Riding Dirty on I-95 Read Free Page A

smooth walnut skin bore no makeup, and her short, flat pageboy haircut made her look innocent. However, having a file of her entire life in front of him let him know different. Their eyes met, and he quickly redirected his eyes to the stacks of legal documents before him and began to write on the court documents before him.
    Look at this redneck motherfucker
, Mercy thought
. I know he ain't going to have no mercy on my soul. He probably gets a hard-on every time a black person comes before him with their life in his hands. Hell, he ought to be wearing a white robe instead of that black one, and a white hood over his head at that. That damn gavel ain't nothing but a torch, and that high pedestal he's sitting up on might as well be a horse. Sittin' up there calling himself a judge when he ain't nothing but the grand marshal of the KKK.
Mercy couldn't help but grin a little, but then quickly hid her smirk when the judge looked up at her. He then looked back down at her file and began going over it again.
    I don't even know why I'm getting my hopes up about all this. How could this old white man understand my struggle? He can't. But right now I hope he at least tries to. I just need him to cut me loose from this fucked-up life I've been living. Please just let me go. Release me to the wolves in this big bad world. Let me fuck shit up myself instead of appointing other people to do it for me. I guess it ain't no more I can do. I done prayed all I could, so now it's up to him. I hope he's having a good day. I hope he didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed this
morning. I hope his wife sucked his dick good this morning or something. Damn.
    “Mercy Jiles,” the judge said as he looked up from Mercy's file. He then took his glasses from the tip of his nose and rubbed his eyes. “Ms. Jiles, this has been a very hard decision for me. Your situation is similar to other girls' who come into my courtroom every day.”
    Ain't this a bitch? Mercy
thought.
I got his card. We all look alike, huh? If he's seen one negra girl, he's seen them all. This Ku Klux Klan motherfucker is going to send me back to that fucked-up-ass group home, I just know he is.
Mercy took a deep breath and sighed.
    “But, Ms. Jiles, you are different from those ‘other girls.’ For some reason, I believe that you are destined to be something. I see your determination and your hunger to rise above your circumstances. And that, I admire about you. However, you must understand because I am going to grant you your motion—”
    “Thank you! Judge, thank you so much!” Mercy shouted, cutting off the judge. What else did she need to hear? She had heard enough. Mercy had never been so happy in her life.
    The judge continued talking, but Mercy couldn't focus on all the stipulations he was running by her. Thankfully, her court representative later reiterated them. She had to get her high school diploma or GED as well as maintain employment. The program would give her a state-issued check on the first of each month and provide her with subsidized living in a small efficiency apartment. Mercy would be responsible for her utility bills and all her other needs, including clothing and food. If Mercy didn't comply, she would be forced to go back to the group home. At that point she could go before the judge and ask for a second chance. If she was denied, she would have to come back to court every year until she turned twenty-one, when the state could no longer keep her at the group home.
    Mercy had no intentions of blowing it. She chose to completehigh school rather than cram years' worth of learning into just a few months. Some people say that book smarts only get you so far in life. Well, how Mercy saw it, she was pretty much nowhere as it stood, so however far school could get her was farther than she could have gotten herself otherwise.
    In the days following Mercy's court hearing, Mercy applied for jobs everywhere, from fast-food joints to drugstores to retail shops.