A/N- Danica lives in Boston and I'm sorry if I offend anyone with language and content, I don't mean to. I also want to say that this is my first adult-theme story so I'm sorry if I screw it up…
"You have two choices Danica, one is jail, and the other is to move in with your grandmother, in the small town of Ipswich."
Where the hell is Ipswich? It was the only question that came to mind, as I stood in front of the judge's podium in a proud and defiant pose wearing the orange jumpsuit that I was forced to wear since I had been under custody.
"How much jail time?" I asked hoping to avoid moving in with the bitchy old lady, as I had come to know her as since I was ten. That lady was so frikin' mean you would think I killed someone and blamed her for it.
I say that a drug addict mom and an asshole of a stepfather are way better than that cold old lady. When I first met her I was actually nice to her but she treated me like shit so there was no point. I guess it made sense that she was such a biotch, I mean she was loaded and she still kicked out my mother when she got knocked up with me. But if there was one thing I had ever learned on my own it was only depend on number one.
"You are charged with the hijacking of a car, illegal street racing, and the un-reparable damage of a government building," the judge paused and looked down at her papers. "You are also charged with driving without a license, driving an unregistered vehicle, and not wearing your seat belt."
You have got to be f'ing me, they are adding NO FRIKIN' SEATBELT!! Jesus! As If I wasn't in enough trouble already with the street racing, they had to add to stupidest charge ever!
"H-O-W M-U-C-H J-A-I-L T-I-M-E?!" I repeat slowly, trying to hold by anger in. The judge obviously wanted me to live with my grandmother. She pushed her glasses up her abnormally large nose and looked straight into my eyes, as If they had all the answers to her questions.
"20 to life with parole." She said in a monotone voice. I put my fingers on my temples and rubbed in a circular motion. I was getting one hell of a headache. Before I was about to go the jail rout, my lawyer stepped up and grabbed my arm in a death grip. I almost cried out in pain, the motherfucker was cutting of the circulation in my arm and I was sure that he was leaving some bruises.
"She'll go with her grandmother, but only if you agree to expunge her record in exchange for two years of community service in Ipswich, a parole officer or social worker to keep her in line, and some anger management classes." JESUS CHRIST! Now my lame ass lawyer tries to defend me. He had pretty much just sat their while the prosecutor grilled my ass talking about how stupid I was and how I had horrible parents that couldn't keep their kids in line. What an asshole. My life may be shitty but he didn't have to go and remind me.
The judge seemed to be compensating the conditions of the agreement and finally she spoke. "Very well, her record is cleared and she will undergo community service, meetings with a parole officer, and anger management courses." She paused and looked me straight in the eyes. "However, any more law breaking and you will have no choice. Jail is where you end up. You are also prohibited from driving any car until you graduate and your community service hours are completed."
I smirked at this. I didn't own a car. I had actually borrowed the street-racing car from some chum who had left the keys in the ignition. I owned a bike and the idiot judge didn't say I couldn't use that. She didn't even mention suspending my license.
"Fine." I simply said as I crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to look tough, jail suit and all. The judge smiled "Very well, bailiff, please escort Ms. Osborne to collect her items." She turned toward me "You are still under state custody for a week before you are sent to your grandmothers house in Ipswich. You will attend school at the prestigious Spencer's Academy with half of a scholarship for your 4.0 GPA, but the other half of the cost your grandmother is willing to pay."
My eyebrows lifted at the thought that the old cow was going to pay for me to go to some fancy shmancy prep school. But my perpetual scowl deepened at the thought of going to a school full of snobby know-it-all rich kids. I knew that I could easily get through the course work, no problem, but I did not like the idea of having to hang out with Malibu Barbies and date rape Kens.
I nodded and agreed as the judge started to rant about me staying at a local hotel under the supervision of my new social worker. I sighed as the social worker, whom introduced herself as miss. Taylor. She took my bruised arm and this time I did complain
"Ouch!" I yelped and the Taylor lady looked down at me an actually rolled her eyes. She was talking about community service and what not, as she dragged me to get my clothes. She was still talking when I went into the changing room and quickly changed form the orange suit into my torn jeans, and my white tee-shirt, I also slipped on my lether jacket and boots.
As I was wondering about when I was going to be able to get my crap out of my "parent's" house, the door was abruptly opened and crazy Taylor-talks-a-lot came bounding into the room, grabbed my arm that wasn't bruised and "escorted" me out of the court house. I guess I was going to be living with the evil crypt keeper and going to a school full of preps, but hey, I only had one more year before I don't have to deal with this shit…