Bad Judgment by Meghan March Page A

and apparently is willing to throw it away?
    I grow more and more pissed as I ride the bus to the commuter lot and finally climb into my car. My Honda Civic may only be five years younger than me, but she still gets me from A to B.
    I’m only partially aware of the turns I’m making until the majestic building housing the state supreme court comes into view.
    Apparently when this Grant calls, I come running. But how many other people have called me to inquire about my situation? Asked if I’ve found a solution? Besides Merica, no one else cares whether I drop out of school or not.
    My parents, who I assume are still running cons on unsuspecting marks, never gave a crap about me or my future. If Gramps hadn’t fought them tooth and nail for custody, they would have dragged me deeper into their mess, and I was too young to realize what was happening.
    The fact that Justice Grant cares more about my future than my own blood isn’t something I’m going to dwell on. Honestly, though, other than Gramps, Justice Grant is really the only positive male role model I’ve had.
    Despite the silver-spoon life he’s given his son, Grant didn’t grow up with everything. He started as a lowly law clerk and worked his way up the ranks through sheer force of will. Because of that, I feel like we have something in common.
    I wait in line at the metal detector, and once my purse has been scanned, I follow the path my feet know well and make my way to the third floor of the building where Justice Grant’s chambers are located. The halls are quiet at five thirty, and the door to Grant’s chambers is closed. I try the knob rather than knocking.
    As I step into his chambers, I inhale the scent of old law books. There’s something comforting about it—like coming home after a long absence. I loved every minute I spent working here last semester, and that’s all due to the man standing near the interior door that leads to his office.
    His eyes light up when he sees me, and a ready smile stretches across his face. “Justine, so glad you got my message and could carve out some time for me.”
    I smile instinctively in return, but then falter when I remember I’m here to tell him that my legal career is over before it really started.
    The words are bitter on my tongue, and speaking them is so much harder than I could have imagined. Tears burn my eyes, but again, I won’t let them fall.
    “Of course. And you told me to talk to you before I made any big decisions, so here I am.” I square my shoulders and swallow, wishing I didn’t have to say what I’m about to say. “I’m going to be leaving school when the first tuition payment is due. I don’t have the money, and I’m not going to be able to get it.”
    His smile dies a quick death. “No. That’s not acceptable. You’re too bright to throw the last two years away over something like money.”
    I choke out a pained laugh. “Money’s pretty important in this situation. The school isn’t going to let me stay without it. I’m hoping I won’t be throwing the last two years away. My goal would be to graduate . . . someday.”
    “That’s not what I meant, but I spoke poorly.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Come in and shut the door. We’re going to talk. I have an idea I think will help both of us.”

Justine
     
    I ease the thick wooden door of Justice Grant’s chambers closed behind me and follow him into his office. He takes a seat behind the wide wooden desk that looks like it should be in a museum rather than in actual use.
    “Sit.” He gestures to the dark leather high-backed chairs that are slightly smaller and less ornate versions of his.
    I lower myself into the seat, and memories of all the times that I’ve sat in it before swirl through my mind. The first afternoon of my externship, when most student clerks don’t actually get to meet their judges right away, and instead are directed by a permanent law clerk. The times when Grant wanted to discuss particularly