Falling (Bits and Pieces, Book 1)

  21. VERDICT

  The rest of the weekend passed rather uneventful. I didn’t mind at all. No drama, no avoiding my parents. I had the house and my life to myself. I practiced…a lot, because I could. That made me feel good. I worked on homework and projects, although I was in no rush to get ahead on my school work, since I didn’t really have to clear my schedule for anything. But since I really didn’t have anything else to do, it seemed silly to procrastinate.

  Patrick had suggested that we carpool this week to school. I didn’t mind. It saved me gas. More importantly, I wouldn’t be driving alone. By the morning, I was ready to have someone to talk to with and not be by myself. I think he knew that, which is why he offered.

  It was a short school week because of the two days we got off for Thanksgiving. Most of my classes assigned some sort of homework packet over break and had quizzes and tests this week. I had so much to get done all of a sudden that I put what I was going to do on Thursday out of my mind. No sense wasting my brain cells on that now, when I had three tests on Tuesday and two quizzes on Wednesday. You got to love how teachers want to squeeze in these things right before any sort of vacation. Doesn’t this just mean that they have that stuff to grade over break? Why do they want to do that to themselves? Whatever.

  During the middle of math class, while we were working on group challenge problems, my cell phone rang. Out loud. I frantically reached in my backpack to get it to stop ringing. The other students fake coughed to supposedly cover up the noise. It never did. That always just made it seem more obvious.

  Ms. Adams stopped helping one group and her voice rose over the classroom noise. “Now, I know I didn’t hear what I just thought I heard. Cell phones shouldn’t be heard or seen in class. Next time it’s mine.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t realize I had it on.” I told her. She nodded and went back to what she was doing. It was my first offense. No one ever called me before. Now, only Patrick or the crew would and they were all in class.

  Who would be calling me now? During school? I slyly took out my phone to check the missed call and switch it to vibrate mode. Patrick curiously looked at me. I wasn’t sure of the phone number, but I recognized the area code. I felt like my heart stopped and all the blood ran from my face. If I could turn as white as a sheet, I would have.

  Patrick read my face. Well, the lack of any expression on my face and knew that something had to be up. “What is it?”

  I turned and looked at him. I could feel the tears ready to explode from my eyes at any moment, but I had to remain calm. “San Francisco.”

  The phone buzzed in my hand and I nearly jumped out of my seat. The phone leapt from my hand and landed on my backpack. I looked around and thankfully, Ms. Adams wasn’t looking in this direction. She didn’t see that I had my phone out and didn’t hear it land. The voice mail indicator came on. I guess whoever it was left me a message. I couldn’t check it now. Ms. Adams would definitely confiscate my phone if I did that.

  Once I was outside the classroom, I checked my voicemail. Patrick walked me to my next class. I could feel his gaze was intently on me. I could see the blur of the other students going to their classes, but the world stood still for me. It was the prosecutor on my case.

  “She just said to call her back.” I wrote down the number, even though I knew I had it in my notebook already. There was no time now to do it, with just a few minutes before my next class started. I looked at him with terror. “I guess, I’ll have to call her after school.”

  “Hey,” He gently shook my shoulder to get my attention. “You don’t have to do it alone. I can meet you before practice. Mr. D’s room?”

  I bit my lip and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  “Hang in there. Try not to think about it too much in class.” He gave me a quick hug and hurried off to his next class.

  I walked into my history class and tried to put it out of my mind. The reminder of a test tomorrow snapped me back into my present reality. I shut the rest of the world out and focused on the review. History wasn’t my strongest subject and I needed every neuron focused on it or I wouldn’t do well on the test. It wasn’t until the bell rang and I walked outside that I snapped out of my history trance and remembered what I had to do next.

  The walk to Mr. D’s room seemed to take forever and instantaneous at the same time. How could that be? When I got there, Patrick was already waiting for me. We walked to the back of the classroom and leaned up against the lab counters.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can. I know you can.” He reassured me.

  “What if it’s bad news? I’ve gotten this far not knowing and being in limbo. Knowing he’s free…” The thought of it made me sick. Physically sick.

  “What if it goes the way it should? There’s only one way to find out. Call her.” He coaxed.

  I pulled my phone and notebook out. I dialed the number. My right hand gripped the phone, my left hand was balled up into a fist. Patrick rubbed my back, trying to calm me down.

  My voice broke. “Hello? May I please speak to ADA Espinoza?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi. This is Liz Mariposa. I’m returning your call.”

  I just hoped she would just rip off the band aid and tell me as swiftly as possible. My chest tightened.

  “Yes, Liz, I’m glad you called back. I was hoping to call you last week, but the trial lasted a little longer than I anticipated.”

  That didn’t sound good. Longer wasn’t good for things like this. Right? My throat plummeted to my stomach. Patrick kept rubbing my back trying to sooth my nerves and fears.

  “The jury got the case this morning.”

  I just wanted to know one thing—the verdict. Why did it seem like it was taking so long? Where’s the fast forward button when you need it?

  Finally, she got to what I wanted to know. My head felt like it was humming, like someone hit it with a tuning fork. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. Only this time, I wasn’t out of breath. It wasn’t a hysterical cry, it was more like a silent one.

  I thanked her for her help and letting me know, then hung up. Patrick patiently waited for me to regain the power of speech.

  “They found him guilty.” Tears streamed down my face again. I couldn’t help it. “Sentencing is in January.”

  He held me tightly and sighed. “Thank God, Liz. It’s over. You did great.”

  I wrapped my arms underneath his and held onto his shoulders. My face was partially buried on his chest. A feeling that I had never experienced before washed over me. At least, I didn’t recognize it. It was like some pressure between my shoulders was lightened. Almost non-existent. Was this what relief felt like?