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“These times,” said Mrs. O’Brien. She happened to glance at me. “Why, Martha, your jaw looks frozen solid.”
“I’m a little nervous,” I said softly.
“Nervous of what? The court? There’s no need to be frightened.” She put her hand on my knee. “I go to these hearings all the time. This is just preliminary. Judge Horner will ask the police a few questions, and he’ll want to know if you’re being well cared for. You are getting along with the Vernons, aren’t you?”
I nodded.
“Yes, I thought so. Judge Horner might ask you. And he’ll set a date for a full hearing. That’s it. The whole thing won’t take more than about ten minutes.”
“Can I go home with Bunny then?”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. These things have to go in stages.” She paused, studying me, and then adjusted the bow on the front of my blouse. “Now, don’t you look nice,” she said. “Is the blouse new?”
I shook my head.
“Well, it’s a smart outfit. You’re lucky—you’re tall, and you can wear smart things. Doesn’t she look nice, Josephine?”
“Yes,” said Josephine. “Dressed for court.”
By 10:15, Bunny still hadn’t arrived. She always had trouble getting out of bed on mornings after she’s worked. Mrs. O’Brien began to look past me, searching down the corridor toward the lobby. “We can’t keep the judge waiting,” she murmured ominously.
Five minutes later, a young boy and his father pounded out of Judge Horner’s courtroom. The boy’s name was Louie. I’d seen him around town. He couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve, but he was notorious in a way—he had an unusual, piercing voice, like a dentist’s drill. Rather than keeping quiet, so as not to draw attention to the problem, he spent most of his time talking loudly, using his voice as if it were some kind of weapon with which to assault people.
Now, however, Louie was quiet. His head hung over his chest while his father—a big man, in work clothes and boots—guided him roughly down the corridor. I wondered what the boy had done.
“Hey! Lou-eee!” called out one of the hoods. But Louie’s eyes never left the floor.
Soon Josephine came to the courtroom door and waved us in. “What about Bunny?” I asked Mrs. O’Brien.
“I warned her,” she said. “We’ll manage.”
The courtroom looked far too big. At home, I’d heard Bunny and Tom talk of the “juvenile court,” and the words had always suggested something small and homey—something, in fact, on a scale with juveniles. But behind the heavy wood door, Judge Horner’s court spread out in vastness. Thin, dirt-speckled windows stretched far up the high walls. Two propeller-like ceiling fans turned slowly above our heads. Rows of empty seating, like pews, lined the floor, and at the front, the judge’s bench sat on a raised platform, backed by an American flag and a flag of Illinois. The Great Seal of Katydid County—a cow sniffing a corn tassle—hung from the wall. It frightened me to feel so dwarfed by the place, to have all that space devoted to me.
Down front, Sergeant Tony was sitting at a table. He looked up blankly as Mrs. O’Brien and I took seats at a table across from his. A few seconds later, a man in a suit and tie came in and sat beside Sergeant Tony. The man nodded a greeting to Mrs. O’Brien.
“Hello, Mr. Moon,” she said. Francis X. Moon is the prosecutor.
We sat for a few minutes, and then Josephine came out of a door in front and asked if we were ready. Mrs. O’Brien said Bunny wasn’t there yet. Josephine frowned and disappeared behind the door again. Sergeant Tony and Francis X. Moon whispered quietly together. Mrs. O’Brien just sat there, her hands folded on the table. I didn’t move at all. If only they had let me stay with Bunny, I thought, I could have got her here on time.
Finally, Josephine came out again. She stood on the platform in front and arched her back. “All rise,” she yelled, and we stood up. In marched the judge, a middle-aged man wearing a checkered sports jacket. He sat down and nodded at Mrs. O’Brien, without seeming to notice me. Then he turned to the two men.
“Heard anything yet?” he asked.
“They’re running tests,” said Mr. Moon. He spoke in a quick, eager voice. I’d been expecting something deeper. “They found some glass in the back seat, maybe from a bottle. But then, there was glass all over.”
“Did we have him?” the judge asked. “I think I remember the name.”
Mr. Moon looked at Sergeant Tony. “No, your honor,” the officer said. “I don’t believe I ever picked him up. You may be thinking of his cousin, Kurt Cooper.”
“Yes, Kurt Cooper,” said the judge. “Setting fires?”
“Stealing batteries.”
“Little guy? Father was chewing a toothpick.”
“Yes, your honor.”
“Oh, yeah,” Judge Horner said. “Cooper.”
