Traffic fines in New York City weren't all that heavy.
But unlike back in the East, here violations were grouped with minor offenses.
In the East, an illegal parking ticket might just mean a fine and a few points. In New York? You'd be making a trip to traffic court.
So…
Driving back toward LaGuardia, Gwen was still relieved she'd gotten out in time. Otherwise, she'd have to skip class for a court date.
Still, she couldn't help but wonder aloud:
"Strange. You can park right outside Manhattan courts. Why not Queens?"
"…."
From the passenger seat, Hawk tilted his head. "Even if you had gotten ticketed, wouldn't Captain Stacy just smooth it over?"
Gwen glanced at him, then shook her head.
"No."
"Uh…"
He thought of the family badge she'd shown the officer earlier.
Reading his mind, Gwen smiled faintly. "Using the badge is fine. It's a perk for police families, everyone uses it. But a formal citation? That's different. My dad would never call in favors over a parking ticket. He'd tell me—" She straightened her face, imitating his voice. "'Gwen, you should stand before the court and admit your mistake.'"
Hawk chuckled softly. Maybe George Stacy wasn't as rigid as he always thought.
Movies really did exaggerate.
Forty-five minutes later, they reached LaGuardia.
Unbuckling, Hawk gave her one last thanks before opening the door.
Then Gwen spoke. "I'm curious about something, Hawk."
He looked back. "What?"
"If I didn't accept your thanks, what would you do? Keep thanking me?"
"…"
Her smile said she genuinely wanted an answer.
After a long pause, Hawk finally replied. "…Apologize?"
"…"
Gwen stared, speechless. Not accepting thanks means… an apology?
Well. That worked, she supposed.
Her grin widened. "You say thanks too much. We're friends. Friends don't need to say it."
Friends?
Hawk froze again.
Sure, he and Gwen were closer than with most classmates, mostly because they shared physics and sat side by side.
But outside of class? He kept his distance. From everyone.
Still…
He didn't deny it. After all, it'd be rude to correct her right after she'd driven him here.
He had at least that much social sense.
After she drove off, Hawk turned toward the temporary shelter.
That evening—
Manhattan.
At the Gorin Apartments, Helen Stacy was curled on the couch in pajamas, watching the latest Desperate Housewives. The door opened, and in walked George Stacy, black suit, badge at his waist.
"You're home?"
"Mm."
He closed the door, glancing around. "Where's Gwen?"
"She went upstairs."
George nodded and headed up, knocking on his daughter's door. "Gwen?"
"It's open, Dad."
He stepped inside.
There she sat, in cute pajamas, golden hair loose, curled in her desk chair.
"What is it, Dad?"
He leaned on the doorway, arms folded, smiling faintly. "You skipped class this afternoon."
Gwen blinked, then understood.
She set her legs down and stood. "Someone called you?"
"What do you think?" he teased. "They always confirm. Could've been someone faking a family badge."
That did happen, rarely. NYPD always wrote down plate numbers. If the badge was real, fine. If fake? Whoever used it could look forward to a dozen tickets in the mail.
Gwen sighed. "I really wasn't planning to park illegally. In Manhattan, the courthouse curb is fine."
George shrugged. "I'm not worried about the parking. That's what the badge is for."
Not that strict, then. Use it, but don't abuse it.
"But I am interested in why you went to Queens Family Court."
"Oh."
She sat back down, picking up her book. "I just drove a classmate. He had some paperwork."
George chuckled.
"A boy?"
"…"
Her book lowered. She looked him in the eye, dead serious. "Dad, Hawk is just a friend."
Well—
A friend who still seemed reluctant to accept it, if his stiff reaction earlier was any sign.
That thought lingered in Gwen's mind.
The memory of his expression when she said, we're friends.
…
(End of Chapter)
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