Noah's Law by Randa Abdel-Fattah Page B

interested in becoming a criminal lawyer. It was the only kind of law that appealed to me. My parents’ divorce had completely turned me off family law. My dad specialised in commercial litigation, basically representing people who sued over contracts, fought over intellectual property, copyright and patents, that kind of stuff. It could get interesting. Like the time he represented the big movie people in a major DVD piracy case. I helped him choose some of the worst pirated DVDs to show at the trial. You know the kind: heads bobbing in the cinema, the guy holding the dodgy camera who has the sneezing fit, popcorn being thrown in front of the camera. (Obviously, I didn’t tell Dad about the stash of DVDs Amit and I bought at the markets. We kept them hidden at Amit’s house while the case was running.)
    There was no way I planned to follow Dad’s exact same footsteps. Immigration law? I’d probably spend more time working on boring business visa applications than trying to get people who have escaped torture into the country. Environmental law? Well, sure, I believed in recycling and shorter showers, but I just couldn’t get excited over greenhouse gas emissions. So what was left? Insurance litigation? Mum, the tree-hugging leftie, would never speak to me again. Property law? Snore.
    So criminal law was a natural, obvious choice. I could also say this: having committed acts which may, in some states, have constituted crimes per se (one of my dad’s favourite phrases), I was in a perfect position to understand the mind of your average criminal. If I added knowing the law to the equation I’d be one of Australia’s best criminal lawyers and make regular appearances on the six o’clock news.
    All this was swimming in my head when I approached Casey with the bundles of stapled not paperclipped documents and asked, ‘Can I sit in on the settlement conference?’
    She let out a long sigh. ‘Noah, I really don’t have time. If you want a mentor, there’s John. God knows he doesn’t have my workload. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you tagging along after him.’
    â€˜I won’t be tagging along . I’ll be watching. There’s a difference.’
    Just then my aunt emerged from her office. ‘Oh, hello there, Casey, Noah. Good news, Casey! The Mallesons finally agreed to the deed of release we proposed.’
    â€˜Well it’s about time. Congratulations.’
    â€˜George sent through a bottle of champagne. He’s so happy.’
    Casey somehow managed to convey her excitement with a tight-lipped smile. ‘That’s great,’ she said.
    Aunt Nirvine was obviously keen to launch into a long conversation but Casey swiftly cut her off.
    â€˜I’ve got the White settlement conference in an hour and I need to prepare for it. Let’s chat this afternoon.’
    â€˜Oh sure, no problem,’ Aunt Nirvine said. ‘Are you attending, Noah? The dynamics of settlement conferences can be fascinating.’
    â€˜Do you mind if I do?’
    Got you!
    I didn’t look at Casey but I swear I could feel the heat of her glare on the side of my face. Oh well, too bad.
    â€˜Of course I don’t mind. Casey, is that okay with you?’
    â€˜Fine,’ she muttered. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me I have work to do.’
    I spent the next fifty minutes working on John’s task. It was pretty tedious and I couldn’t help but torture myself by thinking of all the other kids my age, including Amit, who were enjoying their holiday.
    As I was working Jacinta popped in, plonking herself down on the chair in front of me.
    â€˜I know my subjects for semester one. Torts with Ian Maklin, who is apparently the best lecturer on campus, and History and Philosophy of Law with Diane Chapman. The campus is amazing. Beautiful old sandstone buildings. Green lawns. I’m so excited! I’m going to join the swimming team too.