Marianne by Elizabeth Hammer (best books to read in life TXT) 📕

in front of her and looked up with her best puppy dog eyes. “You’re not going to like it.”

He shined the light down on top of it. “Open it.”

Marianne squatted down as best she could in the dress and unzipped the front pocket where the drugs were. She kept her grip on the zipper and looked up. “Are you going to be mad at me?”

“What’s in the bag?”

Marianne focused on his Santa eyes and whined, “Pot.”

Santa Cop took a step back. “Ma’am, please step over to the curb.”

“What?” She looked over to the place he was spotlighting on the edge of the sidewalk.

“Sit on the curb,” he said.

She looked from the circle of light to him and back again. “You mean...” she whispered, “like a criminal?” Marianne stood up, but didn’t walk over. This couldn’t be happening.

Santa Cop squinted at her—he almost looked sorry for her. He reached forward, took her elbow, and guided her across the sidewalk and away from the bag. Marianne let him lead her over to the curb, and then immediately burst into tears. She clutched at his forearm. “Okay, I’ll sit. I’ll do whatever you tell me to.”

He looked stern again, so she let go of his arm. “Is that your bag?” He asked in his toneless voice again.

“Yes.” She gulped and nodded. “That’s my bag, but the stuff in it isn’t mine.” She stopped to sniff and take a breath. “I mean, most of the stuff is mine, but not the drugs. They’re this other guy’s. He asked me to hold it for—oh, man,” she said, starting to cry all over again. “That’s what they all say, huh?”

“That’s your bag?” he asked again.

How many times was he going to ask her? She didn’t know if cops always did that, or if she was doing something wrong. She didn’t know the customary protocols for getting arrested! “Yes, it’s my bag. But it’s not my stuff,” she said again. “They all say that, huh? They all say they’re innocent.”

“Sit down.”

“Okay, sir.” She nodded. “Okay, sir.” She sat down on the curb and looked up at him. She felt the tears spilling down her cheeks as she looked into those sweet, crinkly eyes. Maybe he’d be nice if she just flat out begged. “Please,” she said. “You can help me, right? Cops are the good guys... you’re going to help me, right? You’ll tell them it wasn’t my stuff and that that douchebag just threw it at me and ran away like the miserable sack of crap he is, right?” Please, please, please.

Santa Cop half smiled at her, but she didn’t know if it was because he was going to help or because she was making a fool of herself.

“You’ll say that, right?” she pleaded again. “To my dad? You’ll tell my dad it’s not mine, yeah?”

“It’ll be in the report.”

“Thank you!” She didn’t think that putting her statement into the report was anything unusual or kind on his part, but she continued to press in case Santa was starting to crack. She also may have been a bit hysterical. “Thank you, thank you. He’ll believe it because it’s in the report, like you said. He knows that I wouldn’t lie to a cop. I mean, who would lie to a cop? You asked me if it was my bag and I told the truth. That’s proof.” Yes, she was definitely hysterical. “Does that count as evidence? Like good evidence? You’ll tell my dad, right? When he comes.”

Dad was going to kill her. He probably knew about this already, what with his psychic-parent powers. “He’ll come...” she moaned. “He’s probably already halfway here...”

Santa Cop looked down at her sternly. “Your father is coming to get you?”

“No. No, my father isn’t coming to get me.” She shook her head and then realized how her words had sounded. “No, wait! No, that wasn’t a lie! I was just saying how my parents are like freaky psychic. And they always know everything I do and everywhere I am. And that if I was getting arrested then they’d feel it, you know? Like the Force? You know? The Force?”

He just stared.

“The Force is from Star Wars,” she said weakly. “They can feel stuff with it. The Jedis.”

He just stared.

“Oh man, I sound like I’m high, huh?” She put her face in her hands and moaned again. “But I’m not, I’m just nervous, you know? Wouldn’t you be nervous if your parents had the Force?” She looked up again.

He nodded.

She nodded back and started crying again.

“Look, honey,” he said, sighing. “I saw that you weren’t holding that bag. I’m gonna keep it, but you can go home, okay?”

“What?” She stared at him in awe.

“I’m not going to arrest you or give you a curfew ticket,” he said. “This time.”

“But...” Marianne looked around the parking lot. “Don’t you have to? Didn’t I break the law?”

He sighed. “How are you going to get home? The bus? You can take your wallet.”

“I guess... I mean, I never took the bus before...” She hadn’t. And it was late. The thought was a little scary, but she reminded herself that this was a good development. She looked up again and nodded. “But it’s safe, yeah? If you said it, then it’s safe.”

“You wanna call your dad?”

“No! I’ll take the bus.” She stood up and dried her eyes on the back of her hands. “And I’ll never, ever let any drugs touch my bag again. And I’ll never stay at the beach past ten o’clock again.”

He looked her straight in the eye. “You promise?”

Marianne looked right back at him and burst into tears. Again. “Mmm-hmm.”

24

My-Newt Mishap

Marianne sat on the floor of Danielle’s living room two days later, folding baby clothes for the Goodwill. Patrick sat at the computer across the room, trying to help Michael with his spy-ware problem. How’d that get there? It’d been seventeen minutes since he’d even glanced in her direction. Click, went the clock. Eighteen.

“Hey, losers,” said Danielle, poking her head inside