Now, I usually don’t go around pointing my fat fingers at just anyone, but when the occasion calls for fat finger pointing, I’m not going to stop natural instinct, you know?

It’s early Tuesday morning; the sun’s not even up, and well, I’m not really too much aware either, when Snoop shows up under my window. It’s just routine, every Tuesday, same time. I like habit. Snoop’s a weird guy that just so happens to share detention with me nearly every Friday. It’s a bonding experience, so I’ve come to find. We both like trying to lick our elbows, reading manga, and talking about the latest shows on ABC family.

It’s just our thing.

“Hold up S-man, I’ve got a wedgie that’s traveling half-way to Nebraska, and it’s not okay with me.” He waits patiently for me to fix the damage, and doesn’t even seem to mind when I take a five minute detour to the kitchen for a Caprisun. A girl’s got to be prepared.

I even offer him one. “Same old, same old. We’ll just cruise our cold-de-sach and around the corner.”

He flips me a thumbs up, so I know he’s game. “Cool.”

What we did was an art, something not just any Plain Jane could get done. We? We were the best of the best, the Michael Phelps, the Kristi Yamaguchi; we could infiltrate a mailbox in under three seconds flat. Timed.

Snoop and I have a pretty sweet deal going on.

I make small talk while we walk, “So you know what I found under my bed the other day?” Snoop’s a pretty quiet guy, so I know he’s perfectly fine to just let me go on about whatever while he listens. I like that, I think.

He tilts his head slightly towards me, the equivalent to ‘what?’

I continue on enthusiastically, “Man, I don’t even know. But it’s in my hoodie back at the house. I’ll show you in school.” He nods, looking thoughtful. If he was someone famous, I think he would totally be someone like Johnny Depp. He’s got that whole brooding thing going on.

It also might be the weed.

We reach our first mail-box, the Jameson’s. We stop. I almost laugh once I read the red flier posted on the side.

It reads:

Caution:
Suspicious activity watch
Possible identity theft and/or accounts of breeching personal information within the general area
Should anyone have any knowledge concerning these matters, please consult Jenine Abrham, pool manager.
(404) 367 653
Thank you,
Jenine Abrham, pool manager.

“Man, Snoop, get a load of this.” I give him a moment to read it, taking his small snort to be barely contained amusement bursting within.

“Someone knows.” He mutters. I nod my head vigorously.

“Totally. That’s why we got to be quick today.”

We’re quick.

Snoop stuffs the carefully selected envelopes under his large, blue hoodie, and we scurry off faster than woodland mice.

“What’s the load?” I ask him once we’ve hit three other houses, careful to avoid any cars or lit windows. Like I said, we’re good at this. He sits down on the sidewalk, leaning up against a tree, and takes the banded stack out.

“We’ve got a few greeting cards, divorce settlements, the usual bills, ooh!” Snoop pauses, eyebrows raised.

“What?” I grab the envelope out of his hand, turning it over every which way.

“Love letter I think.”

“What makes you think that?” I ask, squinting at the loopy hand writing. He shrugs.

“Just kind of looks like one.” We leave it at that. The letter quickly looses interest, so I hand it back to him.

“Whatever. We need to get moving again if we’re gonna make it around the block before sunrise. I still gotta take a shower.” His nose wrinkles at me, something I ignore in favor of licking my hand and slapping it to his cheek. Snoop leaps back nearly five feet, about to fall over.

“What the fuck?” He wipes furiously at his face, eyes still wide and confused. I shrug, biting at a cuticle.

“You coming or not?” I’m not really all that surprised when I begin to walk again and he doesn’t follow immediately. The thing about Snoop is that he’s a thinker. You just got to give him time to think. Eventually though, I hear the soft scuffling of his too-long jeans dragging on the road just behind me. I smile like an idiot.

We hit five more mail-boxes, now in possession of well over fifty different bills. The usual warm feeling of accomplishment mixed with Caprisun fills my stomach. I glance back at Snoop, who looks like he’s in another world. I silently wonder if he’s had a hit today or not. He’s got that smoker’s look that I can only hope to achieve through sniffing scented candle fumes and purple high-lighters.

“Thinking about me?” I joke.

He glances at me through his hair, “Yeah.”

I stop, nearly falling over myself in the middle of the sidewalk. We just seem to stare at each other, and I secretly wonder if he’s trying not to blink like I am. Eventually I have to blink, and he looks away.

“Oh. Well, that’s pretty cool.”

He kicks at a rock, “Yeah.”

I’m not sure if I’m about to say something else or not, my mouth has a cute habit of just blabbering things without consulting me first, but whatever I was about to say is stopped by the complaints of Jenine Abrham, wrapped up in a cheetah print robe and an angry expression.

“What could you two possibly be out here doing at four AM in the morning?” She
straightens her flapping robe with red press on nails, and I almost want to comment on how cool they look.

“Just taking a walk.” Snoop says slowly. God, please be sober, I think, and the more I think about how weird he’s been this morning, the more I think he’s not.

Ms. Abrham’s a tall woman with dark brown hair, and a nose that could open a can. She’s bird kin.

“Well,” She straightens herself to full height, and I’m almost like, why don’t you just fly away already you bird woman, but she doesn’t. “I just want to inform you, that the authorities have been contacted, so you two just best stay here with me until they arrive.”

I decide immediately that I hate her accent.

“Well, I mean, do you have any food at least?” I wonder, “My stomach’s impatient in the morning.” The expression on her face clearly tells me that she’s never heard of manors, and does not intend to get me any food. For good measure, my stomach grumbles loudly, loud enough that her weird bird ears can here it.

She almost looks like she’s going to tell me flat out no, but then a car turns onto our drive, and her face lights up like a bug's at the site of our county policeman coming to her rescue. I guess if I was that ugly and that single, I’d be excited by any man that came my way too.

“Um, sir, over here.” She waves unnecessarily. Snoop and I share a collective eye roll.

“Are you Jenine Abrham, ma’am?” A middle-aged man with a classic stash rolls down the window, barely giving us a glance. Ms. Abrham bristles, suddenly, it seems, aware that she’s only in a bathrobe.

She grips the material closer to herself, “Yes, yes I am.” The car stops, stalls a little, before the policeman gets out of the car to showcase his 6’5 glory. I think I see a bird land on his ear and start laying eggs.

“Sherman Alby. What can I do for you?” He directs the question at Snoop and I, but Ms. Abrham jumps to answer.

“We’ve been having a little theft problem in our neighborhood officer, if you can believe it. These two have been spotted on numerous occasions ‘walking’ around at odd times in the wee morning, and-”

“Tuesdays.” I snap, already tired of this, and feeling sort of cold from the sudden breeze. “We only walk on Tuesdays, and it’s to keep in shape for cross country. You can talk to my coach if you want.” Thankfully, they don’t investigate my bluff any further.

Big man Alby looks skeptical though, “At four in the morning?”

“I have to have time to take a shower, get ready, maybe even sleep a little bit more. Eat. By the time that’s all said and done, it’s time to go to school.”

They all seem to buy it, even Ms. Abrham can’t deny my flawless logic, until one of the envelopes suddenly slips from under Snoop’s hoodie. We all seem to freeze, staring at the incriminating object.

Well, shitty cakes.

Ms. Abrham is the first to act, mouth wide, finger wagging in the air like she’s trying to find a word and it’s escaping her. “I knew it.” She picks the envelope up. “I knew it, you brats, I knew it! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused people with your little mail pilfering?”

Alby takes the envelope easily of her hands, showing it to us. “This yours?”

Shit. “No.” I say honestly.

“Are you aware that stealing people’s mail is a legal offense?” I try to swallow, but it’s suddenly really hard.

“Uh…no?”

“Are you aware you could get jail time for this kid?” Oh my God…my whole life’s over. I’ll be seventy and wrinkly by the time I get out of jail, with a used asshole and smelling like jelly.

“Uh…yes?”

This is where my fat finger pointing comes in.

“Snoop took a lot more. He has them with him right now.” I point out, desperate to make it to school in the morning and not some cell in jail. The expression on his face breaks my foot, multiple times. He looks betrayed, and angry, and fuck, everything else that’s bad. I hope he can see the apologies on my face, but honestly, if anyone was going to end up in jail, Snoop was the prime candidate.

He barely goes to class, sells weed, smokes weed, has stolen much more than mail…it was really only a matter of time. He’s also, coincidently enough, been the only best friend I’ve ever had, and would most certainly not rat me out for his own personal gains.

I tell my conscience to die.

“Oh? Where are these documents?” Alby asks, bushy eyebrows raised. I bite my lip, really trying not cry.

“Right here.” Snoop says stonily, dropping all the bills at once in a cluttered heap onto the sidewalk. I lose my battle, and start crying like a baby. It doesn’t really matter if Snoop took more or not, I’m still an accomplice. The little I learned from legal studies has taught me that no matter what, I’m doing time.

Might as well do time with dignity. I’ve heard jail is all about respect; maybe I’ll save myself some future salad tossing if I start wrangling in friends now. Namely Snoop.

“Officer, this was all my idea. Everything was really. And I know that he’s an accomplice and all that other stuff, but none of this would have happened if I hadn’t of even brought it up in the first place…” I start to ramble, and only the warm feeling of Snoop’s fingers on my arm stops me. I think he smiles a little.

“I think I’m going to have to take you two back to the station, alright?” I find it odd that he’s asking us, but I guess it’s not really a surprise. I’m crying and Snoop looks as scared as he can ever get. It’s probably very evident that we’re just two dumb kids. Maybe that’ll give us some leeway in court.

I think I’m going to throw up. And then die.

“Okay, though, I warn you. I’m really not good with anything restraining, so if you handcuff me, please be aware that I might go into cardiac arrest.” Alby stares at me with genuine confusion before busting out laughing.

“Don’t worry, I don’t think this situation calls for that just yet. Give me trouble, and we’ll see, but you two seem pretty compliant at the moment.” He opens the door for us, and that’s kind of nice I guess. Ms. Abhram looks smug as ever, her hooked nose in the air. I can only watch with barely restrained hate as the car pulls away.

Then I think of my parents, and the speeches, and the looks. Then I try to concentrate on not thinking at all.

You know, Law and Order has given society a pretty unrealistic image of the county jail system. When we reach the station, I’m confused at first. It looks similar to a post office on the inside, and even in the back, where we’ve been detained, it still looks closer to a dentist’s office than a jailhouse.

I guess they save the big place for really bad people, and suddenly, I’m glad my rebellion manifested into stealing mail instead of murdering people.

Snoop and I sit quietly side by side, his hand slightly touching mine. It’s reassuring. Alby’s in the other room, getting us some coffee. I’m surprised we’re even allowed civilized drinks, but I’m not one to shut open doors once they’ve been opened. So now, it’s just snoop and I, along with another nameless officer that keeps pretty much to himself by the door.

Alby comes back in with a steaming cup in his hand. Snoop hadn’t wanted one. “One cuppa hot Joe. It’s not the best, but we like it.”

I’m practically a convict, and he’s worrying about the quality of my coffee. Alby’s good people, I decide.

“I’ll manage somehow, I think.”

He coughs into one mighty fist, before asking, “Which one of you wants to get ahold of your folks first?”

I nearly choke on the coffee in my mouth. Right. The parent thing.

Neither Snoop nor I respond immediately, but after a while of no one speaking, I decide that a quick death is probably the best way to go.

“Um, me I guess.”

The phone call is short, mainly due to the strict four letter vocabulary my parents have adopted. On my end, it’s mainly only yes or no. They’re on their way to kill me, and the only thing that’s even a little comforting is that this way I won’t ever have to set foot in jail.

Snoop’s conversation lasts even shorter, and neither of us are compelled to share. Alby leaves us sometime during our wait, and that’s fine with me. It’s always just been Snoop and I, so why should this be weird or anything?

Except that it totally is.

I try to drum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star on the bench. “Guess what song that is?”

Snoop jumps a little. “What?” I drum it again, slower this time.

“Guess what song.”

“Fuck I don’t know.” He snaps. I stop immediately, not used to his cross tone. Snoop’s almost never mad.

“Hey what’s wrong?”

He abruptly gets up, rubbing at his arms furiously. “Besides the fact that we’ve been arrested? Oh, nothing. Everything’s fucking peachy.”

I go on defense now, pointing some more fat fingers. “Hey, this isn’t all my fault ok? Don’t bite my head off, because it’s not. Jesus.”

“And,” He continues, “It also doesn’t help that my best friend was perfectly fine with letting me go to jail alone!” Snoop’s shouting now, but I don’t really hear it.

“I’m your best friend?” This seems to be the trigger. His pacing gradually slows down until it’s just the two of us, facing each other like Pokemon trainers.

Snoop bites at his lip, “Shit, yeah.”

I nod my head. “Ok.”

He wavers but eventually reclaims his seat next to me just as the door reopens. Alby strolls in, alone thankfully. The breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding whooshes out.

“Hey there, your parents are all waiting in the front and would like to come back to talk to you.” I guess I’m thankful that he’s giving up this little warning. I’m not sure how I would have reacted to them just barging in.

“Okay, thanks.” I say.

He leaves again, to get the parents I suppose, and once again it’s just Snoop and I. Awaiting inevitable doom.

“Snoop?”

He looks at me, with his dark green eyes, and for a minute I almost don’t care that my life is pretty much over because I think he’d look awesome in an orange jumper.

“I wasn’t going to let you go to jail on your own you know, ‘cause I mean, you’re like, my best friend too.” After an awkward pause, I lean forward and quickly kiss him on the lips. It’s over a second later, and that’s the end of that.

We spend the remainder of the night paying for bail out of my Spring Break fund, and listening to lectures and other choice words, but you know, it’s alright because Snoop’s there with me, and no one’s going to jail to have their salad tossed. So everything’s okay.

AN: Wow. I don't even know. Uhm, okie. Review yeah? Please? For more Snoop and nameless female lead?