Tessa and I had just finished crossing Linden Avenue. Each of us carried canvas bags packed with school supplies, the handles digging into our fingers as we headed home. We were talking about classes, teachers, and everything that seemed important when you’re sixteen.
Then a patrol car suddenly jumped the curb so violently that for a split second, I thought it was going to hit us.
The tires skidded.
The vehicle lurched to a stop.
And before the engine had even settled, the driver’s door flew open.
Officer Darren Cole stepped out fast.
One hand hovered near his holster.
His expression was already set.
Not curious.
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