Page 5 of The Prince of Broken Crowns

When Officer James glances at me, I offer him an apologetic look, like I did before. It wins him over again, and he tries not to smile before urging the middle-aged guy—aka Gary—toward the barred door to the cell the royals are in.

Lucky them.

Tearing my attention off the cell, I pick up the phone and, with a deep breath, dial my mom’s cell.

“Please pick up. Please pick up,” I mumble, crossing my fingers.

If she doesn’t, I’m so screwed since it’s Friday night and all my friends will more than likely be too wasted to come down. My aunt Ellie lives outside the country and is unreachable, and I don’t know my other relatives. And Kelsie, who I consider my best friend, took off a handful of weeks ago with this guy who has a warrant out for his arrest. She says he’s the love of her life, but she’s flakey when it comes to guys. I know she’ll be back eventually?—

“Hey … who is this?” my mom answers the phone, and I immediately sense she’s been drinking.

“This is Maddy, Mom.” I pause. “Are you drunk?” I lower my head against the wall. The concrete is cold against my skin and is likely covered in all sorts of gross substances, but it fits the moment.

“Nah, I’ve just had a few beers. That’s all,” she insists.

“Well, you sound drunk,” I mumble, noting the music playing in the background. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the bar,” she replies. “But I’ve only been here for like an hour. I promise I’m not that drunk.”

“Okay.” I’m not sure if I believe her, but I need to get bailed out, and she doesn’t sound completely drunk, so she’s probably my best bet. “I need a favor from you, and it needs to be done quickly.”

“What’s wrong?” she instantly asks. “You didn’t run into that gang, did you? The one that’s upset with your father because they think he got their boss in trouble.”

The way she says “they think” makes my lips twitch. She’s always so delusional when it comes to my father, but now’s not the time to get into this with her.

“I did, actually,” I tell her. “They didn’t hurt me or anything, but I got arrested.”

“Shit, did you hit someone again?”

“Only because they were holding me against my will.”

“Dammit, Mads, why do you have to keep doing this?” She has the audacity to scold me. “I thought you learned the first time that you can’t get into fights. You have to be more careful.”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Go to your state of Zen.

Think of running. And fresh air. And open space.

“Can you come bail me out?” I ask.

She hesitates. “I don’t have the money, hon. You might have to wait this out.”

“I can’t wait it out, Mom. I have work tomorrow and school stuff to deal with.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. Money doesn’t grow on trees.”

She says this all the time, even though she’s never given me a dime. Even when I was a child, she’d often send me to the corner of the street to beg for money. When things got really bad, I’d turn to stealing, something I’m not proud of. The moment I turned fifteen, though, and was of legal age to become employed, I got a job, and it was a relief.

“I know that, but you’re always able to come up with money to bail Dad out,” I remind her. “Can’t you just use your car title to get a bail bond?”

“Oh, I took a loan out on that a few weeks ago, so I can’t.”

I feel like banging my head against the wall. “For what?”

“Just for stuff,” she replies as someone says something to her. She laughs, and it’s like nails on a chalkboard. “Look, I’m really sorry you’re in jail, but I can’t bail you out, so …”

I shut my eyes and breathe in and out. “Look, I have some money stashed away, and I’ll tell you where it is, but you have to swear that you’ll only take the amount to bail me out because the rest of it is for my school expenses. If you take any extra, I swear I’ll disown you and never talk to you or help you again.”

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