The artful Soliloquy of Chelsea

                I wish I had a harmonica right now.

                Something to pass the time as all six of us are now sitting in a row like we are waiting to get a photo popped mug shot and ink fingerprinted. If there only were a couple of hookers and tweaking meth heads chained to their chairs then I would feel like I was being properly charged with a crime.

                Right now, we have the right to remain silent.

                I only roll my head back against the wall and take a deep breath trying to ease the tight feeling in my chest and bottomless pit where my stomach used to be. I knew I was in such deep shit with my parents who I knew were going to fucking flip ballistic on my ass and none of it was my fault.

                I hear some jittering next to me, and the soft jostling, casual brush of denim fabric against my bare leg. It causes me to look over at that poor girl, Rachel. She seemed to be more agitated than before, and I smirk a little when I think about my earlier thought.

She looked like a tweaking meth head… Now it is exactly as if I was waiting to be charged.

                Her bright golden brown eyes are bulging out of their sockets and she is nibbling her fingernails to the quick, a common nervous habit. I can only shake my head slowly raising my eyebrow at her and she notices. She looks over at me and falls as still as a statue.

                “Sorry.” She mutters with that small little unsure voice like before.

                She does not seem any more relaxed and my heart kind of goes out to her because she is feeling the same way I am, completely freaked, knowing we were going to get in a lot of trouble. Against my good judgment, I reach over and gently clasp my hand around hers. The muscles in her arms I can feel relax, and even her spastic leg stops bouncing. She even chances a smile at me and I notice that it is actually nice, calm and actually makes her seem prettier. It is sort of rewarding to have someone smile at you out of pure gratitude and I wonder why I don’t act kinder to people more often. I smile back at her, and doing that makes me realize why. Ashley next to me is muttering a slew of swears under her breath and making a miserable face. I guess I am just so used to people who show no emotion besides depressing that Rachel actually seems cheery by comparison.