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“Shitty,” he said. “Do you know how they were…”
The light turned green, and Jonah cut off his question mid-sentence.
Taking my feet off the ground one at a time, I accelerated through the green light and headed back
with him to the station.
Only, when we got to the station, it was a fucking madhouse.
There were reporters, protesters, and even police officers filling up the usually calm and quiet
lot.
Luckily, we were able to park around the back where the officers parked instead of the front lot
where visitors parked.
At least, that was what I was telling myself as I pulled around to the back.
However, before I could get into the lot, three young kids practically ran out in front of me.
I hadn’t been going too fast, but I’d been going fast enough that I had very few choices on how to
proceed.
I either allowed myself to run into the teenagers—which would be another media circus seeing as
there were cameras everywhere—or I lay the bike down and hope that it went far enough in the
opposite direction that it didn’t hurt the kids.
I laid the bike down.
Jonah, who’d had a bit more warning since he was on the outside, was able to get into the parking
lot before my bike hit him.
The kids screamed and jumped.
I, on the other hand, hit the pavement hard.
My body that was still healing protested the new hurt as I hit the ground hard.
Luckily my helmet did its job, protecting my head.
As did my uniform.
However, my elbows didn’t fare quite as well.
Neither did my forearms.
But, when I finally came to a stop on my back resting against the curb with the teenagers all now
pointing their phone at my face and laughing, I didn’t fucking care.
I laid there for a few seconds, getting my bearings.
And Jonah used those few seconds to get off his bike and practically shove all three kids onto the
