Free Out of My Mind by Pat White Page A

he could kick the crap out of him.
    “She’s on blood thinners so if she bruises she could bleed internally,” her mom said to the paramedics.
    They encouraged Catherine to get onto a stretcher and she did. But she stood on her own and took a few steps. That was a good sign, right?
    “Hey, hey,” the nurse called after them. “What about this kid?” She pointed at J.D., still lying on the ground.
    With a deep breath, not knowing what would work and what wouldn’t, J.D. got up and wavered slightly.
    “You’d better get checked out,” the nurse said, supporting his arm.
    “I’m fine.”
    “You bastard.” Catherine’s father lunged at J.D. but Detective Ryan blocked him.
    Good thing the cop was built like a football player.
    “Sir, you don’t want to do that,” Detective Ryan said with his forearm against Mr. Westfield’s chest.
    “Yes, I really do.”
    Mr. Westfield’s eyes radiated the same kind of hatred J.D. had seen in his dad’s eyes. Which meant that someday her old man would be hiding in J.D.’s front bushes with a baseball bat.
    “Hey, back off,” the nurse said to Mr. Westfield. “This young man saved your daughter’s life.”
    Her father didn’t stand down from his aggressive position. It was like he couldn’t hear the woman’s voice through the cacophony of rage.
    “Daddy?” Catherine said.
    Color drained from her father’s face. He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter.
    She reached out from her prone position on the stretcher. “I can’t go to the hospital without you.”
    Turning back to J.D., Mr. Westfield raised a threatening index finger. Detective Ryan put up his hand in warning.
    With a huff, her dad turned and went to his daughter.
    Catherine nodded at J.D., at least he thought she nodded. Her dad climbed into the ambulance and they closed the doors.
    “We’ll meet you at the hospital.” Taylor grabbed her friend’s arm and bolted to the car.
    “You should really go to the hospital,” the nurse said to J.D.
    “Yeah, thanks.” J.D. watched the ambulance disappear around the corner.
    “So, you want to tell me what just happened?” Detective Ryan asked.
    “Why? You’ve already made up your mind.” J.D. scanned the street and spotted his skateboard, crunched in half. The bimbos had destroyed his last mode of transportation.
    “I saw what happened, officer,” the nurse offered. “This young man went flying into the street to save that girl from being hit by a car. He really did save her life.”
    “Yeah?” Detective Ryan eyed J.D. “Is that true, kid?”
    J.D. ignored the question. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
    “Random drug test.”
     
    * * *
     
    J.D. wanted Detective Ryan to wait on the front porch, but the cop wouldn’t let him out of his sight. Who knows, J.D. might be stashing someone else’s pee inside, right?
    They went into the dark house, J.D. pausing at the threshold for a second, listening intently, even though he knew Wednesday was billiards night at Palmer’s Pub.
    Every Wednesday a part of J.D. hoped the old man would drink too much, get behind the wheel and drive his Olds headlong into a tree.
    Never happened.
    The cop needed to be gone before the old man got home. J.D. didn’t want anyone knowing the truth. Besides, a cop might feel like he had to do something about it, which would cause more misery, more beatings, or worse.
    They’d split up J.D. and Billy and send them off to foster care. J.D. wouldn’t let that happen.
    “Leave the bathroom door open,” Detective Ryan said, handing J.D. the plastic bag with the pee cup.
    “You gonna watch me, too?” J.D. snatched it. The guy was a ball buster.
    “I’ll pass, thanks,” he said with a smirk.
    J.D. went into the powder room, that’s what Mom had always called it, and did his business. He glanced at the cat soap dish. Mom bought it at a craft fair because she said cats were fluffy balls of happiness.
    Not a good time to be thinking about her.
    “Where’s your