Luna

“Come on, dude, you can’t be serious! Those kids attacked me, I haven’t done anything wrong!”

“Sir, everything you say can and will be used against you. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

My forehead stings. I can feel an open cut there. That must not look very pretty. I haven’t gotten any kind of big bruises ever since I was a little kid. I used to trip and fall a lot. I blame it on my father, I must have gotten my clumsiness from him. And it’s also really cold, I am most likely going to be ill this next week. It always happens.

They put us in a police car. My hands are behind my back, held by metal cuffs that I cannot say are the best feeling in the world. But I know that the harder you pull on them, the more they are going to hurt your wrists. So I don’t do that. The boy sitting next to me on the other hand seems to not know that as he keeps on pulling at the cuffs over and over again.

“That must hurt.” I say, glancing down at his hands. His skin started bleeding; poor thing.

“It does.” He grunts and seems to give up, resting his head back breathing heavily.

I look out the window to see two other cops putting the man we just had an “altercation” with in a different car. Well, I am glad to see he’s also getting the same punishment. A police officer gets in the driver’s seat of the car we are in and starts driving. On the way he starts the radio and hums along to what I assume is Madonna. Strange man.

It takes him only about ten minutes to get to the police station. Oh, my mom is not going to be happy about this. Helping us get out of the car, he guides us towards the opening gates. I have never been to jail before, I wonder if all the storied I heard about this place are true. Well, a night here should be fun.

They leave us in the hallway where another officer keeps an eye on us. Meanwhile, I keep looking at this boy. He doesn’t seem all that old, well, at least not as old as the man who tried to fight him. He looks rather sad. Maybe he wants to talk to someone. I would talk to him, but I do not believe in making small talk. He looks kind of dirty. But now that I think about it, so do I. My clothes are completely drenched and I most likely look like I am homeless. Another thing that would probably give my mother a heart attack.

“What?” He says after a while when he notices me staring at him for so long.

“Nothing.” I say and look away at the officer who stands by the door. He raises his eyebrows but I just shrug.

It doesn’t take them too long to ask us some questions and then send us in a cell. Yes, an actual prison cell. I never thought I would end up here. I guess there is a first time for everything. The other boy keeps on yelling at them, pleading to go home. I am just really calm, I know my rights and I know what I have to do. And the first thing is to not object. As the metal cuffs are finally unlocked from my wrists I sigh in content. It feels a lot better without them. Sitting down on the only chair in the small room, I look at the guy pacing back and forth and whispering to himself.

I look up at the small window that has bars around it. The sky is beautiful tonight, all the grey clouds have vanished and now it looks blue and clear. It reminds me of this one time in summer camp when I fell asleep under an oak tree with the beautiful sky above me. That night I got this weird passion for drawing the shapes of all the clouds I see. To this day I still like doing that. There has never been one that looked the same way as another.

“It’s a beautiful night.” I suddenly say out loud and I notice he stops walking.

“Yeah, I guess.” He replies hesitantly and finally takes a seat on the small bed in the room.

“It’s your first time here?” I ask and look at him.

“Do I look like a criminal or something?” He sounds offended. He shouldn’t be.

“No, I am just making conversation.” I shrug and look back up at the window.

“Well, it is.” He replies after a while.

“Mine too.” I nod and snap a mental picture of the beautiful moon I would like to draw later.

“Why’d you do it?” He asks out of the blue and I glance back at him.

“Do what?” I ask even though I think I know what he means.

“Why did you help me?” He clarifies and I think for a few moments but I can’t really come up with a concrete answer.

“I just don’t like violence.” I shrug and look down at the untied laces from my shoes.

“And yet you kind of helped me beat that guy up.” He shakes his head and frowns seeming confused.

“But did I watch you do it?” I raise my eyebrows at him and he opens his mouth to reply but seems even more baffled than before.

“I-I guess not.” He says after a while and I smile slightly.

“Well, as long as I don’t see it, I don’t mind it.”

After that it’s silent for a while. Again, I take some time to look at this boy. His blonde hair is completely messed up, he has some ugly bruises on his knees that I can see because of his ripped jeans. His cheek is slightly swollen and his face is stained with dry blood. Do I look the same way? I sure hope not, if my mom saw me like this she would most likely have a double heart attack. Looking down again at my shoes, I decide I should tie my laces if I don’t want to trip and fall like I normally would.

I get up and look around. The room is tiny, there’s not much you could do in here. The bars of the cell are really cold when I put my hand on them. So this is what prison life feels like. Well, they sure made it look a lot worse in Prison Break.

“I’m Ashton, by the way.” The boy says suddenly and I turn around to look at him.

“Nice meeting you.” I smile and look back at the guardian that seems to have fallen asleep on his chair.

It looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while. Thank God it’s a Friday night and I don’t have school tomorrow. That would have made the situation a lot worse. I wonder what my dad would think if I called him and told him I am in jail. He would probably think I am joking at first, but when he would actually get that I am in fact not kidding he would most likely laugh. I mean, what I did was pretty stupid so if someone told me this exact story of how I got in jail I would probably laugh too. My mom on the other hand, I’m pretty sure wouldn’t be so amused by the situation.

“How old are you, Ashton?” I ask him the first question that comes to my mind.

“Uh, seventeen. You?” I turn around to look at him.

“A true lady never reveals her real age.” I smile and he chuckles.

“No offence, but to me you look more like a girl rather than a lady.” He smiles back and I shrug.

“I guess you’re right. I am sixteen.” I sigh and he nods.

“I didn’t catch your name?” He says and I smile again, going back to the cell bars.

“Excuse me? Sir, I am pretty sure we have the right to a phone call.” I say loudly so the man would hear me and it looks like he finally snapped out of his slumber.

“I thought that only happens in movies.” I hear Ashton mumble behind me.

“What? A call?” The guard mutters confused. “Oh, yeah, uh… you can follow me, for a phone call, yes.” He nods to himself and gets up from his chair to unlock the gate.

He guides me to a telephone and I dial my mother’s phone number. To say that our conversation didn’t end well doesn’t do it justice. It’s the first time I heard her yell at me in over a year now. Last time was when I completely destroyed the walls from my room by painting different shapes of clouds on them. I thought it looked really pretty; she didn’t seem to think the same way as me. She’ll be coming here to bail me out in about twenty minutes, or at least so she promised.

I am taken back to the cell where I meet again with Ashton who also went to make his own phone call. He looks a lot worse than before. Physically his body is the same, but his facial expression sure looks much more sad than before. I wonder who he spoke to.

“Who’d you call?” I ask and sit back down on the chair.

“My dad.” He sighs and falls onto the bed, rubbing his palms over his face.

“And?” I question, curious about why he seems so sad.

“He said he won’t come bail me out; something about teaching me a lesson. So I guess I’m going to spend the night in jail.” I frown, feeling pretty bad for him. “What about you?”

“Oh, I called my mom. She’ll hopefully be here soon.” He nods and it goes silent again.

To be honest, he seems like a nice guy. I mean, he’s the first person besides my parents or my teachers with whom I had an actual conversation in over three months. I guess you could say I don’t have that many friends. Oh, well, what can I do? Friends eventually betray or hurt you, so why even struggle in the first place, am I right?

“I didn’t get to thank you.” He says. “You know, for basically saving my ass back there.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile and he smiles back at me. Another first in over a few months.

“You’re not curious as to know why he wanted to beat me up in the first place?” He asks and I shrug.

“If you want to tell me, you tell me. If not, then you don’t. I’m not going to pressure you.”

“Oh.” He raises his eyebrows kind of surprised. “Well, I guess telling you wouldn’t be that bad since you kind of deserve to know what you got in jail for.” He laughs.

I mean, I am curious, but I am not about to get my nose stuck into his business. But also if he wants to tell me, I am not complaining. I like hearing stories about people’s lives. It keeps me calm sometimes.

“Well, I’ve been playing my guitar next to this guy’s store for about a week now. And he seems to think that I am killing his business. But, to be honest, his store just sucks. He sells old random pieces for cars. His business is pretty dead anyway, if you ask me.” He shrugs. “And well I really needed to save some money for a new set of drums and even though the guy warned me to not come near his street again, I thought he wasn’t working today. Guess I was wrong.”

“You play a lot of instruments?” I ask.

“Just drums and guitar. Although I play drums a lot better.” He answers and I nod.

“Who taught you?”

“My grandpa. One summer like five years ago he went through his basement and found his old set of drums. And well, ever since I have been playing. But last week it just broke down completely and I guess it is about time I get a new one.” I smile listening to his story.

I wish I could play an interesting instrument as well. The piano is just plain and well, boring sometimes. My mom made me listen to so much Schupert and Beethoven when I was younger, I think I have learned to play the whole fifteen minutes of “Moonlight Sonata”. I have always wanted to play guitar. I’m really curious about it. It looks like such a nice instrument I would love to learn about. Unfortunately, I have never gotten the chance to do it, since my mom told me it is not a “practical” instrument.

“Maybe you could teach me.” I say and he looks weirdly at me.

“Teach you?” He asks confused.

“Yes, teach me. How to play guitar. I have always wanted to do that.” I smile.

“Oh-oh, right.” He nods. “Well, I mean, are you like sure you want to get lessons from me? To be honest I don’t even play that well and do you really want to take guitar lessons from a stranger, like-“ I cut him off before he can even finished.

“Like you said, I saved you. So I guess you owe me, Ashton.” He looks at me for a while and then slowly nods again.

“Right. I guess I do.” I smile content with that answer. “Well, could you like give me your phone number or something? I don’t know how else I could possibly contact you.” I nod and quickly hurry back to the cell gate.

“Hello, excuse me, sir? Could you maybe give me a pen?” I ask and the man laughs.

“Sorry, kid, but I am afraid I can’t do that. You could be stabbing each other’s eyes out or God knows what else if I give you a pen. And I would be responsible for that.”

“Sir, I can assure you I am not about to fight this boy, he’s been nice to me. I am asking you very nicely, could you please give me a pen? Just for a few seconds?” I plead and he seems to contemplate the idea for a few moments and then sighs.

“Alright, kids. You better not trick me into something.” He says, then looks around a drawer and hands me a pen trough the bars.

“Thank you so much.” I smile and go back to Ashton.

I take his arm and write down on the back of his hand my phone number as clean and neat I possibly can and then hand the man his pen back.

“There you go.” I say and Ashton smiles up at me.

“Oh, for God’s sake, you silly girl, what was in your head?” I suddenly hear my mother’s voice and I turn around to see her coming through the door. “Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing? Let my daughter out of that dirty cell immediately!” She snaps at the man and he sighs.
“Yes, ma’am.” He lazily gets up and unlocks the door and I get out.

“Oh dear God, are you okay, my darling? I told you to let Harold take you wherever you needed to go with the car, you never listen. Let’s go home, it’s getting really late. I can’t wait to tell your father about this. Pft, arrested? That’s a new one.” She huffs and puts her hand on my shoulder, trying to guide me out of the room, but I stop her.

“Mom?” I say and look back at Ashton who again wears a very sad face. “I want to bail him out as well.” At that his eyes widen and he look up at me.

“Bail who out?” My mom asks and looks back in the cell. “That boy?”

“He’s my friend, mother.” I say and her mouth parts.

“Friend? You have a friend?” She asks uncertain and I nod. “Oh, well, in that case, I guess…” She looks back at the guardian. “Tell them he is also getting out on my card.” The man nods and goes back to report what he just heard probably to his boss. “Friend… I can’t wait to tell your father about that either.” She mumbles and takes her phone out of her purse.

I go back towards the cell as Ashton gets up to come closer to me as well. He is smiling. He looks pretty when he smiles.

“Do not text me.” I say. “I don’t like texts, call me.” I smile and he nods quickly.

“Wait!” He says as I start walking away. “I don’t even know your name.” I smile probably a bit wider than I should.

“Search for Moon in Italian.”

Notes