Not A Good Look by Nikki Carter Page B

step into the hallway with the officers, but I keep looking back over my shoulder waiting for someone to rescue me. My supposed-to-be ex-boyfriend, Romell, is leaning all the way out of his chair to see what’s up, but is he trying to have my back? I don’t think so.
    One of the officers closes the classroom door behind me, and there’s not one person walking down the hallway.
    â€œHi, Sunday. You haven’t done anything wrong. We just want to let you know that up front,” the first officer says.
    â€œBut you had to come up to my classroom? People are gonna think I’m a criminal.”
    Officer number two says, “Unfortunately, the questions that we have can’t wait until later. We’re trying to apprehend the shooter in the Carlos Acevedo case.”
    Duh! This is about Carlos. With all of the record-deal stuff going down, I forgot we’re still in the middle of that particular unsolved mystery.
    â€œWell, I wasn’t at home at the time of the shooting. I didn’t show up until the ambulances came.”
    â€œSo you didn’t see anything? Any suspicious cars or anyone unfamiliar in the neighborhood in the days leading up to the shooting?”
    â€œNo, but the day that Carlos got shot, I remember that his baby’s mother, LaKeisha, called my mother about child support money.”
    Officer number one starts scribbling on his pad. Officer number two asks, “Did you hear the conversation? Was it an argument?”
    â€œI didn’t hear the conversation between my mother and LaKeisha, but I remember my mom fussing at Carlos about it before she left for work.”
    â€œSo you don’t actually know if the conversation took place?” officer number two asks. “You only think it happened.”
    â€œWhy would my mother start an argument with her boyfriend over a fake conversation? That doesn’t make any sense.”
    Officer number two doesn’t answer, but officer number one continues to scribble details in the notebook.
    â€œDo your mother and Carlos have a good relationship?”
    I lift my eyebrows. What in the world does that have to do with anything?
    â€œThey have a great relationship. He lives with us, and they’re going to get married when he has enough income to take care of us.”
    â€œSo your mother wouldn’t marry him due to his financial status?” officer number two asks.
    â€œI didn’t say that! You are putting words in my mouth.”
    â€œYou said your mother fussed with Carlos about the mother of his child. Did they argue frequently about that?”
    â€œUm, no. I thought you said you had questions about the shooting.”
    I wish I’d never brought up that argument, but I was hoping that they’d start looking LaKeisha’s way for some answers, not try to point the finger at my mother.
    â€œAre y’all even close to making an arrest?” I ask.
    â€œThank you for your time, Sunday. We’ll contact your mother when we have more information.” So I guess I don’t get to ask any questions, huh?
    They walk away from me like they didn’t come up to my school interrupting my day. I mean seriously, they could’ve asked me those questions anytime. They could’ve come to our house.
    When I walk back into my classroom everyone is staring at me. I know exactly what they’re thinking because I’d be thinking it, too. Police only show up at the school when it has something to do with drugs. Do they think I’m a drug dealer? If I was trying to be a rapper, that would probably help my career!
    Since I’m totally stressed by my visit from the boys in blue, I grab my backpack and leave, telling my teacher that I have to go to the principal’s office. She doesn’t object; probably thinks I’m under arrest or something. And I was planning to ask her to write a recommendation letter for my college application.
    On my way down the hall to who