One Last Thing ✅

sixty-four things

The morning of the preliminary hearing arrives in no time.

I shower, put on a plain black skirt with a boring grey top, and top it off with the pearl necklace. I keep the makeup to a minimum—a tiny bit of mascara with a shaking hand and a swipe of clear lip gloss. After stepping into some black ballet flats, I am ready.

Grams stands in my doorway, her coat on and purse and keys in hand. She looks as nervous as I feel, though when I take a step toward her, she pastes on a wobbly smile.

"Here we go," I say.

"Everything will be fine," she says, but I wonder if she believes it.

The drive to the courthouse is short. I start to feel sick when Grams pulls into the parking lot. When I step out of the car, someone says my name. I look over to see Mr. Mason getting out of his own car, carrying his briefcase.

"Good morning," I say politely, smoothing my skirt.

"You look very nice," Mr. Mason says. His gaze shifts from me to Grams. "As do you." The twinkle in his eye is unmistakable. I turn to look at Grams as her cheeks turn pink. I can almost sense the chemistry in the air. If my stomach weren't turning inside out at the thought of what's about to happen in the courthouse, I would think it was cute.

"Lil," a voice cries, and Riley runs toward me, her shoes slapping against cement. She sweeps me into a hug, and I squeeze my eyes shut and try to forget where we are, just for a minute. Then she lets go, and I feel a strong hand against my lower back. There's no mistaking it.

Sighing, I let Abbott wrap his arms around me.

"I'm here," he whispers. "We're here for you."

I give him a half smile.

Seeing Jared shuffling his feet, I break away from Abbott.

We all follow Mr. Mason up the steps and into the courthouse, through the high-ceilinged hallway, and into the courtroom, where my friends and Grams take a seat in the back. I sit with Mr. Mason at a heavy oak table near the front of the room.

The prosecutor is sitting at a table opposite us, her hands folded calmly in front of her. She doesn't look our way. Besides her, the room is empty despite one man in uniform standing near a doorway near the back, which I'm guessing leads to the judge's chambers.

I catch the man looking at me, and I wonder what he's thinking. Surely he's heard about the case. He knows what I've done. Is it my imagination, or does he frown at me slightly? In his eyes, I'm probably just a reckless teenager who was swerving all over the road after a stupid breakup with her boyfriend and ended up killing an innocent woman.

Suddenly I want the chance to explain myself to him.

I don't want to be a caricature of a thoughtless teenager. I want him to see me as the human being I am. I need him to realize that, yes, I made a mistake, but I am filled with remorse. I would give anything for Mrs. Edwards to be alive again. Anxious for the hearing to begin, I start shaking my leg up and down until Mr. Mason lightly puts his hand on my arm. I stop jiggling.

"Something wrong?" Mr. Mason leans over to whisper in my ear.

I bite my lip and shake my head.

I am wondering when the judge will show up when Mr. Mason leans over and whispers, "These things never start on time." He pats my hand.

Seeming to prove his point, Judge Farrell doesn't show up for ten more minutes. Mr. Mason nudges me to stand and then gives me the go ahead to sit down once she's taken her seat at the front of the room. I notice she doesn't offer an apology or explanation for where she's been, but I guess when you're judge you don't need to.