Collision Course

What the Hell Happened to Me?

I woke from my dream with a fogginess in my head. The moments of the dream were slipping from me but I tried to hold on to them. Darren and Sammy. I closed my eyes and committed what details I could to memory - joking around with Darren, him teasing me again, him concerned for me, him wondering what had happened to me. What had happened to me?

I opened my eyes and looked around my filled with light bedroom. By the looks of things, I'd slept 'til nearly the noon hour. My head felt better...thick, but better. My limbs felt heavy with sleep, but I stretched them out and attempted to work out the kinks. Memories of the pep rally filled my brain over the memory of my dream. I'd seriously made an idiot of myself.

Sighing, I sat up in my bed, stretching my arms over my head. I was sore and stiff...and so thirsty it hurt to swallow. I stood up and my head swam. I stayed perfectly still until the rushing feeling passed. I had no idea what had been done to me yesterday, but I knew I didn't do it. As I took small, calculated steps to my door, I ran through a list of people who'd love to embarrass me. Unfortunately the list was exceedingly long.

By the time I shuffled my way to the bathroom, I had a list that consisted of a third of the high school. That wasn't helping. Leaning over the sink, I turned on the water and forgoing a cup, held my head under the sink, letting the cool water hit my tongue and nearly sighing at the joy of the hydrating liquid coursing down my throat.

Yes, yesterday had been embarrassing...but there were several other ways to embarrass me. That had been a rather elaborate plan to get me messed up at school, and while I'm sure that had been hilarious for my tormentor, that was just a side effect of their true purpose...to get me expelled. Water continued streaming down me, parching my thirst as I thought about that. The school was cracking down on drugs and alcohol. Everyone thought I had a problem anyway, so no one would question me being messed up on school grounds. And now, one more strike and I was gone from that school. Well, at least Josh would love that.

I immediately stood straight and stared at myself in the mirror. Water dripped off my chin and I listened to the surging force of it pouring out of the faucet. Josh. On the list of who not only wanted me embarrassed, but wanted me gone...he was at the very top. But what did he do to me...and how? I tried to think back to when I'd seen him last. It was easy to remember. He'd smacked into me and then sat on my chest until I couldn't even breathe. His words early that morning echoed in my head - 'Have a good day at school...you deserve it'.

That's what he'd meant...he wanted me out.

I shut the water off on the faucet and stared at the few remaining droplets hanging ferociously to the chrome metal. Water...Aspirin. That's when I'd started feeling...different. If Sawyer really did only give me Aspirin, and I believed that she did - she was the only person in that school that genuinely cared for me, then it had to be my water. He did something to my water. But when?

I thought back to when he'd tackled me. He'd held me down for a long time. I'd been more concerned with trying to breathe than what else was going on. Maybe he got Randy to go through my bag, dose my water. I closed my eyes and ran a hand down my face as I remembered picking my bag up from the floor...and putting the contents back inside. I'd assumed they'd fallen out from slipping off my shoulder, but a lot had fallen out. It really made more sense that someone was rifling through it. I used to eat lunch with those guys all the time. Randy would have known I always had water with my lunch and I usually saved some for after school. They used to tease me about it - that I couldn't even down a water.

I clenched my hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall next to the mirror. I heard the plaster crack and felt the pain jolt up my arm, but I ignored it. Josh must have figured that if he hurt me enough, I might take something with my water. Truly for him it was a long shot that it'd actually work...that I'd actually drink it at school, but odds were, I'd drink it somewhere and I guess he'd hoped I'd get busted by someone; the school's new policy was being messed up anywhere...it happening at school, at a pep rally, well, that was just a happy bonus for him. Fucking Josh and his fucking vendetta. Darren would have his ass if he knew what he'd orchestrated against me.

I didn't know what to do about Josh now. A part of me had hoped that somehow, over the course of time, some of our old friendship would come back. A part of me hoped beyond anything that he'd stop hating me. I'd wanted to talk to him on several occasions, but his baleful glares or cruel words had always stopped me. He didn't want to talk, he wanted to fight. So now what do I do? I really didn't want to fight with a friend...but then, we really weren't friends anymore. If yesterday was showing me anything, it was that I was failing at not letting him engage me, and in my current mood, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to not engage him. If he kept this up, I wasn't sure what I'd do, and that thought didn't thrill me.

God, I just needed one more year. Less than that, really. I could be out of this town by summer.

I removed my fist from the wall and guilty looked at the cracks in it. I'd have to fix that before Mom noticed. I gingerly opened my hand and looked at my raw knuckles. I ran a finger over them, wiping a smidge of blood away. Great. I turned the faucet back on and washed off the blood. Harming inanimate objects wasn't going to help anything. Hastily, I finished up in the bathroom and then shuffled my way out to the kitchen for food. I was starving.

I walked slowly through the living room, looking around for my surely angry parent. Not seeing her, I cautiously continued on into the kitchen. I peeked my head around the corner, but didn't see her there either. Curious at her absence, I headed to the fridge. Plucking a note off the door, my curiosity was instantly squelched.

'Had to go into work to cover the hours I missed yesterday. Eat something. I love you, Mom.'

I sighed and read the note again. Guilt washed through me that she had to work this afternoon because she'd missed her shift at the diner last night. She didn't get paid time off and we couldn't afford even a few hours without pay, so she went in on what was supposed to be her day off, to make up the hours. Because of me.

I sighed and put the note on the counter. Nothing in it sounded angry. No 'we're talking about this when I get home'. No 'you are grounded, so no leaving the house'. Nothing. Just, I love you, eat something.

Once again, Mom was going to let this slide. I sighed noisily as I went about making myself a sandwich. Mom may let this one slide, but the school was not. I was out of there for two weeks. I had to smile a bit and shake my head that being released from the obligation of school was considered a punishment...but then I frowned. Two weeks without school meant two weeks without Sawyer. She couldn't skip with me, and she might already be in trouble with her super strict parents for being so late in coming home, waiting around school for so long with me. They may have even grounded her for that...which meant I really wouldn't see her for quite a long time. I wasn't sure if I could handle that. I may have crossed the line in our friendship, but I'd meant it when I'd said she was my best friend. She was...and I was going to miss her.

I finished making my peanut butter and jelly sandwich and shuffled into the living room to eat it. My head felt marginally normal, if three times too big for my body. I found if I sat still and didn't move much, it wasn't so bad. I turned on the TV while I ate at a snail's pace, trying not to move and trying not to think.

I'd finished my meal and was getting lost in the simplicity of some cheesy tween show, when a soft knock sounded at the door. I looked down at myself, at the lounge pants and ratty t-shirt that Mom had helped me change into last night when she'd gotten me ready for bed, and sighed. Nothing like a nearly grown man needing help changing. I pushed aside that humility and stood up, deciding that I was decent enough to answer the door. It was probably just the mail anyway.

Walking slowly and carefully, each step meticulously plotted before being executed, I finally made it to the door as another soft knock echoed through it to me. "Hold on," I muttered as I turned the knob. Expecting to see our squat mail lady, with a frazzled look on her face and a stack of mail too big for our box, I was beyond surprised at seeing Sawyer standing on my step, rubbing her hands together and shifting her weight nervously.

I smiled and opened the door wider. "Hey...what are you doing here?"

She returned my smile and twirled the ring on her thumb, a habit she sometimes did when she was nervous. I frowned as I wondered if I made her nervous. How badly had I messed things up yesterday?

"I wanted to make sure you're okay?" Her pale eyes ran over my face, studying me like my mom sometimes did.

I shifted my weight and noted the heavy feeling throughout my body...and the return of my thirst. "I'm fine, I guess." I shrugged and she frowned, but nodded.

An awkward silence built up as I stood in the door and she fidgeted on the steps. Finally she muttered, "Well, okay. I just wanted to make sure..."

She started to turn away, to go to her car, when I reached out and grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked back at where we were touching and then up at my face. I couldn't read her expression, but I hoped she was okay with the contact. "Wait...will you, will you stay with me for a little while?" My brows scrunched hopefully as she looked me over. It would be so nice to be with her for a little bit before our forced separation.

Finally, she nodded and stepped forward. "I guess, for a little bit. My parents had to run out of town on an errand, so I have a few hours before they send a search patrol out for me." She raised one corner of her lip and I got the feeling she was only half teasing.

I relaxed my grip on her and stepped back from the door, so she could enter. "My mom is gone too...so you don't need to be nervous about running into her."

She nodded as she entered my house and a part of me thrilled that she was finally inside my home. She looked over things as she entered - photos on the wall, knickknacks on the shelves, the mismatched furniture. I followed behind her as she made her way to the living room couch and motioned for her to sit when she looked back at me uncertainly.

She shrugged out of my jacket, slinging it over the side of the couch, before she finally did. I carefully sat next to her, my head and body still feeling the effects of yesterday's multiple abuses. Suddenly I remembered my aching thirst and I looked over at her.

"I need some water...do you want anything?" She shook her head and continued looking over my home while I slowly stood back up and got a large glass from the kitchen. When I sat back down, she was picking at the sleeves of her shirt but a soft, genuine smile lit her lips. I smiled in kind at seeing it...and at seeing her on my couch. "I'm glad you came over. I'm glad you finally came inside." I raised an eyebrow, or tried to anyway, and she laughed quietly.

"Yeah, well, yesterday was..." she pulled at her long sleeve and studied the fabric of the couch in the space between us, "...weird." She looked back up at me and I felt my cheeks heat in remembered embarrassment. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

As if her words had reminded me of my body's situation, I took a long drink of my water. Her eyes watched my every move as I tilted it back, taking as much as I could. The cool liquid relieving my ache reminded me of my revelation in the bathroom. As I removed the glass from my lips and set it on the coffee table, I sighed softly.

"I know what happened to me."

"What?" she immediately asked.

I looked over at her and her long, dark hair flowing over her shoulders. I had a strong desire to tuck a strand behind her ear, but I locked my hands together and leaned over my knees, resisting that urge. I didn't want to mislead her...anymore than I knew I already had.

"Josh," I said simply. When her eyes looked bewildered, I filled in what little detail I could. "He had Randy dose my water bottle with...something, while he was busy tackling me in Astronomy. When I drank it later with your Aspirin, I took whatever drug he slipped me. Acid, ecstasy, speed...something like that."

Her eyes widened while she thought about that. She moved closer to me on the couch. "What? Why would he do that?"

"I think..." I looked over her features before I continued, "I think he wants to get me kicked out of school." I shrugged. "If he gets me kicked out...well, my chances of getting out of here would greatly dwindle." I smiled halfheartedly. "He either really wants me to hang around...or he wants to ruin me." I shook my head and stared over at the innocent looking show on TV. "I'm guessing the latter."

Sawyer's hand came up to rest on my knee and I looked down at it and then over to her. Feeling an emptiness starting to overwhelm me, I leaned back on the couch and put my arms around her shoulders, drawing her in for a tight, side-by-side hug. Her arms slung around me, her hands pressing into my back, and she softly exhaled. I swallowed back the sudden emotion...and the guilt that I could never keep our relationship on a not-physical level for very long. I couldn't help it. I needed her so much.

I dropped my head into the crook of her neck and exhaled a stuttered breath that sounded on the verge of tears. I hoped that wasn't where my body was going. I really didn't need to cry anymore around Sawyer...she'd seen quite enough of that. She started rubbing my back and whispering soothing words in my ear. I relaxed under her hands and felt that familiar peace wash over me.

I pulled back slightly and turned my head so we were just inches apart. Her lips parted as she breathed softly on me. I recalled my dream with Darren, him wanting me to go forward with Sawyer and leave Lil behind. I glanced down at Sawyer's lips, so close to mine, the sun sparkling off them invitingly. I remembered the soft warmth of them yesterday, the soft sound she'd made when I'd touched her like that. Her breath stopped as I stared down at the form of those shapely lips. Beautiful lips, really. But different than Lil's...different than what I wanted. I still wanted to be with Lillian, and I couldn't keep playing with Sawyer's head. That wasn't fair.

Those lips started coming towards me and I instinctually pulled back. I glanced up at Sawyer's eyes and immediately saw hurt and rejection there. She started to turn her head away from me and dropped her arms from my back. My hand went to her cheek and turned her back to me.

"You're my only friend, Sawyer. I'm so sorry about what happened yesterday." I held her face gently, making sure she kept eye contact with me. "I'm sorry if I hurt you...or misled you." My eyes flicked between hers as she flicked between mine. "You're my best friend. I don't ever want to lose you...but that's all I can be right now."

Her eyes glassed over, but she nodded and removed my hand from her cheek. She held it in her lap. "I know, Lucas. I understand...about yesterday. I'm not angry...or misled." Since I felt like we'd just almost had another inappropriate moment, I wanted to say more, say something, but she switched topics on me, effectively closing that door, for now. "What are you going to do about Josh?"

I relaxed back into the couch, dropping my head back on the cushion and staring up at the ceiling. Her hand still holding mine, laced our fingers together. I closed my eyes and sighed softly. "I have no idea..." I turned my head and opened my eyes to look at her. "Suggestions?"

She smiled and brought her legs up underneath her, shifting to face me on the couch. "Kick his ass so hard that he'd be too afraid to try anything else?"

She laughed softly and I joined her. "Yeah, I could always try that..."

She stopped laughing and a seriousness blanketed the couch. "Luc...you should tell one of the teachers. Ms. Reynolds maybe? Tell her that he drugged you." Her other hand closed over our still laced together fingers and she gently squeezed.

I looked at our hands for a moment and then I shook my head. "Why? You know how they see me. They wouldn't believe me. Even Ms. Reynolds wouldn't believe me. No one believes me." I whispered that last part.

She sighed and shifted her body to rest her head on my shoulder. "I believe you, Luc."

I pressed my lips into her hair. "Thank you," I breathed.

She stayed with me for awhile on the couch, holding my hand and watching that mindless show on TV with me. I relaxed back on the cushions, careful to not move too much as my head cleared, and continually drinking from my super large glass of water. Sawyer rested her head against my shoulder and a comfortable silence fell between us.

I watched her from the corner of my eye while we rested together. She'd occasionally adjust her head against me, her dark hair flowing down my arm as she snuggled closer into my side. Her fingers against mine were warm and dry, comfortable. Her other hand played with a frayed patch of denim on her often worn pair of jeans and her toes, just showing from underneath where she'd tucked them under herself, unconsciously drew patterns in the couch. She seemed completely comfortable and relaxed here with me, and I relaxed in kind, happy that I hadn't messed things up too much with my impaired mind yesterday.

She noticed me seemingly checking her out and pulled back to look at me. "What?" she asked as she looked over herself quickly.

I smiled at her reaction and shook my head. "Nothing. I was just watching you." She looked back at me with an odd, almost appraising look and I quickly covered my, once again, could be misleading statement. "This is nice. Why haven't you wanted to hang out with me here, before today?" I cocked my head as I watched her reaction.

She pulled back from my shoulder and bit her lip. "I have wanted to...it's just..."

"My mom?" I asked, as I shifted slightly to better face her.

She shifted as well and tucked her long hair behind her ears. "No...not really." She looked down and sighed, and for a moment, I thought she wasn't going to explain it to me. That would be fine; I still wouldn't press her for details she didn't want to give. Just when I was about to pull her back into my shoulder, so we could keep watching TV, she looked up and answered me. "I did something really stupid with an even stupider guy, and I'm trying..." she looked away from me, "I'm trying to be smarter." She looked back at me and frowned. "Sometimes, I don't feel like I succeed at that."

I frowned, my mind suddenly full of questions. "You don't...you didn't want to be here with me, because you thought..." I wasn't sure where to go with that and I let my sentence trail off.

She looked over my confused face and sighed. "I always wanted to come in, Luc, really, I did...I do. I just didn't want to get too fond of you," she looked down and picked at a strand of fabric on her knee, "if this wasn't going to last."

"Hey...Sawyer..." My hand started to reach up for her cheek but she looked up at it and I paused in my reach while she stared at my hand.

I dropped it when she looked up and met my gaze. "I know you're hurting, and you need someone around, Luc." She shrugged. "I just wasn't sure if that would always be me."

I shook my head, not even able to comprehend that. Why wouldn't I want her around? I always wanted her around. "Sawyer, you mean every..." I couldn't finish my emotional thought and let it die between us.

She cocked her head as she watched me struggle to find something compelling to say to her. "Besides, my dad really wouldn't let me come over. They wouldn't even like me being here now, on the weekend." She shrugged, like she was just used to how protective they were.

A bit of the tension that had been building in the room faded away, and I let my more emotional thoughts drift off with it. Embracing the semi-playful look on her face I said, "Why are your parents so strict with you?" I raised an eyebrow mischievously. "Besides hanging out with me, you seem to have good judgment."

She laughed a bit at my statement and leaned into me. "Well, remember the stupid thing I did?"

I frowned as I thought back to her earlier comment. "With the stupid boy?"

She nodded. "Yeah..." Then she frowned and a deep sadness marked her features. "They moved me out here because of what I did. They both gave up a lot to do that, and we didn't have a whole lot to begin with." She ran a finger over her holey jeans and sighed. "I messed up a lot for them, and I just...I don't push it." She looked up at me and sighed while I frowned. "I deserve their strictness."

Without meaning to, I muttered, "What did you do, Sawyer?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, obviously not wanting to talk about it. "I made a mistake," she finally whispered. She raised her eyebrows at the end of her sentence like I should understand that. And I did. If anyone understood mistakes...it was me.

As her eyes started to water, I dropped the conversation and pulled her tight to me. I felt her silently cry against my shoulder and cradled her head with one of my hands while the other clutched her back firmly, pulling her even closer.

"It's okay, Sawyer...I understand."

I didn't understand the details, but I understood the emotion. Whatever she'd done, had uprooted her family and put her under near house arrest. Whatever she'd done, hurt her and continued to hurt her. Whatever she'd done, made her feel out-casted from the rest of our school. And whatever she'd done, had probably been a huge reason why she and I had bonded so quickly. She really did understand my pain and loneliness. She'd felt her own version of it.

I held her a bit longer and then wiping her eyes, she pulled away from me, saying her parents would be home soon and she needed to go. I nodded and walked with her to the door, handing her my letterman's jacket before she opened it. She smiled as she slipped it on and I smiled watching her. I didn't know all of her story, just like she didn't know all of mine, but we needed each other anyway, and I liked that it was a mutual feeling.

I waved at her as I watched her drive away, then I sat back down on the couch and avoided moving and avoided thinking. I sort of managed both.

The rest of my afternoon was dull and unproductive. Well, I suppose I did eventually fix the cracked wall in the bathroom. I didn't get around to it until after my mom came home, but she didn't say anything about it if she saw it. She didn't say much of anything, really. Just that she loved me and if I ever wanted to talk to her about anything, she was here for me.

I took that to heart, but still decided to keep my demons to myself. She didn't need to know the things I knew. She didn't need my memories haunting her, like they haunted me. I smiled, and remaining silent on all of the painful subjects that swirled around in my head, kissed hers, while we set about making a more substantial dinner than my usual Hot Pockets.

She talked about some of her nicer customers while we ate our meal. She always only mentioned the nice ones to me, both at the diner and the hardware store. She usually held back anything painful, and a split second after I wished she'd open up to me, I realized just how alike we were. I didn't ask her to spill her secrets, and let her keep her own demons, just like she usually let me keep mine.

Between a forkful of food, she casually tossed out, "I saw the sheriff today at the diner. He says hello."

I smiled softly and nodded, resuming my eating while I thought about that. Sheriff Whitney had been the first one to find me that night. I don't know how long I'd lain in that ravine, in and out of consciousness, but his voice calling down to me had been as miraculous to me as the fact that I'd managed to live through that ordeal with only a few scrapes and bruises.

He'd scrambled down to me, immediately prying open my door and checking my pulse. I'd weakly looked over at him, at his silver hair and silver-blue eyes. He'd looked almost unreal to me at first. Of course, my vision had been swimming in and out as icy shock had flooded through me. But I'd still taken in the tan, crisp uniform, splotched with mud, his knees even saturated with it, like he'd fallen a few times on the way down to me, and the impressive black belt, holding his cuffs and gun. As I'd stared at the silver cuffs, I'd wondered if he'd use them on me when he shoved me in the back seat of his car, for surely, he'd arrest me. Lil's beer had spilled all over the seat, soaking my jeans, and I knew I reeked of it.

But he hadn't. His face softened with sympathy as he checked my vitals. Then he'd told me, "Everything will be alright, Lucas. I'll take care of you."

I'd had no idea what that meant at the time, and honestly, I still didn't, but he'd moved away from me then, checking on my friends while calling for help again on his radio clipped to his shoulder. I'd closed my eyes so I wasn't tempted to watch him examine Lil. I'd already seen her. I'd already shed tears for her, a lot of tears. I didn't want to do it again.

The shock kept me in a sort of frozen numbness as I waited for the ambulance to get me out of there. With Sheriff Whitney's help, the paramedics managed to get me back up the steep hill in some sort of odd stretcher thing. As they were about to close the doors behind me, I looked back at the sheriff watching me with an intensely sad expression.

"My friends?" I whispered.

He closed his eyes briefly and then shook his head at me. That's when the numbness of my shock induced state wore off. That's when I'd started sobbing. I think I sobbed all the way to the hospital.

I sighed as I peeked up at my mom. She had a soft smile on her lips as she ate her dinner. I suppose to her, the sheriff was a happy memory, he did sort of save my life, after all. I picked at the food on my plate while I thought about the next time I saw him...later at the hospital. I don't know how long I'd been there, but I'd been tested and scanned, poked and prodded. An IV of some fluid was dripping into me, and I could barely keep my eyes open as I'd laid in my sterile bed, while my mom sat beside me in a chair, holding my hand, eyes red and bloodshot from crying. I'd lethargically looked over at him as he'd entered the room, still looking muddy and disheveled. He'd met eyes with my mom and walked over to gently put a hand on her shoulder. Looking back up at me, he exhaled softly, his eyes overly moist.

"I'm sorry, Lucas. We tried...Miss Tate was already gone." He looked down while I swallowed back more tears. Tate...that was Lillian's last name. He looked back up again and continued in a thick voice. "We found Mr. McCord and Miss Carter not far from the wreck...they were both unconscious, barely alive."

A surge of painful hope went straight through me - Darren and Sammy were alive. My mouth dropped open to ask where they were, how they were, if I could see them, but his face shut off my questions. He had fallen into despondency and my mother beside me gave a soft sob. I shook my head while he gave me news I didn't want to hear. "Miss Carter...died, shortly after we found her. There just wasn't anything we could do for her."

A tear leaked down my cheek...not Sammy. I closed my eyes and prayed that he'd tell me Darren made it, that I wasn't alone, that I hadn't killed them all. Please don't take them all.

A soft exhale met me and my entire body tightened in anticipation. "Mr. McCord...had several internal injuries. We thought he might still..." I peeked my eyes open, my body shaking with tension. Sheriff Whitney's face looked worn and haggard when he met my gaze. "He died in the ambulance, Lucas. I'm so sorry...they're all gone."

I shut off my memory of breaking down into near hysterics after hearing the fate of my friends. Even so, flashes of screaming, crying, yelling and trying to damage anything around me, filled my head. I'd been so wild with grief, that the sheriff had had to restrain me, pinning my arms down on the bed. I'd had no control over myself...but, how often do you hear that three of the people you love most in the world are gone? Hopefully, not very often.

I looked away from my mom's soft smile and pushed my half eaten plate from me. I couldn't finish it now; my appetite had vanished with that last memory. Softly, I excused myself and stood from the table. Mom looked over my face, concerned, and asked if I was alright. I lied and told her I was, that I was just full, and then slipped on my jacket and walked out the back door.

I sat on the back step and stared at a football in the yard. It was the ball from my dream with Darren. In reality, it had been out here. I picked it up and gripped it in my hands, relishing the familiar feel of it - the ridges under my fingertips, lining up automatically in the correct spot, the bumpy texture of it, sending more pleasant memories my way. I flexed my arm and faked a pass, keeping the ball in my hand, but allowing my body to remember the instinct of throwing. It relaxed me and I did it a few more times.

Sheriff Whitney. I wished Mom hadn't brought him up. It wasn't his fault that I associated him with something so horrid, but I did. He was actually a very nice man and was one of the small handful in this town that believed me. Of course, he was a man of facts, and my blood had tested clean so - boom - innocent. If only everyone else could be so easily convinced.

He'd visited a few times over the summer, mainly talking with my mother in the living room while I was curled up in a fetal position on my bed. But he did stop in and tell me everything would be fine, and eventually everything would get better. He always put a reassuring hand on my shoulder and spoke in that soft voice reserved for those on the verge of an emotional collapse, which, I suppose I had been. Maybe I still was.

I tossed the ball in the air a few times and nimbly caught it. Sheriff hadn't charged me with anything. Not manslaughter, not reckless driving, not an MIP...not even a speeding ticket. The town and even some of the deceased's families (Josh in particular), had been in an uproar about that. They all felt I was guilty, and had basically gotten away with murder .The general consensus from the town for me being let go, without even a wrist slap, was my mother. Most people felt that I wasn't being charged because the town liked her, had a soft spot for her even. People sympathized with her situation and didn't want her to be punished any farther, for her reckless son's, reckless behavior.

I don't know if that was true or not. I didn't know the legal system well enough to know what the sheriff could have charged me with anyway. All I knew for sure, was that I wasn't being "legally" punished, and I did feel horribly guilty about that.