AN: Okay, this has been on my mind for a while... In the "Secret Hour" they told Jessica that they had all ridden in the back of the Sheriff's cruiser... Review if you will, thank you... Oh, yeah. I don't own the Midnighters. If I did there'd be a fourth one.
Rex
The blue time was over and the rain had restarted. Rex sighed heavily as he thought of the 'home' that awaited him. At least it was dry. Well, at any rate, his room was dry. A smile tugged at his lips as he remembered that the roof had caved in over the kitchen. Melissa had offered to help fix it, he recalled. He knew she still felt bad about what happened two years ago. He didn't. Even if it meant Rex had to go straight home after school every day to give his dad his meds, he was glad Melissa had changed him.
Bright lights blinded him as he turned a corner. Raising his hands to cover his eyes, he heard a gruff, but sharp voice call.
"Hey! You! That's right keep your hands where I can see 'em, boy, and nobody gets hurt…" the voice of Sheriff St. Claire broke the silence, trailing off as he ended his sentence.
Rex turned on the heel of his boot and started to run.
"Hey! Kid, stop! Halt!"
Rex ignored him and focused all his energy on running. Sweat trickled down his back making him itch. Normally Rex was a fast kid; it was how he survived the bullies at Bixby High, but now in his steel toed boots he felt as if he were running through wet cement. The Sheriff, in his white Nikes, overcame him easily. Puffing, St. Claire grabbed the back of Rex's trench coat and hauled him back to his cruiser. He opened the back right door and with a sarcastic "After you," pushed Rex in.
"You took me for a run, boy, but you remember this: nobody gets away from Sheriff Clancy St. Claire, nobody! Got that?" he said as he turned the key in the ignition. Rex nodded stiffly.
"Good. Now, where'd you say you live?"
"I didn't, sir." He whispered.
"Well, then, tell ole Clancy where you live then, huh?"
"16 and 20th, sir."
"What's your name, son?"
"Rex Greene…" the boy in question mumbled.
"Ah, Rex… Do your parents know you're out Rex?"
"No." He didn't bother to explain that his mother left after dad was left a – when dad had his accident.
They pulled up in front of the Greene Mansion. Otherwise known as a half fallen down wreck of a shack. Home sweet home. St. Claire cleared his throat.
"Is there anyone home, Rex?"
"My dad."
"Right then, let's go meet Mr. Greene."
St. Claire got out first, and then pulled Rex from the back seat. Held by his fore arm, Rex was frog marched up the fractured walkway. Rex suppressed a soft laugh as he imagined the neighbors' faces watching him being escorted to his house by a police officer. Mrs. Radcliff could be counted on to make sure the whole neighborhood knew by noon the next day.
As the Sheriff rang the doorbell, Rex sincerely hoped his father was at least dressed. Heavy footfalls answered the chiming and a grotesque face appeared behind the screen door.
"What do you want?" he asked; although only Rex, who was used to his fathers burble of words. St. Claire obviously got the gist of it though, for he pulled Rex in to the flickering porch light.
"Is this your boy?" he asked. Mr. Greene looked at Rex blankly for a full five seconds before nodding slowly.
"Right then, I'll leave him to you."
After Sheriff St. Claire left, Rex opened the screen door and pushed past his father, up to his room.
Curled up on the only spot on his bed not covered with photocopies of old newspapers and books, Rex tried very hard to sleep.
Giving up sleep, he switched on his black overhead light casting purple shadows across the room. Sitting on the floor, he wished for the millionth time that night that Sheriff Clancy St. Claire lived in Bixby.