“Nolan?” I asked. “Nolan Jackson?”
His brown eyes widened even more, and his face blanched.
“Please just let me go,” he said, his voice still as soft as I remembered it. “I won't do it again. I swear it.”
He didn't remember me.. He'd been young, and I'd only met him a handful of times. Back then, I'd been a lot different too. These days, I was more mature, not nearly as made up and fashion-obsessed as I'd been back in high school. I'd have been surprised if he had remembered me to be honest.
“You know I can't let you go, Nolan,” I said. “I either need to call your folks or the police. I'll cut you a break and leave it up to you. So, what's it going to be?”
Nolan sighed and shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. I almost felt bad for the kid. Still, he was nearing eighteen and if he didn't learn lessons like this now, he was going to end up in bigger trouble down the line.
He stood there shaking his head, not looking me in the eye. It was like he hoped that if he took long enough, and showed me enough emotion, that I'd just drop the whole thing. So, I answered for him.
“I'm going to call your parents,” I said.
“I don't – my parents are dead,” he said.
Those words hit me in the gut like a pound of bricks. I'd known Mr. and Mrs. Jackson – albeit not very well. They were a nice, middle class couple with three kids and a small ranch house out on the edge of town. They hadn't been rich by any stretch of the imagination, but you never got the sense they were poor either. When I'd gone over for dinner – when I was right around Nolan's age, actually – they'd welcomed me with open arms. Mrs. Jackson had baked an apple pie after Shane had mentioned it was my favorite. They were incredibly nice, considerate people.
A lump formed in my throat, and tears welled in my own eyes. I stood there, rooted to my spot, my throat as dry as the Sahara. I wasn't sure what to do.
“I'm so sorry to hear that,” I said, my voice soft. “What happened?”
“Car accident,” he mumbled.
He looked up and then quickly looked away, staring at the floor he was standing on, as if he was counting the tiles. He scratched his chin and slowly looked up at me, defeat and fear plainly etched upon his face.
“So I guess that means you're going to call the cops, huh?” he asked.
I didn't want to call the cops. Getting Nolan in trouble with the police was the last thing I wanted to do. He'd lost enough already and starting him on that path with the cops – the path where he'd be labeled a troublemaker and constantly harassed – didn't seem fair.
“What if I called your brother instead?” I asked. “Would he come get you?”
Nolan nodded.
“Fine, give me his number then,” I said.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number as he recited it for me. It rang a few times and went to voicemail. Probably because he didn't recognize the number. So I left a message.
“Hey, Shane. It's Piper. Remember me from high school? Yeah, probably not,” I mumbled. “Anyway, funny story. I have your little brother here at C&S, the convenience store over on Willow and 10th? Yeah, well, he tried to steal some potato chips and I don't want to call the cops, so I need you to come pick him up.”
I left my number, along with the store number, and hung up. I stared at Nolan whose eyes were wide and frightened. He licked his lips nervously and I could see his hands trembling.
“If he doesn't call you back, then what?” he asked.
“Why don't you call him on your phone?” I said.
Nolan looked down at his hands. “I don't have a cell phone.”
“Oh,” was all I could think to say.
I felt stupid for assuming all teens had a cell phone of their own these days. It really put me in a tight spot though. I pondered what my next move might be if Shane didn't call me back, since I couldn't keep the kid there forever. As I stood there deliberating, the bell on the door chimed as another customer entered the store and started looking around. I had to get back to the front.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I answered it.
“Piper? Is that really you? Did you think I wouldn't remember you?” Shane laughed.
A smile pulled at my lips at the sound of the familiar voice. “Well, you never know. It's been a while,” I teased.