Tangled by Carolyn Mackler

collected.
    The cop stepped closer to me and shielded his eyes with his hand. “So what was going on up there?”
    “Nothing much,” I said. “Just hanging out.”
    “We got a call from the dispatcher.” He gestured to the top of the lock. “That’s considered trespassing.”
    “Sorry,” I said, grinding the grass with my foot. “I didn’t know that.”
    “How old are you?”
    “Eighteen.”
    “Are you supposed to be in school?” he asked.
    “I got suspended today.”
    “Bad day, huh?”
    “You could say that.” I kicked at some more grass and stumbled a little.
    The officer stared hard at me. “Have you been drinking?”
    I shrugged.
    “Where’s the alcohol?”
    I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t like I could deny it, especially if he climbed the lock and found my sports bottle, but I wasn’t going to admit anything, either.
    “What’s your name?” he asked.
    “Dakota Evans.”
    “Well, Dakota,” he said, “you seem like a nice kid, so I’m not going to run a Breathalyzer. But you should know that possession of alcohol is illegal for anyone under twenty-one. Also, the village of Brockport has an ordinance against open containers.” He turned and gestured toward the parking lot. “That your car?”
    “Yeah,” I said quietly.
    “One violation against the open-container ordinance and we can suspend your license. And you don’t even have to be driving for that. But, as I said, you seem like a nice kid. Do you have any prior record?”
    I shook my head.
    The officer glanced toward the other cop and then said, “I’m just going to give you a warning. Between you and me. Quit it with the drinking and the trespassing and you’ll be okay.”
    I was about to drop to the ground and kiss his feet when he cleared his throat. “So what’s your parents’ number?”
    My stomach lurched. “My parents?”
    “I can’t send you in a car like this.”
    “Can I call a friend? Or can’t I just walk home? I live over on Meadowview Drive.”
    “Hey, buddy.” The officer straightened up. “You’drather get an appearance ticket?”
    I wondered whether I should give him my mom’s number. No, she wouldn’t know how to deal with this. Besides, she’d just refer him to my dad.
    And so, for the second time that morning, I recited my dad’s number. The officer jotted it down on his pad. As I stood there dying a brutal death, he pulled out his phone and began dialing.

six
    Five minutes later, my dad pulled up. He parked, got out, and strode over to where I was standing next to the officers.
    “Wait in my car,” he hissed without even looking at me.
    Then he smiled at the men and shook their hands. As I was walking away, I heard him mention something about C-zone, and the chunky officer said a guy’s name and they both laughed.
    After a few minutes, the officers got in their patrol car and my dad headed toward me. As he opened the door, he held up his hand as if to say: Not a goddamn word. Then he shifted into gear and we drove in silence across the parking lot and down Holley Street. When we pulled into our driveway, he turned to me and said,“Give me your keys.”
    I reached in my pocket and tossed him my keys. He pried my car key off the ring and handed the rest back to me. Then he stepped out of the car, walked down the driveway, and took a right on Meadowview. I watched him for a minute and then got out of the car and hobbled into the house.
     
    When my dad returned with my car, I was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping some water.
    “Dad?”
    He held up his hand again. His face was flushed, angry. “Your mother is going to call you.”
    “Mom? Why?”
    He walked past me, stomped up the stairs, and slammed his door.
     
    The phone rang a few minutes later. I was laying on my bed. I considered letting my mom go through to voicemail, but she’d just call my dad and the last thing I wanted was for him to storm into my room and chew me out for not answering.
    “Hey, Mom,” I said,