I nod. I feel awful. Something tightens in my chest.
“Well,” the judge says, leaning his elbows on the table as he turns to me, “Carmen. Off topic, when will you be able to start school?”
“School?” I ask, swallowing as a piece of salad sticks in my throat.
“Yes,” he says. “We can give you time to adjust, but you will go to school.”
His tone is coming out sharp, while his blue eyes stay on me.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, staring down at my plate. “Whenever is fine.”
“Whenever is not an answer,” he says. “How about Monday?”
I nod.
“Very well,” he says. He wipes his mouth with a tissue and stands. “I will make a few calls.”
Catherine looks between Judas and me. Then she stands too, following Judge Harrington out of the room, leaving Judas and me alone at the table.
We sit there, staring at our plates, awkwardly dragging food across the porcelain plates.
“Judas,” I start, still looking down. I can see his body tense as he turns toward me, but I don’t face him. “I... I didn’t know,” I try to say. “I’m sorry.”
I try to meet his eyes, but before I can, he stands. He lifts both hands and smooths the air between them. I don’t understand what it means. I only know that he turns away and leaves.
I guess it’s just me now, I think, continuing to push the food around my plate.
I set the fork down and move my hands to my thighs. My fingers find the hair tie, and I snap it against my skin again.
As if that would help. Nothing does.
Catherine comes back, looks at me, and sits down. Before she smiles, she rests her wrist on the table. She pulls out a Pandorabracelet from the white sleeve of her blouse, a safety-pin charm hanging from it.
“Whatever is in your head,” she says, holding the chain between her fingers, “I promise you it’s temporary.”
I bite my lip, nervous, gripping my own wrist and saying nothing.
“You can talk to me.” She moves her hand across the table, closer to mine. “It’s easier when you tell someone.”
“No one understands,” I say. “They just think I’m seeking attention.”
“I can try to understand.” She smiles softly. “I love attention.”
I can see her trying. I can see past her smile, see the vulnerable teenager she once was, not so different from me. But the walls I build around myself are growing thicker every time I meet someone new. Her trying to crack them won’t work, no matter how hard she tries.
I nod.
She presses her fingers beneath her eyes, holding back tears, then opens her mouth.
“If this is making you uncomfortable, let’s talk about something else,” she says with a small smile. “Ask me anything.”
“Hmm,” I say. “What happened to Judas in 2005?” The question slips out, the first thing that comes to mind.
She exhales and straightens her posture, the charm still caught between her fingers. “He got hurt,” she says. “William and I don’t really talk about it.”
She clears her throat. “We think talking about it might make things worse for him. He still has nightmares sometimes.” Her gaze drifts toward the garden. She presses a hand against her jaw.
“When William brought him home, he didn’t leave his room for months. We had to homeschool him.” She exhales again. “Hestill has a hard time finding friends. He has Ella, but even that feels temporary.”
