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A cop was in the front, his face partially obscured as he rummaged through the glove box. In the back seat, a slender figure sat slumped against the window, her unkempt hair spilling forward, shielding her face from view. It had to be Star. Sheila's heart clenched with worry as she wondered what kind of trouble the girl had gotten into.
Steeling herself, Sheila climbed out of her car and approached the squad car. She rapped her knuckles sharply on the window, and the cop looked up, startled. Blood smeared his face, staining the handful of napkins he held to his nose. He was a stocky man in his fifties, with graying hair cropped close to his head and deep lines etched into his weathered face. His name tag identified him as Officer Paul Attleton.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice muffled by the wad of napkins pressed to his nose.
"I'm here for Star," Sheila said.
"You know her?"
"I do. Mind telling me what happened?"
Paul heaved a sigh and stepped out of the squad car, slamming the door behind him. He rubbed his temples, clearly frustrated. "So I was talking to the owner of that convenience store," he said, gesturing toward a small, rundown shop with flickering neon lights. "Someone broke in earlier today. The owner's an old man, been running the place for years." Paul shook his head, disgust evident on his face. "They ransacked the whole store, took cash and whatever else they could carry."
Sheila glanced at the store, her heart going out to the owner. She knew how hard it was to make ends meet in a town like this. But she couldn't help but wonder what any of this had to do with Star.
"Anyway," Paul finally went on, "when I left the store and came back out here, I found that little brat sitting in the driver's seat of my car, trying to steal it. Can you believe it?" He scoffed, throwing up his hands. "Like hotwiring a car even works anymore!"
"Star did that?" Sheila asked, incredulous. She knew Star had a troubled past, but stealing a police car seemed far-fetched even for her.
"She tried," Paul said, rubbing his bloody nose. "And when I confronted her, she just went ahead and punched me right in the face. Tried to make a run for it, too."
Sheila winced. It was clear that Star was spiraling, and quickly. But now wasn't the time to dwell on that—she needed to find a way to get through to the fourteen-year-old girl before things got any worse.
"Is she alright?" Sheila asked.
"Other than the fact that she's in a whole lot of trouble?" Paul grumbled. "Yeah, I guess she is."
Sheila hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "So what are you going to do now?"
"Press charges, of course," he said, swiping angrily at the blood still trickling from his nose. "These kids need to learn their lesson. They think they can just run around, causing chaos and breaking the law without consequences. It's ridiculous."
"Can I talk to her?" Sheila asked.
"Fine," he grumbled. "I don't care. I was just wiping the blood off my face, and then I'm taking her to the station to book her."
"Thank you," Sheila said, knowing that this might be her only chance to get through to Star before things spiraled even further out of control.
She approached the rear door of the squad car and opened it, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. The small space felt suffocating, but Sheila pushed aside her discomfort and focused on the task at hand.
Star's thin frame seemed to shrink even further into the squad car's backseat, her unkempt, shoulder-length dark hair falling over her face like a veil as she turned away from Sheila and stared out the window. Her eyes were dark and guarded, the tension in her jaw betraying her effort to appear unaffected by the situation.
"Hey," Sheila said gently, "how are you doing?"
Star just shrugged, still refusing to meet Sheila's gaze.
Sheila hesitated for a moment, trying to think of how best to approach this conversation. Plunging ahead, she asked, "Why did you try to steal the car, Star?"
"It was a dare," Star mumbled, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Some of my friends have done way worse stuff just 'cause they were dared to. I didn't wanna chicken out."
Hearing Star's explanation, Sheila couldn't help but be reminded of herself at that age—always determined to prove herself, never backing down from a challenge. And Natalie, her older sister, had always been there to bail her out when she inevitably found herself in over her head.
"Star, listen to me," Sheila said earnestly. "You don't need to impress anybody. If your friends want you to be cool by getting thrown in jail, then maybe it's time to find some new friends."
"Who are you, my mother?" Star snapped, finally looking at Sheila with a defiant glare.
Sheila bit her lip, realizing that lecturing Star wasn't going to get her anywhere. She remembered how she used to bristle whenever someone tried to tell her what to do, and she knew that simply telling Star to change her ways wouldn't be enough. She needed to find a way to make the girl understand the consequences of her actions without talking down to her.
She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "I know you're having a rough time, Star. And I'm sorry about that." She paused, watching as Star continued to stare out the window, her expression unreadable. "But listen, if I can get you out of this situation, will you promise me to stay out of trouble? To make better choices?"
