"ANOTHER OFFENSE, HANNAH?!"
My moms voice was shrill, cracking, my ear drums ready to explode at the simple sound of her scream.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANOTHER OFFENSE?! NAME ONE TIME I'VE COME HOME IN CUFFS!" I shouted back.
My dad stood at the center island of the kitchen, just listening. His ankles were crossed and he was seriously thinking.
"First he calls me about the CIGARETTES, then warns me about seeing you drink beer outside of the library... NOW THE WATER TOWER! What the hell are we going to do with you, Hannah? These are just the things he's noticed in the last two years... all in a relatively short amount of time. What's gotten into you?!"
"What's gotten into me? Are you joking? You two are more focused on my cousins than you are me! Who cares what I'm doing?! If Hopper didn't rat on me you two would barely even notice I exist!"
"Enough." My dad mumbles quietly.
"It's always about what I'm doing wrong, never what I'm doing right!"
"I said, enough, Hannah." He comes again.
"Blow it out your ass!"
My dad harshly smacks me in the mouth and I pull my hand to my face quickly.
"Hannah. Your mother and I have been talking and we want your things out of here in the morning."
"What?" My voice cracks.
"Dad I'm sorry for not shutting up but please-"
"We don't know how to handle you. You barely know how to handle yourself."
The tears rolled hot down my face. As if my night couldn't have gotten any shittier.
"Some parents you turned out to be." I say, wiping my tears and my slightly cut lip before running up the stairs and... well... packing.
My mind was racing, I had no clue where I was going to stay, and granted my parents didn't leave me high and dry, they gave me a grand which is a really good amount of money... but that still left me with only a few months in a motel. I couldn't even think of facing Elliot. I was still too pissed and her mom wouldn't ever let a kid who got booted from her own home stay with her family.
Even more so on my mind was Hopper. That son of a bitch. The smug, cocky asshole who put me in this predicament, all for just calling him what he is. A pig.
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So... the next morning I sort of went crazy, I took my back pack of clothes, my Walkman, and stormed all the way over to the police station, swiftly passing any other officers and barging directly into his office.
"You son of a bitch!" I grab the banana sitting on his desk and I chuck it at him.
"Uh... chief?" A woman calls from the doorway, wondering if she should apprehend me.
Hopper is holding his nose from the banana toss and sends her on her way.
"I've got it." He says under his breath.
She shuts the door softly and I take the opportunity to crawl over his desk and grab onto his shirt to bring him closer to me. James Monroe all over again.
He smelled of whiskey and after shave and his eyes were glossed over with little to no care. I was seething.
"You got me kicked out of my house. I'm homeless."
And get this... the asshole smiles at me.
"Serves you right. Maybe if you weren't such a punk and actually obeyed the law."
"You cuffed me because I called you a pig." I throw him back into his seat and cross my legs on his papers.
They crunch underneath me and I can tell this irritates him.
"You're on my paperwork."
"You screwed up my life."
"You're really going to argue with an officer?"
"You're really going to act like you're better than me? You arrested a teenager because of your unruly temper."
There it was again, that jaw clenching, clicking sound coming from his teeth.
"What are you going to do this time? Not much more you can take from me."
"Get in the cruiser. Now."
"No."
His hand smacked hard on the desk in front of my lap and it made me jump.
"You don't get to choose, King."
"Make me, Hopper."
Honestly, poor choice of words. I was over that man's shoulder in milliseconds, kicking, flailing and making an absolute scene in front of the entire station.
"Put me down you stupid asshole!" I pounded on his back.
"I'll be out for a couple hours, probably." He tells his secretary.
Seriously, Hopper was acting as if he wasn't gripping as hard as he possibly could onto my thighs, keeping me in place.
The passenger side door opened and again I was tossed into his cruiser. This seat was actually a little more comfortable.
I tried to hold the door open and Hopper just laughed.
"You little shit, I'm not letting you go anywhere."
I crossed my arms and slumped into the passenger seat, sending him glares as he walked to the drivers side.
The trip was short, and we ended up right underneath the crap paint job of mine.
"First thing you're going to do is paint over that mess, then and only then will I give you a place to stay."
"Stay?! Hold on, Hopper-"
"Did I stutter?" He says lowly, handing me a paint brush.
He gestures his thumb to the backseat, and I notice a can of beige paint.
"Get to it." He smiles, taking a cigarette between his lips and lighting it, taking a quick inhale and then blowing his smoke into my face.
My eyes water a little bit but I really didn't want to argue. I was literally trying to fight fire with dickhead fire.
After a very sweaty hour, I climb down from the water tower and notice Hopper leaning against the cruiser. His hips were moving ever so gently and he had my Walkman in his hands, the headphones over his now bare head. His hat was on the roof of the car and I felt my cheeks turn red. My stomach dropped and I sort of felt like curling into a small ball. He had my music.
Hopper peeled one headphone away from him and rested it on his jaw.
"Paused your cassette right in the middle of Dancing Queen, what a loser. Big ABBA fan?" He winks.
I curl even further into myself and tug the player out of his hands.
"I'm finding my own place to say."
"How much you got?" Hopper asked, sucking his teeth.
"Excuse me?"
"Your parents, how much money did they give you? You'll need to pay for a room, food, toiletries-"
"A grand." I interrupt.
"It'll last you two, maybe three months, tops, but if you stay with me, you can get a job and build onto it instead. Don't be an idiot, kid."
"I'd rather die, actually." I snort.
"Oh my god you're annoying. Don't come into my office and guilt trip me about you getting kicked out and then refuse help. Look, kid, I'm trying my best to feel sorry for you. Frankly, I don't, even though I should." Hopper rolls his eyes and his hands jive a little bit.
"I shouldn't have lost my temper the other night. So I can't believe I'm begging you, but I really don't need the bad karma right now. My divorce is getting messy, my luck is non-existent... and why am I telling a snot nosed brat any of this?" Hopper seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.
He looked really worked up over me staying and I couldn't really say no to that somber look. He seemed... I don't know, broken? What in the world could a hard ass like Hopper be broken about? I won't lie. I was curious. Maybe being on his good side wouldn't be a bad thing, given my track record. I can't believe I'm saying this... but,
"I'll stay with you... but if you piss me off I'm leaving."
"As long as it's your choice to be homeless, then it's not really my fault or problem anymore," he shrugs, "but you've gotta tag along with me for the rest of the day, I don't trust you alone in my house. You'd drink all my beer."
"Yeah, probably."