Order in the Court Read Free Page B

drive ,” my mother said under her breath, slamming her hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. “Damn teenagers.” I didn’t point out that she had a teenager in her car. One who was a fairly competent driver, though I still only had my learner’s permit.
    When she pulled into the designated drop-off loop in front of the school library, my mom put her hand out to prevent me from undoing my seat belt. I looked at her, eyebrows raised.
    “I’m late meeting my friend,” I said.
    “She can wait a minute longer.” Anxiously, my mom jerked her hand away from me and placed it on the steering wheel, wrapping all her fingers around it tightly. “Corey, I have to tell you some—”
    “I really don’t have time right now,” I said, undoing my seat belt before she had time to stop me again. I slipped my phone in my pocket and climbed out of the car. Leaning back in I added, “Tell me over dinner!” and then slammed the door in her face. It felt incredibly satisfying.
    I practically jogged to the study rooms on the second floor of the library, taking deep breaths all the while to calm myself. I knew exactly what she wanted to tell me, and I wasn’t going to let her. I didn’t want her to say the words. I didn’t want her to admit it. I didn’t want to hear it, to have it confirmed.
    My mother was sleeping with Mr. Haywood. She was going to leave my father.
    Life as I knew it was circling the drain, had been since last summer, and I wasn’t any more ready to let go of my parents’ marriage than I had been to attend the triple funeral of the three girls who had sworn to be my Best Friends Forever in the third grade. Not Best Friends for Life, Best Friends Forever . Not even ’til death do us part , though apparently that vow was meaningless too, at least for my mother.
    I walked into our usual study room, empty but for Abby slouched in the back corner, her books spread haphazardly around the table in front of her as she dawdled on her smartphone. She looked up when I entered, her customary smirk falling when she saw me.
    “You look awful,” she said, frowning at me as I dropped my backpack onto the table and began riffling for my physics notebook. “No, really.” She reached out and touched my arm. “Are you okay? Did the doctor tell you something awful?”
    “Nothing like that,” I said, tumbling gracelessly into the chair beside her and flipping open my notebook. “It wasn’t that kind of appointment. Lawyer stuff.”
    She nodded thoughtfully and dropped the subject. I was grateful. Abby was one of the few people here who knew who I was and what I’d seen. She hadn’t blabbed about it to anyone yet. I could tell she had questions, but she kept them to herself. One day, maybe I’d tell her about it. The trial, the murders, the friends I’d seen lying in pools of their own blood. I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet, to go over every gory detail—not on the stand, and not off it. But I’d have to be ready soon. I didn’t have any choice.

September 3rd
     
     
    I WASN’T ready.
    I packed my backpack up with new notebooks, pens, and textbooks. I brushed my hair straight and then pulled it into a ponytail. I wore a gray T-shirt, loose jeans, and running shoes. I was as nondescript as possible. No one would notice me in a crowd, would point to me and yell “How’s it going, murder-girl?”, but still, I wasn’t ready. Would I ever be ready?
    “Let’s goooooo,” my mother hollered, all voice and no substance, her tiny body at the foot of the stairs looking fully incapable of producing her authoritative lawyer voice. “Get a move on or you’ll be late for your first day!”
    I slung my backpack over my shoulder and tromped down the stairs, feeling nauseated and excited and also not ready . My dad kissed my forehead before we left, and, having kissed my mother’s lips first, left a smudge of her lipstick on my forehead that I would have to wipe off in the car.
    “Good luck, Kitten,” he