13. The Beginning of Hawk and Gwen's Story

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Fines for traffic violations in New York City are not actually very heavy. However, one thing differs from back home. Here, traffic violations are treated alongside minor crimes. Simply put, if you illegally park back home, you might just pay a fine and lose some points, and that’s it. But here, you need to spend time going to traffic court.

So...

Restarting the vehicle and driving toward LaGuardia Airport, Gwen was still grateful that she had left just in time; otherwise, she would have had to take time off to appear in traffic court.

At the same time, she was somewhat puzzled.

“That’s strange—parking is allowed right outside the Manhattan courthouse, so why not in Queens?”

...

Hawk, sitting in the passenger seat, heard Gwen’s muttering and, after thinking for a moment, asked with some curiosity, “Even if you got the ticket, wouldn’t it be fine if you just told Chief Stacey? It should be okay, right?”

Gwen snapped out of her thoughts, glanced at Hawk, and shook her head.

“No, it’s not.”

“Uh...”

Hawk recalled the family ID card Gwen had shown the traffic officer earlier.

Gwen seemed to see through Hawk’s thoughts and smiled as she explained, “Using the family card is fine because everyone uses it, and it’s considered a benefit from the precinct for police family members. But once you get a summons, it’s different. My dad definitely wouldn’t call his friends at the court just for a parking ticket. He’d seriously tell me, ‘Gwen, you need to stand in court and bravely admit your mistake.’”

While explaining, Gwen mimicked the tone and expression of Sergeant George Stacey from the 19th Precinct.

Hawk listened and nodded in understanding.

He had always thought that Sergeant George Stacey was a rigid, no-nonsense kind of cop who couldn’t tolerate any nonsense.

But hearing Gwen describe it...

Maybe he wasn’t like that after all.

As expected,

movies tend to be stereotypical.

Forty-five minutes later,

Gwen drove to LaGuardia Airport.

After unbuckling his seatbelt, Hawk thanked Gwen once again as she stopped the car.

Just as Hawk was about to open the door and get out, Gwen spoke up, “I’m curious about something, Hawk.”

Hawk, already pushing open the door, turned his head toward Gwen.

“What?”

“If I don’t accept your thanks, what would you do? Keep thanking me?”

...

Hawk was silenced by Gwen’s question.

After a moment,

he looked at Gwen’s smiling, genuinely curious face and thought for a bit.

“Apologize?”

...

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This time, Gwen was quiet.

I don’t accept your thanks, and you say sorry?

...That works, I guess.

Gwen’s smile grew wider as she looked at Hawk and said, “You say thanks too often. We’re friends—friends don’t need to say thank you.”

Friends?

Hawk was stunned again.

Although he was somewhat closer to Gwen than to the other students—mainly because their physics classes overlapped and they sat next to each other—that was about it.

Outside of physics class, they didn’t interact much.

To be precise, Hawk didn’t interact much with any students.

However...

Hawk didn’t argue with Gwen either. It wouldn’t be right to say “we’re not friends” right after she gave him a ride home.

He had that much social intelligence.

Soon,

Hawk watched as Gwen’s car turned around on the spot and sped away, disappearing from sight. He then withdrew his gaze and headed toward the temporary shelter.

Evening.

Manhattan.

Gorin Apartment.

Helen Stacey, dressed in casual homewear and sitting on the sofa watching the latest episode of “Desperate Housewives,” heard the door open and turned toward it.

In sight was Sergeant George Stacey of the 19th Precinct, dressed in a black suit with a white shirt, tie, and a badge at his waist, entering the apartment.

“Back?”

“Yeah.”

After closing the door behind him, George looked toward Helen on the sofa. “Where’s Gwen?”

Helen glanced toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

“She’s in her room.”

“Oh.”

George nodded and headed upstairs. When he reached his daughter’s room, he knocked.

“Gwen.”

Gwen’s voice came from inside, “The door’s not locked, Dad.”

George pushed the door open.

Inside, Gwen, now in a cute pajama set, her smooth blonde hair draped over her shoulders, sat cross-legged on a chair, looking at her father. “Dad, what is it?”

George stood at the doorway, not stepping inside but leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, a slight smile on his lips. “You didn’t have class this afternoon, did you?”

Gwen was momentarily stunned, then caught on.

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She slid her smooth legs off the chair and stood.

“Did someone contact you?”

“What do you think?”

George smiled. “I had to call and check with you—what if someone was faking my family card?”

Though such things rarely happened.

Still...

There’s a saying in the federal system: You can choose not to live, but you can’t live without rules.

There have been people who tried to fool the system with fake family cards, though very few.

Because it involves law enforcement outside, it’s not polite to call and verify directly; instead, they record the license plate number and report it back to the precinct for confirmation.

If the family card is real, nothing happens.

If it’s fake, no worries either—they have the plate number, and that person can expect to get dozens of tickets in a single day.

The New York Police Department makes sure anyone who tries to pull a fast one knows there will be consequences.

Hearing George’s words, Gwen was speechless. “Dad, I really didn’t plan to park illegally. You can park outside the Manhattan courthouse just fine.”

George shrugged. “I’m not interested in your parking violation. After all, that’s what the family card is for.”

He wasn’t that rigid.

The family card is usable, just don’t abuse it.

Gwen blinked at George’s words.

“So you...”

“But I am interested in why you went to the court in Queens this afternoon.”

“Oh.”

At his words, Gwen sat back down and picked up the book she had been reading. “Nothing much, just driving a classmate to court to take care of something.”

George chuckled.

“A male classmate?”

“...”

Gwen put down her book and looked seriously at George standing in the doorway. “Dad, Hawk and I are just friends.”

No.

That guy seemed very reluctant to consider her a friend.

Gwen thought to herself.

She recalled the stiff expression on Hawk’s face just after she said, “We’re friends,” while driving him home this afternoon.

...