Chapter 40
Grover stands frozen, mouth open like he can’t quite believe what he just heard. Then Amy crosses the courtroom, throwing her arms around him, and whatever strength he’s been holding onto finally gives way. He buries his face in her hair, sobbing so deeply his body shakes.
For a moment, no one moves. Then Amelia slips by me and runs. Dr. Davis too. They cling to one another in the courtroom while people quietly gather their things and file out, giving them space. It’s over.
We leave too. It takes Dad a few minutes to convince Andrew that he has to wait to see Grover outside, but he’s such an agreeable kid that it’s really not a big deal.
Stuart is all smiles as he waits for me at the back of the courtroom along with Ms. Kendrick and Mr. Farnswiddle. “That was awesome!” He throws his arms around me and lifts me off the ground. “You were amazing.”
“I agree, Darcie,” says Ms. Kendrick. “We’re all very proud of you.”
“Yes, indeed.” Mr. Farnswiddle gives me a fist bump. “You’d make an excellent lawyer, Darcie. You might consider taking that path one day.”
Outside, the steps are full of kids waiting to hear the outcome. When we step out the door, Stuart shouts, “We did it! Grover’s free!”
Sebastian and Terrance practically knock me over as they hurl themselves in my direction, hugging me and jumping up and down, making me laugh until I can’t breathe.
Cheers go up all over the place. Not just from my friends, but from other people too, who were in the courtroom.
Just then, the door to the courthouse opens and Amelia and her family—along with Grover—exit the building. There’s a little bit of confusion seeing Amelia with the Shadow Man. The kids from school don’t know the connection they have.
Some Peaks wave and yell for Amelia, trying to catch her before she leaves. But instead of moving toward her friends, she moves toward me.
“Thank you,” she says, hugging me awkwardly. “I will never forget what you did.” She pulls back from the embrace, almost embarrassed.
I fold my arms across my body. “What do you think will happen with your mom? And your grandmother?”
She glances over her shoulder at our parents, who are deep in conversation. Andrew is bouncing on Grover’s shoulders and laughing his head off.
“I’m not sure. We’ve got a lot of talking to do.”
“Good luck,” I say. “Let me know how it goes.”
Stuart pulls me toward him and kisses my forehead. “We need to celebrate. How about the Big Dipper?”
“Oh my gosh, the Mexican chocolate is my favorite.”
A bunch of us head over to the Big Dipper with Ms. Kendrick and Mr. Farnswiddle. Mom and Dad take Andrew home, and it’s the first time in my entire life that Dad lets me eat dessert before dinner.
Mr. Farnswiddle raises his large huckleberry ice cream cone high in the air. “To Darcie and the civics club for carrying on when it would have been considerably easier to give in to the pressure!”
We raise our cones, sundaes, and milkshakes, “To the civics club.”
“And to Darcie,” Stuart adds.
“To Darcie!”
The next two days are a blur of phone calls, questions, and people trying to figure out exactly what happened inside the courtroom.
One of the girls from my science class, who has never spoken to me, calls Friday night. “I still don’t get why the judge let him off. I mean, was it because he didn’t hurt anyone? Because he still kept you guys in a cave.”
I doodle a flower on the edge of a notepad. “There was more to it than that, but I don’t think I’m supposed to tell everything that was said. Just watch the news. It’ll probably be on there.”
The story gets told so many times that I can’t remember if I’m just starting or ending it. After a while, I just stop answering the phone. The trial is over, but the story just keeps going—online, the news stations, even neighbors can’t get enough of it.
I’m relieved when Monday comes and I have something to do. Our civics club has signed up to serve meals, sort clothes, and collect donations over the Thanksgiving break.
We’re so busy that there isn’t much time to talk about the hearing, and that’s fine by me. Now that it’s over, I want it to stay over.
“How many kids do you think have shown up to help so far?” I ask Stuart as we hang shirts and sweaters and line them up by size.
“By my count, about forty-five. No Peaks though.”
That changes on Wednesday afternoon when Amelia walks through the door. Ms. Kendrick, Stuart and I are on dish duty.
“Hey.”
“Hi!” I dry my hands and step around the counter. “How’ve you been? How’s everyone doing?”
“Great! It’s just… a lot. I thought I’d come help, give my parents some time to talk.”
Pans bang inside the kitchen as Stuart calls out, “Grab a towel, Amelia. We have tons of pots to dry.”
Amelia laughs as Stuart tosses her a towel. She stays the whole time, drying pots until the last one is put away. I don’t ask for details about her family, and she doesn’t mention any.
“Thanks for the help.” I offer her and Stuart a Jolly Rancher. “Enjoy your holiday tomorrow,”
“Yeah. You guys, too,” she says, waving as her Dad pulls into the parking lot. “See you Monday.”
We wave as they drive away. “No mom in the car.”
“Yeah. I noticed,” Stuart grips my shoulder. “Can’t wait for tomorrow. What time are you picking me up?”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? How many times do I have to tell you? Nine o’clock.”
“Right. Nine.”
The next morning, Stuart comes with me to Papa and Nina’s farm. It’s the first time Papa has seen me with a boy, so he has to give us both a hard time. He loves to tease, and honestly, I love it too.
“I see someone brought her own dinner guest,” he holds out a hand, and Stuart latches on. Papa grins. “You’ve got quite a handshake, young man.”
“Papa, this is my friend, Stuart. He’s staying all weekend. I hope that’s okay.”
“I think we’ve got space out in the barn somewhere.” He winks at me. “But by the look on your face, I’d say he’s more than just a friend. Pleased to meet you, son.”
Nina is the absolute best cook in the world—even better than Dad, so we stuff ourselves with turkey and everything that goes with it.
Papa passes him a plate. “These here are Nina’s specialty—called Rocky Mountain Oysters—I have a feeling you’re gonna love ‘em.”
Stuart scoops up a spoonful and breathes in. “Thanks. They smell great. I love seafood.” He turns to me. “Don’t you want some?”
I shake my head. “I tried them last year.”
I don’t tell him until after dinner that they really aren’t seafood.
“Thinking about Amelia?” Stuart asks as he feeds Chubby, the alpaca, a slice of apple.
“No,” I lie. “Just thinking that I know why this dude’s named Chubby.”
Stuart snorts and I laugh, and for the rest of the weekend I manage to forget about everything else and just have fun.
But by the time we’re home on Sunday night, I’m lying in bed, staring at the galaxy swirling on my ceiling, and all I can think about is whether Amelia’s family has worked things out and if she’ll be at school tomorrow. I fall asleep thinking about Genevieve and the Peaks. About how easy it is to split people apart—and how hard it might be to get them back together.
My stomach twists into a knot the next morning as I hurry to my first-period class. Mr. Farnswiddle nods his head and grins. “Did you have a pleasant Thanksgiving, or were you forced to endure several hours of relatives asking deeply personal questions?”
“Oh. It was great. Stuart came with me to my grandparent’s house. They have an alpaca farm.” I slide into the seat usually occupied by Ezra.
Mr. Farnswiddle raises an eyebrow. “New seat today?”
“Yeah. Just experimenting.”
The room quickly fills with kids, and it’s like I started a chain reaction. People choose a different seat—groups mixing together.
“I still can’t believe how that hearing turned out.”
“Yeah, it was pretty amazing,” I say.
When Ezra walks through the door, he stops suddenly, causing several people to walk into him.
“Have a seat anywhere you’d like,” Mr. Farnswiddle says, sweeping his arm out.
Ezra walks to the back of the class and slumps into a chair.
When Amelia enters, she slides in next to me like it’s what she does every day. “I have so much to tell you.”
The vibe in the classroom is completely different today. More people raise their hands, and when Mr. Farnswiddle tells us to pair up with someone we’ve never worked with before, we do—without complaining.
Amelia and I walk to PE together, Ezra following at a distance.
“He doesn’t like me very much,” I say, nodding toward her cousin.
“Don’t worry. He’s harmless.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m hoping to win him over.” I grin. “What did you want to tell me?”
“My parents are actually dating. And…there are so many things that my mom and I do the same. Like we both love, love, love Indian tacos and huckleberry ice cream—preferably together. And we both like to dip our cookies in milk.” She wraps her fingers around my arm. “My grandmother would be horrified.” Her face suddenly drops. “I can’t believe what she did to us.”
“I know. I can’t either.”
“How can you love someone and hate the things they do?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the love helps you deal with it.”
The lunchroom is about twice as loud as it normally is—and twice as chaotic because kids are moving to different tables. Not everyone, but there’s definitely a shift in where people are landing. The coder table is already full—three Sketches and a Yarder have joined. Stuart stands as Amelia and I approach the table, carrying our lunch trays.
“Hey. I tried to save a seat, but…”
“We’re good,” I say, glancing around. “Where should we sit?”
Amelia moves toward the Peak table. “We can sit here.”
“Um. Are you sure?”
All talking at the table stops—not gradually either—it happens all at once.
Amelia sets down her tray. I put mine beside it.
“Got room for three more?” I ask, smiling like I have no idea how awkward this is.
Nobody answers. For a second I think about turning around, but then Ezra stands and picks up his tray, dragging his chair to the side with the toe of his boot. “Sit,” he says.
I stare at him.
He shrugs. “Might as well get along.”
A laugh escapes me. “Might as well,” I say, sitting down next to him.
Nobody says a word. Then someone at the end of the table speaks up, “So, are we just pretending that this isn’t weird?”
“Pretty much.” Ezra says, his mouth stuffed full of sandwich.
And just like that, the table starts up talking again.