Chapter 47 Wrecked
forty-seven
Wrecked
The scene is crazy, like something out of a movie. Rain, police lights, a couple of teenage girls sitting on the curb crying. A hunk of twisted metal—my car.
I park the motorcycle and try to find Tyler. He’s sitting in the back of one of the police cars. I move towards him. Then I see her.
Jess.
I didn’t know she was home.
Her eyes crackle with fire–fire directed at me. I take a couple of steps toward her before she starts yelling.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
I step back. “Me?”
“Street racing, Jacob? Of all the asinine stunts. He’s just a kid.”
I put my hands up in front of me. “I had nothing to do with this. I told him street racing was a bad idea.”
“What did you think he was going to do with your stupid souped-up death machine?”
I catch one cop watching us, like he’s trying to decide if he should get between us or make a bag of popcorn and watch the show.
“I don’t know, go on a date? That’s what he told me he was doing.”
“And you believed him? I don’t buy it. It’s bad enough that you fill his head with your war stories; now you’ve got him street racing.”
Tyler tries to stand up from the back of the police car. He has a bandage across his forehead and his hands are handcuffed behind his back. He’s trying not to cry. “Jess, this isn’t Jacob’s fault. He told me not to. I know it was stupid.”
Now she turns on him. “This is so beyond stupid! What were you thinking? What do you think it would do to Mom and Dad if you got yourself killed?”
“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m sorry.” He sits back down, and she goes to him. Now he is crying. Crying with his hands behind his back and no way to wipe the tears or to blow his nose.
She wraps her arms around him. I step forward and put my hand on her back. At my touch, she spins around. “Don’t touch me, Jacob. And stay the hell away from my family.”
The cop steps forward. “You the owner of this vehicle?” He indicates the twisted hunk that used to be my car.
“Yes, sir.” I walk towards him. I can feel the anger in Jess’ gaze on my back as we walk away.
“This kid have permission to use it tonight?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you know what he was planning to do with it?”
“No, sir. He told me he was going on a date.”
The cop raises his eyebrows, like he doesn’t believe me either. “You are aware of the modifications made to this car, correct?”
“Yes, sir. I made those modifications myself.”
“For the purpose of street racing?”
“No, sir.”
He raises his eyebrows again. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to explain why I did what I did to my car.
I’m not sure there is a way to explain it, even to myself.
I’m stuck somewhere between the cocky teenager I was and the responsible adult I’ve become.
Phrases like contributing to the delinquency of a minor, official investigation and even court martial are running through my head.
I don't know what the penalty is for street racing in Washington or how liable I could be for what Tyler did with my car. The officer doesn’t mention it.
He finishes his questions and asks me if there is anything valuable in the car that I want to retrieve.
The money Jess left is still locked in my glove compartment. I intended to return it to her, but I haven’t had the chance.
The cop escorts me to my car. I take the keys that are still hanging from the ignition and open the glove compartment.
It isn’t easy. The hood on the passenger side of the car is caved in.
There’s less than a foot of room between the smashed roof and the front dash.
If Tyler had been driving with a passenger. .. The thought makes me sick.
I slide the envelope out of the glove compartment and then retrieve the registration and proof of insurance. Jess is talking to another cop. I’m pretty sure this is a bad time and place for me to return the money.
They haul Ty away in the police car. Jess follows. I feel like I should go with them, but she's made it clear she doesn’t want me around. I stay at the accident scene and wait for the tow truck to take my car to the impound yard.
I expect to feel some sort of loss for my car, something that’s been a huge part of my life since I was seventeen. I expect to be mad at Tyler. Maybe tomorrow I will be. Right now all I can feel is sick—sick at what could have happened, sick at what's going to happen to him.
I feel responsible. Maybe, in the back of my mind, I knew what he was going to do with my car. I should have said no, and then none of this would have happened.