Gabriel

"I kissed a boy and they liked it! Got all the honeys in the club excited!"

My rather large hand reached out from under a mass of blankets, sheets, and pillows. My rough palm felt around for the ringing phone and grabbed it. It vibrated and ringed loudly as the rest of my body emerged from the ocean of bedding.

I could feel the crankiness showing on my face as I lifted my self up and hung my legs off the bed. Having just gotten to sleep around three, I was pretty angry that someone was disturbing me. I looked at my alarm clock. It was barely five in the morning.

Damn that Xander, I thought, sliding my finger across the bottom of my touch phone to answer his call. He put that Cobra Starship song as my ringer for him.

"What?" I hissed through clenched teeth. I knew I wouldn't get back to sleep, so I stood from the bed and flipped the nearest light switch.

"Hey, hey! Gabe! Buddy! How are you?"

"Cut the shit. What do you want at five in the morning? Are you in jail again? Don't call me 'Gabe'."

There was a nervous chuckle, fuzzy from the bad reception. "Yeah, OK. 'Gabriel' then. Now about the whole jail thing..."

"Finally get caught with weed?"

"No."

"Drunk driving?"

"No."

"Disturbing the peace?"

"Bingo!"

I sighed angrily and ruffled my brown, untidy hair. I looked in the mirror on the back of my bedroom door. Holy shit, I look terrible. "So what do you want?"

"Could you come get me?"

I sighed, then gave myself another once-over. Superman boxers and bags under my eyes. Lovely. "No."

"Come on, dude!" He was begging now, and I could just imagine his face frowning dramatically as the town's sheriff glared at him with the keys to Xander's cell dangling at his belt. "If you do, I'll set you up with Wedding!"

My brows came together as a slow hiss escaped through my teeth. "How many times do I have to tell you? I don't like your sister!"

"Well, then I could set you up with... me!"

There was a short pause. "I'm hanging up."

"No, no! Please come get me!"

I sighed again and held my hand over my eyes to block out the light they still hadn't adjusted to. "Do I have to pay for gas?" The long, awkward pause told me that yes, I had to pay for the gas too. Again. "Fine. I'll be there soon."

"Great! You're a pal, Gabe! Oh, and by the way, I'm sorta in Johnson City."

Annoyance sparked in my eyes and I was so angry I forgot to tell Xander off for using my awful nickname. "Johnson City? Are you crazy? What the hell were you doing in Johnson City?" I shouted into the phone. Rachel would kill him if she ever found out!

"I was at a party with some pretty hot chicks... and dudes." Of course he had to add that last part. "There was drinking--"

"You're seventeen. You're not supposed to be getting hammered."

"So?"

Xander had a taste for everything out of the ordinary or against the rules set by any authority. For him, whatever society found wrong was right and vice versa. Messaging my temples, I tried to forget he said that. "Xander, you're mental."

"That's a British term, mate," laughed Xander. "You've been reading too much Harry Potter."

"It's better than 'The Catcher in the Rye'."

Xander gasped. "That's blasphemy!"

I suppressed a chuckle and started pulling on some basketball shorts. "Just give me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can."

As Xander asked one of his buddies from the party where they were, I couldn't help but imagine the look on Wedding's face when she found out about his little sleepover with the sheriff. He always did stupid things like this and she always found out in the end. Why Xander keeps trying to hide stuff from her I'll never know.

"OK. I have it." The sudden sound of Xander's voice brought me back to the real world from my thoughts. Xander repeated line after line of the address, but it was unnecessary because I could hear the voice behind him in the background that was giving the directions. The voice was definitely an officer and not one of his drunken friends.

Xander's voice also lacked a slur. Alcohol never really gave him a high or warm feeling inside. Besides, why get drunk when the real entertainment lies in watching your friends piss and fall over themselves? At least that was Xander's way of thinking.

"OK, I know where that is. I'll be there in like," I thought for a few seconds, "two hours."

"Thanks for saving my ass."

I groaned inside my head. "Anytime. See ya soon."

"OK. Bye."

"Bye."

I slid my finger over the phone to turn it off. I tossed on a green t-shirt, probably my Legend of Zelda one, but I didn't check before slipping on my flip flops and disappearing through my door.

It was a long drive from East Mountain to Johnson City, but the road was deserted for the most part. Street lights flashed by quickly as the reflectors on the orange and white lines shimmered from the headlights of my godmother's minivan.

I quietly pulled into the driveway of the Johnson City police station around seven and headed inside. It was what your cliche police station would look like. Dim lights, rather fat or really skinny men with mustaches, one chick who looks like a dude, and shady looking men with muscles hiding behind thin, gray bars that are starting to rust.

The girl who looked like a guy gave me a warm smile as I approached her desk.

"I'm guessing you're here for the partiers?" she asked. Her voice was surprisingly soft for someone so masculine in appearance.

"No, just the ring leader."

The girl handed me a few papers and I signed them. After giving them back, she led me to the cell in the far back.

"Hey pretty girl," whistled one of the bigger inmates.

"What have I told you about harassing me, Charlie?"

"I was talking to the gorgeous thing walkin' with ya." He was grinning wildly at the two of us.

"Hey!" cried a voice from the end of the cell rows. "I'm way prettier than him!"

I groaned at the sound of Xander's voice. As we were coming up to his cell, I started seeing several good-looking teenagers humping and rubbing against the cell bars, rolling around on the floor, and puking into the toilets and on friends.

But Xander was doing none of those things. He leaned casually against the greasy, cinderblock wall, arms crossed, while looking at me like I was some kind of delicious meal he couldn't wait to eat. That stare always did make me uncomfortable, but I was used to it by now and returned the look with an indifferent glare.

"See," he said, pushing himself from the wall. "He doesn't deny it. I'm much prettier." He struck a pose with one hand behind his head that reminded me of something Maryln Monroe had once posed for, but I pushed the image of Xander in a white, billowing dress from my mind.

"Whatever. I signed the paper work, so you're coming home with me right now. No side trips." I crossed my arms over my chest while watching the officer unlock the cell door and pull Xander out. She gave me an approving look that I took to mean, 'You seem like a responsible young lad. Take care of your trouble-making friend.' Or something like that.

"Thanks for taking care of him, officer." It was a line I had used a thousand times, every time Xander got himself into trouble. It seemed to finalize that he wouldn't be doing anything else illegal and that I was taking him off their hands forever. It tended to get him off easy for the most part because I seemed like a smart, conformed young man.

While the staggering drunks from the party watched us retreat with confused looks and puked on the dreary walls, Xander seemed to think he was a rock star, bouncing towards the door as if he was coming down the red carpet. His dyed black hair kept swishing, making the streaks of dark red in it twirl and entangle with the contrasting strands. He was smiling and grinning at all the officers like he had just won the lottery and waved when the inmates would jeer and wolf whistle at him.

He was enjoying the attention so much, that I couldn't seem to get him out of there fast enough. But I finally did manage to force him out the door and stuff him into the passenger side of Rachel's van.

Xander ran his fingers over the visor excitedly and pulled a silver CD from the holder. He pushed it in as I settled myself in my seat, trying to control my tongue from saying something he would turn against me. As some indie pop music played and he snapped and tapped to the beat, I turned it off.

"Hey! I was listening to that!" He crossed his arms and glowered at me.

"Too bad. You need to listen to me." I put the car in drive, placed my hands at two and ten on the wheel, looked over my shoulder, and backed up after going through my mental checklist of safe driving. Seat belt on? Check. Lights on? Check. Can I see out my mirrors? Check. "You're acting like a complete idiot. If you keep this up, you'll drive Wedding insane and get worse than a beating by Rachel. You need to straighten up at least a little. You know how crazy that woman can get."

"And you know this by your extensive experience with the female body and mind, right?" He was laughing at me in his head, I could tell by his stupid fox grin and sarcastic tone that was so like his mother's, but that was OK. I knew he would say something like that.

"Just because I haven't dated a lot doesn't mean I don't know a thing or two about Rachel and Wedding. I've lived with you guys my whole life; I'm sure I know you three by now. I can't keep covering for you forever and I can't keep running out of the apartment in the middle of the night."

"You don't have to do that," he whispered. He was cornered for once. In all the arguments we'd had over the years over his bad habits, it was rare for Xander to simply give up. It was seven in the morning, so he must've been too tired to argue.

"You didn't have to. You knew I'd do it, just like you knew I'd pay for gas and...." I thought a moment. Maybe I was being a little harsh? I shook my bangs out of my face so I could better see the road ahead. "You want to stop by McDonalds?"

He didn't answer.

"It's cold tonight," I said, turning the heat on.

"Not really," he replied, turning it off. I gave him one last concerned glance, then focused on driving us home safely five miles below the speed limit.

Xander was staring out the window, his grin suddenly back on his face, his mind whirling around all the risky, thrilling things that had happened that night. Though his bright green eyes showed that he was about ready to burst with the need to tell me everything, he didn't say anything until we got on Wickman Highway.

"You know what? Micky D's actually sounds pretty good."