Willow Academy (Spanking Story)

Chapter 19, Part 1: Owen's POV

This wasn't a game.

This wasn't something I could scoff at and walk away from and mutter something about how only idiots would even think about selling drugs on school grounds.

I was 15 years old and under arrest. It's terrifying to face your future when you know it could be spent behind bars as cold as these handcuffs.

I missed most of the "you have the right to remain silent" speech. My sensory input was at an overload, and I barely registered being led out of the gym and into the back of a car. My own stupidity must have stopped my ears up, because the only thing I could really hear was the steady pounding of my heart.

The officer that had cuffed me and serenaded me with his wonderful monologue left me with a gruff "stay" before he slammed the door in my face. I was left alone in the car, knees cramped against the dirty plastic divider and arms already beginning to ache. Through the scratched window, I could see a laptop and lots of other gadgets crowded in the front cab. I felt like some kind of dog—being told to stay, restrained and locked up like some kind of criminal! Oh, wait... I was a criminal.

I could hear a mass of voices outside, and I knew most of the dance had migrated out here. I hoped the windows were tinted enough that I was well hidden, and I thanked the heavens it was already dark outside. I didn't know why the officers weren't diverting their attentions elsewhere; I wasn't some kind of sideshow act!

I was raw and exposed, like a bug under a microscope, sitting there on that isolated seat and wondering what my life was going to be like not only in the next five minutes, but in the next five years. Would I have to finish school handcuffed to my own desk? Would I have to talk to my family through Plexiglas? Would I be that one member of the family that would always be the "screw-up"? Hell, I could just join my parents!

I had worked myself into quite the fit by this time, and was on the verge of an utter breakdown. The buzz of voices had disappeared, so I assumed the cops had finally done their jobs and gotten rid of the lingering crowd. I'd be content if I never had to face my school again.

The passenger door opened, and a female officer slouched into the seat. Her blonde hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and she looked about Ben's age—young for a cop. She fiddled with the computer and some other machine for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the cab my harsh breathing. I was sure she could hear me, and I prayed she didn't look back and see what a pansy I was being. I was already up a shit creek; I didn't need the "cry-baby" label on top of that.

Her partner plopped into the drivers' seat then, meaty shoulders heaving a sigh before turning the key in the ignition. He had to turn around and face me in order to reverse, and I looked down in fear of the glare I could get. I didn't feel like a dog anymore—I felt like a rat.

We backed out of the gymnasium entrance, and began driving down the bumpy road. The officers were making small talk in the front seat, and I gathered that Riley and Dylan had been arrested as well. It was slowly starting to hit me how big of a deal this was; I had been caught selling ecstasy on school grounds to a minor. I was a minor also, but that was beside the point. I'd heard once that being caught with the intent to sell drugs was worse than actually abusing them. How could I have consciously gotten myself into this?

I knew how. I had simply stopped listening. I couldn't pretend that I was in this alone, because that was far from the truth. In reality, I had a whole family and the greatest best friend in the world to back me up. Hell, Penny and Danny had practically gotten on their knees and begged me to stop. But did I care? Did I even stop and listen to what they were saying?