Free Rough Justice by Lisa Scottoline Page B

stand or sit, whatever you like. Make the case, like the lawyers. We’ll listen. This is supposed to be a legal-type discussion.”
    “Hey, Ralph Mouth, back off my man,” Lucky Seven said, and laughed nervously.
    Isaiah Fellers sat off to the side, silent. He had voted not guilty the first time even though Kenny would be pissed off. The way Isaiah saw it, Steere was just protecting himself and his property. Didn’t matter who was black and who was white. Steere had a right as a man.
    “It wasn’t an order, Kenny, it was a request,” Mrs. Wahlbaum soothed. “Please. We have to reason together, all of us. Discuss it. Sitting down.” Her knees were shaking slightly and she figured it was a good time to sit down. “See?”
    Kenny stood alone, still braced on his arms at the other end of the table. Damned if he would sit down just because some Jew teacher told him to. She was dissing him but his arms were getting tired. The room fell quiet, waiting. Watching.
    Nick wished he could cover his eyes. When the fighting stopped they’d have to vote again and he’d have to decide all alone. On his last visit with Antoinetta, she told him he should vote to convict. She said Mr. Steere was a crook and the Trolios had sold him their house for a song. But if Nick voted guilty he’d have to go up against all the other white people. He didn’t know how to vote. When the paper came to him, could he write I STILL DON ’ T KNOW ?
    In the meantime Kenny had made a decision and was pointing at Mrs. Wahlbaum. “Don’t be tellin’ me what to do, teacher. You understand what I’m sayin’?” His bicep knotted and nobody, including Nick, missed the small tattoo on his arm. It was a Chinese symbol that Nick couldn’t read, which only scared him more.
    “She understands,” Ralph said, quickly.
    Mr. Fogel shrugged his skinny shoulders. “Of course she understands. She understands everything. I bet she can predict the future.”
    “Fine, Kenny,” Mrs. Wahlbaum said, knowing Kenny had to save face. “I understand.”
    “Just so you understand,” Kenny said, a warning in his voice.
    “I do. I understand.”
    “Good.” Kenny slid into his chair almost as an afterthought. Lucky Seven didn’t meet his eye.
    Megan Gerrity glanced at her Swatch watch. Babies’ heads tumbled around the circle. The watch was barely readable, but it was so cute. “It’s almost seven o’clock. How late can we deliberate tonight? Does anybody know? Maybe we can fit in a final vote.”
    Kenny folded his arms like a musclebound child, but Christopher nodded, pleased. “We can deliberate as late as we want,” he said. “We’re supposed to call the judge and let the bailiff know when we want dinner.”
    They all wanted to vote again, except for Nick, who thought he was going to catch on fire. He sipped his water but it didn’t put out the burning in his stomach. There was like a fireball racing up his throat. Nick couldn’t keep it down. He blurted out, “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
    “What?” Christopher said, and around the table, eleven mouths dropped open.

10
     
    M arta didn’t reach Steere’s Society Hill neighborhood until the Taurus’s clock ticked to 7:01, but she was lucky to get there at all. The traffic jam on Locust had lasted forever, and she’d finally escaped it by driving up on the pavement for half a block and slipping down a side street. A frigid night had fallen and the snow blew harder. The windshield wipers pumped and the defroster had finally succeeded.
    Marta looked for a parking space on the street near Steere’s house. The cars parked at the curb were expensive lumps of snow. Society Hill was the most fashionable residential district in the city but apparently tough to park in. Marta drove around the block looking for a space. Her eyes kept straying to the clock’s glowing digits. 7:04, 7:05, 7:06.
    Fuck. It was getting late. She didn’t have time to screw around with the goddamn car. The space didn’t