Community Service

by Dakota Madison

  I didn’t want to miss another day and I definitely didn’t want to be late. I thought I’d beat Sawyer in I was so early, but he looked like he’d been working for a while.

  “I didn’t get hurt,” I replied. “Not physically, anyway. My ego is a little bruised, though. How many people rear-end a police car?”

  I could see he was trying to suppress a grin. “It’s not funny. I know I shouldn’t laugh.” Then he cracked up.

  I glared at him.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry.” Then he laughed again.

  I waited until he got it out of his system. “Done?”

  He nodded. Then after a moment, he asked, “Do you think you need glasses?”

  “I wear contacts.”

  “I’m not sure they’re working.” He titled his head as if he was examining my face. It made me tingly when he looked at me that way. It was like he was looking right into my soul. I tried to look away but it was like our eyes were pulled to each other’s like magnets.

  “I think you need some crazy cat glasses. Then I could call you Freaky Four Eyes again.”

  I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. “You remember me from high school?” I couldn’t believe he hadn’t said anything before now.

  He smirked. “Of course I remember you. I talked to you every day for three years. Until I got my license and stopped taking the school bus.

  “You teased me every day for three years,” I corrected.

  “Maybe I teased you because I liked you.”

  I laughed but when I looked at Sawyer, I could see he was serious. It kind of freaked me out. How could Sawyer Reed have liked little nerdy me? “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t believe that I liked you? Why?”

  “You said it yourself. I looked like a freak. I was a nerd and you were a jock. Never the two shall mix.”

  “Plenty of people are nerds but don’t look the part. The science department is full of them. You kind of had a smart, sexy thing going on with those outrageous glasses. Now you’re just hot as hell.”

  When I glanced at Sawyer, he was looking at me like I really was hot. He was looking at me like I always wanted a guy to look at me—like he wanted me. Was it possible that Sawyer Reed wanted me, Maggie Mitchell, Freaky Four Eyes?

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I know I missed my shot when we were in high school. You’ve probably got guys lined up to go out with you now.”

  “Yeah,” I teased. “The line is so long, they have to circle around the block several times. There aren’t even enough days in the year for me to get to them all.”

  Even though it was a joke, Sawyer didn’t seem to think it was funny. He actually looked a little sad, like he really did think there were guys waiting to date me. It didn’t even make sense.

  Before I could explain that I rarely dated, and there were no guys waiting to date me, Sawyer turned toward the lab table and said, “Maybe we’d better get to work.”

  “Sure,” I said. “It looks like you already started the procedure.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon talking about sedimentary records and the subject of dating wasn’t mentioned again.

  ***

  I had trouble sleeping again. I just kept thinking about Sawyer and how sad he looked when he talked about guys wanting to date me. I don’t know why I didn’t tell him there was no one else. He seemed convinced that he’d have competition if he asked me out when nothing could be further from the truth.

  I debated texting him but it was almost ten. Probably too late. As if he was reading my mind, he texted me instead.

  Sawyer: I hope you have a good night, Maggs.

  Me: Why do you call me Maggs?

  Sawyer: It fits.

  Me: No one’s ever called me that before.

  Sawyer: Good. It’ll be my name for you and my name alone.

  Me: I wanted you to know there isn’t a line of guys waiting to date me. If you joined the line, it would be a line of one.

  Sawyer: And who said I wanted to date you?

  I wasn’t sure how to respond. I guess I just made an assumption—and it was obviously a bad one. I knew my mom was wrong. There was no way Sawyer Reed was interested in me. I was started to feel really humiliated.

  Me: Didn’t mean to jump to any conclusions. Sorry about that.

  I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. I waited but there was no response. Just as I was about the shut off my phone, another text came in.

  Sawyer: Maybe I want more.

  More? What more?

  Me: I’m not sure what that means.

  Sawyer: Full court press.

  Me: That’s really not helpful.

  Sawyer: That’s what Google is for.

  Me: See you tomorrow. I’m off to Google…

  Sawyer: See you, Maggs.

  I looked up Full Court Press. Of course, it was a basketball term. But it was also used to mean: a vigorous attack or offensive; strong pressure or a strong, diversified effort.

  That sounded serious. I wasn’t sure how I felt about serious. I was still nervous about the possibility of dating and he was already talking about wanting more.

  ***

  My mom met me outside the courthouse. My case was scheduled in traffic court for 11:30 a.m. She always looked so professional when she went to court. For a split second, I almost forgot she was my mother.

  But then, when she opened her mouth, it was obviously there was years of history between us.

  “We need to wait here until you’re called.” She pointed to a small group of people waiting outside of a door with a Traffic Court sign on the door.

  Several people went in and then came back out before my name was finally called.

  I had never been inside a courtroom in my life but I had seen plenty of television shows and movies with depictions of courtrooms. Traffic court was nothing like any television or movie courtroom. It was basically just a tiny room, barely bigger than a closet.

  The judge was seated behind a large table and there were a few chairs on the other side of the table facing her.

  My mom took one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit next to her.

  The judge was examining some papers. She looked to be about my mom’s age, mid-fifties, but thinner. My mom wasn’t overweight but she’d gained a few pounds since I was young. When the judge looked up at us, I noticed what beautiful blue eyes she had. They were startling with her jet black hair, which was cut in a shoulder length bob. She looked like she could have been a model when she was my age and was still gorgeous. Somehow, I never imagined a judge would be that attractive.

  “Judge Marino,” my mom whispered to me. “She’s tough.”

  I gulped. It was just my luck that I’d get a tough judge. She’d probably throw the book at me, whatever that meant. It always sounded so ominous when it was used as a line in a movie.

  The judge looked down at the papers in front of her then back up at me. “Maggie Mitchell?”

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to speak so I just nodded.

  “And who do you have representing you?”

  “My mo—” I almost said my mother but caught myself. “Marilyn Mitchell.”

  “You were ticketed for following too closely.” She looked back down at the paperwork. “Which resulted in hitting a police car. Your plea?”

  I glanced over at my mom. We hadn’t discussed the case other than her making me feel guilty. “Not responsible,” my mom responded. “We ask for a motion to dismiss the citation.”

  “On what grounds?” The judge did not look happy with us.

  “The ticketing officer is not present in court.”

  “While that is true, in this case, we have evidence without the testimony of the ticketing officer. Photos of the police car, as well as photos from your car, Miss Mitchell. I believe that constitutes proof of the infraction.”

  That didn’t sound promising. My mom just nodded.

  “The motion is denied.”<
br />
  “Yes, your Honor.”

  “I find Maggie responsible for following too closely. I have the option of recommending community service in lieu of a fine.”

  “Your Honor, we’d like to accept community service.”

  “So noted,” the judge said. “Maggie Mitchell, you will serve one hundred hours of community service at The Little Theater. You’ll report for service no later the end of the week.”

  Did she just say The Little Theater? I’d never been inside of a theater in my life. I elbowed my mom to try and get her attention. I wanted her to ask the judge about an alternate placement, like the Sonoran Desert Museum, somewhere I could put my science background to good use. What in the world could I possibly do at a community theater?

  Of course, my mom completely ignored me. The judge half-heartedly knocked her gavel against her table and we were herded out of the small room.

  “Mom,” I whined when we got back in the hallway. “One hundred hours at a community theater? Seriously? Couldn’t you ask her to place me somewhere else?”

  My mom shook her head. “Judge Marino doesn’t negotiate. It’s her way or nothing. You don’t want to pay the fine, do you? You already have to pay the deductible to get your car fixed.”

  I heaved a sigh. She was right. I was going to need all of my savings to repair my car. I didn’t have the money to pay a fine.

  “I guess I’m going to be spending a lot of time at The Little Theater,” I said, fake enthusiasm oozing from my voice. “I can’t wait.”

  ***

  The next day when I got to the lab, it was quiet. Was it possible I was there before Sawyer? But when I took my spot at our lab table, I noticed there was a single daisy sitting in a small Erlenmeyer flask waiting for me. The science nerd in me thought it was the most romantic thing ever.

  After a few moments, Sawyer rolled over to our table. “Do you like daisies?” he asked.

  When I turned to face him, his eyes were dancing with excitement. “The flower is lovely. And a flask for a vase is a cute touch.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “But how were you able to get a daisy this time of year?”

  “A gentleman never reveals his sources,” he whispered conspiratorially.

  “Well, you’re not in jail, so I assume your day in court was okay.”

  “It was civil court. A traffic violation. I don’t think the judge could send me to jail. My mom tried to get the case dismissed but no luck.”

  “Your mom went to court with you?” he looked puzzled. I know it probably sounded weird. Who brings their mom to court?

  I smiled. “My mom is a lawyer.”

  “Oh, so, do you have to go to traffic school or something like that?”

  I shook my head. “No, if you go to court to fight the ticket, you can’t go to traffic school. I guess I’m sort of lucky that I don’t have to pay a hefty fine but I do have to do a hundred hours of community service. At The Little Theater.”

  I noticed Sawyer’s eyes went wide at my mention of The Little Theater and his demeanor completely changed. It was like he was a balloon that someone let the air out of. He completely deflated.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. I was actually a little worried, he looked so sad all of a sudden.

  He shook his head. “Nothing. We’d better get to work.”

  And that was it. Any moment between us was gone again. He completely shut down.

  For someone who claimed to want to engage in a full court press, he was certainly taking his time. But then again, he did say he didn’t want to date me. He wanted more, whatever that meant.

  He was very confusing. Or maybe he was just confused. I wondered how much of it had to do with the wheelchair. Every day I spent with Sawyer, it became less of an obstacle for me but it seemed to be more of an obstacle for him.

  I guess I needed to find out why.

  Three

  The Little Theater was well named. It was definitely small. The building was also a bit worse for wear. I didn’t get the impression if was originally built as a theater. It looked more like an old storage barn.

  As I walked up to the theater’s main entrance, I could feel my heart start to pound in my chest. I didn’t belong inside a theater. I didn’t even go to see plays. I certainly didn’t want to have anything to do with the production of them.

  A guy was standing near the doorway, leaning against the wall. He gave me the once-over as I approached.

  He took one final drag on his cigarette and threw it to the ground. I generally don’t give guys who smoke a second look. It’s a habit I find repulsive. But this guy was hard not to look at. He was panty-dropping gorgeous. He was one-in-a-million good looking. His short brown hair was a little messy, which gave him a boyish look, but he had a bit of a five o’clock shadow that screamed all man.

  His most outstanding feature, though, was his gorgeous green eyes. They were eyes you could just get lost in. I imagined almost any girl who got caught up in those eyes would do anything the guy wanted.

  There was only one other guy I had ever met who even came close to this guy’s amazing looks, and that was Sawyer Reed. The two actually resembled each other slightly. Except that Sawyer was an obvious jock, even in a wheelchair, he still gave off that preppy jock vibe.

  The guy standing in front of me was anything but preppy. He had an artsy vibe, like he definitely belonged in a theater. He was wearing a tight fitting black T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms and ample chest, and dark black jeans, that showed off his other attributes quite nicely. The ensemble was completed with the dark black boots. The boots made me think that maybe he rode a motorcycle. It wouldn’t surprise me. He was most certainly a bad boy. I almost couldn’t walk past the guy, my knees got so weak just looking at him.

  When our eyes met, a shiver swept through my body. To make matters even worse, he gave me a sexy half smile that took my breath away.

  “Hey,” the guy said as he gave a little nod of his head.

  I tried to respond but the words were stuck in my throat.

  I could feel the guy following me as I entered the theater. His energy was so strong I was nearly overcome by it. When I turned to face him, he was grinning at me.

  “Don't get to the theater much?” He leaned in so close I could feel his breath on my neck.

  “I guess you don't believe in personal boundaries.” I said.

  “You didn't answer my question.”

  “If you must know, I never get to the theater.”

  “Well, you're obviously not an actor. So what are you doing here?”

  I frowned. “And just why is it so obvious that I'm not an actor?” Did he think I wasn't pretty enough? That pissed me off then I was mad at myself for even caring what he thought of me.

  He laughed. “Because all of the parts were cast a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh...” Was it possible for me to feel even more stupid than I already did? Of course, when I explained why I was at the theater and how it happened.

  He just stood there staring at me. I was having a difficult time concentrating whenever I looked into is gorgeous green eyes.

  “You were telling me why you're here when it's obvious you don't care about theater.”

  “Right, well, um. It's kind of a funny story. I was in a hurry, thinking about something else while I was driving.” I conveniently left out the part that I was thinking about Sawyer Reed. That made me immediately feel a twinge of guilt but I proceeded. “I rear-ended a police car. The judge sentenced me to community service here of all places.”

  “Judge Marino?”

  I furrowed my brow. “How did you know?”

  He put out his hand for me to shake. “Jude Marino”

  I could feel my eyes grow wide. Was he related to the judge?

  “Are you just going to leave me here with my hand outstretched?”

  I could feel my face grow hot and I'm sure I was red with embarrassment. “Sorry.” As placed my hand in his, the exc
hange of energy between us was so intense, I tried to pull my hand away but he held it tight. When his eyes caught mine, I felt like I was going to completely melt. Nothing would be left of me but a small puddle near the entrance of the theater.

  When he finally let go of my hand, I asked, “Are you related to the judge?”

  He nodded. “She's my mom.”

  I swallowed unsure of what to say.

  “I know she's a bitch,” he continued.

  “She seemed a little tough.”

  “She likes to sentence certain types of girls to do community service at the theater.”

  "What types of girls are those?”

  He laughed. “Girls she thinks can tame me.”

  I almost choked. I certainly didn't think of myself as someone this hunky guy would even be interested in. He was so far out of my league he could have been in another universe.

  “You didn't tell me your name,” Jude said.

  “Maggie.”

  He smiled. His smile was so hot, it could have easily melted an iceberg. He'd already turned me to complete mush. “Does Maggie have a last name?” he asked.

  “Mitchell.”

  He moved in even closer and the hairs on my neck all stood up. “Is Maggie Mitchell the girl who can tame me?” he whispered.

  I swallowed hard. I wasn't used to guys like Jude Marino. The few guys I had dated in college were mostly guys I had met in a science lab. Basically male versions of me. I also dated the occasional math nerd or computer geek, since there was sometimes a little cross pollination amongst our groups. I definitely didn't attract actors, especially gorgeous ones.

  Before I could respond, a tall redhead, who looked like she just stepped off a runway in Paris, walked up behind Jude and slung her arm over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Babe,” she said and placed a kiss on his cheek.

  I could see Jude’s entire body tense and he put some space between the two of us. Either the redhead didn't notice me or she didn't feel I was worth acknowledging.

  “You're here early,” Jude said. He sounded annoyed. I knew it was mean but I kind of liked it. I guess part of me didn't think it was fair that she was so good looking. “You usually don’t show up until there are people waiting on stage for your line.”