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The Rest of Us Just Live Here Page 39
Author: Patrick Ness

“Hi,” I say, kind of stupidly.

“‘Hi’?” he says, leaning down slow to put his head in the window. “Is that how you address an officer of the law?”

With shock, I recognize him. It’s the cop who came to the school and completely failed to take us seriously when we said we’d seen indie kid Finn being chased by a little girl across the Field. He’s wearing a scarf, which clearly isn’t part of his uniform, and it’s pitch black and he’s wearing sunglasses.

We’re in trouble, I think, and not just being-stopped-by-a-cop trouble.

“I’m waiting for an answer,” he says. His words are clear and strong, nothing like the slightly drunk version we saw in the Vice Principal’s office.

“I’m sorry, officer. I know we’re not supposed to be–”

“No,” he interrupts. “You’re not.”

The flashlight comes on right in my face. I flinch and I hear the cop laugh. He moves it over to Henna, who doesn’t look away. She’s frightened, I can tell, as frightened as me, but she’s defiant, too.

The accident really has shaken the world loose for her. We may be in big trouble here but if we are, she’s going to look at it square on.

She’s never looked more beautiful. And I’m so afraid for her I can barely keep from throwing up.

“You kids,” he spits at us. “With your impudence and your sex–”

“Our what?” Henna says.

“Thinking no one understands you because you’re young. Thinking only you can see the world as it truly is.” He hits the flashlight, hard, on the door of my car. “You know nothing.” He hits the door again, hard enough to leave a dent. “Nothing at all.” Almost casually, he smashes my wing mirror, shattering it.

“Hey!” I say, and the flashlight is suddenly bright in my face again.

“It’s not safe to be out here at night,” the cop says, amusement in his voice.

Still looking at the cop, I try to sneakily raise my hand to the gearshift, wondering if I can gun it and get us out of here–

“You try it,” the cop says. “You just go right ahead.”

“Mikey,” I hear Henna whisper. She’s looking out the back window.

There are policemen all around us. I don’t see any cars besides the first one but there are at least twenty other cops out there, standing in a wide circle around the car, hands on holsters.

All wearing sunglasses.

I’ve still got my hand on the gearshift. Henna and I both glance down at it, using only our eyes. She gives me a little nod. I’m just about to shift it–

When the voice comes. It’s like a whisper mixed with the whine of a buzzsaw. It seems to come from everywhere at once, miles away but also in your head, too.

“Look closer,”  it says, over and over, in scraping words that make both me and Henna wince. “Look closer, look closer…”  The sound is like glass breaking against your skin, you hear it and feel it, before it vanishes, making you feel like someone’s touched you in a wrong way.

The cop turns off his flashlight. I hear Henna breathing, and I reach out in the darkness to take her hand. She must hear me breathing, too, because she’s already reaching out to take mine.

The cop takes off his sunglasses.

In the pitch darkness, his eyes are glowing. Glowing blue. Just like the deer.

All around us in the night, the other cops take off their sunglasses, too. A circle of glowing blue

eyes watch us in the silence.

“Go,” Henna whispers. “Just go.”

I shift into drive, but the cop’s hand shoots in way faster than should be possible and grips my arm, hard enough to hurt.

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