“Everything alright.” Officer Mike asked me gently.
I thought of an answer, scanning the faces of pedestrians looking my way, as anxiety filled my guts.
“Ritah!”
“Oh. Sorry Officer Mike. Uhm, what did you say?”
“I was saying, is everything alright? You don’t look normal.”
“I’m fine.” I brush away the blinding hair-lock, “It’s just that, I’m going somewhere and I’m really late.”
 
He looked at me hazily, “Which side?”
“Ah. Montero High School!”
“It’s your lucky day!” He smiled, “Come, I’ll drop you off.”
 
It wasn’t much of a decision to make so to speak. Inside that car, I felt the same intriguing sense of guilt I had back then in Kindergarten when one of my closest friends Ariana died in a car crush.
“So your parents are still at home?”
I was going through last night’s texts when I shouted, “Damn!”
Mike was more than scared.
“Sorry. I just...”
 
Hanging apologies. Hanging answers. What more could make a horny teen I was to be?