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SIX FEEL SOMETHING DANGEROUS
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The back of a police cruiser is something Norman never thought he would end up in. Being rich and white, he kinda knew that any wrong he did would end up nothing more than a slap on the wrist. That being said, here was with John B Routledge and Sheriff Peterkin. He should have known a Pogue would bring him nothing but trouble. He didn't care too much about that now, he was really just relieved that he and John B hadn't been murdered by those two guys. Norman was curious as to what sort of trouble the boy could have possibly gotten himself into, but even he knew that curiosity killed the cat.
The silence was deafening as John B stared empty-eyed out the windshield. Finally, Sheriff Peterkin said something, "So, how's it working out kid?"
"We almost got murdered and that's what you ask him? Norman asked with a bewildered tone before John B can say anything for himself.
Sheriff Peterkin shot him an irritated look before ultimately ignoring him. Going on to say, "It's a whole lot safer if you give it to me than anybody else."
"John B, what the hell is she talking about? What do you have that those guys want?" he questioned, placing a hand on the side of John B's seat and leaning forward to get a better view of the boy. There were tear marks cutting through the dirt on his cheeks and Norman found himself wondering if it was from the pain or from something else.
"The compass," was all John B offered as an explanation before he reached into his pocket to pull something out. In his hand was a golden compass that looked way too old to still be in the condition it was.
Peterkin looked amazed like it was some mystical object with all the answers in the world. To Norman, it was just a compass. Surprised, she said, "That thing probably saved your life. Concentrated the shock. Lucky."
The boy didn't humor her, handing over the compass with a solemn expression and no other words. With a sigh, Sheriff Peterkin unlocked the doors and John B opened it and got out. He stepped over, opening the back door to let Norman out who was happy to let his feet hit the gravel and get the hell out of there. John B was silent, but Norman's mind was reeling as the Sheriff drove away like nothing from the last hour had just happened. Hell, the woman hadn't even questioned the dried blood on Norman's chest and face.
"John B, what the hell was that? Why are those people looking for a compass? Can you tell me anything that's happening here because we were just chased by men with guns and that is something I can't comprehend right now, so if you could just explain --" Norman's line of questioning was cut short when John B collapsed into his side, sobbing. This was probably the most unexpected thing to come out of today. That included Norman asking him to dinner, so that's how bad it was. One of Norman's fatal flaws was that he never knew how to comfort someone who was crying. However, he did was his instinct was to do which was hold on. He wrapped his arms around John B's shoulders in an odd sort of side-hug. God, he was absolutely terrible at this, but at least he was self-aware. He had that going for him. After a moment, the boy sobered up and fought out of Norman's grasp, wiping his eyes and regaining his composure.
