The Second Trial (29 page)

“Will you make me a dress?”

“I could try,” she replied.

Both sets of eyes turned to Danny. He scowled. “I've never made a New Year's resolution and I don't see why I should start now,” he said, as he scuffed the chair back from the table.

New Year's Eve dawned clear and cold. Danny stayed in bed even later than the lazy winter sun. He made it down just in time for lunch.

“We're all invited to the condo complex's New Year's Eve party,” Mom said. “There's a candle parade around the common area at midnight. What do you think?”

“Sounds like fun!” Julia said.

“David?” Mom asked. “Be a good chance for you to meet some more of the neighbors.”

“Aren't we going to move out of this dump now that you've got a job? So what's the point in meeting the neighbors?”

“I hope we
do
move sometime in the new year. But in the meantime, we can't put off living now because we think it'll be better or different later. We need to enjoy ourselves – have fun –
now
.”

He stared at his mother.
Now there's a good New Year's resolution,
he thought.
I'm going to have fun.

He wasn't invited, but Danny knew there'd be a party at Todd's. He dropped his new basketball shoes into a plastic grocery bag and snuck out at nine thirty. Sure enough, the lights blazed and the music roared from the untidy bungalow crouched in the snow.

He sold the basketball shoes for twenty dollars. Then he got blind drunk.

Danny had no memory of how he got home. He did remember his mother holding his clammy forehead as he retched into the toilet. He did remember the glass of water she forced him to drink before he passed out on the bed.

In the morning, Danny had never felt sicker. His clothes clung to him like dead skin. His nose was so congested he had to breathe through his dry mouth. Every heartbeat throbbed in his head until his skull was ready to explode.

And he couldn't even remember if he'd had fun.

Four days until school started. Julia avoided Danny, and Danny avoided his mom. Tension hung over the house like a chronic illness, like there wasn't enough oxygen for all of them. Danny took Buddy for long walks until the dog shivered with cold. He threw away the rest of his time at the mall.

Chad expected him after school on Monday, but half way to the mall Danny paused and then veered home. He heard Buddy scratching, even before he got the screen door open. He cast off his backpack and snapped on the dog's leash. They walked away from the mall.

He needed time to think. The best thing about school was art class, mainly because of Nixxie. The next best thing was Chad. There was no third best thing.

But Nixxie didn't like Chad, and Chad couldn't care less about Nixxie. And Danny wanted them both.

“Davey-boy! Missed you yesterday.” Chad's voice had an edge to it. “Busy with your girlfriend?”

“Don't have a girlfriend,” Danny mumbled.

Chad chucked him under the chin. “Glad to hear it,” he said.

Well before basketball practices resumed, Danny started feeling sick. He skipped the first one with a stomachache, the second with a headache. By the time he'd missed three practices, his mom said, “Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”

But Danny already knew what was wrong, and his mother put it together the next day. “I tried to find the receipt for your basketball shoes,” she said. “I couldn't find it, and I couldn't find the shoes.”

“They're in my gym locker.”

“Your Phys Ed teacher said they're not.”

“He
called
you?”

“He phoned to remind us the school would pay when we bought the shoes. I told him you already had them.”

“So. I lost them.”

“You lost them,” she repeated flatly.

“Yeah, like
you've
never lost anything.” He saw her face fall. He looked away and his neck began to flush.

“Oh, Danny,” she whispered.

That evening, while Danny was out with Buddy, Mom searched his dresser. She took the gift certificate and hid it in her room.

The new kid in class had shiny pumpkin-colored hair. Even though he cut it short, Everett couldn't get it short enough to avoid Chad's spiteful eye. He might as well have had a target on his forehead.

“Hey, pumpkin head! Anybody ever carve you up at Hallowe'en?”

“Hey, pumpkin head! I bet we could cook you into a great pie.”

“Todd! Ever feel like smashing a pumpkin on the street and watching a car drive over it?”

Everett ducked every time Chad came near, but when he walked past the mall one day, he didn't spot Chad soon enough. Chad leaned carelessly against the rail at his usual place. The smoke from his cigarette mixed with the vapor of his breath on the frigid late-January day. Todd and Danny loitered to his right. Some of the gang shared a couple of smokes, the top of their jean jackets unbuttoned to expose thin T-shirts.

“Hey, pumpkin head!” Chad called.

Everett dropped his eyes and picked up his pace.

“Pumpkin head! Pay attention! I'm talkin' to you!”

It was Todd who tackled Everett from behind. Danny rose on the balls of his feet and followed. Todd rammed Everett's face down and ground his knees into the boy's ribs to keep him down. Everett worked his arms loose and his fingernails clawed at Todd's hands, but Todd grasped Everett's hair and yanked it back until the boy started to choke. Danny slammed his knee onto Everett's raised elbow, pinning it to the ground. Todd forced the side of the boy's face deeper into the packed snow until his teeth bit open the insides of his cheek.

Danny watched Chad advance until he planted his feet close to Everett's face. He spat in the snow by the terrified boy. Danny couldn't take his eyes off Chad. He'd seen that look before – on his dad on the last day of the trial.

A creeping numbness started from the soles of Danny's feet and wormed its way up through his body until he couldn't tell the difference between his knee and Everett's elbow, between his body and the snow. He froze in place, stopped blinking, stopped breathing. He couldn't move his arms or legs anymore. He felt like he was floating up, looking down from above. He saw his body kneeling on Everett. He saw the other boys begin to draw their circle tighter around Everett, like mourners around a coffin. Everett had stopped squirming. He breathed through his mouth like a fish gulping in the air that could only kill it, his eye circling wildly in its socket, searching desperately for help. Danny's vision began to narrow, until all he could see was Chad slowly pulling a lighter out of his pocket. His eyes zeroed in on the lighter while Chad placed his thumb on the igniter and rolled down the small wheel. Danny could hear it grind against the flint
, phut, phut, phut
, like a series of barks. Chad struck it again and Danny could smell the sharp flash of flint. On the third try, the flame flickered blue and yellow in the cold air. Chad adjusted the flame to its highest setting. He crouched like a spider and moved it toward Everett's hair.

Everett's howl released pain stored like a memory in Danny's bones. He felt himself snap back into his body like a taut elastic suddenly cut. He lifted his knee off Everett's elbow and lurched to his feet, knocking the lighter out of Chad's hand. Danny took one, two, three steps back, turned, and bolted away, his feet pounding through the snow like pistons. He ran until he thought his heart would burst.

The police were already at Danny's house by the time he got home.

Chapter 24

“Order in Court! All rise!” called the clerk. About two dozen people rose from low-backed swivel chairs strung in uneven rows across the back half of a small courtroom. Danny sat at the end of the third row with his shoulder pressed against the wall. His mother sat beside him. Her thumb rubbed back and forth across her scar.

A slight woman in a beige suit took her seat behind the bench. Her Honor Judge Nelson wore round black-framed glasses that made her look owlish and magnified the crow's feet around her eyes. Danny couldn't tell her age, but she was certainly older than Grandma.

“Court is now in session. You may be seated.” Chairs squeaked as people settled.

“How many on today's docket, Madam Clerk?” asked the judge.

“Seventeen, Your Honor.”

“Any adjournments?”

Several lawyers in suits stood up. One by one they addressed the judge and stated their reasons for requesting adjournments. Most were granted and several trial dates were set. Teenagers shuffled out with their lawyers as Danny watched nervously, trying to pick up pointers on how to act when his turn came. This time he wasn't a spectator – he was a player.

When his name was called, he couldn't move and he couldn't breathe. His mother put her hand over his and squeezed it quickly, and gently pulled him up with her. She led the way to the front and stood beside her son.

“Are you David Perry Mayer?” the clerk asked.

Danny swallowed and nodded.

“David Perry Mayer, you stand charged that you did unlawfully assault Everett Sanderman and thereby cause him bodily harm. How do you plead?”

“Just a moment, Madam Clerk,” the judge said. She peered at Susan. “Are you his mother?”

“Yes.”

“Where's his father? Is he here?”

Susan cleared her throat. “Dead.”

The judge looked at the prosecutor, Ms. Samos. “How old is this young man?”

“He's –” Ms. Samos flipped through the file. “He's thirteen.”

Mr. Berg, the duty lawyer, intervened. “Ma'am, given the boy's young age, even with this serious charge, the case should be dealt with outside of court.”

The judge looked at Ms. Samos. “Why haven't the police recommended extra-judicial measures?”

She scanned the forms. “The crime was one of deliberate violence. A boy was held down and his hair set on fire. Mr. Mayer was one of the gang that attacked the boy. Given the victim's burns and the element of gang violence, the police are reluctant to take the case out of the court process.”

“Mr. Berg, what do you say about this?”

“Just a moment, Ma'am.” The duty lawyer turned to Danny, and, lowering his voice, asked, “What did you do?”

“I didn't do it,” he whispered. “I left before they burned him.”

Mr. Berg straightened. “He says he wasn't involved in the burning. He left before it happened.”

The prosecutor held up the notes. “The police say there are witnesses who saw him participating in the assault.”

The judge pursed her lips. “This is a very serious matter. But given this youth's age, I don't think it would be in his or society's best interest to force it through the court process just now. Mr. Berg, Ms. Samos, what are our options?”

Susan stepped forward. “Your Honor, may I speak? David has been seeing his school counselor for some…adjustment problems our family's had since we moved here. Perhaps if he committed to see the counselor on a regular basis…?”

“Your thoughts, Ms. Samos?” the judge asked.

“He lives with his mother. As long as he stays there, observes a curfew, and doesn't contact the victim or associate with the other gang members, I won't object.”

“Very good. Mr. Mayer, I'm going to reserve your plea and adjourn the case for six months. During that time you are to see your school psychologist – what's his name?”

“Mr. Ishii,” Danny mumbled.

“Mr. Ishii. As many times as he feels necessary. He'll prepare a court report with recommendations for your case. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said, eyes on his feet.

“Curfew for one month from 6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m.?” asked the prosecutor.

“So ordered,” replied the judge.

“You're lucky,” his mom said when they returned home. “It could have gone much worse. And it can get much worse, if you let it.”

Danny rubbed his fingertips across his lips.

She waited another moment, then reached into her pocket. “I found this in the laundry room. It had slipped behind the washer.”

It was the worry stone.

“What would Grandpa say if he knew you're on your dad's path – only you've started much younger?”

The psychiatrist's words from his father's trial brought him up short
. He's a bully. He's a dangerous man.

“Where will you go from here?”

Once a bully, always a bully. The bully always falls back into the
same pattern. The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior. If
he's done it before, he'll do it again.

“Jail time?” his mom continued.

Make no mistake. If you come before this Court again, convicted of
a similar offence, you may well spend the rest of your life behind bars.

“I heard your boy's in a bit 'a trouble,” Papa Joe said, reaching down to snap on Buddy's leash. “Anything I can help with?”

“I don't know,” Susan replied, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead. “I'm worried. He's so distant. He wastes his time in front of the TV, or locked in his room, or even worse – at the mall.”

Papa Joe ruffled Buddy's ears as he nodded.

“We don't have any relatives, and he hasn't made any friends – not good ones, anyway. He's been smoking and drinking.”

He nodded again.

“He doesn't want to be part of our family,” she said, wringing her hands. “It's like he lives by himself. If he had a place to go, I think he'd run away. Or worse.”

“Well now,” Papa Joe replied. “Let's just see if we can give him a different place to spend some time.”

She turned and called, “David, there's someone here to see you.

”Danny reluctantly unlocked his door and stood at the top of the stairs.

“Papa Joe would like to speak with you.”