I laugh and shake my head, cheeks heating at the mention. “Yeah no, not an issue for Dexter.”
Or George or even Charlie, I don’t say. Whatever is doing on with Jake is all about Jake. He’s going to have to figure that one out on his own.
23
George
Because Mammoth Lakes is so small, the courthouse is the same for juveniles and adults. Walking in the building feels like déjà vu, especially with Dexter still wearing that too tight suit.
“Dude, you’ve got to get a new one for Mrs. Nye’s wedding,” Charlie says, eyeing him.
Dexter runs his hands through his hair, pretending his sleeves aren’t three inches too short. “It’s fine.”
“Babe,” Starlee says, taking his hand, “I think he’s right. It’s time.”
He grimaces and tugs at his tie. “Fine.”
We’re sitting along the long wooden benches in the waiting area. Claire, too. Mrs. Nye and Mrs. Jones are talking to the clerk at the window. All we have to do here today is testify but just being in the building, around lawyers and caseworkers, sets everyone on edge.
Oh, and to make things worse? Jake and Starlee still aren’t speaking. He’s down the hall standing at the window. Everyone’s getting tired of that bullshit also. Whatever’s going on with Jake needs to stop—I’d make him stop if I really understood it, but he’s shutting everyone out.
The main door swings open and two figures stride in. I blink through the glare of the sun and see that it’s Christina and her mother—an older, identical version of herself. Mrs. Nye calls her name and she walks to the counter.
Starlee, to her credit, gets up and meets Christina. “Thanks for coming today.”
“I told you,” she says w
ith her typical snobby tone, “I really don’t like drunks.”
“Well, thanks anyway,” Dexter says. “It’ll help for the judge to have a witness that’s not one of us.”
Christina’s eyes skim over us, searching, until they flick to the back of the room where Jake stands alone. She moves to walk toward him but Claire, always observant, never afraid, cuts her off. “They said to wait over here.”
There’s no time for her to argue because someone from the court walks out and heads directly toward us. Charlie and I glance at one another.
It’s time to face our father.
24
Starlee
The judge is different from the one at Dexter’s hearing. That makes sense, obviously, because he was for the juvenile court and this is the adult system. The room is similar, although more serious. The judge doesn’t know Mr. Evans the way Judge Adams knew Dexter. There’s no social workers here to advocate for him—just a lawyer in unflattering pants.
The testimony begins with the police officer that arrested everyone that night, including his admission that we’d been the victims of the assault. During this I can’t help but watch Mr. Evans, who sits stone-faced at the table, eyes never shifting in the direction of either of his boys.
Next, we’re called up one at a time and answer similar questions.
“What were you doing at the Mammoth Lodge on New Year’s Eve?”
“Had you been drinking?"
“What’s your relationship with the defendant?”
For Claire, Jake, Dexter, Christina, and I the questions aren’t hard, but for the twins their discomfort is palpable. They’re forced to recount why their father was angry at them. George had to describe the fight at their apartment. The wound on his temple. His shoulders are tense as he speaks, his eyes forward, never drifting to his father. The boy that usually looks so big seems tiny, and I long to wrap my arms around him and make him feel better.
Charlie is less emotional, stating the facts and making it clear he’s disinterested in anything to do with his father. A different kind of sadness settles in my bones as he answers his questions. As with everything, the twins are similar yet so very different.
Mercifully, the defense doesn’t ask a lot of questions. The prosecutor told the twins right before it started that he’d tried to make Mr. Evans take a plea. He refused. Stubborn even in the face of jail time.