For a guy barely breaking minimum wage, Mr. Barkers had a pretty kick-ass house.

Most of the walls in the living area were decorated in cringy family photos, a couple with a woman I assumed to be his wife, and a shelf was dedicated to his degrees.

Clark let out a low whistle at that, gesturing at a doctorate diploma.

"Not such a smartass if he couldn't make me understand Macbeth." he chuckled, tossing me a wry smile.

"Can you please keep your voice down," I whispered harshly, sticking close to the walls in hopes that touching nothing would help me maintain some level of innocence.

Clark got the hint, pretending to zip his mouth shut before gesturing towards the hall. At the end, nestled beside a wooden staircase, was a semi-ajar door. Judging by the bulky Mac computer sat on a winged desk that had to be Barkers office.

"You swear he had them printed? You're not going to make me attempt to Mr. Robot that hunk of metal?" I asked, shooting Clark a serious look.

He nodded, running a hand along his head. Even in the winter, he kept his head shaved, a habit maintained even after he quit the swim team. It suited him, highlighting the way his entire face lit up when he smiled.

Clark punched my shoulder, pulling me back into the present.

"Quit zoning out or you're gonna be the one to get us caught," he said, starting down the hallway.

I ducked behind him, sparing a glance to the stairs as he pushed the door open with the tip of his foot. It didn't creak, which was a plus. The curtains were pulled open, allowing the natural light from outside in.

Perching on the edge of the desk, Clark cautioned against sitting in the desk chair, immediately rifling through the drawers. Pulling loose some old receipts and a dozen fast-food menu's he slumped back after a couple minutes, stumped.

"Huh."

I cast him a look. "Please tell me that's not a 'Huh, guess we didn't need to break in because Barkers didn't keep a hard copy at home'?"

"If you're going to keep being a bitch about this go wait in the kitchen or something. Make a sandwich and calm down with the hysteria," he said, casting me away with the flourish of his hand.

Pursing my lips I sent him one last dirty look behind his back before wandering out the room.

Pausing by the stairs I checked for any sign of Barkers. Hearing nothing I begrudgingly entered the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, the room was small but well taken care of. The appliances were modern, but showed signs of use. A couple wide candles sat lit above the sink, giving the glass facing the yard an ominous glow.

I ran a finger through the flame, surprised to find the candle to be real and stepped back. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a splash of red flash past the window. Honing in I made out the figure of an overweight ginger cat, stretching its hind paws onto a broken lawn chair before hopping up. It's weight sunk the middle, causing the silhouette of the chair to frown back at me.

I know how you feel buddy, I thought back at it, I don't wanna be stuck here either.

"You done making eyes with that cat?" a voice blurted from me.

I startled, spinning around quickly to catch the cocky smirk on Clark's face.

"Very cute," I murmured, catching my breath and doubly glad it wasn't Barkers there to meet me. "Find it?"

"Oh I found a lot of things," Clark smirked, glancing at his phone.

He quickly swiped through his photos, talking a mile a minute. "God, this would make such good blackmail material. Did you know Barkers is subscribed to Penthouse? I didn't know they still made that thing! It was hidden under this dense stack of accounting shit."

A sly look was etched in his face as he thrust his phone screen towards me, displaying a very nude and very wrung out woman on the cover of a well-flicked through magazine. His expression quickly vanished as he glanced past me.

"Shit, shit!" Clark hissed, shoving at my shoulder for me to turn around.

"Holy fucking shit. Shit, Beau!"

Hitting me harder I finally turned around, immediately greeted by hungry flames crawling their way up the side of the curtains slung either side of Barkers' sink.

Shit.

Flustered I slammed the tap on, splashing water at the rapidly growing flames.

Above us the click of light sounded, followed by a low "Hello?"

Double shit.

Matching eyes with Clark he let out a panicked groan, yanking the curtain rod free, dropping the material into the running sink. The flame quickly burned out but my heart stopped at the black lines that damaged the wall and up across a big part of the ceiling, small sparks of fire still going strong against the seemingly lilac paint.

I gazed back down to point this out to Clark when I caught him already making his way back to the back door.

"Jeremy!" I hissed, shocked that he would even think to run away before consulting me.

"Don't say my name you fucking moron!" he hissed back, astonished.

"Where are you going?"

"Out, where the hell do you think I'm going?"

Our conversation cuts off by the very sudden, and very loud, sound of footsteps making their way down the hall.

In a flash Clark started running, bolting out the back door and vanishing into the dark before I could even blink.

I scrambled back to the window, catching his figure dash past before the clambering of the front fence reached my ears.

Mother.

Fucker.

The footsteps stopped in the living room and I could hear Barkers call out yet again.

"Is anyone here? The police will be arriving soon! Show yourself."

Double fuck.

I couldn't make it to the back door without crossing through the archway leading to the living room and exposing myself.

Flustered I grabbed an idling mug off the countertop, filling it with water, and throwing it furiously at the remaining smolders. They died out instantly, a faint sizzle echoing through the room, before bringing a rain of muddy liquid back down on my head.

The sound alerted Barkers, who quickly began to make his way towards the kitchen. Taking it as my last out I had I bolted across the room, catching his surprised expression, before skidding out the back door.

I'd never run so fast in my life.

The forty feet of yard that looped back towards the front portion of the house was swallowed in seconds and before I knew it I was hoisting myself over the fence...

... And straight on top of a figure lazily roaming the sidewalk.

"What the fuck?" were the first words out of the mystery person's mouth, who thankfully had taken the brunt of the fall.

I caught my breath, rolling onto my side and instantly groaning at the pain shooting up my right side.

Maybe they hadn't taken as much impact as I expected.

Forcing myself to stand I stole a glimpse at the mystery cushion pad. It was a guy around my age, a little taller than me, with jet black hair haphazard on his head from breaking my fall. I winced a little catching the nose bleed he had running down the right side of his face, cupping my elbow to find it sticky and therefore most likely the cause of his injury.

Before I could open my mouth a sharp voice yelled halfway down the block.

"For God's sake, Spencer! That's the guy, stop him!"

Recognition filled the guy's eyes and before I could speak he was on his feet, darting towards me. Without thinking I ran, pushing myself hard and fast towards the car, only to jerk to a stop at the empty spot greeting me.

In my panic to get out of Barkers' house, I hadn't heard the engine of my car start. Nor did I catch Clark's most likely clunky attempts to reverse it out and down the road. For a moment I spared a thought as to if he got the thing out in one piece, knowing Dad would kill me if I damaged the car in any way.

Those thoughts were silenced when a couple of arms grabbed me around the middle and the whole world listed over. Hitting the concrete hard I barely had time to throw my arms up to protect my face as the person who tackled me sent us to the hard concrete.

Behind us the sound of a door flying open echoed down the street, followed by an ill-timed, "Thief! Stop him right away!" by Barkers.

I craned my head to make out the English teacher decked out in a fuzzy green robe and matching slippers, illuminated by the porch lights behind him. He looked more praying mantis than man at that moment. Hunched over his knees as if his dramatic outburst took more energy out of him than expected.

I let out a groan as the person holding me down shifted, digging their knee into my back.

"Careful man, any deeper and I might start questioning if that's truly your knee doing the damage there," I barely managed the barb, my face pressed tightly against the concrete by a sudden, and very large, hand holding my head down.

"And you say you'd make a terrible rookie," a voice called from above.

The guy shifted again, looking at the woman approaching us. I let out a low curse as I made out the local police force uniform adorning her fit body. A couple moments passed before a police car rolled up, idling itself on the sidewalk. Unlike the woman before me, the man behind the wheel was older, face aged and unimpressed by my prone form currently being straddled by the dipshit I fell on, who happily dripped blood from his nose onto the back of my head.

"Stupid red light slowed me down. You want me to radio this in or do you have it, Fox?" the man asked, glancing away from my face and to the woman.

She ran a hand down the end of her neat ponytail, other hands fingers lingering against the clunky device strapped to her side next to a very static looking taser. I swallowed hard when she caught my lingering glance.

"Call it Darren," she said, squatting in front of me. "I think it's time to read this perp his Miranda Rights. Let him up, Spencer."

Without warning the guy smoothly got to his feet, yanking me up with him. His grip on my arms was tight, not enough force to bruise, but more than enough to let me know that if I tried to run as Fox clapped on a set of handcuffs he'd drop my ass back to the concrete in a second. In any other situation, I'd find that show of strength pretty hot, but right now it was my worst nightmare.

As Officer Fox read my rights I shifted my gaze to the pavement, trying to ignore the shocked gasp Mr. Barkers let out as he approached our huddle from behind his front gate.

"Minders?"

Fox waited until she finished my rights before responding. "You know this gentleman, Mr. Barkers?"

Though I didn't look up I saw him nodding.

"My colleague will take your official report in a moment, but would you mind explaining to us what's occurred? From your distress call, there was something about a tripped security alarm?"

My head jerked up at that.

Security alarm?

What happened to the back door being open for the cat, Clark?

"Yes," Barkers said, nodding enthusiastically, "The alarm across my front fence alerted my wife and I of an intruder. When I entered my kitchen I found Mr. Minders there, surrounded by smoke from what appeared to be a fire he had started, before he ran out of my house and... was obviously caught."

Fox nodded, pulling out a small note pad, dragging the tip of a micro-pen against it before fixing me a look.

"How do you know this young man?"

"Oh, Beau Minders is a student at Columbia Heights. I teach English there. He is a very bright student, when he applies himself," he trailed off there, a concerned look on his face.

"There was another person with him," Barkers said after the pause.

Fox raised a brow, looking my way. "Mind telling me about your supposed accomplice?"

I shook my head automatically.

I wasn't about the rat Clark out.

Asshole or not, this was my mess.

"I was here alone."

"That's not what Mr Barkers is reporting. You could save us all a lot of trouble here kid."

"I'm not talking."

"Did you manage to catch a glimpse at the other intruder? Any detail at all? Do you have security cameras on the property?"

Barkers paused for a moment before shaking his head.

"No cameras, makes the wife paranoid," he explained, "and I didn't see anyone else, but I'm sure I heard another person run outside before I caught Beau in the kitchen."

I shifted a little on my feet, unused to hearing people talking about me as if I wasn't there. The guy holding me, Spencer, tightened his grip and I faltered before righting myself, throwing him a dirty look. He didn't react, keeping his eyes trained on Officer Fox. I filed that detail for later, curious of their relationship.

"Well, based on Officer Michaelson's observations, if his findings match what you just told me we'll be quick to escort Mr. Minders downtown. You, too, will have to come to the station to submit an official report for breaking and entering, as well as attempted arson." Fox reported, taking me by the forearm and away from Spencer's grip.

"He's not going to prison is he?" Barkers asked, shooting me a worried look.

I matched it, staring up at Fox.

"You eighteen?" she asked, striding towards the car with Spencer and Barkers in tow. Behind us Officer Michaelson made his way down Barkers' front steps, chatting away on his radio for a crime scene photographer to come down. My legs gave way at that, Fox barely having time to catch me.

"Jesus." she huffed before repeating the question as she escorted me inside the back of the police car.

I shook my head in response.

"First conviction?"

I went to nod my head then stop, remembering the incident.

My brother Thomas and I stuck on the freeway.

Broken glass thrown everywhere.

Four car pile up due to one idiot driving on the wrong side of the road.

Six months stuck on home detention while Mom cried her eyes out every time she saw me.

I shook my head.

"Not my first conviction."

Fox clicked her tongue, slamming the car door before turning to Barkers.

"Juvie it is then, most likely. Judge doesn't take kindly to B and E, especially with repeat offenders. And if he set your place on fire-"

"That he did. Beautiful drapes, by the way, such a shame," Michaelson cut in, shaking his head in sympathy.

"Wife bought them. Said they'd add some life to the kitchen. Though she barely steps foot in the place." Barkers added before wrenching his head back in surprise. "Juvie? Isn't that a bit harsh? Prior to this Beau has been a fine student, never made waves. I'm sure this was a one-off."

Fox shook her head, cocking a brow. "He just admitted this isn't his first conviction. You do recall your house could've been up in smokes, right?"

"Cynthia left the candles on, he must have bumped them. I'm sure it was an accident."

"Breaking in wasn't an accident." she pointed out and Barkers expression fell in exasperation.

"What if I dropped the charges? Juvenile Detention is the last thing Beau needs. He has a lot of promise, Officers."

Fox seemed to weigh the options. I pressed closer to the car window, trying to catch their hushed conversation. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Spencer recline against my window, also watching the scene, but far more detached.

Why hadn't he moved on?

Surely his role of good citizen was over. He stopped a crime, now he could piss off home and impress his friends at school with the tale tomorrow while I watched my life go down the drain.

"If you dropped the charges, which I highly recommend you do not do, then the case most likely will still go to court since he resisted arrest and admitted, though on a technicality, to the breaking and entering. At most, the Judge will award a fine, possible home detention if Mr. Minders shows threat of repeated offending, and community service work."

I deflated against the backseat, trying to stifle back tears as they continued to talk.

In my pocket, my phone began to vibrate and the pit in my gut grew as I remembered my promise to text Mom when I made it to the party.

The front doors pulled open as Fox and Michaelson piled in. I tried to hide my look of surprise as Spencer slipped into the seat beside me, immediately jamming a set of earbuds into his ears and gazing out the window.

I sunk further in my seat, closed my eyes, and prayed they didn't call Dad to collect me.