quote.”

“But I didn’t write that, and if I had I certainly would not have been stupid enough to end it with my own initials.”

“Who else would have a reason to put your initials there?” He turned toward the steps. “Come along. I need to talk to your parents.”

“But I didn’t do it.”

Samantha had never been this frightened. The police were taking them to jail and the sentence could be six months.

As soon as he started driving, the tall policeman commented to the other, “I don’t see any reason to bother a magistrate at this hour, do you? I mean we have them dead to rights.”

The other guy considered for a minute. “You’re right. It can wait till morning.”

It only took a few minutes to drive to the police station. They unstrapped us and had us get out of the cruiser. The tall guy grabbed me by the upper arm, and the other one did the same with Renee.

I was terrified but under control. Renee was crying. “Please, it was just a prank. No one was hurt.”

They removed the handcuffs. We were fingerprinted, photographed, and relieved of our purses and the stuff in our pockets. Then they sat us each down at a phone and said, “Make your call. I’d suggest to your parents.”

This was worse than the ride over. I had been terrified before, but now I had to talk to my family and tell them I was under arrest. Trembling, I dialed our number. Naturally Father answered. “Admiral Pederson.”

I broke down. My tears started flowing, and I choked up. I was so scared I forgot to call him Father. “… Daddy … Renee and I are in jail. … Please come and get us out.”

“What!” I had to jerk the phone away from my ear. He was so loud I could hear him with the phone in front of me. “You’re in jail?”

I was tongue-tied. “I … We … Uh …” I was scared to death and couldn’t get out anything meaningful.

After a few seconds Father’s voice came back, quieter, deadly calm, and strangely resigned. “Tell me where you are.”

I put my hand over the mouth piece and turned to the tall cop. “Where are we?”

“Tell him you’re across I-64 from the municipal airport.”

I did.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Don’t do anything to get in more trouble.” He hung up.

I put the phone down, still shaking.

Renee had finished her call as well. The older policeman led us through a locked door into a long corridor. There were two cushioned benches along one wall. A woman sat on one of them. The first thing I noticed was her bright red lipstick. She was wearing a black leather mini – make that micro – skirt, a bright pink top that exposed a bare midriff, knee high black boots, and black tights. Her bored expression brightened noticeably when she saw us.

The other bench was occupied by a disheveled man who appeared to be asleep, including a loud snore, so we had no choice but to sit next to the woman if we didn’t want to stand. She slid over and patted the bench next to her. “Hi, girls. They picked you up too, huh?”

As I sat, she looked me over thoroughly. “You girls are awfully young to be doing tricks. Take my advice and get out of the business now.”

I could feel my neck getting warm. I was blushing. She thought we were hookers! That meant she probably was one herself.

“So, how’d they catch you? They got me with an undercover cop.”

I was tempted to explain why we were there, but I didn’t see any point. I put my elbows on my knees and buried my face in my hands. Then I heard the man slurring, “My, my.”

When I craned my neck to see him, he was sitting up with a dazed expression. He continued his slurred speech. “They get younger every year. Sorry, girls I’m out of cash.”

Talk about adding insult to injury.

He swayed to his feet, and mumbled, “Where’s the restroom around here?” He turned and staggered down the hall away from us. When he reached the end of the hall, he opened a barred door and disappeared from sight. It took me a second to realize he had gone into a holding cell. In a moment I heard a zipper and then liquid flowing into a toilet. For some reason I was embarrassed for him.

He wobbled back and dropped onto his bench. “So we’re in jail? It’s better than lying in the street.” His speech was still slurred. He lay back down on the bench, and seconds later he was snoring again.

“Well, that was interesting,” the woman said. “You meet all kinds of characters in lock-up. If you have to keep doing johns, at least be careful.” She pointed to a scar on her left cheek. “I got this from a john who was arrested with me. He knocked me down while they were separating all of us into boy/girl cells. Of course, I have to be thankful he did it. The cops cleaned me up and let me go because of it.”

It seemed like hours later the locked door opened. The cop stood there and called, “Renee Williams, your parents are here. You’re going home.”

She jumped up and started for the door. Then she stopped and gave me an anguished smile. She mouthed, “Sorry, Sam,” and rushed to the door.

Great! Where were my parents?

The woman gave me a wide-eyed stare and said, “Parents? You’re not one of us?” She smiled. “Believe me, you don’t want to get into the business.”

We waited in silence for what felt like an hour. When the door finally opened, I jumped to my feet. The cop stayed there for seconds before he spoke. “Samantha Pederson. It’s your turn.”

I looked at the woman. “Good luck.” It was all I could think of to say. I headed for the door.

Father was there. He looked unemotional as I came out. I was so relieved that I ran to him and hugged him, forgetting how I wanted to punish him. “You are exceedingly lucky,” he said. “They won’t charge you … this time … but let it happen again … Honey, what were you thinking?”

“It was just a prank.” I stepped back. “Can I go home now?” Then I saw Mom waiting on the other side of the room.

He continued to watch me impassively. “You understand how much trouble you’re in at home? We’ll discuss your punishment on the way home. Now let’s get your stuff.”

I’m skipping the next few weeks. Samantha found out that being grounded was harder than she expected, but she gritted her teeth and didn’t complain – mainly to keep from upsetting her mother any more. As expected Bill found someone else to go to the movie with, although it wasn’t Lynda. She had moved on.

Samantha waited a whole two additional weeks before getting into trouble again. She managed to talk her mother into letting her take the Mustang convertible to a birthday party that was supposed to be over by 9:00 pm. She and Renee left shortly after ten, making her late for a curfew she had earned with her overstayed mall visit.

“Was that a great party or what?”

Renee was so exuberant that I couldn’t help but smile. I glanced at her. She had removed the scrunchie from her ponytail and her hair was swirling in the warm wind flowing over and around the windshield. As I came to a stop at the four way, I glanced past her and noticed a police car parked by the curb of the cross street. Its lights were off and for some reason the street lamps were off on that side of the road. I would have never noticed it if I hadn’t been looking right at it. I knew I had come to a complete stop. No problem. Then I thought, Hey, those guys are being sneaky. I’m going to teach them a lesson.

I drove on and turned right at the next intersection, being very careful to signal.

“What are you doing? Is something wrong with the car?” Renee went from giddy to serious in a flash.

“Did you notice those cops back there? They were hiding in the dark so anyone who didn’t stop wouldn’t see them.”

“So what’s another traffic trap?”

“I’m going to have some fun with them. Are you in?”

“What kind of fun?” She looked puzzled as I pulled up at the next corner. There wasn’t a stop sign, but I wasn’t taking chances.

“You’ll see.” I shut off the car’s lights—the mustang didn’t have running lights when I cut the switch off—and turned onto the cross street. When we turned onto the next street, I hugged the curb and eased forward until I was almost on their bumper. I stopped and simultaneously hit the horn and the passing lights.

I turned the lights back on and pulled out into the driving lane. We smiled and waved enthusiastically as we passed the cruiser. Being careful to stop completely at the intersection and signal, I made the turn onto the street we had been on. I had just started the turn when the police car’s bar lit up and the siren chirped.

Renee glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, boy. You’ve done it now.”

I pulled over to the curb. I fished my brand new license out of my wallet and had Renee pull the registration and insurance card from the glove box. In the side mirror I could see the driver of the police car get out. Tall and thin, he was kind of cute in his police uniform. Then I saw he had drawn his weapon. I turned my head so I could see the other officer. He was short and a little overweight. He stopped at the rear of the car with his pistol drawn. Both he and the cute guy had the angriest expressions I had ever seen. If it wasn’t for the guns, I would have laughed.

I smiled brightly at the tall guy as he walked up. “Hi, officer. Beautiful evening isn’t it.” I nodded at his gun. “Surely firearms aren’t necessary, are they?”

He didn’t smile, and his voice was stern. “Out of the car, now. Both of you.” He stepped back, still holding the gun at the ready.

My heart had started beating rapidly, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. This wasn’t going like I had expected. Actually, I had expected to drive away and have a good laugh on the way home.

As soon as I closed the door, I asked, “Can you put that thing away? You’re making me nervous.”

“Turn around.”

I did.

“Now put your hands behind your back.”

I did, and he started putting handcuffs on me. I saw that the other officer was doing the identical thing with Renee. Her expression was pure terror, and I was beginning to feel the same way. “What’s going on? It was a harmless prank.”

“Harassing a police officer is a felony in this state.”

My stomach did a flip-flop, and I began to feel nauseated.

“It carries a mandatory six month sentence.”

Now I really felt sick.

He continued, “Where’s your license and registration?”

My voice trembled. “They’re on the driver’s seat. What are you going to do with us?”

He picked up the papers. “We’re going to take you into the station and book you.”

“For blowing the horn and flashing the lights?”

He picked up my purse and pulled the keys out of the ignition, and the other officer picked up Renee’s purse. “Let’s go.” He pushed me toward the police car, none too gently.

“Hey, you can’t leave the car with the top down.” I faced skyward. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

“The tow truck driver will take care of it.”

The drive to the station was no picnic. They put us in seat belts but left our hands chained together behind our backs. I tried to make peace on the way in. “We’re sorry. It was just a joke.” Neither of them paid attention.

Samantha was ready to face her punishment. She figured that the tougher it was the more motivated she’d be to make sure she hurt her father. As expected, she was grounded, but it was a first time offense. She knew she had more work to do. She didn’t realize how tough it was going to be.

“Mind if I join you?” It was Bill. My heart thudded. It was Monday after my first weekend being grounded. The lunchroom wasn’t crowded so it wasn’t as if he had to sit with me.

“Be my guest.” I struggled not to appear overly pleased.

He put down his tray and slid onto the bench beside me. “So what is your punishment?”

“Not as bad as I expected. I’m grounded through next weekend, and I’m not allowed to drive while I’m grounded.” I had gotten my license on my birthday.

“So you still can’t break loose for a movie?”

It felt like a prompt. What was he suggesting, that I go over the wall? I admit I really wanted to, but our house wasn’t exactly easy to sneak out of or back into, for that matter. All I could say was, “I wish.”

I hung my head. “If I keep my nose clean, I can get out the next weekend.”

“I guess I’ll have to ask Lynda.” That was mean. Lynda was his regular girlfriend. I was hoping to take her place, and he had seemed interested. I tried not to show my hurt.

Okay, I knew he was trying to manipulate me, but I wanted to go out with him. Would this make him lose interest in me?

I started trying to think of ways I might get time off. I could tell Mom that Bill had asked me out, but that wouldn’t work. She’d just remind me that grounding was punishment, and maybe I’d think of this the next time I felt like expressing myself like I had. Or I could be the model of good behavior, but that would make Father happy. The punishment had worked, after all. The whole idea was to make him pay.

I tried to move the conversation the other way. “I bet your football practice takes up a lot of your time.”

“Yeah. We have a strong team this year. We should go all the way to state. In fact, our first game is this Friday.” He paused. “You won’t be able to watch, will you?”

“No, but I’ll be rooting for you.” Even football came back to me being grounded. “Maybe I can get a pass to watch practice.”

For a moment he stared off in the distance. What was he thinking? She can’t take time out to see a movie, but she wants to come to football practice? Have I turned on a stalker?

I shook my head to clear it. Get real, Samantha. He’s one of the most popular boys in school. He can have any girl he wants. He’s probably wondering if I’m worth the trouble. That did nothing to boost my self-confidence.

At least he didn’t get up and leave. We talked until he finished lunch. Then Randy McCall walked up. He glanced at me and then said to Bill, “New girlfriend, Don Juan?”

“Just a new friend.”

That hurt. I kept my mouth shut.

Bill slid off the bench and stood. He nodded to me. “Time for me to head for the gym. Later.”

As they walked away, I had the feeling I blew it.