He sighs. “Who were you down here with?”
“No one,” I say. “Just me.”
He shines his flashlight on the backpack, a fucking Patagonia. “That’s your bag?”
“Yep,” I say, cursing the stupid rich guys for having to carry even their spray paint in expensive bags. The cop looks skeptical. Officer Gunn is one of the better cops to get grabbed by, since he knows what it’s like down here. Hell, rumor has it he grew up in the same trailer park as me back in the day. But it’s not so fortunate when he can call bullshit on my claim. He knows I can’t afford all that paint and beer, let alone the bag they were carried in.
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” he asks, shining his light over the car Royal was defacing. He lands the beam on Zephyr’s tag at the bottom.
“Is that you?” asks the other cop. “The blimp?”
“It’s not a blimp,” I protest, but then clamp my mouth shut. If I say it’s a zephyr, they might connect it with the kid. For all I know, he has a rap sheet longer than mine. They could trace him back to a fuckload of graffiti once they know whose tag that is.
“Who was with you?” Officer Gunn asks.
“No one,” I say again.
“Where’d you get all that paint?”
“I stole it,” I say. “I stole it off some rich kids at school.”
“Let’s just take her in,” says the other cop. “She’s admitting to the damages.”
“You know I can’t just let you go,” Officer Gunn says, looking like he kinda regrets that fact. “Unless maybe you can tell me who else was down here…”
I think of the guys back in the ditch. No, the guys who are long gone. Even if I told the cops who I was with, they wouldn’t catch them. It would be my word against three guys who buy off cops. I think about the look on Royal’s face when he was there with his brothers. He was tense, like he knew it was his responsibility to get his two self-destructive brothers out of there unharmed. His loyalty wouldn’t let him walk away even if he should. He was stuck there trying to protect one brother who drank with reckless determination and one who wanted nothing more than the thrill of getting caught. Even if I was a rat, which I’m not, I respect that loyalty too much to turn them in.
“No one else,” I say. “I told you, it was just me.”
“Did you see anyone else back there?” Officer Gunn asks the other cop.
“It was just her,” says the guy. Maybe he’s paid off, or maybe he’s just tired and wants to get the night over with. They’ve made their arrest, and now they’ll have to file paperwork, and the more kids they grab, the more paperwork they’ll have. It’s really not worth it for a petty crime like vandalizing a train car that’s not even in use.
They put me in the back of the patrol car while Officer Gunn makes a quick sweep around the cars and then comes back. He grabs the backpack and stuffs all the paint cans and beers inside. I can’t help but feel bad about all that wasted paint. Zephyr could paint a masterpiece with that.
As we pull away, I press my forehead to the glass and look out at the barren railyard and wonder if I just made a huge mistake. Sure, loyalty’s great, but like pride, it’s never done anything for me. Loyalty doesn’t put food on the table. And those boys, they have only loyalty to each other. They wouldn’t hesitate to throw me to the wolves at the first opportunity.
Maybe I really am just like my mother. I thew it all away for a man. I got myself arrested, took the fall, so that they could walk away without a backwards glance.
That’s what I wanted them to do, I remind myself. There was no point in all four of us getting arrested, getting another mark on our records. But as I watch the empty lot disappear behind us, I can’t help but think about how they all would have banded together if it were one of them in handcuffs. They would have refused to be separated. They would have all turned themselves in to keep any one of them from being alone.
I lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes so I won’t have to see the empty lot. Whatever fever gripped me when I biked down here has broken.
I’m not one of them, and no amount of wishing will change that. I rushed down to be with them, to feel like part of something, but I’m not. They didn’t want me down there at all. Royal told me to go away. They weren’t looking forward to seeing me show up. They weren’t sorry to see me hauled off in cuffs. They watched me take the fall so they could cut and run, even though they probably could have talked their way out of an arrest.
I don’t need them,I tell myself, willing myself to believe it the way I used to.I don’t need anyone.
Needing people is more than a weakness, it’s a waste of energy. I am the only person I can count on. Whether it’s the Dolce boys, or Jolene, or Mr. Behr, or my own mother, when shit goes down, I always turn to find nothing but the wind at my back.
*
Vulnerable
You think I don’t know vulnerability, but
Do you?
What did it feel like to you, little girl?