We Need To Talk

Close to two hours had passed before Detective Robert returned. What he said a second later was a bit anticlimactic.

"You are free to go," he announced casually, coming in the door.

"What about the charges?" Mr. Reynolds asked.

"No charges."

"What did the witnesses say? And did you speak with the principal?" I asked.

"The witnesses are on your side. Your story matches theirs. As for the school, you will need to take care of it on your own. I spoke with the principal, but I don't think he cares. You've been suspended."

I looked over at Mr. Reynolds. He gave me a no-problem kind of look, "Let me take care of this. You will be back to school by Monday," he said firmly.

Mr. Reynolds was really helping me a lot. I didn't know if it was because he saw an opportunity to make money or if he was truly a good man. Either way, I was grateful.

On the way out, I made sure I shook the detective's hand. "Thank you, Detective Hendricks. I know you went out of your way to speak with the principal. It means a lot to me."

He looked shocked. Of course he would be; getting thanked by someone you interrogated probably wasn't a daily occurrence.

"Thank you" he said quietly under his nose.

We left the police station and after Mr. Reynolds left us his contact information I followed my father to his car and climbed into the passenger seat after he unlocked the door.

He was quiet the entire walk and stayed quiet as he started the car, but as he drove away, he glanced at me briefly, and focusing back on the road, he opened up with a barrage of questions.

"What is with you? You backtalk to a police officer? You make deals with a lawyer? You fight in school? Tell me what is going on. This is not like you, Jack!"

I just looked out the windshield. "I'm the same person, Dad. I just decided to act like an adult."

"Like an adult? Is it about your eighteenth birthday? You think you don't need to do what you're told anymore?"

I turned to face him. "No, Dad. I just decided that life is too short to let myself get pushed around like a rug. Would you let yourself be punched in the face by a stranger on the street, or would you fight back? You were in the army, Dad. I don't believe you would let them hit you."

"You think this is how adult's act?"

"Yes, it is. I was respectful and asked intelligent questions to protect myself, you and Mom from paying an outrageous compensation that would put a strain on our budget. I also made sure to take advantage of the situation, devising a plan with Mr. Reynolds."

Dad didn't say anything, so I continued, "The only time I acted less than polite was when the detective condescendingly treated me like a child at the start. Thereafter, we got along great and I got out of there with no charges. Is that so childish? Fuck, maybe you wanted me to cry?" 

I quickly realised that I had stepped out of my line, cursing like this.

"I'm sorry." I added.

Dad stared at me for a while, then chuckled and shook his head. "You're still just a kid."

Well, for now, this was just fine. Claiming to have come back from the future definitely wouldn't help.

Dad sighed, his face softening slightly and then turning into a look of pity. "Mom's already at home waiting for you. My condolences."

A few minutes later, we arrived. It had been more than five hours since I was arrested.

I could see my mother's car on the driveway, as well as my sister's and her friend Britney's bikes leaning against the wall of the house.

As soon as I stepped through the door, my mom yelled at me and raised her hand to slap me but stopped herself at the last moment, letting it drop to her side.

We sat down in the living room and I told her everything, including what happened in the police station, but she didn't really care. She would keep on saying, 'You shouldn't have fought him.' 'You know better than to fight.' and so on.

I tried to explain to her that this was the best course of action, but that would be met with, 'Jason, will you let your son speak to me like that!?' ( Jason was my dad's name.)

My mom was always all sunshine when everything was alright, but not so much when I did something wrong.

"Jack, you can go. I'll talk with your mom." My dad stepped in after a few minutes of arguing.

I nodded and left the room, but as I walked down the hallway, I overheard Britney speaking in Sydney's room.

I needed to talk to her so I took a step closer to her door.

"...so if you take the derivative of the function and set it equal to zero, you'll find the critical points. Then, you need to use the second derivative to find out if it's the max or minimum." Britney was explaining a math question to my sister.

I knocked on the door.

"What is it?!" I heard Sydney yelling,

I opened the door cautiously and stepped in.

The girls were sitting on revolving chairs at the desk, and they simultenously turned around to look at me.

"What do you want?" Sydney hissed disgustedly at me.

"Hi, Jack. How are you?" Britney greeted me. Her eyes were always serious for some reason. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a pony-tail and she had on a sleeveless top of a light green color. 

"I'm good. Can I borrow my sister for a second?" I asked.

"Now? Can't you see I'm busy?" Sydney replied.

"Yes, now. It's important." I insisted.

She sighed but complied, probably not wanting to make a scene in front of Britney.

"Let's go to my room for a second," I told her.

"Seriously?" she moaned.

"Sydney, this is the most important thing you will ever hear in your life."

She just shook her head, following me.

I could have waited for a better occasion to talk with my sister, however, financial success, material possessions and social interactions can only bring contentment when one is free from concern.

I sat on the chair next to my desk and she took a seat on the edge of my bed.

"Make it quick," she half-assed a rebuke.

"Sydney, I want you to listen to me carefully... and don't ask me to explain, because I can't do it right now. I will probably still get a chance to explain it to you in more detail, but for now, just remember what I will say. Remember it well."

"Gosh, just say it already..."

"Okay," I said, and then I looked straight into her dark eyes, making as serious of an expression as I could.

"On the night that you will graduate high school, a guy called Joshua Jackson will approach you and your friends. He will be a handsome college football player. He will invite you to a frat party at his university. He will be driving a brand new red Ford Mustang Roush 360R... Sydney, do not, under any circumstances, get in that car with him that night."

"Jack, what are you..." she almost cried, her flesh breaking out in goose bumps.