Follow Me Home

"Ms. Castillo, I just received a phone call from your parents, they've just landed and are expected to arrive at the station in thirty minutes. Would you like to hold off further questions until they arrive?"

I sat at the metal table in the investigation room. The clock on the wall revealed the time to be four thirty in the morning, which would mean I had been sitting in the same position for about three hours. The table in front of me acted as a mirror, giving me a glimpse at my appearance. I was still wearing the gold sequin dress that I had attended the party in, although I had decided a long time ago to ditch the bangled and other golden jewelry in my purse. My boots too, had reacted poorly with the water and I had decided to slip them off hours ago, leaving them lying on the floor of the investigation room. The products that Lilly had smothered in my hair rendered useless against Gretchen's sprinkler system, leaving me with a frizzy, messy knot surrounding my face. My eyes were thickly outlined in grey circles from the remnants of my makeup. My mother would be horrified to see me.

"Actually, I would prefer we continue. I assume I won't be needing legal representation." The policeman nodded.

"Can I ask you about an incident that occurred three weeks ago?" A second policeman who had joined the room about an hour ago for observation, took out a pad of paper.

"My house was broken into." There was some scribbling, and I wondered why he would bother writing things down if this was all on camera.

"Would you say there was violent intentions to this break in?"

"Yes I would. Some money was stolen, but the whole house was ransacked. The evidence suggested the robber used a baseball bat to knock in all the windows."

More writing went on. I surveyed the room again. In the dark rectangle on the the left wall, I was aware there would be more people watching me. I stared there for a minute, wondering if I was looking at someone through the one way glass.

"Ms. Castillo, can you describe your interaction with Jinx Everheart at the party last night?" Although it had happened less then six hours ago, I tried to recall the details the best I could . . .

"Would you like to dance?" Sam asked, almost screaming above the volume of the stereo. I had no sight of Lilly since my arrival at the party, and Sam had taken interest in spending time with me. We had left the kitchen in favor of watching beer pong in the next room, but the game was quickly ended when Walter McDonald stumbled into the table, sending red solo cups flying in all directions. The crowd had contributed a group moan at the loss of the beer, and Sam and I headed back to the kitchen, when he was happy to refresh mine.

"Sure." I said, following him into what looked like it had been Gretchen's living room before it's transformation into a dance floor. Sam and I danced for about fifteen minutes before a football player quickly ran in and pulled him aside, insisting he go watch someone else chug alcohol. Sam rolled his eyes and turned to me.

"I'll be right back, don't move. Just dance, okay?" I nodded as he was pulled out of the room. The next ten minutes which I had expected to be filled with awkward swaying as I tried to casually dance by myself, were interrupted when someone shouted my name. I had turned to see Jinx at the wall, and jostled through people to get to him.

"Jinx, what are you doing here?" I had asked him. At this point I was slightly swaying from alcohol, but not quite intoxicated enough to remember Jinx did not go to my school.

"It's not exactly invite-only. The real question is what are you doing here with some high school guy." I rolled my eyes, taking note of the dull pang in my ears from the beat of the music.

"What are you talking about, I got your text message." The exact phrasing of this text, I could not remember at the time, but I was pretty sure it expressed Jinx's jealousy over a picture of Connor Thompson and I hugging, which had ended up on Facebook.

"So we get in a little fight and you head over to a party to sleep with the nearest quarterback?! This is what happens when you go to school with these people, Carolina, you get more and more shallow every day. I don't like what it's doing to you." As people walked past, I was bumped into the wall, and I crossed my arms assertively.

"Sam and I are just friends."

"Friends? That implies he cares about you. Your stupid to think that he could care about you, Carolina, when you have so much emotional damage. He doesn't understand the things we go through. To him, your just an easy fuck." With each of Jinx's words, anger bubbled up inside.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Jinx. Go home. You weren't invited to this party." I turned and left him them. He may have followed, but with the music and the crowds of people, I was unable to tell. I left the room, pushing past cheering teens and headed up the stairs. It was immediately less noisy as I ascended. The crowds became a loud buzz and the music became a dull beat.

"Carolina!" I turned to see Sam following me, jumping up the steps. I stopped walking. "Hey are you okay? Do you wanna talk?" I nodded, although I didn't want to talk about Jinx. He was right about that, no one else would get it.

Sam led the way then, past several doors into an empty bedroom. We entered and sat down on the bed.

"Is that guy your boyfriend?" Sam asked once the door was closed.

"No, not anymore. He comes with too much drama." The silence was calming.

"You've changed so much since the seventh grade. . ." He trailed off, and I laughed.

"I could say the same for you."

We both say for a minute, consumed in our thoughts. He laughed after a while, and I looked up at him. "Do you remember that day at Becky Devalo's house?" I smiled, knowing exactly which day he was talking about.

"Of course. We played seven minutes in heaven and you were absolutely terrified." I said, remembering it perfectly.

"That's right. And when it was my turn, I was in the closet with you. That was my first kiss." I turned to look at him.

"Mine too. . . " I trailed off as he leaned in, closing the space between us. His lips met mine sweetly, as if remembering the memory from those years ago.

Before I knew it, we were kissing, my hands around his neck and his around my waist. I leaned, laying on the bed, and he followed, straddling my waist. Then my hands were in his hair, and we paused to remove his shirt. We seemed in perfect unison, moving so quickly yet so unaware of the time passing. So unaware, in facts, we hardly noticed the blaring alarm going off in the hallway.

"Your parents are here." The policeman's words interrupted me from my thoughts. Within a few seconds of his words, the door swung open and my mother walked in, her heels clicking loudly on the tile floor. She scurried obnoxiously, taking large little steps, swinging her arms. When she reached me she began fussing, smoothing my hair and pressing my face to her stomach, saying comforting things that I could not hear over my father's voice. He had walked in after her, taking his large, determined steps right up to the police officer.

The two of them looked unchanged since I had last seen them. His black hair was a little darker, most likely dyed that way, and he a well-fitted charcoal suit with a green tie. My mother's blond hair was burned with highlights, her skin tanned and her face covered by her oversized sunglasses. She wore a brown trench coat over her black dress and heels. My ears adjusted to their voices, and I was able to hear what they were saying.

"Oh sweetie, you must have been so scared. It's okay now, we're here. We're here for you baby." My mother was cooing me in her soprano voice. I could see no emotion on her face due to her sunglasses, but her red lips and white teeth mumbled the words angelically.

My father's lower voice carried differently; he was speaking to the police man questioning me, insisting that I be taken home immediately. "She's been in questioning for too long, Sir, I demand she be released right now. She's just a teenager." I wondered if he knew my age.

The policeman explained I was here as a resource, and that technically I was allowed to leave whenever I wanted, although my information was crucial to the case. He told us he had asked all the questions he needed, and would be working to sort of the case details. He suggested I go home and sleep, and he would contact us in the morning.

My mother clutched me to her as we walked to the car, whining about how upset I must be, and my father answered a phonecall. I sat in the back of my car (for the first time, I noted) as my mother and father drove us home. I closed my eyes in the back seat, pretending to be asleep.