I’m jittery the whole way. Blake reaches over and puts his hand on my bouncing knee. “Relax,” he says. I’m not sure if Blake’s hand on my knee makes me relax or makes me more tense. I focus on keeping my legs still, but he doesn’t move his hand.Blake is driving fast, trying to get us home before Mom and Dad do. As we get into town I want to tell him to slow down, but I’m afraid it’ll make him mad. Then I see blue lights in the rearview mirror. Blake swears and pulls over, right in front of Big J’s, the only restaurant in town besides the café, and where everyone from the high school hangs out. I slide down into the seat and wish Blake had tinted windows.Detective Weeks gets out of the now-familiar black Charger and shines his flashlight into Blake’s eyes, and then mine. He takes note of Blake’s hand resting on my knee. “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?” Four sophomores gawk at us as they pass beside Blake’s car on their way into Big J’s. I pull my hat down and keep my eyes focused on the dashboard.Blake taps the speedometer, stuck on 100 miles per hour.
