The Mockingbirds

by Whitney, Daisy

  “And did anything happen after that?”

  “Yeah, he put his hand on my ass,” Dana says matter-of-factly. There are sniggers; some of the council members laugh briefly, then stop.

  “And how did you respond?”

  “I moved it.” Dana demonstrates, putting her right hand on her own butt cheek and then quickly removing it with her left hand. “I’ve got pretty strong hands.”

  “Was that the end of the date?”

  Dana nods.

  “Did you go out with him again?”

  “Unfortunately, yes, one more time.”

  “And that was to the swim meet?” Maia asks.

  “Against Andover last spring. We were going to be playing them this year in water polo and some of the players are on both teams, so we thought it would be kind of a scouting opportunity. So went to the pool together and sat up in the bleachers, kind of the back row. And he did the same stuff. He kept putting his hands on me the whole time. Slipping them between my legs. At one point he tried to grab my boob.”

  “What did you do?” Maia asks.

  Dana acts it out again, pantomiming removing Carter’s hand from her breast. “And what happened next?” Maia asks.

  “We left the meet and he walked me back to my dorm again and he tried to kiss me again. He kind of pushed himself against me, against the wall right next to the door of my dorm, and then he pressed his crotch against me. And then I slapped him,” Dana says proudly. “I’d had enough of his routine at that point. Then I told him to keep his nasty paws to himself and never put them on me again.”

  “And did you go into your dorm at that point?”

  Dana nods. “Yep, and a few days later he tried to start rumors about me, like he did to Alex at the start of the semester.”

  “What sort of rumors?” Maia asks.

  “He told his friends I had put out for him. As soon as I heard what he was doing, I walked right up to him after practice, right in front of his friends—Kevin was there too, he knows what I said”—Dana points at Kevin with her right index finger—“and I asked them if he had told them too how I slapped him after what he did.”

  “How did they respond?”

  “They laughed at him and he stopped talking smack about me.”

  “Thank you, Dana,” Maia says, and sits back down next to me.

  Then it’s Kevin’s turn. He ambles across the room, enjoys a pregnant pause, and asks slowly in a New Hampshire drawl, “So he put his hand on your, as you said in such a ladylike fashion, ass?”

  Dana nods.

  “And yet, you went out with him again.”

  “We went to a swim meet,” Dana says defensively.

  “A date,” Kevin corrects. “You called it a date. You said you went on two dates with Carter. Isn’t that what you said, Ms. Golden?”

  Dana nods grimly.

  “So you went on two dates, and the second date was after he touched your rear end, something you claim you didn’t enjoy.”

  “I didn’t enjoy it, Ward. That’s why I took his hand off my ass.”

  “It seems as if you must have liked it if you went out with him again,” Kevin muses.

  “I didn’t like it,” Dana says through gritted teeth.

  “So you removed his hand from your fanny and went out with him again. Perhaps you were teasing him? Or perhaps you didn’t really remove his hand, and you’re just claiming you did?”

  Dana’s eyes burn holes through Kevin, and I have no doubt somehow, some way, Kevin is going to pay for this.

  “HE PUT HIS HAND ON MY ASS AND I REMOVED IT.”

  “Or so you say,” Kevin remarks.

  “I do say. Because that’s what happened.”

  Maia stands up tall this time. “Objection. He’s badgering the witness. She already said what happened.”

  “See? Even the plaintiff’s own advocate admits it’s a he said, she said situation,” Kevin says righteously, seizing on Maia’s words.

  Callie raises a hand and everyone stops talking. “I think we’re clear on the point you’re trying to make, Kevin,” Callie says, peering at him over her glasses. “You can finish with this witness.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m through with this witness,” he says, casually strolling back to his seat.

  Then it’s my turn.

  I tell the council step-by-step how the night unfolded. As I hear myself talk about drinking, meeting Carter, playing Circle of Death, drinking more, kissing Carter, more, more, more, I sound like a pig. They’re going to think I’m a pig. Worse, a slut. A pig-slut, slut-pig. I pretend I’m a reporter, talking about someone she’s covering, about this girl, about that night, about how she was sleeping.

  And then she’s done. That girl is done.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  THE OTHER GIRL

  It’s Carter’s turn to call witnesses.

  Kevin calls Natalie, as we expected. She walks in, towering above me, her quads practically rippling through her jeans, her crazily toned arms evident through her red knit sweater. Even her cheekbones are cut.

  The picture of poise, precision, with her black hair pulled back tightly at her neck, she casts her cold brown eyes hard at me, then sits in the witness chair.

  “Natalie Moretti, thank you for joining us this morning. You’ve been called here to testify because you were at Salem Jim’s the night in question, correct?”

  “I was there,” she says crisply, then pauses. “With you.”

  He nods politely. “But of course,” he says, then looks to the council. “Let the record reflect Natalie Moretti and I have been dating for six months.”

  “Six months, one week, three days,” Natalie adds, giving Kevin a just-for-you look that makes me want to gag.

  He smiles back at her, then continues. “And you and I were dancing together when Alex and Carter began their date?”

  “Objection,” Maia says harshly. “It wasn’t a date.”

  “Natalie, since you were there, what did it look like to you?” Kevin asks.

  “They were having a great time together,” Natalie says.

  “Can you elaborate?”

  I lower my eyes, because I’m betting she can and she will.

  “They were dancing together and she was kind of rubbing up against him,” she says, like I was some kind of animal in heat.

  “That is so not true!” I shout before Maia can even raise an objection.

  “You were kind of all over him, Alex,” Natalie says quietly, judgmentally, talking just to me. I clench my fists, digging my fingers into my palms and fantasizing about her spontaneously combusting right now.

  Callie intervenes. “Let’s get back to the questions, please.”

  “Natalie, can you describe how Carter and Alex interacted?”

  “She grabbed his hand, led him to the stage, and started dancing with him. It was so cute,” she says with a perfectly calibrated mixture of sweet yet cool in her account. “And I have to say, I had been hoping Carter was going to find a nice girl to go out with because he is such a sweetheart and totally deserves a great girl. And they seemed to be having such a good time at the club. So I was excited to see if they were going to become an item.”

  Yeah, so we could all double-date.

  “Was there anything you saw between them indicating Alex didn’t want to be with Carter?”

  Natalie shakes her head. She’s rehearsed, she’s hitting all her marks, but when she looks at me, ice in her eyes, we both know we were never going to be girlfriends gabbing about their guys. “Not at all. What I saw was two people having fun. There was something starting, something sweet. I can tell these things because I don’t drink. I was sober,” she says, her voice slicing through me.

  “Thank you, Natalie,” Kevin says, and sits down.

  Maia hops up. “Natalie, it’s interesting to see your astute relationship observations. Perhaps a column is in your future. But for now, let’s clarify a few things. Were you at the party afterward in the common room?”r />
  “No.”

  “Were you in Carter’s room with Carter and Alex afterward?”

  Natalie almost laughs. “Of course not.”

  “So you weren’t actually present when this blossoming relationship between Carter and Alex went from dancing at a concert to rape?”

  “Objection. Carter hasn’t been convicted of any crime, especially not rape,” Kevin calls out coolly from his seat, barely moving a muscle. He’s still sitting cross-legged, leaning casually back in the chair next to Carter.

  Callie looks at Maia. “Please rephrase the question.”

  Maia begins again. “Were you there, Natalie, in Carter’s room when the incident in question occurred?”

  Natalie presses her lips together hard, then seethes at Maia, “I said I wasn’t there later on.”

  “So then, you actually know nothing. And you have nothing meaningful to contribute about anything of consequence that night.”

  Maia’s good; she’s halfway to mowing her down. But Natalie Moretti doesn’t go down without a fight.

  “I know Alex was all over him at Salem Jim’s,” Natalie starts, digging a knife into my chest as I picture rushing the stage with him. “I know Alex wanted it,” she adds, and it’s like I’m being gutted as I remember kissing him in the common room. “I know she got herself drunk, and now she’s just using that as an excuse,” Natalie spits out, yanking the knife out of me with a rough final tug that dredges up my own memories of the room spinning, the bed spinning, my crashing into a dark, dreamless sleep.

  “Thank you, Natalie, for corroborating that Alex wasn’t in a position to be giving consent to this so-called relationship that was never a relationship but rather a crime. That’s all.”

  Maia sits down and squeezes my hand. I barely have the energy to squeeze back because I’ve just been wrung dry.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  SURPRISE WITNESS

  The second person Kevin calls is Martin.

  Maia jerks her head toward Kevin, then back down at the stack of papers in front of her on the table. She flips through a few pages. Martin’s name isn’t on the witness list. We submitted the names of the witnesses we planned to call, and so did Carter. He listed Natalie, that was it. Not Martin; he didn’t list Martin.

  Wait… Maybe he’s calling Martin because I had been talking to Martin right before I met Carter. That must be it. Except… if that were the case, then Martin would have been on the witness list. I press my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. I know why he’s calling Martin.

  Maia whispers to me, her voice worried but strong. “Why is he calling Martin?”

  But before I can answer, and I don’t even know what I’d say, Callie speaks up.

  “That name’s not on the witness list. Amy?”

  Amy marches forward, her Mockingbirds notebook in hand. She flips through a few pages, then says, “I have no record of the defendant requesting to call Martin Summers as a witness.”

  Kevin stands up, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “He’s a last-minute request. We just received intelligence he has information pertinent to our case.”

  “Pertinent?” Amy asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Kevin nods. “Yes, pertinent. Very pertinent. And in the interest of justice we should be allowed to call any witnesses who could have useful information. Should we not?”

  Callie speaks. “If Martin has information relevant to the case, the defendant should be allowed to call him to the stand. It’s only fair.”

  Amy breathes hard, the checks and balances between the three branches of the Mockingbirds clearly in force right now, then says crisply, “We believe in fairness. I’ll get the witness.”

  As Amy walks to the door, Maia turns to me. “Why is he calling Martin?” she whispers.

  I need to tell her, but the words are lodged in another galaxy. Because everything is exposed. Everything about me is now public property.

  “Why. Is. He. Calling. Martin?” Maia asks again, her voice cold and clear this time.

  I’m too embarrassed to look at her. She leans down next to me. “Tell me now,” she instructs.

  “I’m kind of involved with him,” I say under my breath.

  Maia breathes in through her nose, pursing her lips together. “As I suspected.” She pauses, then says, also in a low voice, “But it doesn’t change anything. It’s not a big deal. This changes nothing. We’ll be fine.”

  I wonder if she’s talking to me or giving herself—as the lawyer hit with a surprise witness—a pep talk. But there’s no more time to wonder, because when I lift my head Martin is sitting down in the witness chair. I sneak a brief glimpse at him, at his slightly shaggy hair, hanging soft as always. At his brown eyes, their multicolors flickering in the morning light.

  “Martin Summers,” Kevin begins, striding tauntingly, like he’s got a super-slippery secret up his sleeve.

  Martin looks straight at Kevin, refusing to be unnerved.

  “Martin, I’m wondering if you could tell us what you were doing the morning of March thirteenth?”

  Martin chuckles. “I don’t really remember.”

  “It was a Monday. Five days ago to be precise. I believe it would have been right after your French class in Morgan-Young Hall.”

  The empty dark classroom where no one was supposed to see us.

  Kevin continues, “Why don’t I ask the question another way?”

  “Yes, because we’re curious to hear how this relates to the case,” Callie says coolly.

  But Kevin seems to like playing with his food, so he keeps toying with Martin. “You spend a lot of time in Alex’s room, don’t you?”

  Carter has spies too.

  Carter has friends in Taft-Hay Hall reporting back to him, spies in the classrooms too, following me, tracking me. No wonder Carter was so cocky, so confident, so willing to come to the hearing. It’s not just because the Mockingbirds are powerful, but because he’s created his own power as well.

  “It’s my job,” Martin replies.

  “It’s your job?” Kevin asks.

  “Yes. It’s not a secret Alex came to the Mockingbirds and asked for help. That’s why we’re all here today.”

  “So you help”—Kevin pauses to sketch air quotes with his fingers—“by visiting her in her room?” he asks suspiciously. “What kind of help exactly do you give her in her room?” he says, adding his own knowing little laugh at the end.

  Martin stays calm and for once I’m glad he’s acting as if I’m a pity project. “Many of us visit her. Amy did, Ilana did. Plus, Alex and I are friends and have been since last year.”

  “That’s true. You are awfully close to this whole thing and I’m sure she needed your friendly support to get through a tough time.”

  Martin says nothing because Kevin has asked nothing. Kevin cocks his forehead up, staring at the ceiling, stroking his chin. He takes a breath, exhales, walks back and forth down the tables.

  “And that support would extend to, how shall we say?” He stops in the middle of the room. “I know!” He holds up his index finger, like he’s just discovered something. “Shall we call it heavy petting?”

  “Objection!” Maia calls out.

  “On what grounds?” Callie asks.

  “He’s not asking the witness a relevant question.”

  “Kevin, please ask a relevant question,” Callie says exasperatedly.

  “But of course. My apologies,” Kevin says, then turns back to Martin. “Martin, did you engage in a heavy make-out session with Alex Patrick on March thirteenth in an empty classroom in Morgan-Young Hall after your French class and during which the two of you kissed, groped, pressed your bodies against each other, and felt underneath the other one’s shirt?”

  Martin’s eyes stay fixed on Kevin. “Yes.”

  “And do you regularly engage in physical contact with Alex, like holding hands on the way to the Brain Freeze?”

  How could I have been so stupid?

&n
bsp; “Yes, we hold hands when we go out for ice cream,” Martin answers, his voice strong and unwavering.

  “That’s so sweet. What’s her favorite flavor?”

  “Objection!” Maia calls out.

  Callie gives Kevin a hard look as he resumes. “So let’s go back to these visits to Alex’s room that are part of your job with the Mockingbirds. Is part of your job when you’re there to make out as well?”

  “It’s not part of my job,” Martin says.

  “So you lied when you said it was your job to visit her?”

  “No, I didn’t lie. It was my job. I visited her. We also kissed. That was not part of the job. But I did it anyway.”

  “Is it against the rules of the Mockingbirds? Getting involved with a plaintiff? I don’t know. I’m just curious.”

  “It is.”

  “And you did it anyway.”

  “We did it anyway.”

  “And was Alex aware it is against the rules?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you regularly engage in sexual conduct with Alex?”

  Martin nods. “Yes, and it’s completely mutual. Completely consensual,” Martin says, slowly sounding out the last word, making sure the impact is clear.

  “Oh, I’m sure it is,” Kevin says brightly. “Just like with Carter. Because Alex has a pattern of engaging in sexual activity with boys where she wants, when she wants, whenever the mood strikes, regardless of the consequences. And you’re part of that pattern.”

  Kevin practically sails over to his seat, ridiculously pleased with himself. He and Carter exchange a mini high-five under the table. Everthing about what Kevin said stings, especially since Martin and I haven’t slept together.

  Maia pops up, paces to the center of the room. “Martin,” she begins, “you’re not the one being tried here. So I don’t think we need to get into the ins and out of your relationship with Alex. Your consensual relationship. But a few brief questions just to clarify the differences. Was Alex ever drinking when you were with her?”