Ruby's keen sailing eyes scanned the gardens near and far.
"There," she stated, emphasising the direction, raising a straight arm.
Her observation snapped Coral and my eyes out of the money bag whilst Josh's fingers counted the condoms.
At the end of her pointing finger, the brunette emphasised, "A cop. Let's go."
My eyes traced the length of her slender arm along a wide tree-lined path. Sure enough, a policeman's uniform spied at the extreme limit of our view.
Ruby urged decisively, "Follow me!"
Coral and I started; Josh paused. He opened the bag wider.
"Oh, shut it, Josh! Stop thinking about pinching the frangers!" Ruby demanded.
She extended her hand, expecting the bag. Josh scrunched it closed, holding it to his side behind his leg.
"Give it to Coral," Ruby directed, adamant.
She backed her insistence as her brows arched and bristled. Josh pushed the bag into Coral's astonished hands. Ruby set a blistering pace. In step beside her, I noticed my bestie peeking into the bag twice.
The police officer's direction led him farther away, close to leaving the park. Coral fell behind in our haste. I thought her boots slowed her. She caught up fast and immediately thrust the bag into my hands.
She clutched her satchel and closed the flapping slide buckle. I gripped the bag close to my chest. It was light brown with greasy spots, creased and tattered at the top, and it rustled and crackled as I clenched it—an unwanted package in my hands.
My shoelace snagged, and I stopped to tie it. Kneeling, I dumped the bag beside me. Its lumpy contents teetered, and it fell open on its side. Luckily, nothing spilled. With a spurt of speed and a racing heart, I caught up.
Josh invited, "Mate, you look white. Are you going to puke? Give me the bag."
He twitched his fingers to accept the bundle clutched to my chest.
Ruby snatched the bag; it ripped at the top as she seized it in my startled release. It crunched as she scrunched the top, bound by her petite fist. She squeezed the air from the bag in her bouncy strides. I heard a repeated pfft release from the swaying bag in sync with her feet pounding the park pathway.
"Quicker," Ruby insisted, "He will leave the park and be impossible to find."
The brunette set a cracking pace. Near breathless, we surrounded the policeman outside one of the garden entrances. The overwhelmed officer stood straight, surprised by four panting teenagers. Gathering her composure and breath, Coral described our find precisely how she composed a sketch.
Youthfully polite, she excluded the condoms.
The officer requested Ruby give him the bag. The tall, clean-shaven dude glanced inside it unfazed, wrote notes and urged us to take him to the bench. The brunette led us briskly; she pinpointed the seat like an ocean buoy.
At the bench, we finally spread, Josh and Coral snuggled in the middle, Ruby and I, the book-ends. I slumped, glad the officer now held the bag. The policeman checked our story and pocketed his notebook. Josh and I left the talking to Ruby and Coral.
"Nicely done," he finished, "and an even nicer scarf."
I caught a rare Ruby blush.
Coral patted her girlfriend's thigh.
The officer deflated us as he directed we would need to go to the nearest station to make statements. We calmly walked behind him, mumbling that our afternoon had been stolen. Josh and I strolled out of the park behind Coral and Ruby.
My position allowed me to appreciate the brunette's scarf's quality and focus on its texture and design. I surmised, hand-knitted cashmere. The watermelon hue complimented Ruby's hair, and the girl wearing it exuded spirit. I liked the blending of her high milk chocolate ponytail, the vanilla lightness of her skin, and her scarf's pinkish dye. The scarf and Ruby united a flamboyance. The girl and the scarf combined the delicious and the innocent, like youthful indulgence in Neapolitan ice cream.
At the police station, our afternoon changed. We were seated on an extended bench opposite the dark wooden duty counter. As a group, we stopped thinking about how to fill in idle teenage time; adults filled the next hour. One at a time, in a small room off to the left, we made brief, separate statements about finding the bag. When my turn came, they checked the facts concerning the money; I forgot the condoms.
My interview proceeded fast and chatty; we hadn't done anything wrong. However, the sterile interview room was unwelcoming, with bare walls, a high grilled window, and a simple low table and chairs.
We received lavish praise for handing in lost money as we waited, in turn, on the uncomfortable wooden bench.
Josh and Coral spun the yo-yo until his interview. Bored, I chewed my nails or followed as my bestie practised the yo-yo trick: rock the baby. Ruby scuffed her pretty black shoes. Like each of us, the brunette readied impatiently to leave.
As we waited for Josh, the last to be interviewed, a duty sergeant told us the bag's owner had rung about his lost money. He restarted because Josh returned. I wriggled; we listened because he was an authority figure, we remained seated. He told us the bag's story as if we cared. It contained five thousand dollars, the owner, known by the police as semi-homeless, and an old dude who avoided the banks. Compassionately, the sergeant told us the bloke had dementia, yet the codger might give us a small reward.
Josh's ears pricked, and he popped, "How much?"
Coral and Ruby, in sync, elbowed his ribs. The policeman apologised for interrupting our afternoon and informed us our parents had been contacted and a taxi would take us home.
He told the brunette, "Your dad indicated he wanted to come. He apologised; urgent business."
Her lip started to curl.
She bounced to her feet, "Let's go," she bit her bottom lip.
Coral turned politely, "Thank you, goodbye," to the officer.
A parked taxi idled outside the police station. We piled in; Coral, Josh and I agreed it beat a crowded tram home. Ruby slumped in the front, silent through the drive to suburbia. Coral nestled in the backseat between Josh and me. She started to plan weekend activities. I noticed she squeezed her satchel tighter than usual to her lap.
The cab dropped us off, one by one. Ruby was first, sullen, removing her new scarf, and Coral was next, happy, swinging her leather satchel. Josh and I joined in a quiet boy's laugh about the condoms. I waved goodbye to my mate.
The taxi pulled to the sidewalk outside my house. The adventure appeared complete until my mum answered the phone about half an hour after I got home. She called me to the phone, her brow wrinkled in concern.
My mother said, " Tell the truth," as she handed me the receiver.
A police voice on the line probed: "Were there prophylactics in the bag? The owner complained about missing condoms in a lucid state."
I received the direct question: "Did you take the condoms?"
I lied.
Well, not about taking them.
I answered, "The bag had no prophylactics in it."
As I spoke, my mother blushed.
I thought she might faint if I uttered condoms.
The voice told me to put my mother back on the line as my questioning finished. My mum listened, hand to her temple until the call ended. I relaxed momentarily as she patted her apron and returned to cooking dinner.
Then I sweated and wondered how my friends answered the question: Did you take the condoms?
As a teenager, I craved to know, and I rang Josh. He guffawed into the phone, ignoring who nicked the condoms. Instead, he laughed at his dad, the parent present, when Josh answered, 'No.'
After the call, his father joked that if Josh filched them, be sure they weren't out of date.
One call down. I rang Coral; I never rang Ruby.
Coral answered; she disclosed she had tried to call me. I told her I called Josh. So had she, my bestie, announced.
"Who was with you when you said No."
In the pause, I bit my nail, wondering about her parent's reaction to a teenage daughter and condoms.
"Oh, my mum!"
"Are you okay?" I pushed.
Her voice concerned me, and I wished to see her face.
"Yes, my mum needled me later; she shocked me. She inquired; Do you want the pill?"
I waited.
" Well!" exploded Coral, and her voice escalated, "I told her my virginity is mine."
Relieved, I leaned against my hallway wall; she sounded okay.
She added, "My mum patted my shoulder. I couldn't remember the last time; she used to do it when I was a little tyke."
"She trusts you," I emphasised, then appended, "She doesn't want anything to hold you back in life."
Coral snorted, deep and strange. It perplexed me.
"Are you thinking Josh or Ruby took the condoms?"
To me, it seemed the logical source of her snort.
"Somebody did," she dragged and slurred.
Coral tittered and changed tack, "Wouldn't you and I have given anything to be there when Ruby's mum heard the word condom."
We shared side-splitting laughter. Then my bestie got serious.
"I've tried calling Ruby; their private line is engaged."
She sighed, "We will suss the goss on Monday at school."
We chatted with Ruby before class on the first day of the new high school term. Coral and I approached her in the locker bay. The little minx stuffed her school bag in her locker and clicked her red combo lock shut.
Before approaching the brunette, my bestie and I questioned whether the effort would be worth it. If the little miss refused to share, we wasted our time.
Pivoting abruptly at her grey locker, we waited as she adjusted her ponytail. I expected Coral to lead and ask her about the police and the condoms.
The brunette, faster, volunteered, after a wink, "Close call for one of us?"
"Yeah," flapped Coral, "they shouldn't have told us he was going senile."
"A bunch of common sense liars jumped on that," remarked Ruby.
"How did your mum react?" Coral inquired kindly.
"Oh, she crossed herself and clamoured for my dad. He swanned through the restaurant and took the call."
"Good?" reassured Coral.
"Not for the police!" fired back Ruby.
"Why?" questioned a nonplussed golden girl.
"He vented, no adult or lawyer attended, invalidating the teenage statements and slammed the receiver."
"Oh, a supportive dad in a crisis!" speculated Coral, blinking rapidly.
"No, never," and the brunette stiffened, irritable, "His fricking business! He failed to come when he should have!"
As close to stowed tears as I ever teenage witnessed in Ruby's eyes.
Coral moved in to hug her friend. The brunette's emotional shield went missing. She let her girlfriend hug her. Still, the brunette eased out of Coral's arms.
"Mmm, a gorgeous scent, sweetie. Is it Impulse, musk?" queried Coral.
Ruby gave her girlfriend an acknowledgment nod. She spun quickly, huffed off, and her ponytail flounced at the world.
Who filched the condoms? No one ever admitted to it. Ruby teased randomly, pointing the finger at us boys. Josh and later Coral incriminated Ruby, stating the minx possessed the stealth. A hedging Coral changed her mind and intimated Josh to me. No one ever considered Coral.
At the lockers, Josh tried to sneak behind his girlfriend. Maybe to steal a peck on her cheek.
My bestie sensed her boyfriend's presence.
"Ah, my bear, you need more stealth to surprise me!"
I tagged along as they locked hands and sauntered to class.