It wasn't like they could go home anyway. But where else could they go? They didn't have money for a hotel. Sal didn't plan a thing in regards to the party, leaving it all on Russell to figure out. But Russell was in no state to make decisions. He was also in no state to be in public. There was nowhere to go but home, unless they wanted to spend the night in the car. But where would they even park? All Sal could think of was the school's parking lot. He'd head for there unless he thought of a better idea.

"Are you able to tell me how to get to school?" Sal asked Russell. "All I know is that we want to go south. But what freeway?"

"Never. Eat. Soggy. Waffles," Russell answered.

Sal figured he wouldn't be helpful in that regard either. Thankfully GPS was a thing his phone had.

After getting it set up at a stop sign, Sal followed the directions onto the freeway as best as he could. Which proved to be difficult, given it was pitch black out, and many of the streets were poorly lit.

Sal snuck a peek at Russell. He had fallen asleep.

Sal wanted to fall asleep too, and wished he had stopped somewhere for an energy drink. To keep himself awake, he turned on the radio, tuning into a country station. A song about saving a horse and riding a cowboy played. He smiled, grateful that country music radio was, for once, playing some good 2000's stuff.

The music woke Russell up. "Really? Not even when I'm drunk." He fumbled at the radio's power button, successfully turning it off after several tries.

That song was one of my favorites," Sal protested.

Russell gazed at him with a dreamy-eyed expression. "You're one of my favorites."

"You too."

Something ran up Sal's thigh. Startled, he swerved into the next lane. "Dammit Russell. I'm driving!"

"Yeah, driving me crazy." Russell leaned over to kiss him, and Sal attempted to push him away with one hand while holding the wheel with his other. But he struggled to keep the wheel straight. A siren wailed, red and blue lights flashing behind them.

Sal swore, and pulled over to the side of the road. "Where's your registration?" he asked, scrambling through the glovebox. Russell answered by kissing his cheek. It was hard to see in the dark, so Sal pulled out the first piece of paper he felt. A bright light flashed in on him. He blindly rolled down the window. "Here's the registration," he said, proud of himself for being prepared.

The police officer snatched it out of his hand. "Next time, wait until you're asked- This isn't the registration."

"It's not?"

The officer frowned at the paper. "This is an invitation to a church brunch." He crumpled it up, and tossed it aside. "Where's your license?"

Sal swallowed. "I have a permit, but-"

"Where's your permit?" The officer shined his flashlight at Russell. "You- where's your license?"

"In my wallet." Russell reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Here it is, your honor."

"Do you think this is a joke?"

"Sorry officer, he's drunk."

"How old are you?" The officer flashed his light towards Russell. "You look too young to be drinking."

"I'm just driving him home," Sal said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

He must not have done a good job of it, because the officer shined the flashlight back into his eyes. "Step out of the vehicle."

Shaking, Sal opened the door and stepped out. He was the same height as the cop, but the cop was heavily built, with short, dark hair and a mustache.

"Are you drunk?" the officer asked.

"No. That's why I'm driving."

"How old are you?"

"17."

"And the young man in the car with you?"

Sal remained silent.

The officer shined his light in his face again. "Well?"

"I have the right to remain silent," Sal said, with all the confidence he could muster.

"Don't get smart with me." The officer leaned in close, poking at Sal's chest. "Are you aware California law states that a minor cannot drive without a licensed adult over the age of 25?"

Sal furrowed his brow. "That might've been one of the questions I got wrong on my permit test."

The officer leaned in again, sniffing. "You smell funny. Have you been smoking?"

"No."

"That's exactly what someone who has been smoking would say." The officer glared at him. "Put your hands against the vehicle."

Sal pressed his palms against the cold steel of the car, shuddering. The officer patted him down, paying close attention to his upper body, after shoving his wallet and house keys in his own pockets.

"Remove the hoodie," the officer said.

Sal's breath caught in his throat, and he turned to face the officer. "Why?"

"It's too baggy." The officer squinted at him. "It's hard to tell if you're hiding anything under there."

"But I'm not." He pulled off his hoodie anyway, shivering from the cold this time.

The officer stared at his chest, lip curling with disgust.

"What's..." Sal looked down at his N.W.A. "Fuck tha Police" shirt. "Oh."

The officer's eyes snapped back up to his face, and he snatched the sweatshirt from him. "Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Sal complied. The officer pulled out a pair of handcuffs and clicked them around his skinny wrists.

"What about my friend?"

"He's coming too." The officer shoved him into the backseat of the police car, slamming the door behind him. Sal watched, helpless, as the cop pulled Russell out, patted him down, and put him in handcuffs. His jaw clenched when the officer gave Russell a swift kick in the shin after he fell during the pat down.

"Why the hell did you kick him?" he asked the officer after he shoved Russell into the car next to him.

"For resisting arrest."

"You don't even have a reason to arrest us!"

"Don't talk back. You were driving without a license, without adult supervision, with an under-aged drunk, past curfew."

"Would you have rather I let him drive?"

The officer ignored him, and went back to Russell's car to search it. Russell leaned his head against Sal's shoulder and snored, his cold, wet hair soaking Sal's shirt.

The two boys were separated as soon as they arrived at the police station, Sal's shirt receiving dirty looks. Russell stumbled, half-asleep, as two cops took him away. Escorted by the officer who arrested him and a female officer, Sal was led to a barren room where he sat in a chair against the wall. The only other object in the room was a steel table in front of him. He listened to the two officers converse, wishing for a cup of water. His mouth had never felt so dry.

The woman tucked a lock of long, dark hair behind her ear. "So, Dan, what happened?"

"I saw their car swerving, so I pulled them over," Dan said. "The driver here has no license. He was driving his drunk, under-aged friend home. Or so he says."

It's true," Sal said.

"Silence!" Dan shouted, banging his fist on the table.

Sal cowered at the noise, and looked over at the woman. "Can I go home?" he asked, voice wavering.

"We're going to have to call your parents to get you." The woman officer gave Sal a sympathetic look. "You were right in not letting your friend drive drunk, but you still shouldn't have been out past curfew. And your friend is too young to be drinking." She asked Sal for basic information about himself, then left the room.

Dan pulled Sal up by the shirt, and dragged him back to the main area, through another door into a room that contained several cells. Dan unlocked one of them, before removing the handcuffs from Sal. He shoved him inside with more force than necessary, causing him to land flat on his stomach. There was a rumble, then a clang. The lights flicked off as Dan left, leaving Sal alone in the dark, hoping the vomit aroma came from a different cell.

Tyler had to come pick Sal up, appearing more tired and disappointed than Sal had ever seen him before.

"Where did you get that shirt?" Tyler asked, first thing.

"Cold Gothic," Sal answered, shoving his previously-confiscated wallet and keys in his pockets.

"What were you thinking?" Tyler asked during the drive home. Sal shrugged and stared out his window, wondering if this was enough to get himself kicked out into a group home. "You said you were spending the night at Russell's. You lied to us."

"I know."

"What happened?"

Sal focused on his reflection in the side mirror, his face haggard from the stress the night had caused him. "A friend at school invited us to go to a party in Pacifica. Russell and another friend were going. I didn't want to go, but I didn't want Russell to go without me. I tried convincing him not to, but he wouldn't listen." Sal's voice shook. "And then everyone was drinking, and I told him not to, but he drank anyway. I didn't drink at all, I swear."

"I believe you," Tyler said. "I know you wouldn't drink."

Sal's tense muscles relaxed. "I couldn't let him drive, so I drove."

"You did the right thing there. But you're still grounded for everything else." Tyler let out a sigh. "Your mother is going to be furious when she finds out."

Sal had expected worse. His thoughts ran to Russell. He's dead.