-1-
They were yellow.
An electric-y citron yellow with an inky black pattern embossed on the right side. Cashmere laces with 24 karat aglets laced up to the ankle
He didn’t question that they were cool.
But he did question if they were worth it.
***
It was never a good sign when Harlow Haley left the house in black.
He stepped away from the backlight bathroom mirror and to the main room of the housing unit where the sound of a children’s cartoon dimly filled the room.
Harlow’s sister, Isla, sat in the corner folding the clothes she’d brought over from her unit to wash. She was chatting and giggling over her Syndicate while casting the occasional glance at Skylar. The toddler was destroying the toy town they had made together earlier.
Harlow always thought Isla was an idiot. She made stupid choices. But he could tolerate her.
It was the three people on the couch he gleefully imagined drowning in the bathtub.
His religious freak grandmother, his chrome zombie mother and their little lamb, his 18-year-old brother Alex. Always being happily led right to slaughter.
Alex’s pale eyes were lost in his Syndicate and his head rested in their mother’s lap. Mother was stroking the wispy white blonde hairs that fell just to Alex’s shoulders, her equally pale dead eyes merely reflecting the screen in front of her.
Mother had forced Alex to grow his hair like that because she thought it was so pretty. And despite the stories Harlow told her about how she didn’t want a pretty son she’d throw fits when anyone even suggested cutting it. Lately, the increase in her chrome dependency has kept her from feeling a lot of emotions. But now Alex wouldn’t cut it because he liked that it made her happy once.
Which was the main reason Harlow hated him. Harlow knew it wasn’t Alex’s fault their mother’s mutated eggs and Alex’s father’s mutated sperm had made him into such a freak. But Alex could atleast try and fit in.
Harlow quietly strides towards the front door, trying not to draw too much attention from his family. He playfully messes with little Skylar’s hair, but in the process knocks over one of the toy buildings and crushes a shiny pink block under his thick boots, sending the toddler into hysterics.
Isla cuts him a pissed off look, but only does a quick glance to make sure Skylar isn’t bleeding before going back to her Syndicate conversation. Isla had recently converted to the parenting mandate of learning to comfort yourself.
“I don’t like when you wear all that black,” Harlow’s grandmother said from the couch, suddenly noticing his retreat for the door.
“Huh. Well, it’s a good thing I don’t dress for you, Gram,” he spits and she goes quiet, shrinking back.
Satisfied with shutting her up, Harlow picks up a long black umbrella and shrugs on his bright magenta leather jacket.
Harlow hadn’t meant for his response to Gram to sound so venomous, but he didn’t understand where Gram got off telling him what to wear. He paid just as many bills as she and Alex did.
When he could.
He waits for Mother to interject from her spot, but she doesn’t say anything. This week’s chrome strand has put her in full zombie mode.
“You could learn to show some respect,” Isla barks. Her tone causes Skylar to only cry louder.
“Shut the fuck up, Isla.” Harlow shouts on impulse. “I’ll say whatever the fuck I want.”
“Harlow,” Isla hisses eyeing the still screaming child. “Don’t be vulgar.”
“Well, the kid’s going to hear a lot worse in their life. You can’t hide how cruel --”
“Don’t you dare give me tips on parenthood, deadbeat.”
“I’m not a deadbeat. Shit, atleast I’m still alive to play Daddy.”
It was a low shot and he knew it.
It had barely been a year since they learned Isla’s picture perfect husband caught a stray bullet in the inner Sprawl, widowing her at only 21.
Without warning the unit goes dark as Gram shuts off the screens and snatches the Syndicate out of Alex’s ear. He sits up, having lost the pleasure of ignoring what was going on in the room before.
Gram projects the New Century Revolution Scripture on the wall and takes out her prayer beads and the water that had been supposedly blessed by a priest. Harlow has replaced it with toilet water to see if she would even notice.
She hadn’t.
Gram believed it was her job to keep all her grandchildren out of hell and went to extreme measures to ensure she lived up to that responsibility. She’d even tried to give Harlow an exorcism and precious Alex had just watched and let her.
Another reason he hated his brother; he bought into most of Gram’s crazy shit.
“Well, time to go home,” Isla sighs picking up her laundry basket.
“What happened ?,” Alex asked seeing Gram flipping to her favorite section on possessions. It happened to be the section even Alex didn’t buy into.
When Gram got like this it meant hours of screaming prayers, pain tithes and admissions of every humiliating sin. Gram’s feeble attempts to save her grandchildren in a way she could never save her own daughter.
“Who do you think happened ?,” Isla says eyeing Harlow.
“Can I go to your house ? Please don’t make me stay here by myself,” Alex asks, bending down to pick up Skylar, who is still crying, but happy to be getting attention.
“Not tonight, it’s already cramped in our unit and Skylar’s in a crappy mood so bedtime is going to suck. You just stay here. You’ll be fine.” She tells him edging out the door with only a wave.
Adjusting his magenta leather jacket and using his umbrella like a cane, Harlow follows after her but is stopped by his little brother grabbing his arm. The touch makes Harlow recoil.
“Can I go out with you, Harlow ? Please,” Alex begs. “Please.”
“Hell no,” Harlow says jerking his arm away. “I got plans.”
“Harlow, please. Gram gets so crazy and I can’t handle her alone. I’ll never ask you for anything ever again. I’ll do anything,” he pleads.
Harlow despised the idea of being seen with his brother, but he kind of liked the idea of someone owing him something.
“Fine,” Harlow breathes and raises his eyebrow. “But you know the rules. Do exactly what I say. And whatever I do tonight you don’t go tell Gram or anyone. I don’t need any of your morality bullshit. Got it ?”
“Okay, fine,” he quickly agrees.
“I need you to prove it,” Harlow says.
When Gram finally notices they are gone she’ll be upset, but Gram’s too old and afraid to leave the neighborhood at night. She’ll kneel face first in a puddle of holy water and then pray herself to sleep and be in a better mood in the morning.
Living under her strict rules and scrutiny for the past few years may have inspired betterment in his older sister and younger brother, but it just made Harlow rebel more. Harlow could always see through it all and wanted to asked the tough questions. Like why hadn’t Gram ever tried to save her own daughter ? Then maybe all her grandbastards wouldn’t have been such fuck ups.
Harlow gets on his knees outside, looks underneath their mini front porch and pulls out a small plastic bowl that said “Jolly” in marker. Jolly had been their dog 5 years ago.
Laughing to himself, Harlow walks over to the irrigation well and turns the silver tap, filling the bowl with water. The purified water mixes with the years of dirt, dead grass and the remnants of moldy dog food in the bowl.
“Drink this.” Harlow said. “Or you’re not coming with me.”
“No-”
“You said you’d do whatever I said. Prove it.”
“Haven’t I already done that ?,” Alex responds. He’d been out with Harlow a number of times before and usually kept quiet.
But Harlow is impatient and pinches his brother’s nose closed . The moment Alex opens his mouth to breathe, Harlow throws the dirty water in his face. He laughs as his brother gags and wipe his tongue on this shirt. Harlow had learned that trick from watching Isla give Skylar medicine and it was his new favorite form of torture.
“Was that so hard ?,” Harlow asks him. “Now, come on--”
Alex backs away.
“Come on, you really going to go through that for nothing ? Let’s have some fun.” Harlow calls
He walks away and doesn’t have to look back to know his brother is following him.
***
-2-
-2-
It’s Sunday night and most everyone in The Valley is asleep at this hour. They walk down the empty neighborhood, each Company Issued square metal and glass home nearly identical. Most windows tinted black for the night.
Harlow keeps few paces in front of Alex, swinging his umbrella off to the side. Harlow’s magenta leather jacket reflects the dim light from the small orb lights that line the streets.
It’s his favorite jacket, it was real leather and naturally dyed with organic colors. The jacket had a stiff upright collar and shiny sterling silver asymmetrical zipper . He’d lifted the jacket from Mother’s dealer 10 years ago as revenge.
“Are we going to see Roxi ?,” Alex asks.
“You’ll see,” Harlow says shaking his head. Seeing his whiny and belligerent ex-girlfriend and her infant was something for the holidays. She’d just get on him about money.
“Is it supposed to rain ?,” Alex asks . “I didn’t bring an umbrella. And I left my jacket.”
Harlow doesn’t answer, but reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a silver case. He flips it open to reveal a booklet of mini syringes. With a wicked smile he makes a fist and pushes the needle into his own exposed vein. A pleasurable sensations courses through him before he feels the mellow buzz and the world go electric.
It’s not chrome.
Harlow would never condemn himself to the kind of dependency. It’s a new street drug, clarity. And as far as Harlow’s concerned the newest drugs are the best. They tend to be less addictive, but still feel so fucking good.
Harlow stops short and whips around to grab his brother’s bare wrist to inject him too, but Alex quickly jerks it away and Harlow laughs.
“You’re missing out,” Harlow smiles.
“Maybe we can stop by Isla’s. Maybe you should apologize for what you said.” Alex says quietly.
“Shut up. You didn’t even hear what I said,” Harlow tells him. “Besides I meant what I said. Isla’s just as bad as Mother--”
“No she-- isn’t.” Alex says weakly, but he hated calling out his mother as bad.
Mother was an addict. The counselors had called her addiction a disease and Gram called it a living demon which gave Alex hope that it wasn’t her fault. That no matter what could have happened in life she’d always be like that.
They walk to the end of the neighborhood to a concrete playground where two of Harlow’s friends, Felix and Marco wait. The two boys are already passing back and forth a bottle of cheap whiskey.
Felix is light haired with dark features and the youngest of the group by two months. He greets Harlow with a hug and greets Alex by pretending to punch him in the face. They all laugh when Alex flinches and Marco , who is muscular and tan but equally immature pulls on Alex’s hair at the scalp.
“Tsk, tsk, I see some split ends,” Marco teases, tugging at Alex’s hair before letting go.
Alex self-consciously, begins to gather and secure his hair back.
Marco and Felix had been Alex’s classmates. In another world, they should have been Alex’s friends, but they were formless and had clung to Harlow’s existence since they were preteens.
They liked that Harlow slept with the hot girls, that he always had money and never worked for the Companies. Harlow had been the first of them to go to the Donation Center. He’d been 14, and lied about his age to get signed up for a nondisclosured procedure. He was in pain for weeks, but it paid.
“What’s with the luggage ?,” Felix asks.
“Baby got tired of injecting Mommy’s chrome-,” Harlow says in a baby voice and tickles his brother’s chin.
“Stop -”
“Who wants to go into the Sprawl, boys ?,” Harlow asks for show. They always go where he says.
Snatching the bottle of whiskey, Harlow takes a sip and leads them towards the train station. Harlow walks between Felix and Marco with his arms over their shoulders, telling them about his latest exploit from Saturday night. He decidedly ignores Alex who follows behind.
A pair of girls catch Harlow’s eye as the group board the train. The girls are dressed up, but it’s clear from the faded colors that they wear the dresses a lot because they can’t afford new ones. The boldest of the pair has short black hair , and makes direct eye contact with Harlow. When he smiles at her she smiles back and he makes a movement with his eyes for her to come over. She turns to consult with her friend before coming over and sitting next to Harlow.
“I like your jacket,” she tells him.
“What this old thing ?,” Harlow smiles, running his finger over the collar.
“I’m Farrah,” she introduces herself with a soft laugh.
“And I’m--”
“I know who you are,” She whispers in his ear. “I heard you have Clarity ?”
The train starts to move and Harlow moves closer to her, his hand casually on her thigh.
“I’m not a dealer,” he whispers back to her, catching her ear with his lips.
She laughs at the touch and the glint his brown eyes get from the passing tunnel lights.
“I have money. Please ?”
“You don’t have much and I’m not taking your money.” He whispers and pulls her hip, so she is half sitting in his lap. “Tell you what. You and your friend suck my friends’ dicks at the next stop and I’ll give you one injection each.”
Farrah jerks away and stands, the jolty movements of the train cause her to slip and fall, her dress flying up briefly in the process.
“Ew ,I’m not a whore,” she shouts, standing up. Her face is bright red.
“Your underwear says differently,” Harlow laughs and Marco and Felix quickly follow suit.
“Fuck you,” she says.
Grabbing her friend by the arm, the girls head to another car as Harlow cat calls after her.
“Shit, she was hot too,” Felix adds watching her leave.
“You think she was hot ? She was a bitch.” Harlow corrects him in a mock stern voice. “But if bitchy cunts are what makes your dick hard I’ll remember that for next time.”
“Oh, I mean, no. I don’t know…maybe it was just the short hair,” Felix adds quickly.
“See, I fucking hate short hair on girls,” Harlow explains. “I like something I can hold on to on the girls I fuck.”
“That’s me too,” Marco quickly agrees. “Short hair sucks. Did you see her friends long hair ? I liked that.”
“What about you, Alex ?,” Felix asks shoving Alex in an attempt to get attention off his own blunder. “What makes your dick ache, freak ?”
“Nothing. His is for show only,” Harlow says standing up and grabbing the rail.
“Stop it, Harlow--,” Alex says quietly.
“I’m serious,” Harlow smiles. “He had one wet dream when he was 13 and batshit Gram said it was a demon invading and defiling his body and I swear he hasn’t touched his dick since. It’s part of his malfunction.”
Before regulations had been put in place a few years ago, It’d been a free for all to participate in high paying radiation experiments. It was also an open secret that those participants, who were usually addicts and desperate, ran the risk of mutating their offspring. Mutations weren’t rampant but common enough in the last few generations.
Isla had been born with an extra ear she’d had removed as baby, after Alex’s birth, a surgeon presented Gram with a choice of having a grandson or granddaughter. She chose a grandson, thinking he could help take care of her later and Harlow is sure she chose wrong.
The mutations appeared to have skipped over Harlow as far as he could tell. It was probably because his father wasn’t a user like his siblings father--his was just another Fort Perch politician cheating on his wife.
Glaring, Alex stands up deciding to take his chances going back home. He didn’t have any money on him even if someone wanted to rob him. But before Alex can leave Harlow pushes him back down into his seat.
“I’m just joking. Stop being a little baby and laugh. We’re all malfunctions thanks to dear mother’s fried eggs. Don’t leave now… I was just getting used to having you here.” Harlow tells him in a low voice.
“Come on, time to go,” Harlow says swinging around the train pole and to the doors as they opened up.
-3-
Reno Station was just outside of the Sprawl and could barely be considered city. It was a busy retail district during the day, but at this hour most of the stores were closed. The only thing open was the Multiplex letting out its latest show.
“We going to sneak into that Gravity’s Angel concert movie ?,” Felix asks, keeping step with Harlow.
“No, come on !” Harlow calls, opening the umbrella and taking off jogging down the street as if he could get enough momentum to take off.
The group follows him down the street, Felix and Marco produce the whiskey bottle again and take turns drinking.
Then Harlow makes a sudden stop in front of a boutique shop window. He puts his hand on the glass and stares deeply into the display.
The orbs in the streets reflects the black pattern on the bright yellow sneakers. Harlow smiles at the shoes when he sees them. His heavy breaths fog up the glass. He’d been walking past them for a week.
There is nothing special about the sneakers, except that Harlow wants them.
“What do you think, boys ?,” Harlow asks, closing the umbrella.
Felix and Marco step up and look at the citron yellow shoes in the window.
“Sick,” Felix says.
“Totally sick,” Marco echoes
Harlow smiles, pleased with himself. He makes sure the umbrella is closed and lifts it in the air. In one swift motion he swings for the glass.
“Harlow, no!,”Alex screams
The umbrella makes contact with the glass and glittering pieces explode and rain down on the boys. Covering his eyes with his arm, Harlow grabs the shoes and hoists them into the air.
“Wooooo!”
Harlow expects his friends cajoling and slapping him on his back. He expects Alex’s agitation.
He doesn’t expect the sirens.
He didn’t plan on the store having a security system. Who they hell wants to pay for that ?
Not wanting to appear shaken, Harlow sprints down the street, but keeps his smile on his face. The other two boys follow him, echoing his woo and slapping him on the back, like he just scored a winning touch down. Alex runs after them and tries to get Harlow’s attention to talk him into returning the stolen property.
Harlow ducks into an alley and the others follow. They crouch down in the shadows out of breath. Harlow peeks around the corner to see police cars are securing the area like he stole a god damn car. When a police car drives past the darkened alley they are hiding in, Harlow shushes them all with a look.
He knows the RLA police have quotas and are just looking for a reason.
“Shit,” Harlow curses.
“We gotta get to the train station,” Marco suggest.
Harlow doesn’t respond, he’s sure they have police at the station already.
“They’re going to find us here," Felix adds, his voice trembling, as another (or possibly the same) car drives past the alley.
Harlow quickly turns his Syndicate on and flicks through the screens. He’d had a hacker install a police radio transmitter into his Syndicate to catch the narcs when he bought drugs.
Harlow scrolls through the transmissions until he can hear the one from Reno Station.
“Dark hair. Suspect is wearing a red leather jacket,” the dispatch says. “We don’t have a visual. We’re looking for a red jacket.”
Harlow’s panic set in, but he doesn’t want his friends to see it. Someone had seen him. His mind starts spinning on how to get himself out of this and maybe Felix and Marco if he can.
Harlow quietly pulls his jacket off and crawls over to Alex who has his head in his hands. He should have known better, this is how all nights with Harlow end.
“Harlow-”
“Don’t cry baby brother,” Harlow says putting the jacket over his brother in a gesture of false comfort.
“You’re going to prison again--”
“No, I’m not.” Harlow says sternly, but inwardly he is laughing. “Remember that conversation we had about you doing exactly what I say ?”
Alex nods.
Harlow recognizes this may be cruel, but he has a record of misdemeanors and a life he’d like to get back to tonight.
“Listen, Alex, you know Roxi is still in love with me and I love that kid, right ?,” he lies.
“I….Why are you talking about?”
“I need you to be a man and do me a favor,” Harlow says darkly. “ I need you to remember I have a lot more to lose than you do. So, can you do me this favor ?”
“What--”
“Okay, good,” Harlow says and shoves Alex into the street.
His brother rolls and falls just a inches short of the grill of the police car. The wind is knocked out of him and before he can get a word out the police are out of the car and hauling Alex to his feet. His arm is twisted behind his back and a large bald officer slams him into the hood of the car. It’s then that Alex realizes he is wearing Harlow’s jacket.
From the alley, Felix and Marco stare in disbelief, thankful Harlow hadn’t decided to push one of them out there. All Harlow can think about it how nice it might be not to be sharing a room with his brother for a little while.
“No I-,” Alex starts to explain
“Quiet,” the cop bellows.
“Wait--”
“I said shut the fuck up, boy. Face forward,” the cop says in a threatening tone, taking out a pair of cuffs.
Alex turns his head to the alley where Harlow is hidden and Alex’s eyes connect with Harlow’s in horror.
It finally clicks that Harlow wants him to go to jail for him.
Harlow wills his brother to stop looking at him so the cops don’t come over to the alley. He gives Alex a smile and a thumbs up to tell him it’s fine and mouths for Alex to stop looking at him.
The cop jerks Alex’s head forward, but Alex keeps stealing glances in Harlow’s direction. Harlow shakes his head and continues his mantra.
Don’t look at me
Don’t look at me
“Face forward, now!” the cop commands Alex, but he won’t.
The cop pats Alex down and Harlow feels a pinch of grief when they pull his Clarity out of the jacket pocket.
He’d forgotten it was in there and is never getting it back now.
“Harlow!” Alex screams. “ No! It’s not mine, I swear--”
“Do I need to get the taser ?” the officer threatens
“NO! HARLOW TELL THEM ! HARLOW! COME OUT! ,” Alex screams, still fighting.
“I think we need backup.” A policewoman says warily into her Syndicate
“Go,” Harlow whispers to the boys and the trio takes off down the alley. The sounds of hurried footsteps sets off the female cop and she starts pursuit.
They boys make their exit fast.
But the cops are faster.
Before Harlow can take more than a few steps arms collapse around him and pin him down. He feels the familiar sensation of the magnetic handcuffs on his wrist and a knee crushing his back.
Harlow doesn’t make a scene, as they lift him up. He settles for stony silence as they parade him out of the alley. He doesn’t dare look, but he imagines Felix and Marco are behind him.
The police make the mistake of putting him in the same car as Alex , because the minute they meet eyes, Harlow headbutts him and spits in his brother’s face.
“Motherfucker, I’m gonna kill you,” Harlow growls.
“Enough,” The female cop snaps and pushes Harlow to the far corner, attaching his cuffs to the door.
The bald cop settles into the driver’s seat and is holding the stolen sneakers in his hand. For the first time, Alex notices the 4 digit price tag.
“Nice shoes.” The cop says. “I sure hope these were worth it.”
----
Yes, I did find a way to use the word aglet.
No, I did not intentionally have this part take place on a Sunday
Yes, I messed with some ages
So, you guys this is the thing I've been struggling with. I'm telling two stories here and I'm not sure if they should alternate chapters or be told more farther apart.
This was originally chapter 1 and the first thing I wrote back in March. This was my note in the drafts:
Um, hello there. Can you read this ? Good job, Shawna you finally figured out how to fit this in. It was the very first thing you wrote so I wonder if it’s in the beginning.
You: Is Maxwell in this?
SH: Um, maybe ?
You: Wait, isn’t Harlow dead in Sundays ?
SH: Yes, but I thought it’d be more interesting if he was alive.
You: Wait ! What would be more interesting ? Maxwell *is* in this, isn’t he ?
SH: Fine, yes. There is Maxwell, but things are different this time around….
The orbs in the streets reflects the black pattern on the bright yellow sneakers. Harlow smiles at the shoes when he sees them. His heavy breaths fog up the glass. He’d been walking past them for a week.
There is nothing special about the sneakers, except that Harlow wants them.
“What do you think, boys ?,” Harlow asks, closing the umbrella.
Felix and Marco step up and look at the citron yellow shoes in the window.
“Sick,” Felix says.
“Totally sick,” Marco echoes
Harlow smiles, pleased with himself. He makes sure the umbrella is closed and lifts it in the air. In one swift motion he swings for the glass.
“Harlow, no!,”Alex screams
The umbrella makes contact with the glass and glittering pieces explode and rain down on the boys. Covering his eyes with his arm, Harlow grabs the shoes and hoists them into the air.
“Wooooo!”
Harlow expects his friends cajoling and slapping him on his back. He expects Alex’s agitation.
He doesn’t expect the sirens.
He didn’t plan on the store having a security system. Who they hell wants to pay for that ?
Not wanting to appear shaken, Harlow sprints down the street, but keeps his smile on his face. The other two boys follow him, echoing his woo and slapping him on the back, like he just scored a winning touch down. Alex runs after them and tries to get Harlow’s attention to talk him into returning the stolen property.
Harlow ducks into an alley and the others follow. They crouch down in the shadows out of breath. Harlow peeks around the corner to see police cars are securing the area like he stole a god damn car. When a police car drives past the darkened alley they are hiding in, Harlow shushes them all with a look.
He knows the RLA police have quotas and are just looking for a reason.
“Shit,” Harlow curses.
“We gotta get to the train station,” Marco suggest.
Harlow doesn’t respond, he’s sure they have police at the station already.
“They’re going to find us here," Felix adds, his voice trembling, as another (or possibly the same) car drives past the alley.
Harlow quickly turns his Syndicate on and flicks through the screens. He’d had a hacker install a police radio transmitter into his Syndicate to catch the narcs when he bought drugs.
Harlow scrolls through the transmissions until he can hear the one from Reno Station.
“Dark hair. Suspect is wearing a red leather jacket,” the dispatch says. “We don’t have a visual. We’re looking for a red jacket.”
Harlow’s panic set in, but he doesn’t want his friends to see it. Someone had seen him. His mind starts spinning on how to get himself out of this and maybe Felix and Marco if he can.
Harlow quietly pulls his jacket off and crawls over to Alex who has his head in his hands. He should have known better, this is how all nights with Harlow end.
“Harlow-”
“Don’t cry baby brother,” Harlow says putting the jacket over his brother in a gesture of false comfort.
“You’re going to prison again--”
“No, I’m not.” Harlow says sternly, but inwardly he is laughing. “Remember that conversation we had about you doing exactly what I say ?”
Alex nods.
Harlow recognizes this may be cruel, but he has a record of misdemeanors and a life he’d like to get back to tonight.
“Listen, Alex, you know Roxi is still in love with me and I love that kid, right ?,” he lies.
“I….Why are you talking about?”
“I need you to be a man and do me a favor,” Harlow says darkly. “ I need you to remember I have a lot more to lose than you do. So, can you do me this favor ?”
“What--”
“Okay, good,” Harlow says and shoves Alex into the street.
His brother rolls and falls just a inches short of the grill of the police car. The wind is knocked out of him and before he can get a word out the police are out of the car and hauling Alex to his feet. His arm is twisted behind his back and a large bald officer slams him into the hood of the car. It’s then that Alex realizes he is wearing Harlow’s jacket.
From the alley, Felix and Marco stare in disbelief, thankful Harlow hadn’t decided to push one of them out there. All Harlow can think about it how nice it might be not to be sharing a room with his brother for a little while.
“No I-,” Alex starts to explain
“Quiet,” the cop bellows.
“Wait--”
“I said shut the fuck up, boy. Face forward,” the cop says in a threatening tone, taking out a pair of cuffs.
Alex turns his head to the alley where Harlow is hidden and Alex’s eyes connect with Harlow’s in horror.
It finally clicks that Harlow wants him to go to jail for him.
Harlow wills his brother to stop looking at him so the cops don’t come over to the alley. He gives Alex a smile and a thumbs up to tell him it’s fine and mouths for Alex to stop looking at him.
The cop jerks Alex’s head forward, but Alex keeps stealing glances in Harlow’s direction. Harlow shakes his head and continues his mantra.
Don’t look at me
Don’t look at me
“Face forward, now!” the cop commands Alex, but he won’t.
The cop pats Alex down and Harlow feels a pinch of grief when they pull his Clarity out of the jacket pocket.
He’d forgotten it was in there and is never getting it back now.
“Harlow!” Alex screams. “ No! It’s not mine, I swear--”
“Do I need to get the taser ?” the officer threatens
“NO! HARLOW TELL THEM ! HARLOW! COME OUT! ,” Alex screams, still fighting.
“I think we need backup.” A policewoman says warily into her Syndicate
“Go,” Harlow whispers to the boys and the trio takes off down the alley. The sounds of hurried footsteps sets off the female cop and she starts pursuit.
They boys make their exit fast.
But the cops are faster.
Before Harlow can take more than a few steps arms collapse around him and pin him down. He feels the familiar sensation of the magnetic handcuffs on his wrist and a knee crushing his back.
Harlow doesn’t make a scene, as they lift him up. He settles for stony silence as they parade him out of the alley. He doesn’t dare look, but he imagines Felix and Marco are behind him.
The police make the mistake of putting him in the same car as Alex , because the minute they meet eyes, Harlow headbutts him and spits in his brother’s face.
“Motherfucker, I’m gonna kill you,” Harlow growls.
“Enough,” The female cop snaps and pushes Harlow to the far corner, attaching his cuffs to the door.
The bald cop settles into the driver’s seat and is holding the stolen sneakers in his hand. For the first time, Alex notices the 4 digit price tag.
“Nice shoes.” The cop says. “I sure hope these were worth it.”
----
Yes, I did find a way to use the word aglet.
No, I did not intentionally have this part take place on a Sunday
Yes, I messed with some ages
So, you guys this is the thing I've been struggling with. I'm telling two stories here and I'm not sure if they should alternate chapters or be told more farther apart.
This was originally chapter 1 and the first thing I wrote back in March. This was my note in the drafts:
Um, hello there. Can you read this ? Good job, Shawna you finally figured out how to fit this in. It was the very first thing you wrote so I wonder if it’s in the beginning.
You: Is Maxwell in this?
SH: Um, maybe ?
You: Wait, isn’t Harlow dead in Sundays ?
SH: Yes, but I thought it’d be more interesting if he was alive.
You: Wait ! What would be more interesting ? Maxwell *is* in this, isn’t he ?
SH: Fine, yes. There is Maxwell, but things are different this time around….