by Karla Luna
Mel’s jade green eyes widened as she leaned forward. “Hey, you’re right.”
Continuing our brilliant discourse on uneven butt cheeks, we compared it with other various human body parts. Before we knew it, the boring speech about Australian legislation and upholding the law seemed distant as we got lost in our own giggles.
“Officer Brandy, I think Miss Montgomery just volunteered for the demonstration.”
Realising I had sunk half way down to the floor in my own laughter, I straightened in my seat, eyes wide. “What?”
Mrs. Coleman was this cranky, old woman, who allegedly had voodoo dolls stuffed in her teacher's pigeon hole. Her dull grey eyes seemed to taunt me with mocking satisfaction as she nodded towards the stage. Thin lips curled into a wicked grin as I grumbled something in gibberish and trudged onto the stage.
I stood between the officers and waited for further instructions. They both smelled like strong coffee and being so close up, I could see a collection of sprinkles on one of the policemen’s moustache. My eyes fell down to his chest and caught sight of his golden name tag. His name was Officer Brandy.
“And we need one more volunteer.” His deep, booming voice echoed through the large space of the auditorium.
Instantly, everyone tried not to make eye contact. Being up on the podium meant each and every student was exposed to my examination. Guys kept their gazes anywhere but in the direction of the supervising students; up at the ceiling, down at their shoes, across to their friends. The girls had the same idea, hiding behind curtains of hair or suddenly finding an interest in their pleated skirts.
“I think Ryder Collins is interested.” The icy tone of Mrs. Coleman sliced through the tension.
At the start of high school, Ryder Collins’ popularity came with his varsity jacket, the same way girls got their popularity from their bras. And now that I think about it, when you’re twelve and just started high school, I’m not particularly sure how ‘cool’ you could get. At first, I didn’t think it would affect our friendship. But after three months of being on the footy team, he decided to use his position to hoist himself up on the highest possible level of the social ladder. He’d been bathing in fame ever since, while I had been trying to avoid the smallest attentions.
Ryder tossed a filthy look of disgust to his friends, got up and walked towards the stage. He was one of the very few male students that could pull off his uniform. Who would have known clip-on ties and pinstripe trousers could look good on someone under twenty?
I’d like to think that I bloomed in high school too, that I developed into a sophisticated and beautiful woman. But really, I was just as awkward and average as I was when I first started It was completely infuriating because Ryder was poster boy material. This only added to the uncomfortable tension between us.
“Great,” Officer Brandy announced, clapping his meaty hands. “Now, as I was saying, the local police department has designed a new pair of handcuffs. They’re made out of metal that is up to three times stronger than the original material, and as you can see, has thicker links.”
I watched as he held up the handcuffs and the group of students eyed it in surprising curiosity. He had managed to capture the attention of the class as the jaws of the open cuffs dangled from his fingertips. Thinking it was stupid that everyone was so mesmerised by a pair of handcuffs. I snorted. Ryder must have had the same thoughts because he made an unattractive sound of dissatisfaction, too.
“This particular pair of handcuffs was designed for our plus-sized criminals, so it has more links,” he continued, sliding his thick fingers down the long chain. The additional five links were hardly impressive, but by the way Officer Brandy was admiring them, you’d think they were solid gold. “The great thing about these new and improved cuffs is that they’re just like houses. Only one key fits per pair. Now, this is only a prototype, so we’re extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to feature it on this particular demonstration.”
Excited murmurs came from a few members of the audience. Even Mel looked mildly interested. But then I realised she was only excited because Officer Brandy was now circling the stage. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he grabbed hold of my right wrist and snapped on a handcuff. The metal was warm from his hold as it clicked into place.
“What are you doing?” I asked, wide eyed.
Mrs. Coleman instantly scolded me for addressing a policeman in such an accusing manner. But I could hardly concentrate on what she was saying, because Officer Brandy had secured the other handcuff around Ryder’s left wrist. Panic washed over me, drowning me in complete terror. I looked down at the piece of silver that connected us together and directed my gaze to meet Ryder’s faded blue eyes. He looked just about as freaked out as I did.
“Garret, can you please grab the hammer?” Officer Brandy asked as he gently steered us towards a table. “Kids, place your hands on the table.”
“We’re going to die,” I whispered, all sorts of terrible thoughts running through my mind. My stomach tightened to a squeeze and a bitter taste formed in my mouth.
When the hammer was in Officer Brandy’s hands, the audience seemed to be holding its collective breath as he lifted the tool into the air. When he slammed the hammer down against the woodwork table with force, a loud, sharp bang of impact echoed through the room like a gunshot. It scared me so much that my heart could have just fallen straight out of my butt. To emphasise his point, Officer Brandy continued to beat the hell out of the metal links that joined Ryder and I together.
After another ten seconds of deafening hits, he placed the hammer down with a clatter and held up the undamaged chain. Impressed claps and a couple of cheers erupted from the students. Even Ryder’s entourage seemed pretty impressed and didn’t bother to conceal their interest behind their cool expressions. Admittedly, if I weren’t contributing to the demonstration, I probably would have been attentive too, because other than the police, the most exciting thing that had ever happened in these career talks was when the science department from the local university made elephant toothpaste. It was something we were all shown in year seven, but that didn’t make it any less entertaining.
The bell rang not long after; it was the sweet chime of freedom singing into my ears. As the teachers stood to keep the students tame and explain further instructions, Officer Brandy gave us a grin.
“Thanks for helping out with the demonstration, kids,” he said, grabbing his foam cup of coffee and taking a quick drink.
Ryder, obviously getting impatient, held up his wrist, and the chain that bound us yanked my hand up with his. “Can we please go now?”
Officer Brandy lowered the cup from his lips and made a sound of agreement. He placed the cup back onto the table and fumbled around in his pockets. All his pockets. His bushy brows knitted together as he patted himself down and each time he reached in and came out empty handed, my stomach squeezed in both irritation and panic. “Garret, do you have the key?” he called, looking over at his partner. Garret, who had been talking with a few eager students, turned. Shaking his head, he answered, “You had them with you.”
Officer Brandy nodded in agreement. “That’s what I thought. Hey, Drew, have you seen the key?”
The rookie policeman shook his head as he strode towards us, hands digging into his pockets. “No, Sir.”
When Brandy turned to us, he gave us a tight smile. I think it was meant to be reassuring but the way his lips curled, said otherwise. I suddenly felt light headed, my knees about to give way. He didn’t have to say anything. His face said it all.
Officer Brandy had lost the key.
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Copyright © 2014 by Karla Luna
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DISCLAIMER
Please don’t be stupid and kill yourself. This book is a work of FICTION.
It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book.The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher.The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.
About the Author
Born in Mexico in 1996, Karla's dream has always been to become an author and direct her own books into movies. She prefers staying inside to create a better world and likes to pretend her characters are real people. Music is her life, her obsessions are beanies and jolly ranchers, and she hopes to inspire people with her writing and make them happy.