Page 112 of Guarded Deputy
“Whatifthepersonwho offers you drugs is your parent?” One of the sophomores asks. I’m at the high school today, which gives me space to think about what I’m going to tell Lizzy without risking running into her.
The last few days have been hell. The way Lizzy looked at me with disappointment on Friday night and then again yesterday at work is eating me up. I hate it.
But my dad doesn’t stop contacting me. I already told him we weren’t interested in a reunion from hell.
“Come on, man, be serious,” another student says.
“I am. My cousin lives in South Florida and his stories are wild. He has classmates whose families are the ones with drugs.”
“That’s messed up.” One of the girls speaks up.
“Regardless of who it is, it’s not in your best interest to take any substance unless you wanna end up washed away, broke and alone,” I tell them.
Besides, family members aren’t always the best examples of morals and right decisions. No need to voice that or the kids will look at me as if I’m crazy. And I really don’t want a bunch of teens dissecting my life.
I focus back on my lesson of the day. Working with teenagers allows me to be more candid and open since they know more about the world.
“Addiction is real, and the risks and consequences are not something to take lightly.” I look at the students. “Do you like your life? Your friends?”
They nod silently.
“The life you currently live can disappear with the snap of your fingers. We’re talking jail, abandonment, health issues, death.” I stare at them intently.
“Anti-drugs campaigns aren’t just a social movement to make people look good. I know how y’all joke about it because I was your age, too, but the older you get and the more you meet people outside of this small town, you’ll be faced with hard decisions.” I take a deep breath.
In Dallas I worked with troubled teens. Here I’m working with preventative actions. It feels nice, and these kids are funny as hell when I’m in a better mood.
A knock on the door interrupts us, and I see the receptionist peek her head in.
“Deputy Moore?”
“Yes?” I stand.
“I have someone here asking for you. Can you please come out here a moment?”
My face hardens, and I pray to all that’s holy that it isn’t who I think it is.
“Write out a list of reasons you’d never do drugs while I talk to Mrs. Summers,” I tell the class and walk out.
I see the man who had a hand in creating me and want to punch him when I see his smug smile.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but he said it’s a family emergency.”
“Of course. Thank you.” I nod and force a smile so she doesn’t think anything of it.
When she walks away, I glare at my dad. His eyes are lined with wrinkles, and he has a pudgy belly. I used to think he was so tall, and now I’m a few inches taller, making me feel like I have the power.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss.
“You kept ignoring me.” He shrugs indifferently.
“I’m at work. You can’t just show up here.” I see some of the students looking at us through the small window on the door and grab my dad’s arm to shove him away from view.
“You look good in your uniform, son.”
“Don’t call me son.” My voice sounds menacing. “You lost that privilege when you fucking abandoned us. If you haven’t heard from me, it’s because I don’t give two shits about seeing you.”
“I just want to make things right. It’s never too late to be sorry. You and Brooke deserve a father you’re proud of. I know I have a grandson, too. I want to meet him.”