Most Likely to Succeed (Superlatives 3)

“You’re on park land,” Sterns insisted. “The line’s right there.” He shone the flashlight toward the palm trees. I had no idea exactly what he was pointing at or how he knew this. Maybe we’d walked far enough that we’d crossed the property line, but we shouldn’t be arrested for trespassing when it had been an innocent mistake.

Well, maybe not an innocent one, considering what we’d been up to—but a genuine one.

“We were on Mr. Moreau’s land,” I insisted. “He’s my best friend’s grandfather. We were with—” I was about to name the other boys, hoping the police would recognize the name of one of them. Surely they’d heard of Brody. Articles about his football performances had filled the local paper lately.

“With her car,” Sawyer interrupted me loudly. “You can check, and Kaye’s car will be right up there.”

I was still standing behind him, so I couldn’t see his face. But he squeezed my hand. He was telling me he didn’t want me to mention the guys. Some of them had been drinking underage, and I’d almost gotten them in trouble.

“Let her put her clothes on,” Sawyer said.

The policemen allowed this. The catch was, they continued to grill Sawyer while I tripped along the beach in my undies in search of our clothing. I was able to shake the sand off my skirt and wiggle into it without much trouble, storing Sawyer’s shorts under my elbow. But our shirts had hit the water. The tide had rolled them in and out and gotten them thoroughly soaked. I washed the sand out of them as best I could, squeezed out the salt water, and buttoned my shirt with my back to the policemen, wondering how in God’s name I was going to explain this to my mother. I slipped on my sandals and snagged Sawyer’s flip-flops. This was not how romantic trysts were supposed to end.

As I walked back to them, Sorrow was asking Sawyer, “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Of course she’s my girlfriend. Look at her.” Sawyer glanced over his shoulder at me and winked. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to reassure me because things were going to be okay, or comfort me because things were very, very bad.

“Do your parents know you’re here?” Sterns asked. We both shook our heads. “Then give me your phone numbers. I’m going to let them know.”

While he wrote on a pad, I recited Dad’s number, not my mother’s, because I wasn’t insane. Sawyer said, “I can give you my dad’s number, but he won’t answer because he’s drunk, and if you did reach him, he sure as hell wouldn’t care I was making out with my girlfriend at the beach legally. But you’re welcome to call Hiram Moreau, whose property you’re trespassing on right now.”

That was a lot of bravado for him to throw around while wearing wet underwear.

“Let’s step up here to the patrol car while we figure this out.” Sterns led the way over to the park while Sorrow fell in line behind us as if we were already jailbirds being marched from one cell to another.

Sterns put Sawyer in the back of the waiting patrol car. Sorrow led me to the opposite side and asked as I sat down, “What’s the make and model of your car? Do you know the license plate number?” I gave him all that information. He closed the door with a frighteningly permanent-sounding thunk, shutting out the roar of the ocean.

“I hope the guys saw the flashlight and left,” Sawyer told me quickly. “Quinn had a joint. I’m about to give them a little more time before the cop walks over there to look at your car, okay? Don’t freak out.”

“Okay,” I breathed. I’d thought I couldn’t be more horrified at what was happening. I was wrong.

“Hey!” Sawyer shouted at the cops. My ears rang.

Sorrow had taken two steps toward Harper’s granddad’s land. Sterns was on the phone. Both of them turned to look.

Sawyer held up his soaked shirt, which they’d thrown into the car with him. He wrung it out. Seawater streamed onto the floor of the car.

The policemen spoke to each other. Sterns put his other hand up to his ear to have a conversation with Dad. Sorrow stormed to Sawyer’s side of the car. “Come here, bro,” he said, yanking Sawyer out.

The door slammed. Sawyer’s body slammed against it. His bare chest pressed against the window. Sorrow moved up and down behind him, searching him, I supposed. Then Sorrow opened the door again and threw Sawyer in, handcuffed.

Sawyer was wearing that blank expression he got when he was beyond fury. He stared out the window as Sorrow trekked off in search of my car.

Shivering in my wet shirt, I said, “I hope Quinn appreciates what you did.”

“It was my fault he was there in the first place,” Sawyer muttered. “I asked him to come.”

It wasn’t Sawyer’s fault Quinn was smoking pot, but I didn’t argue that point. I said, “I’m afraid it’s my fault we got caught in the first place.”

Sawyer’s face softened as he turned to me. “Not everything that goes wrong can be your fault, Kaye.”

“Why would anybody call the cops on us?” I asked. “You had permission from Harper’s granddad to be here. The park is closed, so nobody could have seen us from there. But Tia and Chelsea ran into Aidan at the movie. Chelsea mentioned you were here. Aidan had no idea I would be here. He just wanted to get you in trouble.”

Sterns opened my door. I asked, “Officer, did you hear who called you down here? Sawyer has permission to be here, and the park is closed. I think my ex-boyfriend just wanted to get revenge on Sawyer. If you take us to jail, you’ll be contributing to prison overcrowding, all for nothing.”