I was met by all of them with disbelieving eyes and snobbish contempt. I wanted to scream in their faces, “It’s your parents’ money! Not yours!” but it would have done no good. To my right sat Graham, Sav and Brock, apparently reunited, sat to his, then Spencer, and Victoria. They’d kept to conversation within themselves, excluding me on purpose. The icing on the cake was when Ali arrived with Brent.
My face flamed bright red when Brent nodded at me instead of speaking his hello. Ali wrapped her arm through Brent’s in a palpable attempt to show ownership. I wished to God everyone would disappear except for them so I could have apologized. Glancing around the table, I realized I’d wronged every single one of my lunch patrons. Suddenly, the urge to flee was discernible.
I sat quiet, praying it would end quickly for me. The waitress came and took everyone’s orders skipping over me by accident. Spencer had to call her back. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut when they all sneered under their breath at me, hiding their laughs behind manicured hands.
But then I reminded myself that I deserved it even from a group as selfish and unaware as that one because I’d created them. I’d never really regretted anything I’d done before Masego but I certainly regretted many after.
“So, Africa?” Victoria asked, her valley girl accent laughingly pronouncing it Africaw.
“Yes,” I told their riveted stares, hoping one word answers would suffice.
“Did, you, like, see lions and shit?” Graham asked.
“Occasionally,” I told them.
“Which one, lions or shit?” he added as if he was clever.
“Both.”
“Is that, like, why you look like you do right now?” Sav asked, making the table erupt in laughter.
“What? Comfortable? Or without a nauseatingly noticeable amount of couture on?”
“Did your dad lose all his money?” Sav needled, ignoring my own questions.
“Not that I know of,” I stated.
“You’re in serious need of a makeover,” Victoria added, her fingernails outlining a box around my face.
“I’ve just had one,” I implied, referring to my heart and soul.
They each looked amongst themselves and pretentiously and silently acknowledged with single looks exactly what they now thought of me, except for Spencer. Spencer seemed blissfully unaware what jackasses they all were but he was clearly aware of how uncomfortable I was.
“Sophie and I have to go, guys.”
He stood abruptly laying a few bills on the table and escorted me from my seat. As we left, a burst of repugnant laughter resounded from the table all at once. My shoulders sank into themselves but Spencer wrapped his arm around me and righted me.
“You broke the cycle,” he whispered in disbelief, his eyes bright with admiration.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
I’d been home two days and I had yet to see my parents. I couldn’t tell if it’d been because I was practically living in my bed, more depressed than I could have ever imagined missing Ian, or because they couldn’t be bothered to come by and see me even though I’d been gone for months.
My heartfelt heavy the morning of the second, knowing I would have to appear in court, in front of Reinhold. I woke, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, not giving a crap. I knew I would be thrown in jail that day. This was the moment Reinhold had been waiting for.
The courtroom was exactly as I remembered it. Cold and desolate and devoid of hope. It felt as if my breath was sucked from my chest the second I placed a foot inside. I met Pembrook as his table and sat.
“This is a simple hearing,” he told me, arranging his satchel on the table. He poured me a glass of water and set it down in front of me. “The judge will state what you’re accused of and you will enter a plea, which, of course, will be a “not guilty”. I advise you not to say a word.”
“Pembrook,” I told him, taking in his stark appearance, “for once, can you not act as my “attorney” here?”
He smiled gently. “Stay quiet, love. I’ll take care of everything.”
This made my heart ache but I nodded my consent. Take care of everything. Everything but the everything I want back.
Reinhold stepped into the room, his robes billowing out from behind him. Immediately, I wanted to vomit.
“All rise,” the bailiff said, “This court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Francis Reinhold presiding.”
Reinhold sat and we followed suit. He began to filter through paper documents behind his bench and the quiet was deafening. My hands began to shake so I tucked them into my sides and stared at my feet. I glimpsed behind me when the doors opened and Spencer walked in, waving and sitting on a bench directly behind me. He was the only presence there but it was comforting enough that it allowed my body to calm a bit. I was still shaking but the nausea was gone.
“Sophie Price,” Reinhold’s voice boomed. He looked right at me and pierced me with a penetrating gaze, “You’re accused of violating the terms of your sentence. How do you plea?”
Pembrook and I stood. “My client pleads not guilty,” Pembrook announced.
“I see. What say you, Prosecution?”
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor said, addressing the court, “we move to dismiss Miss Price as time served.”
My breath whooshed from my lungs all at once I began to choke. Pembrook comically slapped at my back to get me to breathe, shrugging toward Reinhold. Reinhold pinned me with a look that screamed check yourself! I coughed back my choking and pinned my lips together.
“Would you care to explain?” he asked the prosecutor.
“Yes, we’d like to call a witness to the stand, Your Honor.”
“Were you aware of this?” he asked Pemmy.