Black Tuesday (9 page)

A familiar-looking man opened the door. He was the officer who'd given her the thumbs-up sign at the accident. He stepped aside to let her mom in first.

“Officer Bradley?” Val greeted him with a handshake and a gesture to take a seat. “We spoke on the phone already.”

Val ignored Jayne's mom. Seeing this, Jayne felt oddly better. It was nice that for once her mom wasn't the center of attention and that the woman representing Jayne's future in a court of law wasn't wasting her time brownnosing Gen Thompkins like half of the Phoenix population did.

“Jayne, I'm here to make sure that the officer doesn't tread on any of your rights while we discuss the day the accident occurred. I will speak on your behalf if he asks a question that I do not want you to respond to, okay?”

Jayne nodded. Her throat felt like she'd just run a half-marathon without any water. Val poured her a glass of water without saying anything and briefly squeezed the shoulder of her good arm before retreating behind the desk again.

“Miss Thompkins.” Officer Bradley flipped to a page in his notebook while Jayne sat with her clasped hands squeezed between her thighs. She now knew what it felt like to feel as close to throwing up without
actually
throwing up. “Today is your only meeting with me. Next week, they'll probably get you on the juvie court docket where you'll appear in front of a judge who'll give you a court date and a probation officer.”

“Probation officer?” Jayne felt her mouth go dry. She'd only heard about hardened criminals having probation officers. Guys with tattoos and crusty apartments and really bad drug habits.

“Yes.” He looked down at whatever was written in his note-pad. His bald head was red from too much sun and not enough sunscreen. “Until this goes to court, you'll need to check in with her every day. You'll also be released to your parents, which means you need to always tell them your whereabouts.”

“Released to my parents?” Not that it mattered. She was home 24/7 anyway.

“Until this case goes to court. You will also not be able to drive, given the situation . . .”

Jayne had started tuning him out. She twisted her gold watch around on her wrist, barely aware of what she was doing. She sneaked a quick glance at her mom, but Gen was concentrating on whatever Officer Bradley was saying.

She tuned back into the conversation when she heard the man clear his throat. The faint smell of a sweet cigarette was coming off of him. Cloves, maybe? Her grams smoked those. “We'll start off slow and simple. Ready?”

Jayne nodded.

“One, you had a red light when you hit the red Toyota.”

Jayne nodded.

“The tox reports from the hospital show you had no drugs or alcohol in your system. That's good. Now, were you—” The chirp of a high-pitched ring tone interrupted his words. He pulled a cell phone from his belt. “Excuse me.”

Jayne tried to calm her nerves while he talked.
No big deal. Breathe. He just wants the facts about that day. You don't have anything to hide. So what if you're confined to school and home? You do that anyway. And the car thing? You knew that already. And there's no way you were going to touch the Jetta again, anyway
.

Officer Bradley was still on the phone. Jayne didn't turn to look at her mom to judge her reaction to all of this. Right now, Val and her note-taking was making her feel better. She was just glad her dad wasn't here. He was home with Ellie, working on his notes for some all-natural product line he was developing for some big cosmetic company.

She'd also asked him to stay home.

If he had been here, he'd be holding her hand and trying to shelter her from the harsher things the lawyer wanted to say. She didn't need that. It was time to face the truth. The truth would be nice for once.

That way she wouldn't be blindsided by a woman with a mike and a fake concerned look on her face.

Jayne chewed on her lip, eating the little bit of lip gloss that was still on.

The officer clicked his phone shut and made a phlegm-filled sniff as he reattached it to his belt. “That was my captain.” He looked at Jayne, and her heart sank even before he said the words. “Brenda Deavers was taken off life support an hour ago. She's dead.”

TWO MONTHS LATER ...

12

WILL THE DEFENDANT PLEASE RISE.”

Jayne felt weak. Val stood next to her, holding her hand. It would've been too awkward with their height differences to try to put an arm around Jayne's shoulders.

Val was so tiny, Jayne felt like she was the one offering her hand for comfort. Then again, she wasn't her usual Amazon self lately. She felt like she'd shrunk an inch or two, and based on the waist of the skirt she was wearing, she'd lost an inch or two around her waist.

“Jayne Lee Thompkins, you have pled guilty to vehicular manslaughter. Do you wish to say anything before sentencing is imposed?”

Jayne's mouth felt like she'd licked chalk dust from a blackboard. There'd been no testimony, just Jayne meeting with Val and the prosecutor to go over the accident and work out what her punishment would be.

And she was numb.

Over the last eight weeks, Jayne had been numb. And she was sort of glad about that.

Especially when she'd gone to her locker and a new, horrible name had been written in permanent marker. Daily. Sometimes even twice a day.

She'd gotten a new phone, but someone figured out her number and the text messaging started again. Finally, she just stopped turning her phone on. And taking it with her.

Her house had been egged. Three times. The last time, a bag of dog crap had been thrown at her front door. Her mom had gotten the police out to the house to test for fingerprints.

Like high school students would have their fingerprints on file. Or at least not the two in particular who Jayne knew had vandalized her locker. Stalked her phone. Egged the house. Desecrated her front door.

Jenna and Lori.

They'd been writing daily blogs about “Child Killer Thompkins.” They'd scanned Jayne's yearbook picture and used Photoshop to put her in an electric chair, her brain sizzling and tiny lightning bolts coming off her body.

Jayne hadn't seen it. Tammy, Ellie's mall buddy, had told her one day around a mouth full of s'mores while standing in the Thompkinses' kitchen.

Jenna was here today, sitting by her mom. They were behind the guy from the state, the one prosecuting Jayne. Mrs. Deavers's eyes were vacant, a crumpled tissue in her hand. Jenna looked at the ground, her arms crossed.

Neither had looked at Jayne once.

Val had told her Mrs. Deavers would be here today. Family members usually were, in order to have input on sentencing.

Sentencing. That's why they were here. To determine her future. Or lack of one.

She closed her eyes for a moment. She wanted to sleep through the rest of high school. She sort of already had. She'd left half her finals blank, and the other half she had to guess at. She hadn't done any studying since . . . since the day in Val's office. When she'd found out Brenda Deavers had been taken off life support and had her organs harvested.

She'd tried to study. For two months, she'd sit at her desk and open her books. Turn on her computer. But then images of the accident and the little girl would freeze her brain and make her useless for the rest of the day. She'd turn on crap TV and watch reruns of shows she hadn't even liked when they were first on.

She had no idea what her grades were. Usually she kept a piece of paper in her notebook with each and every grade recorded. Not this quarter.

There hadn't been too many good grades to record.

She was halfway hoping her teachers would give her A's by default. For just being Jayne Thompkins. If they didn't . . . the crap was really going to hit the fan.

College applications would be the least of her worries. First, she'd have to keep Gen from killing her.

Val squeezed her hand and Jayne shook herself out of her thoughts. The judge needed an answer. What had been the question?
Do you wish to say anything before sentencing is imposed?
Val and her mom had coached her last night for a good two hours about what she needed to say right now.

She licked her lips and started to speak, her voice thready and quiet at first before growing more solid and normal-sounding. “I wish to apologize to the Deavers family. I can never take back that day, that horrible Tuesday. I wish I could go back, more than words can say, and change the events of that day. But I can't, and I'm sorry.”

Jayne dropped her eyes down to the legal pad she'd been doodling on for the last hour. She couldn't look in the judge's watery blue eyes anymore. She just wanted this over with.

“I understand the Deavers family is in this courtroom today,” the judge said. “Would a representative of the family like to say anything?”

Jayne tried to keep from looking around. But the silence, the waiting, seemed to drone on. She slowly turned her head so she could see what the Deaverses were doing.

Jenna and her mom stayed seated, neither looking like they had moved an inch. Finally, Mrs. Deavers shook her head and raised the wadded tissue to her nose, sniffing into it.

Jayne bit the inside of her lip. This was it. This was where the judge told her she'd be the first person to ever get the death penalty for a misdemeanor.

It could happen. Val could've missed a loophole.

“Based on the plea agreement reached between the state and the defendant, Jayne Lee Thompkins has been found delinquent on the charge of vehicular manslaughter. I hereby sentence her to community service not to exceed one thousand hours and to be completed within the next 365 days. I also hereby suspend Jayne Lee Thompkins's license, not to be reinstated until her eighteenth birthday. On the successful completion of said community service, the record of this event will be sealed.” She heard him shuffling papers. “You are also mandated to fifty hours of counseling, to be completed within the time frame of your community service.”

Jayne kept her eyes fixated on the cheap laminate desk she stood over. She waited to hear the words
We've changed our mind, Jayne Lee Thompkins. You'll be going to jail for the rest of your natural born life. Your roommate's name is Bertha. You two will grow quite close, I assure you.

She waited.

“Miss Thompkins.”

Her stomach lurched. Here it was. She raised her eyes to the judge.

“I want you to take this opportunity to really reflect on where you want your life to go. This is a misdemeanor, meaning that you will not have to check the felony box on any college or job applications. I know that your life prior to this event had you on track for a bright, promising future. I do not want you to lose sight of that future, Miss Thompkins.”

He shuffled his papers around. Jayne kept waiting for him to say that prison would be just the thing to keep her focused on her future.

“Based on this, I want you to fulfill your community service at Outreach Arizona. This program focuses on helping teenagers who don't have a wonderful future. They may have a mother or father in prison; they may be facing pregnancy while trying to finish school. I think this will be a good opportunity for you to see people who think all is lost. Maybe how you're feeling right at this moment.”

He looked around. Jayne knew this was it. This was when she was going to get her real punishment. She was getting off too easy after killing a child.

Wasn't she?

Instead, he said, “I want you to check back with me in six months' time, to see how you are.” He banged his gavel. “Court is dismissed.”

 

“It could've gone a lot worse, Jayne.” Val, Jayne, and Jayne's parents stood in the orange-carpeted foyer of the juvenile court building. Val's voice was uncharacteristically low as she said, “All this may seem overwhelming right now, but it was a fair sentence. Do you have any questions about it?”

Jayne shook her head, her blonde ponytail feeling like a million pounds. She took out the elastic band.

“How long is this community service lasting again?” her mom demanded, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiling at a few passing lawyers who were trying to act cool at seeing a local celeb. There was always someone who recognized Gen Thompkins. Be it the restroom at the movie theater or the court at her daughter's manslaughter hearing. “I want to make sure I program it into the BlackBerry.”

Val put an arm around Jayne's back. “A year. That's about four hours a day, five days a week.” She turned and squeezed Jayne against her side. “For a girl like you, this will be a walk in the park. Just treat it like one of those extracurriculars you have.”

Jayne remained silent. The extracurriculars she
used
to have. Before she quit them all—Key Club, the school paper, French Club—to stay in her room when she wasn't at school.

“Outreach Arizona's a good place.” Her dad squeezed her shoulder, before his hand awkwardly fell back to his side. “It's only a few miles from home.”

“And it will look good on the college résumé,” her mother interjected, slipping the handheld into her purse. She was standing about ten feet away from them. Gen had to get back to editing a story about six-year-old beauty queens, and Jayne was only too happy to be Gen-free. “You don't have to mention it was community service.”

Jayne nodded, not saying anything. There wasn't anything to say.

The judge had sentenced her, the case had been shut, and her mother had found the silver lining in killing a kid.

 

“I was thinking we could go see Larry next week.”