“Look. I can prove it.” I pulled out my tiny section of scarf. “See?”
Mom ran her fingers along the synthetic fibers. “Well. Shit.”
“Exactly. I am a dangerous rebel, and you should fear for my future.”
“I guess so.” Mom yawned. “Did you eat dinner?”
“I had a lot of artichoke dip at my LYS.”
“LYS…”
“My local yarn store, The Dropped Stitch, Mom. I told you.”
“Right. Okay. I’m going to have some cereal and go to bed. I switched with someone because their baby was sick. I should know better. I’ll probably toss and turn. Night, love.” Mom yawned again and turned into the kitchen. “Oh, Daddy texted and said he missed you and to tell you hi,” she said.
“Cool,” I said. I had a cell phone and Dad could just have easily texted me, but he wasn’t that great with technology. You’d think a guy who lived most of his life driving a truck would have a handle on keeping in touch with people long distance.
I threw my tote bag on the floor and collapsed on my bed. I was so over being awake and doing stuff and trying to be a functional human being in the world, but I still played on my phone for hours to wind down. “At least it’s too late in the day for anything else to happen,” I said out loud to my room.
Then my phone buzzed.
4
EMILIA GOODWIN,
:
SUPREME(LY PISSED
:
OFF) COURT OF
Plaintiff,
:
CAMBRIA COUNTY
:
v.
:
:
STEELTON HIGH MOCK TRIAL,
:
Case No. NO2BOYSSSSS5
:
:
Defendant
:
JANUARY 20: PLANTIFF’S ORIGINAL PETITION
Hey, I texted. It was after midnight, and I shouldn’t really be getting in touch with someone for the first time in the middle of the night, but I couldn’t sit on the idea.
I stared at the phone. I should probably explain myself.
It’s Millie. Got your number from Megan? I’m forming my own Mock Trial team. The idea is genius. Are you really in?
I stared at the screen again. Dots blinked in and out of existence.
Are you serious? she finally texted back.
I find being direct in these sorts of matters works best. I tapped the phone icon. It rang twice before Raina picked up.
“Yes,” I said before Raina even had a chance to speak. “Mock Trial now has a ‘varsity’ team. Can you believe that? The dudes are calling themselves ‘varsity.’ Please. I checked with Mr. Darr, the Mock Trial adviser. He said starting a second team was fine. He didn’t seem that happy about it, but he watched me look up the rules in front of him. We have to ask for an exception to have two different teams from the same school, but he said it’s been done before. Only one team from a school can make it past states, though.”
Raina said nothing, but I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line.
“And listen. This isn’t just any team. It’s going to be all girls. Or all nonguys. Whatever. There are words for this. I read them in Teen Vogue. Cis het. That’s it. No cisgendered, heterosexual men, thank you very much. Because I am sick of being pushed around by guys. The boys on the team. Mr. Darr.”
My dad. Especially him. But that seemed like a little TMI for someone I barely knew, who I was trying to sell on my idea.
“All the kids who have dismissed me or ignored me or said to my face that the team didn’t need me. The boys who think they can just be done with you when they don’t need you anymore without so much as a glance back at you. No one is going to feel like that when I’m in charge.” I took a deep breath. “I need two other lawyers including me, and two other witnesses plus you, and maybe a backup or a timekeeper. I bet you know people who will want to be on this team. Brandon must go down with the rest of them. You were so good in Taming of the Shrew. Please?”
Surely Raina could respect a person smart enough to try to win her over by appealing to her vanity. Actresses loved that kind of thing, if Claire was any indication. Maybe this wasn’t drama, exactly, but it was acting. And I had always believed Raina had been fascinated by Brandon’s trials when she’d gone as a spectator. A guest? A bystander? Actually, I didn’t know what people who watched us pretend-to-be-lawyers were supposed to be called. It didn’t matter. She needed to do this.
“Well…” she said.
“Think about it. Think about it tonight and then tell me yes tomorrow. Because when Mock Trial wasn’t so popular, those guys still made me do all the work they didn’t want to do and then took all the credit. NO MORE,” I said.
I hung up.
Even though I had been tired before calling Raina, I was too amped to sleep now. I tangled myself up in the sheets trying to get comfortable. Then my foot would itch, or my brain would nag, or I’d wake up with a start, surprised that I wasn’t in the middle of winning states. I got up and drank warm milk and listened to my meditation app, but the hours that crept by wrecked me more and more.
Wednesday morning edged its way from dark to light. I should have been making notecards on how to write an opening statement. Or watching videos of nationals past. Instead, I had to find an entirely new team in, what? Weeks. Days, really. We had to get going.
* * *
The next morning, Dad and I drove to school in customary silence. He glanced over at me twitching in my seat, but probably figured it had to do with my period and didn’t want to ask. He thought everything had to do with my period. Claire was home sick, so I went to homeroom alone. I did all the things I normally did until after lunch when I gave myself a pep talk in the girls’ room. Then I stood in the hallway, next to the second-floor water fountain, confused about where to go. I’d been forced out of Mock Trial. I could go to study hall, but the silence there would leave me alone with my thoughts. I could go to the bathroom again, but that had the same problem as study hall plus the pee smell.
“There you are,” said Raina.
I practically jumped. Actresses could have a shockingly light step.
“I’ve been thinking about it. This Mock Trial thing. It’d be a new role for me.” Her voice caught. “Not that I’m looking for a role…” She fidgeted with something shiny sticking out of her messenger bag.
“Do you have a knife?” I said. I could feel my eyes widen.
Raina laughed. “Close,” she said, pulling a knitting needle out of the bag. It glinted under the flickering hallway lights.
“You … knit?” I said. This didn’t seem to go with what I knew of her personality. Though, technically, all I really knew was that she annoyed the heck out of Claire (which was easy to do) and that she had loved Brandon.
“It’s a newly acquired hobby,” she said. “Anyway, I’m in. Goodbye theater; hello judicial branch. Give me the script. Er. The statement. Whatever.”
“Yes,” I said. I held my fist out for a bump.
Raina curled her fingers and let her knuckles meet mine.
“We have to find people. Do you know anyone?” I said.
The blank look on Raina’s face offered zero encouragement.
A small shriek of panic suggested itself to the back of my throat. I fought it back. I had to focus. “Adversity is the first step to opportunity,” I muttered.
“What?” said Raina.
“Nothing,” I said. “Anyway, we need people—girls—who might be interested in the law, or acting maybe, but aren’t already too committed to something else. Being a witness is kind of fun, if you like improvising. It’s a lot of pressure when you are up there, under cross-examination. But there isn’t too much writing or anything for prep work. The lawyers have to pick from an opening statement—I probably should do that—writing questions for the witnesses, closing statements. Maybe we could hit up the literary magazine. They don’t have stuff on weekends for that club.”
“Come to think of it, I might know somebody,” said Raina. “One of the literary people.”
“Oh! Fantastic. Who? Where is she? Can we find her now?”
“She’s probably in the media lab for club period.”
“Well, we technically aren’t supposed to be just hanging out in the hallway right now. Lead the way.”
I followed Raina down the stairs and into the shop wing, past whirring buzz saws to the end of the hall.
“I’ve only ever been down here once before,” I said. Other than football, the shop kids probably were the pride of Steelton High. Half made beautiful chairs and armoires and chests and the other half fixed cars for the community. The people down here were artists. It helped that the media people made impressive commercials for them that aired with the televised announcements each morning.
“I had a brief poetry stint. It didn’t last. But it got me some connections,” said Raina.
We entered a long, narrow room filled with computers. On one end, several kids clustered around a dry-erase wall, intensely arguing over various displayed pictures of cats.
“Hey. Finally come back to the cool kids?” said a bored voice on the other end of the room.
Raina approached a girl with flawless brown skin and dark braids elegantly arranged on the top of her head. Her foot sat propped up on a chair, a white and bright orange cast covering most of the bottom of her leg.
“Nice scooter you got yourself, there,” Raina said, pointing to a slender silver cart next to her.
“That’s my sweet ride. I can kneel in it and roll right along. It’s better than crutches. I hated the crutches.” The girl glanced over to me. “Hello, new person,” she said.
“I’m Millie,” I said, sticking out my hand.
The girl raised an eyebrow at me but grinned. “Veronica. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. What brings you ladies down here?”
“We are recruiting,” said Raina.
“What?”
“The boys of the Steelton High Mock Trial team recently decided they no longer require my competition-winning skills. I am forming my own team. Right now, it’s just me and her,” I said.
“Ohhhhh. Isn’t your man on that team?” Veronica looked up at Raina.
Raina sunk into a chair. “He’s still on the team. No longer my man,” she said.
“Oh. Wow. That sucks. Sorry. I’m out of the loop these days. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I have decided to channel my feelings into the replica justice system,” she said.
“Wait, what about the plays? You were all about those.”
“I should probably text you more often,” said Raina. “No more theater. It’s a long story. Anyway—look. Mock Trial has everything that you like—writing stuff, winning stuff, and yelling at people.”
“I don’t know about—” I started, but Raina waved her hands.
“Imagine it. You in a real courtroom. Everyone listening to your brilliant arguments. You convince the judge that you know what you are talking about and the other team is a disgrace to the written word. Then we all win and high-five. It’ll take up a few weekends with competition.”
I watched Veronica’s face as she considered this.
“Ronnie, we can’t decide if we should go with the tabby or the Norwegian Forest for this month’s back matter. Thoughts?” a voice called.
“The Norwegian Forest, obviously,” she yelled. “I admit, now that I can’t climb, I do have some free time. And my duties as assistant editor for Puns of Steel isn’t taking as much time as I hoped it would. This annual Cattitude issue might destroy us all.” She glanced over to her arguing editorial board.
“What did you climb?” I said.
“Walls, mostly. Rock walls.”
“Veronica is one of the best competitive climbers in Pennsylvania. Maybe the country.”
“Or I was, until I fell three months, two weeks, and one day ago. But who’s counting? Shattered my ankle. The ol’ climbing career is on hold for a while. I’ve been swimming, with my fiberglass cast here. Good for the arms. For cardio. But I’m slow so it’s not like I can take on anyone with—wait.” She stopped talking and pointed at me. “Wait. I’m sorry—did you say the dudes kicked you off the team?”
“Something like that.” I sniffed. “A lot more people came out for the team this year. You can only have six people in a trial with speaking parts. I was an alternate. Or maybe they just wanted me to write everything for them. But since Raina and I both got dumped, I had this idea. Who needs those … those jerkfaces.”
“Whoa, bringing the heat there, Millie. Careful you don’t get us kicked out of here,” said Raina, glancing around.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend…,” I said.
“I will no longer be offended if you use my preferred term of ‘dick assholes.’ It is more accurate language,” said Raina.
Veronica laughed. “Either works for me. That’s just wrong, Millie who I just met. What year are you? You’re a senior, too, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said. “Fourth year on the team.”
“Jerkface asshole dicks,” she said.
“What do you think? Are you in?” said Raina.
“Well, I don’t know. I do like arguing with people. But it sounds like a lot of sitting around and talking.”
“It is, but it’s a lot more than that! It’s debate! You have to listen to everything the other team says to find the holes in their argument. You have to be ready to jump on anything their witness might say to use it to your advantage. It’s like—uh—looking for a handhold in a weird rock thing. You’d be perfect!” I said.
I didn’t know much about climbing. The closest I’d ever gotten is Dad googling how much it would cost to take a trip to the Red River Gorge last summer.
“Well—” Veronica sounded unconvinced.
“We decided on a Chartreux!” said someone from the cluster at the other end of the room. “It’s really the best. Now we can move on to my fifteen suggested quotes to go with it.”
“Oh my God, would you at least look at the Birman!” said someone else. The group started arguing again.
Veronica sighed. “Yeah, okay,” she said to us.
“What?” said Raina.
“I’m in. I’ll do it. Lawyer it up with yinz. Send me a schedule. I have a date with the courts. Lord knows someone needs to reform it.” She grimaced as she tried to shift her leg on its pillow in the chair.
“Fantastic!” I said. “You won’t regret this! I’m really sorry you’re in pain.”
“I’m sorry the dicks dumped you,” said Veronica.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anyone else who might want to join up, would you?” I said. “I need another lawyer. And two witnesses. And a timekeeper. Actually, I need a lawyer to be our adviser. Do you know any lawyers?”
“No. I’m afraid not. My mom is a dentist, and my dad runs an online model-train supply store. I’m your girl if you need an HO- or N-scale caboose, though.”
“Noted,” I said.
You never knew. The Mock Trial cases could involve anything. I added Veronica’s expert consultants to my mental database, vowing to remember teeth and trains.
The bell sounded, indicating the end of activities period.
“Pull me up, would you?” asked Veronica.
Raina and I each grabbed a hand. Veronica’s muscles flexed under her sheer top as she righted herself into her kneeling scooter. She must lift, to be able to scale walls. I wouldn’t want to take her on in any competition. The Steelton varsity Mock Trial team probably got winded walking up two flights of steps.
Today was a good day. Raina waved goodbye to me as we left the media lab and jogged off toward another wing. For the rest of classes I eyed everyone around me, sizing up their potential for the team. I left school and rode the bus home on top of the world. This was going to be easy! I was three people away from a team.
The affirmations really were true.
JANUAR
Y 22: DISCOVERY CONTROL PLAN LEVEL
I sat down at the kitchen table, ignoring the dishes still there from breakfast.
Recruitment was possibly not going to be as easy as I thought. It had slowed considerably after we got Veronica.
Technically, it had stopped entirely.
Claire, best friend in the world, I texted. I am well on my way to Mock Trial domination. But I need more witnesses. Do any of your theater friends hate that play as much as you? Actors make good witnesses. No Mock Trial experience needed.
I’m doing well, thanks, she texted back.
You had a bad cold. I figured you were still alive.
I waited a minute. Nothing.
How are you feeling, you poor, poor thing? Can I get you anything? Do you struggle for survival? You are so brave! I texted.
That’s better. I had strep throat. I’m still coughing but I slept a bunch. And you have already taken up with my theater enemy, she wrote.
Raina needed something to do with her free period besides mourn lost love or whatever. And she found me another lawyer. This is good for everyone. Besides, you didn’t even have to compete for the part you wanted.
IN FUCKING OUR TOWN.
Exactly.
She silenced her typing fingers again, so I called.
“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” I said.
Claire coughed.
“Oh stop it. I have a working relationship with your only acting rival in the school. Knock it off.”
“Fine, fine,” she said. She blew her nose. “Who is the new lawyer? Anyone cute?”
“Veronica, a literary magazine woman who also climbs stuff, only not anymore because she broke her foot.”
“Oh, snap,” said Claire. “She is beautiful. Is she single? Are you going to ask her out?”
“Yes. She’s gorgeous.” I rolled my eyes at her predictability since I knew she couldn’t see. “And I think she’s straight, but even if she weren’t, you know my position on these things. Fortunately for me, she lives to compete and Mock Trial presents that in a seated format.”
Six Angry Girls Page 5
