“Released to my parents?” Not that it mattered. She was home 24/7 anyway.
“Until this case goes to court. You will also not be able to drive, given the situation . . .”
Jayne had started tuning him out. She twisted her gold watch around on her wrist, barely aware of what she was doing. She sneaked a quick glance at her mom, but Gen was concentrating on whatever Officer Bradley was saying.
She tuned back into the conversation when she heard the man clear his throat. The faint smell of a sweet cigarette was coming off of him. Cloves, maybe? Her grams smoked those. “We’ll start off slow and simple. Ready?”
Jayne nodded.
“One, you had a red light when you hit the red Toyota.”
Jayne nodded.
“The tox reports from the hospital show you had no drugs or alcohol in your system. That’s good. Now, were you—” The chirp of a high-pitched ring tone interrupted his words. He pulled a cell phone from his belt. “Excuse me.”
Jayne tried to calm her nerves while he talked. No big deal. Breathe. He just wants the facts about that day. You don’t have anything to hide. So what if you’re confined to school and home? You do that anyway. And the car thing? You knew that already. And there’s no way you were going to touch the Jetta again, anyway.
Officer Bradley was still on the phone. Jayne didn’t turn to look at her mom to judge her reaction to all of this. Right now, Val and her note-taking was making her feel better. She was just glad her dad wasn’t here. He was home with Ellie, working on his notes for some all-natural product line he was developing for some big cosmetic company.
She’d also asked him to stay home.
If he had been here, he’d be holding her hand and trying to shelter her from the harsher things the lawyer wanted to say. She didn’t need that. It was time to face the truth. The truth would be nice for once.
That way she wouldn’t be blindsided by a woman with a mike and a fake concerned look on her face.
Jayne chewed on her lip, eating the little bit of lip gloss that was still on.
The officer clicked his phone shut and made a phlegm-filled sniff as he reattached it to his belt. “That was my captain.” He looked at Jayne, and her heart sank even before he said the words. “Brenda Deavers was taken off life support an hour ago. She’s dead.”
TWO MONTHS LATER ...
12
WILL THE DEFENDANT PLEASE RISE.”
Jayne felt weak. Val stood next to her, holding her hand. It would’ve been too awkward with their height differences to try to put an arm around Jayne’s shoulders.
Val was so tiny, Jayne felt like she was the one offering her hand for comfort. Then again, she wasn’t her usual Amazon self lately. She felt like she’d shrunk an inch or two, and based on the waist of the skirt she was wearing, she’d lost an inch or two around her waist.
“Jayne Lee Thompkins, you have pled guilty to vehicular manslaughter. Do you wish to say anything before sentencing is imposed?”
Jayne’s mouth felt like she’d licked chalk dust from a blackboard. There’d been no testimony, just Jayne meeting with Val and the prosecutor to go over the accident and work out what her punishment would be.
And she was numb.
Over the last eight weeks, Jayne had been numb. And she was sort of glad about that.
Especially when she’d gone to her locker and a new, horrible name had been written in permanent marker. Daily. Sometimes even twice a day.
She’d gotten a new phone, but someone figured out her number and the text messaging started again. Finally, she just stopped turning her phone on. And taking it with her.
Her house had been egged. Three times. The last time, a bag of dog crap had been thrown at her front door. Her mom had gotten the police out to the house to test for fingerprints.
Like high school students would have their fingerprints on file. Or at least not the two in particular who Jayne knew had vandalized her locker. Stalked her phone. Egged the house. Desecrated her front door.
Jenna and Lori.
They’d been writing daily blogs about “Child Killer Thompkins.” They’d scanned Jayne’s yearbook picture and used Photoshop to put her in an electric chair, her brain sizzling and tiny lightning bolts coming off her body.
Jayne hadn’t seen it. Tammy, Ellie’s mall buddy, had told her one day around a mouth full of s’mores while standing in the Thompkinses’ kitchen.
Jenna was here today, sitting by her mom. They were behind the guy from the state, the one prosecuting Jayne. Mrs. Deavers’s eyes were vacant, a crumpled tissue in her hand. Jenna looked at the ground, her arms crossed.
Neither had looked at Jayne once.
Val had told her Mrs. Deavers would be here today. Family members usually were, in order to have input on sentencing.
Sentencing. That’s why they were here. To determine her future. Or lack of one.
She closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to sleep through the rest of high school. She sort of already had. She’d left half her finals blank, and the other half she had to guess at. She hadn’t done any studying since . . . since the day in Val’s office. When she’d found out Brenda Deavers had been taken off life support and had her organs harvested.
She’d tried to study. For two months, she’d sit at her desk and open her books. Turn on her computer. But then images of the accident and the little girl would freeze her brain and make her useless for the rest of the day. She’d turn on crap TV and watch reruns of shows she hadn’t even liked when they were first on.
She had no idea what her grades were. Usually she kept a piece of paper in her notebook with each and every grade recorded. Not this quarter.
There hadn’t been too many good grades to record.
She was halfway hoping her teachers would give her A’s by default. For just being Jayne Thompkins. If they didn’t . . . the crap was really going to hit the fan.
College applications would be the least of her worries. First, she’d have to keep Gen from killing her.
Val squeezed her hand and Jayne shook herself out of her thoughts. The judge needed an answer. What had been the question? Do you wish to say anything before sentencing is imposed? Val and her mom had coached her last night for a good two hours about what she needed to say right now.
She licked her lips and started to speak, her voice thready and quiet at first before growing more solid and normal-sounding. “I wish to apologize to the Deavers family. I can never take back that day, that horrible Tuesday. I wish I could go back, more than words can say, and change the events of that day. But I can’t, and I’m sorry.”
Jayne dropped her eyes down to the legal pad she’d been doodling on for the last hour. She couldn’t look in the judge’s watery blue eyes anymore. She just wanted this over with.
“I understand the Deavers family is in this courtroom today,” the judge said. “Would a representative of the family like to say anything?”
Jayne tried to keep from looking around. But the silence, the waiting, seemed to drone on. She slowly turned her head so she could see what the Deaverses were doing.
Jenna and her mom stayed seated, neither looking like they had moved an inch. Finally, Mrs. Deavers shook her head and raised the wadded tissue to her nose, sniffing into it.
Jayne bit the inside of her lip. This was it. This was where the judge told her she’d be the first person to ever get the death penalty for a misdemeanor.
It could happen. Val could’ve missed a loophole.
“Based on the plea agreement reached between the state and the defendant, Jayne Lee Thompkins has been found delinquent on the charge of vehicular manslaughter. I hereby sentence her to community service not to exceed one thousand hours and to be completed within the next 365 days. I also hereby suspend Jayne Lee Thompkins’s license, not to be reinstated until her eighteenth birthday. On the successful completion of said community service, the record of this event will be sealed.” She heard him shuffling papers. “You are also man
dated to fifty hours of counseling, to be completed within the time frame of your community service.”
Jayne kept her eyes fixated on the cheap laminate desk she stood over. She waited to hear the words We’ve changed our mind, Jayne Lee Thompkins. You’ll be going to jail for the rest of your natural born life. Your roommate’s name is Bertha. You two will grow quite close, I assure you.
She waited.
“Miss Thompkins.”
Her stomach lurched. Here it was. She raised her eyes to the judge.
“I want you to take this opportunity to really reflect on where you want your life to go. This is a misdemeanor, meaning that you will not have to check the felony box on any college or job applications. I know that your life prior to this event had you on track for a bright, promising future. I do not want you to lose sight of that future, Miss Thompkins.”
He shuffled his papers around. Jayne kept waiting for him to say that prison would be just the thing to keep her focused on her future.
“Based on this, I want you to fulfill your community service at Outreach Arizona. This program focuses on helping teenagers who don’t have a wonderful future. They may have a mother or father in prison; they may be facing pregnancy while trying to finish school. I think this will be a good opportunity for you to see people who think all is lost. Maybe how you’re feeling right at this moment.”
He looked around. Jayne knew this was it. This was when she was going to get her real punishment. She was getting off too easy after killing a child.
Wasn’t she?
Instead, he said, “I want you to check back with me in six months’ time, to see how you are.” He banged his gavel. “Court is dismissed.”
“It could’ve gone a lot worse, Jayne.” Val, Jayne, and Jayne’s parents stood in the orange-carpeted foyer of the juvenile court building. Val’s voice was uncharacteristically low as she said, “All this may seem overwhelming right now, but it was a fair sentence. Do you have any questions about it?”
Jayne shook her head, her blonde ponytail feeling like a million pounds. She took out the elastic band.
“How long is this community service lasting again?” her mom demanded, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiling at a few passing lawyers who were trying to act cool at seeing a local celeb. There was always someone who recognized Gen Thompkins. Be it the restroom at the movie theater or the court at her daughter’s manslaughter hearing. “I want to make sure I program it into the BlackBerry.”
Val put an arm around Jayne’s back. “A year. That’s about four hours a day, five days a week.” She turned and squeezed Jayne against her side. “For a girl like you, this will be a walk in the park. Just treat it like one of those extracurriculars you have.”
Jayne remained silent. The extracurriculars she used to have. Before she quit them all—Key Club, the school paper, French Club—to stay in her room when she wasn’t at school.
“Outreach Arizona’s a good place.” Her dad squeezed her shoulder, before his hand awkwardly fell back to his side. “It’s only a few miles from home.”
“And it will look good on the college résumé,” her mother interjected, slipping the handheld into her purse. She was standing about ten feet away from them. Gen had to get back to editing a story about six-year-old beauty queens, and Jayne was only too happy to be Gen-free. “You don’t have to mention it was community service.”
Jayne nodded, not saying anything. There wasn’t anything to say.
The judge had sentenced her, the case had been shut, and her mother had found the silver lining in killing a kid.
“I was thinking we could go see Larry next week.”
Her dad maneuvered the Prius through Friday rush hour. Larry. Larry? Uh-oh. Larry. As in fairy. She concentrated on the brake lights of the car ahead of them and didn’t say anything, hoping he’d take the hint and drop the topic.
Jayne scraped the edge of the card Val had given her along her skirt, thinking back to her parting words.
“We still don’t know if there’s going to be a civil case.” Val had said. “We usually hear about one after the judge comes back with a verdict. Especially a verdict that isn’t liked. Think O.J., Robert Blake. They got off but the families of the deceased were still able to nail them.”
Jayne knew Val wasn’t too good with censoring her thoughts. But O.J.? Robert Blake?
She was just a misdemeanor-er. Whatever that meant.
Val pulled Jayne aside when they got to the parking garage and her dad was already in the car. “If you ever need me, babe, I’m a phone call, e-mail, or fax away. You’re going to have it pretty rough these next couple of months. Good kids like you usually do.”
In a lower voice, she’d added, “Your dad seems pretty approachable, but he seems like he’s in la-la land. Typical parent response after an accident like this. Give him time to pull it together, okay?”
Val didn’t bring up Gen as someone to talk to.
“I think seeing him will help, Jaynie.” Her dad’s voice brought her out of her thoughts. What was he talking about? Oh, yeah. Larry the Fairy. “Plus, he’ll help with those fifty hours of counseling the judge wants.” He pulled into the left lane. “Talking to a family friend might be easier than talking to some stranger.”
Jayne tightened her arms over her chest, warding off the chill she was starting to feel from the air conditioner blasting on her. She didn’t want to share anything with Larry. Feelings or astrological signs or who needs to be kicked off American Idol.
“It’s okay, kiddo. You don’t have to answer now. I just wanted to put Larry out there again.” He briefly touched her leg with the back of his fingers. “If you want, me and your mom can go with you to see Larry. We can have a family therapy session of sorts.”
“No!” Jayne didn’t even know she was going to say the word before it was blurted out.
The Thompkins family talking about Jayne’s biggest mistake with Larry as an audience member? Her dad might as well have suggested stripping naked in front of Jenna and Lori and letting them circle her fat with permanent marker and writing “Killer” on her forehead.
It was almost the same thing.
13
THE OLD STUCCO BUILDING looked like it had once been a church. Seeing it, Jayne wondered why such a big building was necessary for talking to a bunch of kids about how to juggle a baby and classes.
“Are you sure this is where you’re supposed to be, Jayne?” Her dad leaned against the steering wheel, looking around the deserted parking lot. “I would’ve thought there’d be more cars.”
“Everyone’s parked in the back.” Jayne put her water bottle in her bag as she opened the door. “Maria told me to park back there if I had a car.”
If this Maria chick had half a brain, she would’ve known Jayne couldn’t drive and that she was coming to this godforsaken place because some idiot DMV person let her get behind the wheel in the first place.
She got out and looked around. They were in an older part of Paradise Valley, where horse trails ran alongside the concrete sidewalks. A hitching post stood next to the bus stop.
“You have everything?”
“Yep.” She kept the sigh she wanted to expel to herself. In the week since the judge had sentenced her, her dad had been like a friggin’ puppy. Everywhere she turned, he’d been there, wanting to give her hugs and long, sad stares.
Classic Dad. He almost made up for the other parental unit.
“Money?”
Jayne nodded. She wanted to get the day started. The sooner she signed in, the sooner the next four hours would be over. Then she could go back to her room and the pj’s she’d left on top of her bed.
“Just so you know, I’m aware of the surprise party tonight.”
Jayne looked at her watch. She had two minutes to get in there and report for her first day of penance. “What surprise party?”
“It’s okay, honey.” He chuckled. “Ellie caved and told me last week.” At her blank stare, he ad
ded, “About the surprise party your mother planned for my forty-fifth?”
That’s right.
The subject of the conversation she’d had with her mom right before she crashed. She’d never ended up calling Grams about the party. Her mom must’ve talked Ellie into playing the middleman.
Jayne wondered briefly if her mom had given Ellie the duty on the same day as the accident. Or if she’d waited until the next day.
“Anyway, I’ll be here at around five-thirty so we can go out to Sun City to pick up Grams and take her to the ‘quiet dinner’ your mom has planned.” He air-quoted his words, and Jayne tried to muster a smile. It was hard to get excited over a birthday when it was hard enough just to get out of bed.
She waved good-bye and slammed the door shut. Jayne started dragging herself up the sidewalk, one foot in front of the other, when her dad called out, “You’re sure you’re good?”
Good? That was an overstatement. Surviving, yeah. She turned around and gave a tired little smile. “I’m fine, Dad. Go home. Go pull those weeds you’re always complaining about.”
Inside the black double doors, a front desk took up a third of the reception area. A pixielike girl with short, spiky black hair sat behind it. “You here for abstinence counseling?”
As the girl turned to look at the clock behind her, Jayne saw a Chinese symbol tattooed on the back of her neck in red ink.
“Go on back. You’ve got five minutes till they start.”
“No thanks.” Jayne cleared her throat and tightened her hold on the strap of her bag. “I mean, I’m not here for that. I’m here to see Maria? About starting today?”
The girl looked her up and down as if she was taking the measure of her. “I would’ve pegged you as a save-yourself-for-marriage sort. The ponytail and the clothes fooled me.”
They walked through a large room, about the size of Palm Desert High’s library. Cubicles partitioned the room, and one side was taken up with a mishmash of what looked like third-hand furniture: a plaid couch, a couple of vinyl beanbag chairs, a klatch of straight-backed chairs in gray nubby material.
Black Tuesday Page 7