CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER ~ by B.A. Linhares

Zak’s poor little smashed VW is out of my way and I effortlessly maneuver my car out of my assigned spot. I flip on the wipers and headlights and inch toward the school’s entrance. Big fat raindrops fall from the sky and the front parking lot is starting to look like a river. Josh is leaving a message for his father. I suspect he’s already aware of Char’s accident, but not that Char is fleeing the scene––hello––a crime!

Josh clicks off his cell and points up ahead. “What the…”

I roll forward and crane my neck to see what’s up. Billy is pulling out of the line of cars exiting the front gate. They’re on my left and Char turns and looks right at me through the Porsche’s passenger side window.

“I think she wants to talk to me,” I say to Josh as Char rolls down the window. Her face is beet red, she lets loose with a string of choice words—I can hear clearly even with my window up. Billy jumps out in the rain and goes over to the other side of the Porsche. Char jumps from the Porsche and swings her metallic Betsy Johnson purse at Billy’s head, misses, and dents the side of his car. The purse explodes. Char starts bitch slapping Billy. It’s somewhat funny, instead of getting into with her Billy turns and runs away. Char runs after him, takes a flying leap, and jumps on his back. Char’s bold maneuver causes Billy to stumble, once, twice. Billy’s arms shoot out and he regains his balance. Josh and I watch in silent alarm, as things really turn ugly.

I remember reading the football player’s stats listed on the front page of the Parrot. “Brennan weighs like 325. You’d think he would be used to being tackled.”

Char is riding Billy like an electric bull, smacking at his head with both hands. I knew about a couple of fights she and Billy had gotten into over the summer, but this is a doozie. Just as two football players step in and attempt to pull them apart, Billy slips in the mud. They all fall forward and land in the same disgusting mud hole I had to step over this morning. “Ewe.” I make a face. The image isn’t pretty. Char—still in the grip of a guy twice her height kicking and punching at the air—is covered with black mud head to toe.

All Josh says is “wow” repeatedly.

Char bolts and Billy jump in the car on the passenger’s side and locks the doors. Soaking wet Char comes over and stands next to the Mustang screaming my name, “Cookie!”

I hesitate to acknowledge her and look forward. “Josh what should I do? Char can be crazy. I don’t trust her. Should I talk to her?”

Josh is staring past me at something out my window. “Uh, maybe right now isn’t a good time.”

I turn and watch two large police officers in yellow slickers take Char into custody. Billy locks up the Porsche and goes with them. Another cop waves us forward.

I notice Josh’s seatbelt hanging lose and poke him with my finger. “Hey, buckle up.”

We twists in our seats looking out the windows as more police, two fire trucks, and ambulances are arriving.

 “Wow, this is completely nuts!” I murmur, edging the Mustang forward to avoid the unruly crowd dashing around in the rain like crazy people to witness the big scene at Georgetown High School.

“Yeah.”

Keeping one eye in the rear view mirror, I turn the defroster fan and wipers up. A positive thought comes to mind. “Think it will take the focus off us?’

“For the time being.” Josh’s cell phone goes off. “It’s my mom,” Josh whispers while his mom talks on the other end. “She saw the news and was worried.”

I nod my head. Is Pop is freaking too or is he too busy with errands and isn’t aware, yet.

At the school’s entrance, I come to a complete stop and turn on my signal. I slowly let off the brakes about to make a right turn onto 38th. Suddenly out of nowhere, a cross walk guard appears in front of my car. Her cheeks puff out as she blows shrilly on a silver whistle stuck between two red lips, her right arm flies up like a barricade. The oval of her face is just visible beneath the hood of her yellow rain slicker. I shrink, slam on the breaks and come to a dead stop. Luckily I was only going about two miles an hour.

Josh mutters, “Damn! That was close.”

The guard stands there defiantly in the pouring rain, arm rigid, holding a flat hand out at me––as if I might run her down––frowning heavily around the whistle. Her eyes appear huge through her big eyeglass frames make her appear both terrified and miserable.

Trying to convey my innocence, I smile weakly at her through my fogged up windshield and mouth, “We just want to leave.” She ignores me and begins moving between stopped cars, waving her arms frantically trying to direct all traffic to come to a complete stop––ultimately turning the boulevard into a parking lot. Our heads rotate as if watching one of those Xbox 360 movies as we stare at the craziness going on outside the Mustang.

“Her arms have to be getting tired.” Josh says, referring to the cross walk guard–who’s promoted herself to queen of the traffic.

“Yuck-yuck. Great, we’re totally boxed in and you’re making jokes.”

We both bust out laughing.

I feel giddy from all the craziness. “Jeez,” I look around and giggle. “The only time I saw this many flashing, revolving lights was the Christmas Pop had our entire block compete in a yard decorating contest.” We sit there ensconced in my little yellow Mustang and I start thinking about Josh’s kiss that still tingles on my cheek. Gee, this feels awkward. Don’t make a mountain out of a mole hill.

Josh says, “Better shut off the motor looks like we’re gonna be here a while.”

I kill the engine and blow out a breath. “Nobody decorates that much any more. Fine. it uses too much electricity.” More ear splitting sirens emergency vehicles arrive on the scene. I cover my ears. They seem to be coming from everywhere direction. I twist in my seat and watch crazy-cross-walk-lady pound on the hood of a SUV trying to drive by her. A news reporter hops out with an umbrella and starts talking to Principal Bishop. He ducks under the umbrella. I blink a couple of times picturing Char and Billy. “You think they’ll lock Char and Billy up?”

“Nah. Senator Brennan will come to their rescue.”

“True.” After a few more minuets of being forced to just sitting here, I sit up straight, pound the steering wheel with my fist and cry, “Let us go!”

Josh massages his left knee.

I slump back in my seat and hiss, “This sucks!”

“Tell me about it,” Josh says. He leans forward and looks up at the darkening sky. We both swipe the condensation off the glass with our bare hands and gaze up through the windshield. A whirring sound grows louder. A blinding spotlight sweeps the area highlighting the intense rain looking like zillions of clear protracted javelins.

I ask softly, “What is that a UFO?”

“News helicopter.”

I feel someone watching me and look to my left. I jump. The black Mazda with dark tinted windows is along side my car. The driver’s side window comes down. Agent Smith is behind the wheel and the rain instantly saturates his white shirt sleeve. He pulls his head back and Agent Markowitz leans forward to shout over the noise. “Miss. Blakely! Park it on the sidewalk and get in the back seat!”

Gladly. I reach for the keys in the ignition and hesitate. “What about her?” I ask pointing at crosswalk lady. I’m like, hello, these are secret service men.

Both men turn and look at flailing her yellow arms at them. She raps on the Mazda’s hood then backs up to wave a car on.

Markowitz reaches behind his seat and hands Smith a small megaphone. He put it to his face and out the side window. “We are with the FBI, please allow us to pass!”

She lowers her arm and side-steps between our cars. “What?”

Both Agents look annoyed they flash their FBI creds. The whistle drops from her lips. She bends to see the Mazda’s interior, takes their creds, and holds them up to her nose taking a closer look. Finally satisfied, she gives them back and just leaves. Miraculously Traffic starts moving.

“Yeah!”

I fire up the engine and put the stick into drive. I pull up next to the sidewalk in a no parking zone near the mangled fence and kill my headlights. “Yikes. Looks like a huge animal made chew toys of the Lexus and Zak’s Bug.”

Agent Smith taps the horn and yells, “Miss. Blakely! Let’s go!”

Josh scoops up our backpacks.

I rush to lock the doors, turn off the lights and check for anything that we need to take with. “I’ll probably get a parking ticket. Oh well there goes my perfect record.” Wait, what was I thinking? I don’t want to leave my Mustang in this mess. I look over at Josh.

His hand is on the passenger door handle. “Don’t worry. I’ll call my dad. He’ll make sure she’s safe. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stick around and bring you back whenever to get your car.”

If Josh and I were dating, I’d kiss him.

I smile big and get out. We dive into the backseat of the Mazda just as a major bolt of lightning rips a hole in the sky. The rain doesn’t let up. If anything, it’s coming down even harder. I scoot across the seat and fasten my seatbelt with grimy hands. My jeans are filthy too. Agent Smith turns on the interior light and flips the wipers to a faster speed. He eases the Mazda forward. From the backseat, it feels like we’re driving through a giant black wave. I don’t know how he can see to drive. We roll past a gigantic flatbed tow truck, pulsating with flashing yellow lights. The Lexus is moving up the rear ramp like a gaffed whale. Josh and I look back and see Zak’s flatted VW still leaning on the fence like a giant blue Frisbee. I say, “Totaled.”

Josh whispers, “Oh yeah.”

A flash of lighting illuminates the crumpled bumper and the Endless Summer sticker. It reminds me that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, our trip to Florida. I push into the plush leather seat and sing softly under my breath, “Surf City, here I come. Surf City gonna have some...”