List of Ten

by Halli Gomez

  I gripped the wheel tight. My right and left arms pulled in opposite directions. If I’d had any strength, I would’ve yanked the wheel in two. New-driver syndrome and Tourette wasn’t a good combination. I didn’t want to believe that Dad had a point.

  “You’re doing great,” Jay lied. “Make a right at the stop sign. And don’t be afraid to go faster.”

  I nodded, pressed the gas pedal harder, and went faster, to twelve miles per hour. I backed off and got it to ten.

  “This is like a baby train at the mall. Go faster,” Diego said.

  Rainn giggled. “I rode my tricycle faster than this.”

  “Guys, be nice and let him focus. Remember, this is his first time driving,” Khory said.

  Jay’s leg bounced. He was getting impatient, too. I didn’t want to stop, so I pressed the gas a little harder. Twenty should be okay. Even. Divisible by ten. I made a right again, a little too quickly. Khory grabbed the back of my seat.

  “Sorry,” I called out.

  “It’s good,” she said.

  I made another right and got in the groove. My shoulders relaxed, the tics slowed down, and my body sank into the seat. I picked up the speed and was cruising at thirty now. This was exactly what I thought driving would be. Freedom. Power. I could go anywhere. Do anything. Music would have been great right now, maybe Shinedown humming in the background, drums pounding, guitars screeching.

  “Now you got it,” Jay said. “Don’t know what your dad was worried about.” He leaned back in his seat.

  The darkness disappeared, and the streetlights lit up the road like a concert. Then the one-lane residential road magically turned into a three-lane highway. Shit!

  My hands tightened around the steering wheel. Cars beeped and whizzed past me. Horns blared.

  Jay sat up and grabbed his hair. “Dude, you were supposed to turn right. You’re heading toward the bridge. You gotta turn somewhere.”

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Repeat. Out loud this time. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.”

  Jay was back to his role as a driving instructor. “Get off the road! Turn. Make a right. Now!”

  I swung the steering wheel to the right. Khory, Rainn, and Diego tipped like dominoes. The car bumped as I ran over a curb. I pulled into a parking lot, turned the car off, then leaned back and exhaled.

  Diego laughed and punched my arm. “Started slow but ended like a roller coaster. So, what did you think?”

  “When I get over the fact that we may have died, I’m sure I’ll have loved it.” I opened the window for some air.

  “Good evening,” a man’s voice said next to my ear.

  I jumped and smacked my knee on the steering wheel. Leaning inside the window was a man. But not just any man, like say an ax murderer, which I would have preferred. The light from his flashlight reflected off his badge. He was a cop.

  He cleared his throat. “Hello, kids.”

  “Hello,” I choked out.

  “License and registration please.”

  I turned to Jay who rummaged in the glovebox for his wallet. Earbuds, papers, and a Twix fell out.

  “Put your hands on the dash,” the cop told him.

  “Sir, it’s my car.” Jay reached across me and handed the cop his info.

  “And your license?” The cop asked me.

  “Uh, I don’t have one,” I said.

  “Please step out of the car.”

  Khory gasped as I fumbled with my seatbelt and finally unbuckled it. I got out of the car. My neck twitched. My hands clenched together. Opened and closed. Tighter. The cop scrutinized me. From head to toe. He watched me tic. His hand moved to his gun. I didn’t want to look at it. I tried to focus on his scrunched bushy, blond eyebrows. But I had to. My eyes darted from his face to his gun. Face. Gun. Repeat.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

  “What are you doing? Are you on drugs?” He grabbed my arm, pulled me to the front of the car, and pushed me forward. “Hands on the hood. Everyone else, hands out the window.” Then he called for backup.

  I knew what he thought. I was dangerous. Some crazy druggie or psycho, and we all knew what happened to them. I couldn’t see inside the car, but my friends could see me. I was in the spotlight. My humiliation lit up like the star of a viral video, but the life and times of Troy Hayes wasn’t a show anyone would want to see.

  “Officer?” Jay called from the passenger seat. “Can I tell you something, please?”

  The cop leaned toward Jay. “What?”

  “He’s not on drugs. He has Tourette syndrome. He’s completely harmless.”

  During a neck-twitch explosion, no doubt brought on by hearing that word, I caught the cop studying me. His eyebrows were still scrunched. Maybe that was his normal face. Or maybe he was trigger happy.

  “I don’t know what that is,” the cop said. “Sit still. We’ll be going to the station soon to call your parents.”

  “What?” Khory screeched.

  My heart ached. But that was nothing compared to what the Prices would feel when the police called their house. I wanted to tell her I’d take care of everything, but Officer Blond still had his hand on his gun. For all he knew, Tourette syndrome was code for attack the police.

  Headlights pulled up behind Jay’s car. A door slammed and another cop sauntered up.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  The first cop filled him in. Erratic driving. Bizarre, possibly drug-related behavior from the driver, who doesn’t have a license.

  The new cop leaned toward me and studied my face way too long. “What’s your name?”

  “Troy,” I answered.

  “You look familiar. What’s your last name?”

  “Hayes.” Why couldn’t it have been something more common, like Jones or Gomez? There were at least five Joneses in tenth grade alone. He had to know other people named Hayes. Besides his boss.

  I counted to ten. Airplane. Floating. Repeat. Count. Airplane. Floating.

  “I know, you’re Captain Hayes’s son. He has your picture on his desk.”

  Now wasn’t the time to be sentimental, or wonder which picture he decided to display to the entire station, because I was busted.

  “Does he know you’re here?”

  “No, Sir.”

  And I would have liked to keep it that way. But any chance of that died when Officer Blond asked everyone to step out of the car and Jay’s rolling papers fell to the ground.

  MARCH 27

  The last time I was in a police car I was ten. It was just after Mom left, and the kids on the bus had really ramped up their teasing. I’d asked Dad to drive me to school because at that age everyone wanted to be a cop and I hoped it would make me look cool. I’d imagined they’d ask me questions like: have you seen a bad guy, or did you arrest anyone with your dad? I even had a few stories made up about psycho-killer shoot-outs just in case anyone asked.

  No one ever did. And riding in the police car didn’t make anything better. Instead, it gave the mean kids something else to tease me about. They called me crazy and said I needed an armed escort to take me to school.

  This ride in the police car wasn’t any better. I would have chosen school over the place we were going. I glanced at Jay. He stared at his lap and twisted the end of his shirt. I didn’t want to think what Khory was doing right now. Probably terrified at what this would do to her parents and grasping at any coping techniques Rainn gave her.

  We drove to the back of the police station, got out of the cars, and followed Officer Blond to the door. I tried to hold Khory’s hand, but the officer behind us yelled no touching. I guess in case we decided to pass a weapon to each other or escape. We weren’t criminals, not really, but I wasn’t going to tell them that. I kept my mouth shut, focused on relaxing my muscles, which wasn’t working at all, and did what I was told.

  On TV, prisoners were handcuffed, fingerprinted, then thrown into a jail cell
with a passing “you have the right to remain silent.” Tonight there was none of that. We went inside and straight upstairs. I guess that was a perk of being the captain’s son.

  I’d never been to Dad’s work, but there was no mistaking this was the detective bureau. It looked just like the ones on TV. Desks in groups with computers, papers, and pens scattered around. Coffee cups everywhere, and the big whiteboard with burglary, robbery, and auto theft totals on it. Besides us and the two cops, the room was empty.

  I turned my back to the desks even though the pull of crooked pens and messy papers reached out like an octopus’s tentacles. It was torture how people left their things carelessly lying around. I faced my friends. Khory’s eyes glistened with tears. Rainn and Diego stared at the floor, and Jay was still twisting his shirt.

  He leaned toward me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they fell out of the glovebox.”

  “Have a seat, guys,” Officer Blond said. He handed us each a piece of paper and pen. “Write your parents’ names and phone numbers. Except yours. I know your Dad’s number by heart.”

  My shoulders slumped.

  Khory practically fell into the chair behind her. I walked over, but Rainn zoomed in front of me and sat next to her. She held her hand and whispered in her ear. Khory nodded and wiped her eyes.

  I sat in the chair across from them. Yes, it was my fault we were here, and I would take the blame for everything, but I was her boyfriend and should have been the one holding her hand and comforting her. I took a chance and stretched my foot toward her. She glanced at me, gave me a small smile, then her foot met mine.

  Rainn scooted closer to Diego. I rolled my chair next to Khory. We held hands, despite what the officers said, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I took a deep breath, smelled her coconut shampoo, and sighed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have told Jay no.”

  “It’s not your fault. We all thought it was a great idea. But your dad may have a point. Your driving is a little scary.”

  I chuckled and leaned into her.

  “Dude, is that your dad?” Jay asked.

  My body froze. Like I said, it never happened for a good reason.

  I turned toward the open elevator door. It was him. Feet planted on the floor and arms crossed over his chest, which left a perfect view of the gold badge clipped to the front of his jeans. His lips were pressed tight, but when I met his eyes they screamed disappointment. I looked away.

  Dad talked to the cops for a few minutes. His hands moved to his hips, and he nodded. Was it a good nod like “they’re just stupid kids”? Or was it a they-need-to-be-taught-a-lesson kind of nod?

  Dad shook the cops’ hands and came over to us. “I’m Captain Hayes, Troy’s father. Officer Parker told me what happened tonight—”

  Mrs. Price burst into the room and ran straight toward us. Mr. Price was right behind her. My guess was they had broken a few traffic laws themselves to get here. “Khory? Are you okay?” Mrs. Price asked. “We got the call. The police. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  Khory stood up and her mom hugged her. “I’m fine,” she said, then tried to push herself away, but her mom held on tight.

  “What happened?” Mr. Price asked.

  Dad stepped forward as everyone else’s parents stepped off the elevator. They spied their kids, ran to them, and gave them the head-to-toe visual inspection for scrapes or broken bones.

  “I’m Captain Clark Hayes, Troy’s father. My officers called and informed me they had our kids at the station. Apparently Troy was driving erratically and without a license. He’s sixteen but strictly forbidden to drive.”

  I stared at my shoes and bounced my leg up and down to the count of ten. My neck was out of control, and every time my head twisted up, I saw everyone staring at me. I begged them to look away, but it was all in my mind. Any progress I’d made in the last week was gone. I fought the urge to run away and lock myself in a room with no windows, or hide under the blanket like I did when I was a kid.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Khory’s purple shoes take a step toward me, but then a man’s blue-and-black Adidas sneaker blocked it.

  “Several laws were broken tonight,” Dad continued, “including driving without a license, reckless driving, and possession of drug paraphernalia. A pack of marijuana rolling papers was found inside the car.”

  “Drugs?” someone’s father asked. “Were you kids doing drugs?”

  “They were mine,” Jay said.

  I was sure Dad would assume we were all involved. A drug-taking, driving, TS kid would send him over the edge. I met his eyes. What are you going to do to me that will top what I planned do to myself? Try me. I dared him.

  The room was silent. The tension was thick like syrup but smelled like sweat. Dad shifted his feet and ran his hands through his hair. I let out a big exhale.

  “Because our kids didn’t harm anyone and have no criminal records, the officers agreed not to file charges against them. But they need to understand just how serious this was. They could have been hurt or hurt someone else. A car is a four-thousand-pound weapon.” He looked at each one of us. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” we answered in unison.

  Dad turned to the parents. “They are free to go under your supervision.”

  We leaped out of our chairs. A few rolled back and banged against the desks. The parents thanked Dad, I’m sure realizing it was really him who’d saved us from a night in jail or a permanent juvenile record. Then the relief on their faces quickly changed to anger, and they pulled their kids to the elevator. It would be a long night for all of us.

  “How could you be so careless and deceitful?” Mr. Price yelled in Khory’s face. “We give you freedom, and this is what you do? Endanger yourself? Do you want us to lose you, too?”

  I totally expected Khory to crumble. Fall into a little ball right there on the tile floor that was probably as dirty as the hospital bathroom floor. That’s what I would have done if I was her. But she wasn’t me. She was brave. She stood up straight and looked her dad in the eyes.

  “Freedom? You let me go to Rainn’s house. That’s it. No school dances, no dates.” She glanced at me. “You just started letting me go to Troy’s house. I’m a prisoner. Why don’t you just wrap me in bubble wrap so I don’t even get a paper cut?”

  I shifted my feet and focused on Dad. He turned around and sorted through some files.

  “Khory Lynn Price. You think you’re a prisoner? Well, you got it. You are forbidden to go anywhere except school. Not Rainn’s house. Not Troy’s house. And no boyfriend.”

  Khory ran out of the room. Her mother followed, tears running down her face. Mr. Price shot me a look that made me long for a jail cell with steel bars between us. Just as I was about to beg for police protection, he went after his family.

  The room was silent. I stood in the middle of the discarded chairs, and the urges grew. Tingled at first, then invaded every muscle in my body. I started to straighten the chairs, close to the desk but not touching. One. Two. The third one had loose wheels. It rolled to the desk and banged into it with a thud. I pulled it out and tried again.

  “Let’s go,” Dad said. His sneakers stomped on the concrete floor.

  “I’ll be right there.” I backed away from the chair. It stayed. I sighed and moved to the fourth one.

  “Now. We have a lot to discuss, and we’re not doing it here.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the elevator.

  Two chairs were crooked in the center of their row. I turned back to them. “Let me just—”

  “I said ‘now.’ ”

  I stopped, yanked my arm, and faced him. He’d never been like this. But I’d never been like this either. What kind of trouble could I get into when all I did was homework, video games, and babysit my brother?

  The heat rose in my body. No matter how many times I counted to ten or imagined myself floating, I couldn’t cool down. Didn’t he remember anything we talked about in New
York? Didn’t he pay attention to Mom at all when they were married?

  I spun around and stomped to the chairs. Giant leaps got me there in six steps. Seven, eight, nine, ten.

  Two chairs were still out of place. I pushed the first one in and caught Dad watching me. His mouth and eyebrows softened. I hated pity more than I hated people thinking I was a freak.

  I fixed the chairs, put three pencils in a jar on the desk, and straightened a stapler. Then I stalked past Dad and into the elevator.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  We walked through the station’s parking lot to his car. When the doors were closed, that was Dad’s signal to go. At me.

  “How dare you put your life and your friends’ lives in danger.”

  He leaned close to me, grabbed my shirt, and smelled it. Then grabbed my hand and did the same. I yanked it back.

  “What are you doing? Leave me alone.” I scooted closer to the passenger door.

  “I’m checking for a pot smell to see if you’re high and stupid,” Dad said. “Officer Parker told me how you were driving. Jerking back and forth on a busy street. Did you not understand why I forbade you to drive?”

  “Yes, but you don’t understand.”

  “Understand what? That you want to kill yourself?”

  My chest tightened. I spun to him. My mouth opened, but I was speechless. Did he know?

  “Because that’s what could happen if you drive,” he finished.

  He turned the ignition key, and the car came to life. He pulled out of the parking lot and headed in the direction of home. I put my back to him and stared out the window at the lights and neighborhoods where families were actually enjoying each other’s company. I should have been relieved he didn’t know my plan, but for some reason I wasn’t.

  “Listen, I know you have friends now, and a girlfriend, and I’m thrilled for you. You are a great kid and really deserve to go out and have some fun. Just let me drive you there. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll drive you.”