ask me about Jeremy dumping all the pickles on the kitchen floor so he could have the jar, and I tell that one, glad that Rita’s not allowed in the courtroom until after she testifies.
When I’m done, Raymond smiles at me. I think he winks, but it might be a twitch. “Thank you, Hope.” He turns to the judge. “That’s all, Your Honor.”
I’d like to get up and follow Raymond, but the prosecutor is already out of his chair and heading for me.
“Good day,” he says. He unbuttons his jacket and walks so close I think I smell the sweat that’s left dark circles around his armpits. It’s hot in the courtroom, even with the fans going. “My name is Mr. Keller. Can I call you Hope?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Thank you.” I keep thinking how Raymond called him a pit bull. And I guess he was kind of hard on the doctor. Still, I don’t see him as a pit bull. Not yet anyway. On the other hand, people who get bitten by pit bulls are always saying how the dogs were so sweet until that minute before the bite.
“I just have a few questions for you, Hope,” Mr. Keller begins. “Then we’ll let you get out of here and go home.”
I wish he could say that to my brother.
Raymond warned me to keep my answers short and not volunteer information not asked. So I wait to be asked. Only Keller is flipping through his notes. My knee starts bobbing all by itself, and my heart is pounding so loud I wonder if the prosecutor can hear it. I look past him to the crowd of reporters in the back row, to the jurors on my left, to Jeremy on my right. T.J., wearing a red T-shirt with a gold dragon on it, is sitting as close to the front as he could get. Then my gaze passes over the gallery in the little balcony, and I see him. Chase. He’s sitting in the front row, leaning forward, his hands on the rail.
And instantly, I feel better.
I don’t know why Chase shows up every day, but T.J. says he’s been here for the whole trial. A lot of Grain citizens have. Maybe they come for the same reason rubberneckers gawk at highway accidents.
“Hope,” Mr. Keller says, turning his side to me so he can smile at the jury, “what was your brother’s relationship with Mr. Johnson like?”
Raymond jumps up. “Objection! The witness isn’t qualified to answer. She isn’t an expert in relationships.”
Raymond’s right about that.
But the judge disagrees. “Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Keller.”
He turns to me this time. “Why don’t you just tell us from your own observations how your brother got along with the deceased?”
“They got along fine.”
“Could you explain your answer for the court, please?”
I’m trying to keep my answers short, like Raymond said, but I can’t see how it would hurt for the jury to know how much Jeremy liked Coach. “Coach Johnson gave Jeremy a real good job at the stable. Jer mucked the stalls and all, but he got to ride and brush the horses too. He loved his job. And the pay was great.”
“Did they see one another outside the stable?”
“On the ball field,” I answer quickly, eager to make the jury understand how much Coach meant to Jeremy. “Coach let Jeremy be his assistant for the summer games. Jeremy was the first one to show up on the ball diamond and the last to leave. He was in charge of the bats and balls, the game equipment.”
Keller looks like he wants to ask another question, but I’m not done yet. “Plus,” I add quickly, “Coach gave Jeremy a Panther uniform. Jeremy loved that uniform. He would have worn it every day if I’d let him. And—” But I stop myself just in time because I was going to say how Jeremy carried his bat with him to the barn every single morning.
Mr. Keller nods, like he’s taking it all in. “Did Coach Johnson ever give Jeremy a bat?”
I bite my lip so hard it hurts. I try to glance at Raymond because we didn’t practice for this question, but the prosecutor’s standing in my way.
“Do you need me to repeat the question?” Keller
When I’m done, Raymond smiles at me. I think he winks, but it might be a twitch. “Thank you, Hope.” He turns to the judge. “That’s all, Your Honor.”
I’d like to get up and follow Raymond, but the prosecutor is already out of his chair and heading for me.
“Good day,” he says. He unbuttons his jacket and walks so close I think I smell the sweat that’s left dark circles around his armpits. It’s hot in the courtroom, even with the fans going. “My name is Mr. Keller. Can I call you Hope?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Thank you.” I keep thinking how Raymond called him a pit bull. And I guess he was kind of hard on the doctor. Still, I don’t see him as a pit bull. Not yet anyway. On the other hand, people who get bitten by pit bulls are always saying how the dogs were so sweet until that minute before the bite.
“I just have a few questions for you, Hope,” Mr. Keller begins. “Then we’ll let you get out of here and go home.”
I wish he could say that to my brother.
Raymond warned me to keep my answers short and not volunteer information not asked. So I wait to be asked. Only Keller is flipping through his notes. My knee starts bobbing all by itself, and my heart is pounding so loud I wonder if the prosecutor can hear it. I look past him to the crowd of reporters in the back row, to the jurors on my left, to Jeremy on my right. T.J., wearing a red T-shirt with a gold dragon on it, is sitting as close to the front as he could get. Then my gaze passes over the gallery in the little balcony, and I see him. Chase. He’s sitting in the front row, leaning forward, his hands on the rail.
And instantly, I feel better.
I don’t know why Chase shows up every day, but T.J. says he’s been here for the whole trial. A lot of Grain citizens have. Maybe they come for the same reason rubberneckers gawk at highway accidents.
“Hope,” Mr. Keller says, turning his side to me so he can smile at the jury, “what was your brother’s relationship with Mr. Johnson like?”
Raymond jumps up. “Objection! The witness isn’t qualified to answer. She isn’t an expert in relationships.”
Raymond’s right about that.
But the judge disagrees. “Overruled. Proceed, Mr. Keller.”
He turns to me this time. “Why don’t you just tell us from your own observations how your brother got along with the deceased?”
“They got along fine.”
“Could you explain your answer for the court, please?”
I’m trying to keep my answers short, like Raymond said, but I can’t see how it would hurt for the jury to know how much Jeremy liked Coach. “Coach Johnson gave Jeremy a real good job at the stable. Jer mucked the stalls and all, but he got to ride and brush the horses too. He loved his job. And the pay was great.”
“Did they see one another outside the stable?”
“On the ball field,” I answer quickly, eager to make the jury understand how much Coach meant to Jeremy. “Coach let Jeremy be his assistant for the summer games. Jeremy was the first one to show up on the ball diamond and the last to leave. He was in charge of the bats and balls, the game equipment.”
Keller looks like he wants to ask another question, but I’m not done yet. “Plus,” I add quickly, “Coach gave Jeremy a Panther uniform. Jeremy loved that uniform. He would have worn it every day if I’d let him. And—” But I stop myself just in time because I was going to say how Jeremy carried his bat with him to the barn every single morning.
Mr. Keller nods, like he’s taking it all in. “Did Coach Johnson ever give Jeremy a bat?”
I bite my lip so hard it hurts. I try to glance at Raymond because we didn’t practice for this question, but the prosecutor’s standing in my way.
“Do you need me to repeat the question?” Keller
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