Know Your Enemy

"Why, Jonas?!" cried my mother, grasping the jail cell bars furiously; tears were falling from her green eyes, "Why?!"

I couldn't look her in the eye. Not then. Not while I was trapped behind bars. Truth is hard to face. So was my mother. She kept her head steady, staring right at me in awe and utter confusion. Disappointment.

"Well?" she sputtered, "Will you answer me?"

I bit my lip, "I don't know."

" 'I don't know'," she mimicked, and threw her arms into the air, "Jonas, you killed a boy - it was murder!"

"It wasn't just me," I broke in, "we all did it -" my mom shook her head, though, and cut me off.

"My son . . . a murderer!"

"It was to protect Zade!" I roared at her; she shut her mouth, "Look. This so-called 'boy' we killed was hardly a boy. Logan was nineteen. He was a no-good gang leader who enjoyed being a menace at John Marshall High. We did the world a favor, mom. Well, Gabriel did, anyway. He was the one who shot him.

She scoffed, "Where is Mr. Gabriel Cross, then, huh?"

I sighed in frustration. Right after the whole riot occurred at the Rockport playground, Gabriel ran off the minute he heard sirens with Gloria hoding onto his left hand. Word going around is that he changed his name, now. He's some guy named Christian with a fake I.D. They hitched a ride with a trucker off of I-71 and are headed out for east jesus nowhere. I have no fucking clue what they're up to now and who the hell cares? He's a criminal on the run, his little brother Zade is just as depressed as before because big brother left, and the rest of us punks are stuck behind bars.

My mom was exasperated, "I don't have time for this. Are you gonna give me a straight answer or what, Jonas?"

I sighed again, "I can't. There's too much - way too much to tell. You wouldn't understand."

My mother shook her head, rather taken aback, "You know, I'd like to see you get your sorry ass out of this rut alone."

"Hey," a guard tapped my mom, "time's up, ma'am. You'll have to come back some other time."

She nodded, "Quite all right, sir. I was just finished. Thank you," and she stormed off. The door to the ward slammed shut.

"Boy," the guard said to me, "you're a damned fool to act like that toward your mother."

I didn't look at him, "I don't care."

"- especially with the state you're in," he grunted, "Sure, boy. You need all the love you can get right now, 'cuz you may not see the light of day for a long time - no way."

"Good," I said, irritated, "I don't want to see the light or anything anytime soon," the guard looked confused, so I explained, "It's just a lot that I need to think about."

"Wanna open up?" he asked, sitting his fat ass down on a chair across from my cell.

I sneered, "What? To you?"

He seemed pretty serious, though, "Boy, you have no idea the trouble I got into in my day. I participated in several race riots with my momma as a thirteen year old back in the late sixties. I got into drugs and sex in the seventies as a young man. Then, I settled and became a damned cop. I hate being a snoop, but it seemed easy, it pays the bills. Honestly kid, I don't care what you did. I ain't telling no one. I'm just a bored sucker who needs something to kill time - I've got all night."

I was suspicious as hell until he lit up a joint and passed it to me, "Here, son. It'll calm you down."

I laughed, "Thanks! Man, isn't this -"

He shook his head, "Who gives a shit? I'm a cop. I'm a hypocrite. Whatever."

This guy seemed pretty cool, "Hey, what's your name?" I asked.

"Call me Hank," he said, lighting up a joint for himself, "and I'll assume that you're Jonas?"

I nodded.

"Yeah," he said smooth and all, "so what brings you to this dingy hole tonight?"

God. This topic again. I didn't really want to share the past few months with some guy I've never met before - a cop, no less. But I had to get it off of my chest. I just had to so that I could at least get myself some sleep by morning.

"It's a long story, Hank," I said.

"Did I not just tell you, boy?" he roared, "I have all night. Humor me."

Right.