Chapter 162: Police station
"I know my rights!" shouted a voice, cutting through the otherwise still air. The shout was the kind you’d expect to hear from someone who had watched one too many crime movies. The kid’s voice was high-pitched and sharp, but there was a raw, almost desperate energy to it, like a cornered animal. "You can’t do this! You’re breaking the law!" The words rang out, filled with an intensity that could make any hardened criminal take a second look.
The two police officers sitting behind the desk, sipping their lukewarm coffee, looked at each other as if they were hearing something from another dimension. The station was eerily quiet except for the incessant shouting, like some dramatic courtroom scene playing out in real life. One officer, Brain, who had just finished his lunch and was probably still digesting his sandwich, twitched. His eyes narrowed. "I’m going to call my lawyer!" the voice continued, the boy’s bravado only growing with every word. "I’m going to sue you all for this!"
Brain, the older of the two officers, could no longer hold it in. He slammed his coffee mug down onto the desk with a little too much force. His eyebrows shot up, his eyes twitching as if they had a mind of their own. He stood up abruptly, spinning to face the rowdy teenager.
"Can you shut the hell up?!" Brain yelled, his voice a mix of irritation and sheer disbelief. His hands, still shaking from the outburst, clenched into fists.
The other officer, who went by the name Phil, simply rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, clearly unfazed by the ruckus. He rubbed his temples slowly, as if preparing for a long day ahead. "Brain, just leave the kid alone. He’s not worth it." His voice was calm, almost too calm, like someone who had dealt with way too many teenagers thinking they were invincible.
Brain, however, was not in the mood for peace. He grumbled under his breath, turning back to the computer screen where a Who Wants To Be a Millionaire episode was playing. His eyes narrowed, and a muffled curse slipped out. "Lord, the kid won’t just shut up. Freakin’ annoying brat," he muttered, slumping back into his chair. His gaze flickered to the screen as Jeremy Clarkson’s voice boomed through the speakers. "That’s the third time he’s said that! Who does he think he is?!"
Phil didn’t respond, his eyes glued to the TV. He muttered something about Clarkson being the only real host on TV, clearly not bothered by the noise coming from the holding cells.
At the back of the room, David sat, feeling the weight of the situation press down on him. His face was a mix of frustration and something deeper—hurt. He had been sitting there for what felt like forever, the sting of his situation still fresh. He watched the back of Brain’s head, seething quietly as he fidgeted with his hands in his lap.
"Brain, right? Don’t worry," David muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the police officers’ banter. "I won’t forget you."
The sound of the shouting boy continued in the background, but David’s focus was now entirely on the officers in front of him. The constant back and forth between them was like a sick joke. Is this what happens when you get arrested? he thought. Just waiting to be acknowledged, even if only for a moment, but no. The officers—totally tuned out, absorbed in their own world—didn’t give a single damn. David felt his chest tighten as the weight of being ignored settled over him.
David wasn’t the only one caught in the web of this unfortunate arrest. The other person arrested alongside him, Jadon Sancho, wasn’t handling the situation much better. When they arrived at the station, the police had asked them to make a call to their contacts. Sancho, ever the smooth talker, leaned into the desk, flashing that charming smile he was famous for.