Ticktock Love

[7] Sneaky Friday

Some nights, when I couldn't fall asleep despite my best efforts, I'd put on the extended version of Lord of the Rings and drop off before Frodo even left the Shire.

Not tonight. Tonight the ring could have fallen into the lava a thousand times, and I still wouldn't have slept a wink.

As I tiptoed to my bedroom, tense every time my sneakers squeaked, I almost tipped over the elephant statue which guarded the mid-stair landing. Fear and panic had me paralyzed in place as I listened for any signs of movement. My mother could have slept through the sound of a dozen jackhammers drilling a blast hole, but Maddie was a light sleeper, and it wasn't once that she had snuck into my bed and pressed her small, warm body against my back, whispering about a nightmare that was still haunting her. Luckily, the house remained silent.

The door closed after me, and I let out a grateful sigh. I stroked the soft material I held in my hands like a kitten, half-expecting it to purr. After folding the bull costume and evening out the creases, I safely pushed it in the left drawer of my captain's bed and tucked myself in.

My alarm was supposed to ring at six-fifteen, but I changed it to seven a.m., convinced those extra forty-five minutes would give my teenage face that natural glowing look of seven layers of makeup. I knew I would only get about three minutes to shower in the morning, but it seemed like a solid plan. My mattress was soft, my pajamas smelled of my favorite fabric softener, and my eyelids were becoming as heavy as if a tiny dumbbell was hanging from each of my lashes.

But it didn't last long. On the brink of the dreamland, just as the last imaginary sheep jumped over the wooden fence I knew every chip and detail of, my eyes suddenly flew open.

I had to check. I just had to.

I snatched my phone and detached it from its charger, content with its two-thirds filled battery. As soon as the results showed up, I clicked on the first link and found what I was looking for.

"In the State of Arizona, unlawfully entering a public services facility is considered a class six felony, and it is punishable with up to two (2) years in prison."

My hands turned clammy under the screen light, and I scrolled down a little bit more, ignoring the greasy fingerprint marks on the glass.

"Additionally, the defendant may also face up to one hundred and fifty thousand dollars ($150,000) in fines."

In layman's terminology, I was doomed. In Liz's terminology, a first-degree murder charge was bound to be added to the list of my charges as soon as I had a little chat with Amber.

By the time I exited the tab, the defense attorney's number shown at the top of the website was permanently carved in my mind.

I tossed and turned all night, soaking up every cold inch of my pillow and trying to drift off to sleep again. It didn't work. The mugshot I had envisioned seemed more and more likely to happen, and tears slowly welled up in my eyes, stinging and digging their path to my deepest insecurities.

Criminals got suspended or kicked out of high school. They didn't get accepted to NYFA. And they certainly didn't receive Academy Awards for the Best Screenplay. This prank wasn't going to make me famous – I wasn't Frank Abagnale Jr., and Steven Spielberg was never going to make a movie about my life.

Scenes from the last few hours kept replaying in my head, and I grasped at straws to cope with the visuals. Amber had promised to shred all the forms as soon as she woke up. Her parents, both of them unfortunate victims of the long commute, left for work at the crack of dawn. If I stopped her – if I called her and convinced her to put all those forms back where we found them and somehow made Baby successfully face her climacophobia – maybe we could pretend this had never happened?