Leslie's Journal - Allan Stratton [58]
Forty-One
When I say I’ll testify, the police lay charges against Jason for rape, stalking, creation of child porn, forcible confinement and uttering death threats. He gets bail, but there’s a bunch of catches. He can’t make contact or be anywhere near me. That means I don’t have to change schools, he does. And when he isn’t at school, he has to be at home. To make sure he obeys, his parents have to put up a huge security bond, and he has to wear an electronic ankle bracelet. Talk about the GPS chip being on the other foot, eh?
With Jason out of the picture, I go back to school. Instead of running to the bathroom to cry all the time, I feel like I’m ten feet tall—I can take on the world. Who’d ever have guessed that going to school would make me feel so good?
It’s especially fun watching Beachball suck up to me. Every time she sees me, she acts concerned and asks if there’s anything she can do to help. (Like, go flush herself down the toilet?) My teachers give me extra breaks too. Guidance has sent them a memo to take my “difficult situation” into consideration. Even Mr. Manley has laid off.
Ms. James is ecstatic. The first time she saw me in the hall, she tried to give me a high five. Please. I backed off, but left her a note in her staff mailbox saying thanks. The students are something else again. You’d think I was a celebrity. Girls who used to ignore me come up to say I’m amazing and should get an award or something. Right. They’re basically looking for dirt. Meanwhile, guys make a point of steering clear, as if they think I’ll charge them with harassment if they peek at my boobs.
Nicky Wicks was really funny. He came up all sweaty and smelly and said he was sorry he used to look up my skirt. “How interesting,” I said, trying not to laugh. You should have seen him shake.
Forty-Two
After a preliminary hearing, Jason goes to trial. The prosecutor, Mr. Pérez, has lined up the psychiatrist I’ve been seeing, Dr. Seymour; she’ll testify for us as an expert on child abuse. But Jason’s lawyer has a psychiatrist too, who’s apparently going to say I’m a chronic liar. Katie wanted to testify about my bruises, the photos Jason took of us in the park and seeing me burn the memory card. Unfortunately, Mr. Pérez told us, none of that’s evidence, just hearsay: Katie didn’t see me get hurt, those photos are innocent and she never saw what was on the card.
“The case is a toss-up,” Mr. Pérez warns me. “The verdict will all depend on who the court believes: you or Jason.”
“So I’m on trial too.”
“In a way,” he nods. “Good luck.”
When the time comes, I take the stand and swear an oath to tell the truth. Mr. Pérez has me read aloud from my journal. It’s embarrassing, but the pages keep me focused, so I don’t have to look at Jason or his family.
That changes when Jason’s lawyer, Mr. Addison, gets up to cross-examine me. Mr. Addison’s an old guy with a silver mustache. He acts all folksy, but the whole time he’s out to trip me up. I pretend he’s Vice-principal Manley. People are a lot less scary when you’re counting their nose hairs.
All the same, his questions are hard: “Do you agree you have quite an imagination, Leslie?” “How did you feel when Jason left you for Ashley?” “According to your own journal, you have a history of lying. Why should we believe you now?” “Again, according to your journal, you smoked a lot of marijuana. Why should we trust your memory?”
I try to concentrate, but I can’t. I glance over at Jason. He smirks. Behind him, his parents burn holes through me with their eyes, like I’m a psycho liar out to ruin their family.
Against the McCreadys, I feel like trash. I’m about to lose control, then I look at my parents. Dad’s supporting me in the back row with Brenda. But Mom’s right at the front. She sits there, shoulders straight, chin up, so proud of me I can taste it. I won’t let her down. I won’t let myself down either.
I think of the girls on Jason’s files—Melanie especially—and