Evan walked in accompanied by the same suit I'd seen with him at the police station, along with a distinguished-looking man who belonged on the cover of GQ. I was sure it was his father. The resemblance was there. In spite of their late arrival, Evan's case was called immediately, which made me suspect more than immaculate timing on their part. I guess when you had money you made the rules.
I listened intently as all his charges were read. They were similar to mine with the exception of his extra drug possession charge. Hearing everything read aloud had me convinced Evan would get punished severely. Certainly more than a little slap on the wrist. His lawyer did some fast-talking, though, and before I knew it Evan received nothing more than a hefty fine and a measly twenty hours of community service. His verdict allowed me to breathe easier since I knew my charges weren't half as bad. Hopefully the fine wouldn't be in the same ballpark, but I would pay Butch and Buttercup back, whatever it turned out to be.
Evan tried to get my attention as he left, but I looked away. As far as I was concerned this whole mess was his fault. Him and his good time bullshit.
Several other cases were called before mine. It was evident looking around the room whose parents had money because of the well-dressed attorneys sitting at their sides. The rest of us had to make do with the same public defender. I couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing. No one was receiving any jail time, but the community was on the verge of being well served because the judge was handing out community service hours like a game show host handing out prizes. By the time my case was finally called, I had a pretty good idea what I was in for.
Maybe we were overdue for lunch or the judge was sick of listening to the same argument by all the attorneys, but by the time he was done hearing the facts of my case and reviewing my previous record, his face took on a stern expression I had yet to see with the others.
"Young lady, do you understand the severity of your charges?" he asked, looking down at me over his glasses that were perched on the edge of his nose.
"Yes, sir," I squeaked out, trying to ignore my traitorous knees that had picked that moment to start shaking.
"This community—especially our beaches—should be treated with respect and care. I, for one, am sick and tired of footing the bill for the reckless behavior of those such as yourself. Not only are you wasting the resources of your own generation, but for future generations to come," he said sternly. "I've reviewed your file and it seems you have no regard for public or personal property. You destroy that which does not belong to you without any regard for the consequences. I don't know how you've managed to slide by without more severe punishment in the past, but I assure you that is about to change."
I wanted to argue, to defend myself and tell the judge I wasn't the bad person he was making me out to be. In spite of what he had read in my file, there were circumstances that led to my behavior and the pranks I pulled. I turned behind me, looking to Buttercup for help, but I felt like I was on an island. As bad as I wanted to plead my case, my vocal chords refused to work. I stood in front of the judge in silence as he continued to berate me. By the time he was finished, he slammed me with three hundred hours of community service and a fine that thankfully was a fraction of what Evan had been given. My public defender squawked at his ruling, arguing the unfairness of my sentence since other defendants who were tried for harsher crimes had gotten away with lighter punishments. For whatever reason, maybe there were just cosmic forces working against me, the judge showed no remorse, informing her that sometimes examples had to be set. Let's face it, of all the cases from this incident this judge had listened to, I was by far the easiest to make an example of.
The amount of community service hours was daunting, but I was relieved he didn't hit me with juvie time. At the time the judge was practically making me out to be the worst person to ever step foot in his courtroom, that's where I thought I was headed. Still, I couldn't help feeling bitter at the unfairness of the situation. It was Evan's freaking party and he walked away with nothing but a fine and a measly amount of community service hours that I wouldn't have been surprised if he never served.
Buttercup put an arm around me as we left the courtroom, obviously distressed that the judge had been so harsh with me. Butch stuttered away, calling him a Marxist. "Don't worry, Rainbow. You'll get through the hours before you know it," he said, trying to encourage me. Instead, his words upset me as I once again thought about the reasons why I had a file for the judge to review in the first place.
"For the hundredth time, it's Rain, and before you continue blaming the judge, maybe you should accept that this is your fault too," I said, slamming the van door behind me after climbing inside. I must have shocked them with my outburst because I heard them mumbling outside the door for a minute before they took their seats in the front of the van. They sat for a moment without turning around until Buttercup finally spoke up.
"Sweetheart, I know you're a little stressed right now, but we've told you that actions come with consequences, just like back in Huntsville. This time it finally caught up with you, that's all."
"You're right, Mom. Actions have consequences. I'm glad you mentioned that because guess who's been dealing with the consequences of your actions for years? Me, that's who!" Tears welled up in my eyes as four years of pent-up frustration began to pour out.
"Now wait a minute," Butch piped in, looking uncharacteristically aggravated. "We weren't the ones who flooded the bathrooms in the grocery store or spray-painted signs all over town or released a bunch of chickens inside the bank. That was you, young lady."
"Yeah, but did you ever ask yourself why I did those things? I didn't just wake up one day and decide to start pulling pranks, you know. It's because of you."
"You keep saying that, but we don't understand," Buttercup said. "When did we encourage you to start this kind of destructive behavior?" I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was stressed over the sudden harmony imbalance between us. Buttercup coveted peace, and I had thrown our world out of whack.
"Mom, we were the town freaks back home. You had to know that."
"Oh, honey, it was never as bad as you're making it seem. So, we're different. It doesn't mean we're freaks."
"Different would have been choosing not to shop at the same stores as everyone else, or eating the same food as everyone else, which we didn't. I'm cool with that. I can deal with different. But, Butch, you showed up at parent-teacher night one time with a jug of your homemade hooch to pass around the room. You remember that?"
"Oh yeah. I always kind of wondered why no one wanted a swig," he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.
"And Buttercup. You walked into town topless. Need I say more?" I said. "I mean, do you have any idea the amount of ridicule I've had to put up with because of stuff like that? I started pranking because I wanted people to stop talking about how weird you were."
Even though for the most part Butch and Buttercup had always treated me like an adult, I had never admitted my true frustrations over our family's free-living lifestyle. As my parents, I never wanted to hurt their feelings, especially since I knew what a strained relationship Buttercup had with her side of the family. Butch held her hand to console her as Buttercup could no longer hold back her tears. I was sure she never expected her own daughter to shun her over her life the way her parents had. I didn't know what else to say. In a way, I wished I wouldn't have opened my mouth and instead just dealt with it the way I always had.
Butch started up the van and we made the drive home in silence. I had no idea what kind of wedge I had built between us. My parents and I had fought in the past, but never anything this serious or this revealing. When we pulled into the driveway, Butch turned off the ignition and reached for the handle to leave before Buttercup stopped him. She turned around toward me with her eyes still wet from tears. "Rain, honey, I am so sorry."
She reached for my hand and stroked it gently. "The only thing your father and I ever wanted was to raise you in an environment where you felt the freedom to express yourself. To have the confidence to be who you wanted to be. I never meant to do anything to cause you any harm or heartache. We love you so much." She climbed out of the van and opened the side door, grabbing me in her arms as I climbed out.
"I love you too, Mom," I said, returning her embrace. "I'm sorry for everything I've done. I am a good person. I swear. I just wanted people to stop pointing and laughing at us." I began to cry with her as Butch walked around the van and wrapped his arms around us both.
"You're perfect, sweetheart. Don't let anyone ever tell you different," Butch said.
"Absolutely. Never feel like you have to apologize for us, honey. I promise we'll be more conscious about what we do from now on," Buttercup added, bookending my face in her hands.
"Definitely," Butch added. "You have to admit though, if anyone could pull off walking around topless, it's your mom."
"