“Oh my God,” said Grace.
“Didn’t see that coming,” said Nikita.
The boys’ team came over to us. We’d be piling into the same van to go over there. Mr. Darr smiled at Ms. McClain and Kay.
“We meet again,” he said.
They ignored him.
“Kay, let me help you with those trial boxes,” said Ms. McClain.
“Excited, Millie?” Jeff said to me. “We finally made it to finals.”
We hadn’t done anything. I was getting there with my team. Not him.
Focus, I thought. I am the dawn of a new day of self-actualization.
“You look kind of tired,” he said. “Long night?”
His stupid smirk looked oddly well-rested.
“Two people to a bed was a little crowded. What, you didn’t mind?”
Jeff looked at me. “What?”
“Didn’t you guys have four to a room?” I said.
“Nope. Only two per room.” He laughed. “Guess you just got whatever budget was left over.”
“I’m sorry, did you say what I think you said?” said Nikita. “You only had to share your bathroom with one other person?” Nikita advanced on him. Jeff took a step back.
“Uh…” he said.
“I slept in a cot so the Philly Prep girl could have the bed,” said Grace. “I probably have weird indentations in my spine from the bar in that thing. And you got your own room?”
“California Kings!” said Brandon.
“You are kidding me,” I said.
“All right, all right. What’s done is done,” said Ms. McClain, holding up her hands. “Everybody get into the van. And don’t kill each other. No one from Steelton will win if you all commit homicide before we even get over to the courthouse.” But she glanced at Mr. Darr. “Is that why you wanted to check in separately? So, I wouldn’t know?”
Mr. Darr at least had the decency to look sheepish.
For not the first time in my life, I felt like punching someone. Brandon, maybe. But I wouldn’t, because that was illegal.
All of us buckled into the van in silence. Nikita kept trying to calm her frizzing hair. If stares could burn people, every dude on the Steelton High “varsity” team would have been incinerated where they sat.
* * *
The ride back over to the courthouse for the final was odd to say the least.
Grace wouldn’t even look at me. She moved away when I tried to maneuver myself into the seat next to her. I think Raina saw what I was trying to do and even climbed over a seat to free up the space next to Grace. But then I ended up giving the spot to Veronica because she had trouble getting in and out of the van with her foot, and Kay and Ms. McClain were talking strategy in the front.
We arrived at the courthouse as the other teams streamed in around us. Most competitors liked to watch the final, to learn about the competition for next year or to pick up winning techniques.
Inside, the four original courtrooms were designed to mimic a season. We’d compete surrounded by the inspiration of spring. The wood gleamed blond and cherry, the carpet and heavy curtains a deep green. Large windows splashed sunlight onto the floor in the square formed by the judge’s bench and witness box one on side, the defense’s and prosecution’s opposite them, and the jury box opposite the window wall.
The whole place had a quiet dignity about it, so it felt disrespectful to speak above a whisper. The teams and their observers talked quietly as they went in. Ms. McClain gathered us into a huddle in the lobby outside.
My heart thrilled a little, to be back in this place. This was what I wanted. This is what the guys almost took from me. They could still take victory.
“Team,” I said, “I am so proud of all of you. The three trials to get us here. Now, even though you might not have liked this particular case”—I looked over at Grace, who stared at the ground—“you committed to it. Whatever happens now. No one can take that.”
“Like we said, you’ve come a long way. And even if you don’t win…” started Kay.
Every one of us turned our heads toward her at the same time. It was as if gravity gave up its weight on the team. Each of us stood taller. Ready.
“I am going to crush them myself,” said Nikita. “For my hair.”
“I am going to take them down because of my back,” said Grace.
“I am going to defeat them because they stare at me,” said Izzy.
“I am going to win this because they laughed at my boot,” said Veronica.
“I am going to squash them because Brandon,” said Raina.
Everyone looked at me.
“I am going to win because they thought they could just get rid of me,” I said. “And they were wrong.”
Ms. McClain looked at Kay. “Remind me never to mess with angry girls,” she said.
The six of us marched in there like pure squad goals, in step with one another. I felt like my breath and heartbeat synchronized with them. Jeff tried to do his psych-out smirk to me, and I just blankly stared past him.
Not today, Jeff.
Emilia Goodwin representing the plaintiff, Your Honor. And I will clearly show you the tools on the defense have no idea what they are in for.
“Fair is foul, and foul is fair,” Jeff said to his team. “They better watch out.”
Raina and Izzy gasped.
“What?” I said.
“They’ve done it now,” said Izzy.
“They don’t even know,” said Raina.
“Huh?”
“He just quoted”—Izzy looked around—“a certain cursed play I shall not name. It’s terrible luck. Terrible.” She looked at Jeff.
He shrugged.
“Don’t worry, Millie,” said Izzy. “This is now in the bag.”
For some reason, I believed her.
Veronica did the opening and the room went silent. No one could take their eyes off of her.
Jeff did the opening. He was fine.
Chad the sophomore questioned Izzy and Nikita. By the end, Chad looked like he was about to burst out into tears.
Then Raina took the stage.
And Brandon stood.
They looked at each other for what felt like a year but was only about ten seconds.
“So, Ms. Tunis,” he said. “Could you please tell us the name of your, uh, club?”
“I am the president of the Social Justice League. So-called because we witnessed a lot of bullying, a lot of unjust things happening in our school. We wanted everyone to feel heard and valued and seen. Anyone can join. Even faculty or staff. All we want is for our school to be inclusive and create the most comfortable learning environment possible.” She leaned forward. “And I dedicated my life to that.”
Raina really knew how to get into character. The last few times we’d done the trial, Raina had just said “the Social Justice League.”
“Oh. Okay,” said Brandon. I could see Jeff trying to get his attention. Jeff furiously scribbled onto a notepad, presumably to give Brandon some direction.
“Can you tell me who in your club knits?”
“Not just the girls,” Raina said.
“What?” said Brandon.
“Knitting isn’t just for girls. The boys in the club do it, too. Maybe everyone knits, actually. It’s an important art often considered women’s work. But the Social Justice League believes in stitching equality.”
That was also new.
“Objection, Your Honor,” said Jeff from the table.
The judge cocked her head toward Jeff. “Young man, you are objecting to your own teammate?”
Jeff realized what he had done and put his head down. “Oh. No, Your Honor. I’m sorry.”
Things did not improve from there for the guys.
Raina left the bench with a bigger smile than the time she’d beaten out Claire for Rosalind in As You Like It.
Veronica and Grace nailed their questioning. They moved so swiftly and deftly that the defense didn’t even raise any objections
. The boys seemed stumped.
Varsity, my butt.
By the time it was my turn to question my witness, the entire boys’ team looked dejected. The guy who took the stand in front of me was one of the freshman boys who beat me in “auditions.” I picked up my clipboard, and I heard him make a faint, terrified squeak.
Triumph coursed through my body by the time I stood to give the closing statement. I wouldn’t say winning didn’t matter—it did. But I’d gotten up in front of the team that just tossed me aside like I didn’t matter. And, at its heart, that’s kind of what this case was about, too.
“Your Honor,” I began. “You’ve heard the argument that the Social Justice League was responsible for creating an unsafe environment at their school. Their social-media posts, targeted art activism, and general presence felt ‘threatening to some.’”
I looked over at Brandon, Jeff, and the kids who replaced me.
None of them were smirking now.
“But I think through the testimony of our witnesses, you can see that the SJL was actually the group seeking to protect safety, civility, and students who were othered. It was their core purpose to bring kids together who felt like they had no one else. To bring community through art. They were bullied by some of the very people you heard testify on the defense’s side.” I tried to restate the testimonies from my notes I’d taken during the trial. “In conclusion, Your Honor, as the counsel representing the plaintiffs, it is our responsibility to prove our claims with a ‘preponderance of evidence.’ The burden of proof is on us. Given the testimony of all the witnesses, we contend that our arguments are far more likely true than not. Thank you.”
I took my seat next to Grace, having left it all up there at the podium.
“Great job today,” I whispered. “You are brilliant every time.”
“I believe in what I’m saying,” she said, “for this side of the case.”
I waited. She offered nothing else.
“I can tell,” I tried. Maybe this was for the best. She was going to college; I was going to college. It wouldn’t work. It couldn’t. People didn’t stay together.
I at least wanted her to look at me.
She didn’t.
An hour later, all the teams had assembled for the awards ceremony back at the hotel.
Once again, the organizers entered the room with some drama, quieting everyone assembled. The timekeepers got little stopwatches. And the seniors got pins. I immediately attached mine to my backpack.
“And now for the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” said the president of the Pennsylvania Bar Association. “The winner is … the Steelton High Mock Trial team for the plaintiffs!”
It took a moment for that to register.
Holy crickets.
That was us. We had won! States. Bossy, over-opinionated, too-talkative-for-my-previous-team’s-comfort Emilia Goodwin had led the girls to victory.
The room cheered as we got our plaque and medals.
“We won!” I said to Grace.
She could congratulate me. She knew how important this was to me. I thought it meant a lot to her.
“I can’t be on the defense.”
That was all she said.
Even though Grace still hated me, it seemed like I was in a dream. But at the same time, I felt like I was waking up to who I was for the first time in my life. This win was changing me.
Or maybe it had started before that, when I’d decided to form my own team. I felt braver. More myself.
If only I could be myself and have Grace.
But this would have to do for now.
15
RAINA PETREE,
:
IN THE COURT OF
:
REVENGE OF CAMBRIA
Plaintiff,
:
COUNTY
:
v.
:
:
HIGHER EDUCATION,
:
Case No. YMENONO18
:
:
Defendant
:
APRIL 15: MOTION TO QUASH SUBPOENAS FOR DEPOSITION
I loved the way the library smelled. Worn cloth covers, embossed titles rubbed smooth with the thousands of shelvings and reshelvings. I’d volunteered for the library the summer before ninth grade. There was such a feeling of satisfaction in helping someone find the perfect book, on just the subject they needed.
Maybe I could be a librarian. A really theatrical librarian. Or a theatrical law librarian. Who even knew? Not this wait-listed girl, that was for sure. Who invented the system where you had to figure out what you wanted to do with the rest of your life before you could vote or buy a vibrator? It was the worst system ever. Bet the patriarchy had something to do with it. It always did.
“Raina, are you here with us?” said Millie.
My head snapped up. “Yes. Sorry. Just thinking about … uh … never mind.”
“No problem. Okay, everyone, as I was saying, you were fantastic this past weekend at states. Absolutely superb. I loved every second of your performance. In one sense, it’s fortunate the way it worked out for nationals because our draws mean we will present the plaintiff cause for all rounds except the final. The unfortunate thing is that we’d end with the less sympathetic side. The witnesses as we’ve seen them played were awful.”
“Less sympathetic?” said Izzy. “You mean bigoted?”
“Wait a second. We are leaving for this when?” said Nikita.
“You think the witnesses were just played awfully? Did you read those statements? That’s because they are awful,” said Grace.
“May sixth through May ninth?” said Nikita. “That is the weekend we are supposed to be in Pittsburgh?”
“Okay, okay,” said Millie. “One thing at a time. Yes, Nikita, it’s on Mother’s Day weekend. But as I mentioned a while ago, we are going Thursday morning and coming back Sunday night.”
“No,” said Nikita.
“Yes,” said Millie.
“I’m sorry. But I think the more important point here is that some of the team members have concerns with the parts we are expected to play. Frankly, I am also one of them,” said Veronica.
“Listen, I understand…”
“I can’t go to the national competition,” said Nikita.
“WE CAN WORK THIS OUT!” shouted Millie.
“Everything okay, girls?” said Ms. McClain, appearing from around a bookshelf.
“Prom is Friday, May seventh. I am going to prom,” said Nikita. “I can’t go to nationals.”
“Our prom?” said Millie.
“Yes.”
“The one they are selling tickets for right now?”
“Yes,” said Nikita. “I already bought mine, they are nonrefundable, and my dress is being shipped from California. I’m going with my boyfriend. Who I met at Mock Trial. I kind of owe that to you. So, I’m sorrier than I would have been. Which is not at all sorry.”
“You have to go to finals,” said Millie. “We don’t have any alternates.”
Nikita shrugged. “I’m not missing prom.”
Ms. McClain slowly backed away, back into the stacks. Some things were just above her pay grade, I supposed.
“But this is a once-in-a-life-time opportunity!” said Millie.
“So is prom.”
“You are a junior! Go next year!”
“Who knows if I’ll have a boyfriend this cute next year. He’s going to look amazing in our pictures. No way.” She glanced around at the Mock Trial circle. “I really am sorry.” And she walked off.
“Prom is stupid! This is life!” said Millie. If anguish had a color, it would match Millie’s face right now.
“I was looking forward to it. Got a suit,” said Grace. “Guess that option’s out.” Grace leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms in front of her.
“Some people like prom. Like me,” said Veronica.
“And this case sucks,” said Izzy.
; “But Mock Trial … we worked for this. All the hours spent studying and practicing and meeting. We’ve wanted this for years.”
No one said anything. We knew she was talking about herself. But we’d joined on knowing that. I also knew what she was thinking. We’d had a hard enough time finding exactly enough people for the team as it was. How could we replace Nikita? And if we lost both of the other lawyers?
“Listen,” I finally said. “I have a confession.”
Everyone looked at me. “I have been rejec—wait-listed at all my colleges. All of them. Maybe I’ll get in, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll study theater, maybe I won’t. But my mom said something that stuck with me, which is really saying something because I usually try to ignore her. But she said, ‘Good things can come with the bad only if you keep going.’ And something about life not being fair. And possibly something else about having casual sex to chill out.”
“Raina, what is the point here?” Millie sounded so tired.
“The point is that maybe the defense in this case sucks. Playing the defense means we go in there and argue that discrimination against people should be allowed in school. We are arguing that it’s okay to post stuff against people who get made fun of or bullied for stuff they can’t change about themselves. Maybe it’s actually offensive. But life is offensive and unfair. The law is offensive and unfair. But it doesn’t have to be. There are lawyers and judges who fight for what they think is right. And people who fight them when the lawyers and judges get it wrong. And then there are the people who give up. All I’m saying is that we should give this a second look. There is more to this than meets the eye. I’m not ready to just throw all this away.”
Everyone looked anywhere but at one another.
“I guess…” said Veronica. “I guess I might as well stay. I didn’t find a dress yet. And really, the boyfriend will be relieved he doesn’t have to go again. Maybe I can find a way to subvert this hot mess.”
“Yes. Subversion. Perfect,” I said. It was a start.
Six Angry Girls Page 21