Cameron stepped in front of her, walking backward to face her while they talked. Rather, while he talked, and she listened. He looked heartbroken, frustrated. All his flippancy had vanished. Maybe he was coming down from his gin-induced drunkenness enough to express genuine emotion instead of trying to excuse his bad behavior. Maybe Kim’s flirtation had meant nothing to him.
She stopped, smiled despite herself.
Cameron leaned in for a kiss.
A bright light flared, shining in their eyes—a spotlight mounted on one of two patrol cars that had pulled up beside the football field. Both cars parked outside the gate, with two cops emerging from each one, all of them shining flashlights into Allyson’s or Cameron’s eyes.
“What the hell?” Cameron whispered.
The police response seemed way out of proportion to a couple of students leaving a school dance. Allyson wondered if they thought she was buying drugs from Cameron. Or engaging in some other illicit activity.
“Maybe they think we’re planning to rob a bank,” Allyson said, smiling while shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. “We are dressed as Bonnie and Clyde.”
Fortunately, as the cops approached, they lowered the flashlights a bit, and Allyson tried to blink away the afterimages from the bright bulbs. She noted the names under the two badges of the cops closest to them, Ronin and Andrews.
The other two cops waited near their cruiser, ready to lend assistance if needed. Allyson had a hard time envisioning a scenario where she and Cameron would present a problem two seasoned police officers couldn’t handle. Despite their Bonnie and Clyde costumes, they weren’t criminals and were unarmed.
“You guys gotta clear out of here,” Officer Ronin said. “Party’s over! Gotta clear out!”
“Curfew has been put into place,” Officer Andrews added. “It’s not safe! You guys need a ride home?”
Nothing had been announced at the dance, at least not while Allyson had been there. And Cameron hadn’t mentioned anything. “What’s happening?” she asked the police, genuinely curious. “Why aren’t we safe? Why do we need to go?”
“Because I fuckin’ said so,” Ronin replied, apparently not a fan of civilian curiosity. Sometimes people in authority hated having that authority questioned. Not a good trait, as far as Allyson was concerned, for a suburban cop. “It’s not safe to be on the streets. We need you to get home. Now.”
After the cop’s profane response to her innocent question, Allyson shut down. “We were just leaving—”
Cameron interrupted her. “No, we weren’t,” he said defiantly, his judgment impaired by alcohol. Or maybe he always had a problem with authority figures. She hadn’t known him long enough to know his opinion of the police. “Dude. We’re in the middle of a fight and we were at the point of a breakthrough when you shined that goddam flashlight in my face! Why you gotta be dicks?”
“Cameron!” Allyson said. Don’t poke the bear, Cameron!
The two cops exchanged a look, then directed their attention to Allyson.
“You okay, ma’am?” Ronin asked her.
“Who’s your smartass friend? Come here!” Andrews said to Cameron.
Do they think Cameron is harassing me? Assaulting me? That he’s an abusive boyfriend and that I’m in trouble?
“It’s no big deal,” she said quickly, hoping to defuse the situation. “Just an argument. A simple argument.”
As Andrews took a step closer, recognition flashed on his face. “Cameron Elam? Of course. Elams always running their mouths. It’s been about forty-eight hours since we got a complaint about your compound.”
“Oh yeah?” Cameron asked, purposely belligerent.
“You figure out which one is your mom yet?” Andrews asked, smirking. “Kids eating out of a dog bowl. That’s a pretty dress you got on. Your moms dress you up like that?”
Ronin and Andrews laughed.
“They’re costumes,” Allyson said, forcing a smile. “For the dance. We’re—”
“I don’t give a shit, ma’am,” Ronin said, not taking his gaze from Cameron. “This one’s trouble. Pure and simple.”
“Weird family,” Andrews said. “Weird kid.”
Cameron glowered at them. “Go fuck yourself.”
Andrews extended his flashlight toward Cameron. “What did you say?” he asked, any trace of humor now absent from his tone. “What’chu say to me?”
They were baiting him. Why couldn’t he see that?
Cameron clenched his fists at his side, one squeezing the knit beret in his hand as if he wished it were a weapon. “You say anything about my family again and I’ll—”
“I know exactly what you’ll do,” Andrews said. “Assault a police officer. You’ll sit on the roof of your garage and throw fuckin’ rotten eggs and potted meat at me like you did last time.”
Allyson hadn’t realized they had rough history together. And, obviously, cops unwilling to tolerate any hint of someone questioning their authority, or who interpret natural curiosity as a personal affront, wouldn’t have a problem holding a grudge long enough to exact payback when the opportunity presented itself.
Cameron wouldn’t back down. Staring Andrews in the eyes, he said, “I was twelve years old and made you look like a bitch in front of your entire department.”
To Allyson, the whole exchange felt like watching a car accident in slow motion. Though stunned by what happened next, she couldn’t claim surprise.
Officer Andrews grabbed Cameron’s arm, spun him around and slammed him to the turf hard enough to crack his ribs. Cameron grunted in pain, struggling futilely as the cop pressed a knee into his back. “Keep resisting, pal,” Andrews said. “Give me an excuse to break your arm.”
Allyson noticed movement from the fieldhouse and turned to see Oscar running toward them, his cape flowing behind him. Farther back, a dozen costumed classmates approached, curious but showing some caution due to the police presence. Some had cellphones out, held up to record whatever happened next. With the police acting irrationally and so confrontational with Cameron, the cellphones might provide enough deterrent to get them to back down. Her classmates would have a record of everything the cops did to Cameron.
With Oscar sprinting toward them, Allyson marveled that Ronin didn’t pull his gun and threaten to shoot him. Or at least taser him. Oscar stopped beside Cameron, who lay face down on the turf, grimacing in pain and frustration. Clearly, he was pissed. Embarrassment didn’t factor into it, even with a group of his classmates closing in. Right then, embarrassment might have helped him keep his cool. But he continued to twist and try to get out from under Andrews’ knee and the painful grip on his arm.
“Cameron?” Oscar said in a casual tone, despite the apparent seriousness of the situation. “What’s up, dude? Are you being misunderstood again?” To Andrews, he said, “This is a heartbreaking case of mistaken identity, Your Honor.”
Andrews ignored Oscar and looked over his shoulder at his partner. “Take him in,” he said. “He’s drunk off his face on school grounds. We don’t have time for this shit.”
Allyson stared at the cops and then at Cameron in disbelief. This night keeps getting better. First Cameron flirts with Kim. Then he ruins my phone. Now he antagonizes the police and gets himself arrested—after I practically begged him to ignore their insults and shut the hell up. What is wrong with him? Hell, what’s wrong with me? How did I miss this?
“Are you serious?” Cameron asked hoarsely. “Are you fucking serious? Allyson!”
Biting her tongue, Allyson turned away. The next thing she said to the cops might result in adjoining cells for her and Cameron.
When Allyson remained silent, Cameron called, “Oscar?”