Flirting with Boys Read Free

ended with parents coming home and yelling for a while.
    â€œUh…” Travis looked at the cop uncertainly.
    â€œWell, we’ve got to hold him at the station until we can sort out what’s going on here and track down his buddies,” the cop said.
    Travis looked over his shoulder as the cop hustled him toward the police cars at the curb. “Cel—will you come down to the station? I might need bail or something.”
    Celeste managed to nod as she watched Travis’s bare butt cheeks make their way toward the cop car.
    Â 
    Celeste gripped her bag nervously as she approached the beige cinder-block police station on Palmetto Drive. Herpalms were slippery with sweat. Taking a deep breath, she swung open the heavy glass door. It closed behind her with a bang. The place seemed very quiet after the traffic noise of the busy street. An odor of gym shoes and bologna sandwiches hung in the air. Behind a scarred wooden reception desk, a middle-aged cop with gray hair looked up from his newspaper. “Help you?” he inquired, peering over his reading glasses.
    â€œUm, yes, I’m here to see Travis Helding?” Celeste tried to steady her voice. She could feel goose bumps rising on her arms from the arctic air-conditioning.
    The desk officer glanced at a thick sheaf of papers on a clipboard. “Room two. Just go down the hall, second door on the left.”
    â€œThanks,” Celeste said, summoning her Pinyon-employee smile for the second time that day. She started down a long, fluorescent-lit, linoleum-covered hallway. Could this place be any more depressing? she thought, stopping to moisten her dry mouth at the water fountain and noting the wad of old chewing gum stuck in the drain.
    The first thing she saw when she pushed opened the door to room two was Travis, minus the handcuffs and now wearing what looked like orange hospital scrubs, sitting at a table in the middle of the room. He raised his head toward Celeste as she entered and grinned, his usual confidence apparently restored. His eye was now shiny blue-black and almost swollen closed. Even sittingin an interrogation room, he looked adorable. Celeste shot him a worried look and only then noticed the array of people seated against the walls of the room: Mr. Ransick, Dr. Weaver, and—Celeste gulped—her own mom and dad. The police must have called them. A suffocating silence lay over the room, broken only by the ticking of a wall clock. Celeste tried to arrange her face in a pleasant, serious, yet charming expression, but she knew she just looked vaguely stupid instead.
    Meekly, Celeste crept over and took the seat next to her mom. She arranged her bag in her lap. Only then did she peek sideways at her parents. Her mom was shaking her head slowly back and forth with her lips pressed together, but her father…Celeste gulped inaudibly. Mr. Tippen’s heavy dark eyebrows were drawn together, almost down to his nose, and his face was bright red.
    Celeste stared straight ahead at the clock. Twelve fifty-five. After thirty seconds, she slid her eyes over toward her father. He caught her glance. “Hurrrrmm,” he rumbled in his throat. It sounded like a diesel engine echoing against the cement walls.
    Celeste looked at the floor. She’d helped Travis get out of trouble before, but that had been for stupid things like ditching study hall and letting the biology frogs out of their aquariums. Nothing that had involved actual law enforcement.
    The wall clock ticked deafeningly. Twelve fifty-seven. The door flew open and everyone jumped. The mustached cop who had been at the school came in.
    â€œOkay, everybody, I’m Officer Collins,” he said, looking up from a clipboard of papers. Everyone sat up straighter, even Dr. Weaver. Travis folded his hands on the table in front of him.
    Officer Collins seated himself at the table across from Travis, his heavy leather belt creaking with importance, and flipped