An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 22)

Normally when police showed up asking for me, it was usually because either a) one of my close friends had been horribly injured, or b) one of my close friends had been horribly killed. Speaking from previous experience, of course. Judging by what came out of his mouth next, though, I predicted that this meeting was going to be about as pleasant as the other ones had been. Which is to say, not at all.

“From what the staff and students 'ere have told me, you and Sammy Thistlethwaite were very close friends, yeah?” he asked me in his Scottish accent, leaning back in the vice principals computer chair.

He'd introduced himself to me as “Detective lieutenant Andrew Burrows, but feel free to call me just Andy.” After that, Just Andy had taken me into the vice principals office and made me sit down on one of those really uncomfortable plastic folding chairs while he got the padded office chair, because after all, he was a detective lieutenant and I was a 17 year old girl who's biggest accomplishment was not falling down the stairs this morning.

“Yeah, he was my best friend. I mean, he still is.” I corrected myself a second later, realizing how weird it felt to refer to him as if he were dead when I knew that he was still kicking around on Earth somewhere, probably scoping out Megan Fox's bedroom or, more likely, just moving books around the library to their wrong places in order to get back at the librarian.

“Aye, good good. So from this file 'ere, it says that you two were at a party last summer, when a young man named Brad Teufel slipped a lethal dose o' Benzodiazepine and Lisinopril into his drink, which stopped his heart a lil while later, yeah?”

“Correct.” I said quietly, not wanting to relive this. Then, a second later, I realized something else. “Wait, you guys know it was Chad?”

“No one told ye? His trial's on Saturday, we have solid evidence against him. They're gonna put that boy away for a long time.”

“Oh my god.” I whispered, not quite believing it. I'd been wishing for this for so long, and it was finally happening. Sammy was finally going to get justice, after all this time.

“Anyhow,” Just Andy continued as if he hadn't just knocked my world off its axis, “I just wanted to tell you that my partner and I are coming to your school this Friday to do a presentation on the effects of mixing drugs with alcohol, and Mrs. Thistlethwaite gave us permission to tell Sammy's story. We thought it'd have more of an effect if we could get his friends in to talk about how it effected them as well, since I understand you were the one who found him, aye? Would ya be willing?”

“Yes.” I said without a seconds hesitation. Anything that could prevent what happened to Sammy from happening to someone else was something that I wanted to be a part of.

“Excellent. Be in the gymnasium 20 minutes before first period on Friday so we can get set up, okay?”

“Sure.” I said absently, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Chad had been caught, and that maybe now Sammy and his family could finally find some peace. I'd waited so long for this.

“Awesome. Now get back to class, you have work to do.”

Minutes later, after changing into my gym shorts, I arrived on the soccer field, not entirely thrilled about this whole “physical education” concept. I had too much on my mind to care about how many goals I scored or how many baskets I sank.

“Phew,” a red-faced Mickey panted a moment later, coming to a halt a few feet away from me, his gym shirt clinging to his body. “And all this time, I thought I was in shape.”

I let out a half hearted chuckle, too distracted by my meeting with the officer to do anything else.

“So what's coach making us do?”

“Lucky for you, you just missed the 2 kilometre run. Now we're just heading inside for a water break. “ he explained, stripping off his shirt. My eyes immediately flashed to his ribcage, and I wasn't nearly as surprised as I should have been to see the lightning bolt shaped birth mark there.

“Yeah, lucky me. How's your first day been so far?” I asked him, yanking open the double doors that lead to the gym hallway and ducked inside before my gym teacher could catch me showing up late for class.

“Well, I had English last period and it was the worst. We just finished reading Romeo and Juliet, and personally I think that they could have handled that situation a bit better, y'know? And then I pretty much just slept through chemistry because I told the teacher I had narcolepsy so there wasn't really much she could do anyways.”

“You are terrible.” I informed him, but he just smirked.

“Terrible, but also sort of a genius.”

*******************************

I went home with Mickey after school, not really caring about whether or not I was grounded. I needed to get out, I'd been cooped up for weeks and was slowly losing my sanity.

“I'm home.” Mickey called, marching into the living room. I hung back, shrugging off my jacket, and was startled to hear a voice other than Poe's answer him.

“Hey, man. Who's this guy? He came in a few hours ago and he hasn't talked to us at all.” a female voice said, followed by a masculine grunt of agreement.

“I don't talk because nobody cares to listen.” Poe muttered bitterly, and seconds later, I was around the corner, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Poe was slumped against the wall beside the open window, alternating between taking drags from his cigarette, and sips from his chipped coffee mug. His bloodshot eyes were staring at something on the horizon, probably wishing he was anywhere but here. He looked rough, and it was impossible to tell if he was still drunk and miserable, or if he was just really hungover and miserable.

On the couch, though, were two very familiar individuals, who both looked up when I walked in, their eyes going wide.

“Hartley!” Lacey yelped, throwing her arms around my neck, Quinn following closely behind.