Free Lauren Takes Leave by Julie Gerstenblatt Page B

impish grin.
    I forward it to Kat. This should give her another needed
pick-me-up.
    “Who knew a smart dweeb could be so friggin’ hot?” she had
commented the first time we watched one of Lenny’s videos. We were huddled
together in the back corner of the middle school’s computer lab during a free
period, staring thirstily at the screen as Lenny shook his ass at us.
    “I did!” I had exclaimed. “Always! I had the best time on
those temple retreat weekends!”
    “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I’d brag about that.” She’d then
grabbed one of her curls, pulled it out straight, stuck it into her mouth, and
sucked on it. She turned back to study the screen in contemplative silence.
“Although, that guy does have something. I just can’t put my finger on it.”
Silence, except for the sucking of hair. “Wait! Is he married?”
    “No. He’s thirty-nine and single, never been.”
    “I got it! He’s gay!”
    “Kat, he’s not gay. He’s just funny and unafraid of
busting a move on the international Internet circuit.”
    “Yeah. Children, are you listening?” She had pretended to
address a class of kindergarteners. “That spells g-a-y.”
    Lenny breaks out the Michael Jackson
pelvic-thrust-with-hand-cupped-over-genitals move, and I snort heartily in
response. Kat is going to die when she sees this.
    Someone is suddenly tapping me on the arm. I look up from
my phone and notice that all the jurors—plus the bailiff—are staring at me.
    “Having a good time, miss?” Delilah accuses.
    “Yes! I mean, sorry. Just a funny video on YouTube. I’ll
turn it off now.”
    “You do that. Then follow me.”
    “Why? Am I in some sort of trouble?” I panic. “I know I’m
not supposed to have my phone…”
    Several jurors chuckle. Delilah does not. “No, miss. Every
one of you is supposed to follow me. Judge Banks has called you into the
courtroom.”
    “ Oh! Great. Guess I didn’t hear.” I gather my
belongings and line up between jurors three and five. Then Delilah opens the
door and we file through.
    The judge is standing before us in her black robes, and so
we remain standing. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she begins, “I am Judge
Banks.” She looks to be about sixty or so, with the kind of Hillary Clinton
hair popular with power-women of a similar age. “I would like to thank you for
your time. This case has been settled. You are free to go.”
    “Yes!” Carrie hisses under her breath. Others clap.
    Crap! This can’t be happening. But here we go,
being led like sheep by Delilah, back out of the courtroom and through our
waiting area. “If you’ll all follow me downstairs, I’ll hand you the official
paperwork saying that you’ve been dismissed after two days of service.” My
heart is beating out of my shirt. My mind is a tornado of thoughts, a whirlwind
screaming, Disaster, disaster! Delilah keeps talking, but I can’t make
out the rest. We follow her down the elevator and to the administrator’s
office. I think I might faint.
    All around me, people are smiling and congratulating each
other for getting out of trial. I stand frozen in place and have to be nudged
by Sweetheart.
    “Whatsamattah, honey?” he asks. “This is a great day! You
look spooked.”
    “I…” I glance up at him and meet his eyes for the first
time. They are round and blue, and actually seem to be emitting warmth of some
kind, maybe even sympathy. In that moment, I decide to trust him. “I just don’t
want to go back to work, is all,” I exhale.
    But now that I’ve said that much, the rest pours out of
me. “I got passed over for a promotion I really wanted—head of the English Department,
which I’ve been working toward for years —and someone from the outside
got the job. Apparently, she’s the superintendent’s niece or cousin or
something illegal like that, and she hasn’t even finished her master’s degree
yet! Now I can’t face my colleagues. I’m completely humiliated. I’m kind of
lost.