Betwixt

Dale's expression softens as he moves towards me.

"I know you can do this. Just take a breath, close your eyes and walk straight ahead."

"How do you know I'm facing the garage."

"Just a hunch." He shrugs.

I pull in a few shaky breaths then let my arms flop to my side.

"You can do it," Dale says one more time as I stretch my hand towards the wall.

My fingers go straight through the wood and instinct pulls them out again.

"Close your eyes," Dale reminds me.

I do as I'm told and start walking forward.

I can't feel anything so open my eyes to see where I'm up to. I gasp as I realize I'm standing inside the wall. With a little wail, I push myself through.

"Gross! Gross! Gross! Gross! Gross!" I jump around the room like I've just walked through a cobweb.

"Are you in?" Dale calls from outside.

"Yeah." I turn to look behind me and notice a car covered with a huge calico cloth. I'm pretty sure it's Adam's Mustang, but we'd have to pull the sheet off to know for sure.

"Okay, Nicky, now unbolt the door and let me in."

I walk towards it and look at the lock. Thankfully the bolt isn't padlocked. I reach to pull it open, but my air fingers are useless.

"I can't. My fingers go straight through."

"Nicky." Dale is leaning against the outside door. I hear him taking a slow breath, forcing himself not to lose it with my incompetent self. "If you can flick paper, you can open this lock. Now concentrate."

I close my eyes. "Don't sound so patronising, please."

"What do you want me to say? Open the damn lock?"

I grin. "Yeah, that would be good."

Dale snorts out a laugh. "Man, I..."

My eyes go wide as he swallows back his words.

"You what?"

"Nothin'," he whispers. "Just open the damn lock."

"Alright fine, but give me a minute and don't talk." I lift my chin. "I need to concentrate."

A soft thud sounds on the other side of the door, followed by an exasperated sigh. I squash my grin and focus on the lock.

It feels like it takes forever, but bit by bit, I manage to move the bolt until finally it comes free. I stand back from the door.

"Okay, it's unlocked."

Dale turns the latch and pushes it open with his shoulder. Light floods into the room.

Looking at his watch, Dale grins at me. "Ten minutes. Not bad Air Fingers."

"Thanks," I mutter.

Dale's humor vanishes as he notices the car beside us. Lifting the sheet, we spot the midnight blue paint. I gaze at his deep frown lines as he slowly pulls the sheet off. Without saying a word, he squats down by the right bumper, ru

"I'm sorry, Dale."

He shakes his head and stands up, kicking the lower bumper. I move to stand next to him and notice the scratch marks. I run my finger over the slight dent.

"That's where he must have hit me."

"You talking about the dent?"

"Yeah."

I guess I should be feeling happy that we know who it is now. Adam knows where I am, so Dale can now find me. But a quiet sadness settles around us. I don't envy Dale, in fact my heart is breaking for him as I watch his eyebrows bunch together and his brown eyes swirl with disappointment.

"What do you want to do now?"

"Head back to school." He shakes his head. "Kick Adam's butt then make him take me to where you are."

"Okay." I nod. "Should we-"

A ring tone whistle cuts my sentence short.

"Do you hear that?"

Dale looks at me then stops to listen. "Whistling?"

"Ringtone." Fear clips my word, making it come out short and sharp.

Dale's eyes round with surprise and he scrambles to cover the car as we hear the one voice we never expected.

"Sheriff Hutton speaking."

"What?" I can't believe it. He knew. He knew where I was this whole time.

"Yeah. Can it wait?.... No, no I understand.... Uh-huh.... Look just give me ten minutes and I'll be there.... Yep.... Yep.... Okay, bye." The sheriff lets out a short curse then I hear him dialling another number.

Dale waves to get my attention then points to the door.

"Shouldn't we cover the car first?"

He shakes his head and mouths, "Too much noise."

"Where are you?" The sheriff sounds pissed. "I told you to meet me there this morning and you took off to school."

Footsteps draw near to the garage as his voice gets louder.

"This is your mess, son. And I'm helping you out of it. Now I have to head into the station, but as soon as I'm done, you better be outside school waiting for me."

The call ends with a definitive beep.

Dale is just about to step out the back door and make a run for it when Sheriff Hutton appears.

"What the hell?"

Dale steps back, fear fluttering over his features, before he pulls his face into a hard glare.

"What are you doing in here?"

The sheriff looks over Dale's shoulder and spots Adam's car fully exposed. His face blanches and his eyes grow wide. Grabbing Dale by the collar he pulls him outside.

"You're trespassing son and I won't tolerate that kind of behavior!"

"Let him go!" I try to loosen the sheriff's grip on Dale, but he doesn't even feel me. Throwing Dale against the car, he pulls out his cuffs.

"What are you doing?"

Dale doesn't say anything as his wrists are bound with the cold metal, he just has this really dark look on his face.

"Looks like you and me are go

Opening the back door of the squad car, Sheriff Hutton shoves Dale inside.

Dale slumps back in his seat and closes his eyes. His scar burns red and he looks like he wants to throw up.

This is all my fault.

Shit! What do I do?

The car starts to pull away from me and I do the only thing I can think of. Picking up my pace, I run straight into the backdoor and land in Dale's lap. If he's going to jail then so am I.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

"You've been in one of these before, haven't you?"

I gaze down at Dale. He's sitting on the cold bench of a jail cell with his head in his hands. His curls are covering his face and he hasn't looked up once since he's been thrown in here.

His curls bounce as he nods at my question.

I sit down beside him.

"I thought you said you were never caught."

"Yeah, well..." Dale sits up. "Maybe I didn't want you knowing I had a criminal record." He thumps his head against the concrete wall and curses.

"My parents are going to get a call asking them to come and collect their son from jail." Squeezing his nose, he shakes his head. "I promised them it would never happen again."

"This isn't your fault."

"It doesn't matter. I just don't want them to get that call. I can see my mother's expression and hear Dad's disappointed sigh. I used to hate that sound." He thumps his head again. "I should have run as soon as I heard that phone ring."