Peter had never seen the inside of an actual police office before. It was a lot more mundane than the tv shows suggested. There was no network of pinned up photos and wires on the wall, no grizzled gangster making mean faces in holding, he wasn’t even handcuffed to a table. Ridiculous!
  He leaned to his side. “Man, getting caught stealing cookies used to be more exciting than this,” he whispered. Sam gave no response. His friend had not said a word since they had sat down. She was sitting with her hands in her lap, stoically looking forward as if that would make their situation any less embarrassing or real. Guess she doesn’t share the sentiment.
  When the door opened, a portly man in uniform came into the room with a bunch of paperwork in his arms. He had bags under his eyes and looked at the two of them like it was their fault he was still at work at 2 in the morning. Well, admittedly, it kind of was. The man let his paperwork drop on his desk in front of them with a heavy thud and pinched his forehead.
  “So let me get this straight,” he began, ”you two broke into the zoo with a bag full of cheese, lockpicked the cafeteria door, brought their best wine and glasses into the kangaroo cage and then held a picknick with the kangaroos in the middle of the night.” The officer paced though the room, eyeing them. Exhaustion and disappointment hung on his face. “How do kids these days even come up with these ideas?” the man grumbled, shaking his head.
  “Actually,” Peter said, ‘I brought my own glasses.” A moment of awkward silence followed. “Drugs might or might not have been involved”. A flash of pain went through his ankle as Sam kicked him under the table, shooting him an angry glare. His comment was answered with a deep sigh from the officer. “Well, whatever the details, you’re lucky you’re still underage or you’d be in real trouble. As it is you two both get off with a week’s worth of community service. We’ll have your parents pick you up.”
  Your parents. Oh no.
  At the mention of her parents Sam shot up. “Wait a minute,” she said as she raised her arm, “I will do an extra week of community service, no, two weeks, both of us. Just please don’t phone anyone. Let us walk home on our own.” Panic was in her eyes. Peter could see she was trying to keep a calm posture, but she was clearly trembling. He did not fault her.
  Peter would likely get scolded in front of the officer for a bit, after which this adventure would be added to his parents’ collection of dinner party stories and he would go on with life. No, he did not have to worry. Sam on the other hand had the pressure of upholding her family’s status as the sole heir to the von Ottenheim fortune. It was exactly that pressure that he had wanted to help relieve for a bit. And what a great job you did at that, moron.
  “Well, I’m sorry young lady, but the phone call has already been made. They should be on their way right now”. The officer did not look sorry as he walked out of the room. Peter turned to his friend. “Hey, maybe your parents are asleep and the steward picked up the phone. Albert would never rat you out, you could keep this under wraps.” Sam nodded absentmindedly. She was staring blankly ahead, breathing erratically.
  Silently the two of them were sitting in the room, staring through the glass window at the entrance of the police office, surrounded by the tap-tap-tap of Sam’s foot hitting the floor. Yes, Peter convinced himself, the von Ottenheim steward will discretely come here, pick Sam up and everything will be fine. His lightheartedness from earlier had evaporated. This mess was his fault. He was the one who had convinced her to blow off some steam. He was the one who had come up with the idea. He could not leave Sam alone now. He had to be there for her.
  The silence was broken by the sound of angry screaming outside. The sense of hope that Peter had built up instantly melted away as all color drained from Sam’s face. Outside the roaring continued. “Samantha Angelica Dorothea von Ottenheim, you better hope I was called here on a mistake!“ The entrance doors swung open and the Lady von Ottenheim burst into the police office in a flurry of red cloth and white pelt. “Where is my daughter?”