Author's Note: Sorry this took so long…but the good news is I think I'm going to be unavailable for everything in a few days (im wise), so I'll force myself to work on this at home…
Disclaimer: I don't own FOP. How obvious is that by now? I'm guessing very.
Chapter Thirty: Out of the Frying Pan
Months of rehabilitation, meeting with her lawyer once a week, and grueling grilling about the past has led to this moment. Even if she doesn't testify, her testimony will be played in front of the court and now a whole set of strangers will know the most intimate things of her past. (All the things Timmy, despite all his prodding and prying, still remains ignorant of).
Today is the day of the trial, a date that, in her mind, will live in infamy. She's dressed in a pink suit, complete with a pink rose (Wanda) and a green bracelet (Cosmo). Despite Timmy being their godchild, they stand staunchly behind her; aware she merits them greater than he at the moment.
Although she knows she has their support (as well as Timmy's and A.J.'s), she feels alone. No one else know the real story, no one else that's going to tell the truth anyway, and if she's shot down, who will defend her? Who else believes her? How will the judge believe her when Vicky has such a good reputation around town?
Her knees buckle and she nearly falls over on the steps to the courthouse. She can't do this, damn it. Why did Timmy have to shove her into it?
Already, a large crowd of gathers ahead. Among those in Tootie's age group and younger, the ones who regard Vicky as a babysitting tyrant, they eagerly await her almost certain demise. In their minds, it's about time someone spoke out against the injustice she's done and finally, some retribution. (They cringe a little at the idea of sexual abuse, especially if it's on Vicky and not Ricky). Chores, blackmail, and psychological torture are one thing, incest is quite another.
Conversely, their parents and others, under the impression Vicky is a benevolent being only capable of doing good, either stare in bewilderment or openly glare. How dare she contrive such a lie, labeling the perfect, innocent and sweet Vicky as a common criminal! What right does she have to perpetuate falsehoods? She ought to be ashamed of herself!
They needn't speak their venom aloud- their eyes convey as much. She can feel their heated gaze on her, damning her. She longs to turn tail and run, never looking back, but her legs won't obey her. Almost as if they have a mind of their own, they propel her forward.
Meanwhile, in the midst of this, Timmy and A.J., the ones who supposedly love her, are mysteriously missing. They know the time and place for the trial and yet, they aren't here yet. She can't help but feel anxious, considering Timmy damn near promised he'd be here. After all, he'd said so in the hotel room when they awoke (in two separate beds, something that baffled her then and still does now).
The lack of intimacy coupled with his current disappearance renders her uneasy. Last night, he barely touched her, much less restored her confidence. Instead, he was strangely absent half the night, returning only to bid her goodnight and sleep in his bed that he'd pushed all the way to the other side of the room.
A.J., well, she has no idea where he might be off to. Unlike Timmy, she hasn't seen him at all this entire week. Whatever he might be doing, even if he's not Timmy, she'd still like him there. After all, two fairies whispering to her isn't quite the same as her beloved and him.
Trixie and Veronica, whom she's always suspected of having ulterior motives, also implied they would be present. Like the former two, they're mysteriously absent without an explanation. Their absence she doesn't mind as much, considering she was never really attached to them anyway, but every extra person there for her helps.
Especially considering the crowd, reaching a fever pitch. Vicky's car arrives, separate from Ricky's (rumor has it they're in the midst of what the tabloid writers affectionately dub a 'lover's spat'). Instead of her normal car, she's driven up in a black SUV, the windows tinted so the occupants are invisible.
Glancing towards Vicky, rising out of the car in a green suit with a mini-skirt, her heart plummets into her stomach, which lurches unpleasantly. What makes her think she can buck the system? After all, Vicky is the system and she's challenging her. The only person she knows who has done so and escaped reasonably unscathed is Timmy, who, much to her anger anxiety, is still missing.
The teenagers incite a group hiss, brandishing their tasteless signs and a few, their pitchforks and torches. There's no doubt in Tootie's mind that at least they share her contempt for her, but, instead of boosting her self confidence, it lowers it a few pegs. Why is it the nameless few suffering under Vicky support her position and yet Timmy, A.J., Trixie, and Veronica, the ones who swore they'd be there for her, haven't shown up yet?
Angrily, regarding their reaction as insubordination akin to Tootie's, the older faction cheers loudly for her, declaiming Tootie to be a wretchedly ungrateful little brat. Since the parents and others compose a larger group than the teenagers, any cheers for Tootie fail in the dim that is a veritable wave of hatred. So many people love Vicky…
Again, her knees buckle. With no one to aid her up the stairs, she falls over, scuffing her hands on the granite steps. Both groups pause for a second, all eyes on her.
Heat rises in her face and she rises slowly, unassisted. The stigma of being alone, without Timmy or anyone else to fall back on, strikes her again. They got her into this mess and they aren't here to see her through it.
A hush falls over the crowd and Vicky, about to applaud her fans for their support, shuts her mouth. An odd look crosses over her face, a combination of pity, affection, and loathing. Her eyes meet Tootie's but, before she can identify any more emotions, her face grows cold again.
Whipping her hair about, a breeze kicks up and yet, silence reigns. She's increasingly uncomfortable with their hostility and hatred as well as the fact that nothing she can do will relieve the pressure. Needless to say, she isn't used to this kind of attention, all negative.
Through gritted teeth, she pivots and addresses everyone. The heat rises again in her face (already broiling) and her palms sweat profusely. God, this is the day from hell.
"Could everyone please stop staring at me?" Tootie pleads, biting her red lipsticked lips. Unfortunately, this proves ineffectual. By speaking, she's drawn, if possible, even more attention to herself.
"I'm not a criminal!" She squeaks in her defense. It's right after this, however, that she realizes she really should have kept her damn mouth shut.
"Yes, you are! I'll have you know, young lady, that defrauding the United States government and the state of Californian is an arrestable offense!" One woman, wearing a bright red blazer, carrying a sign stating, "Free Vicky from Icky Tootie", snaps. Her green high-heeled boots shine offensively.
"So's your outfit," Trixie counters, stepping out from behind a column near the door. At her side is, naturally, Veronica, who smiles apologetically at Tootie. Fine, she doesn't really care if they were late, as long as they have something to say in their defense. Now, she's extremely worried about Timmy. What on earth could have prevented him from coming?
The woman casts a dirty glance her way, fortunately not recognizing the two girls as a couple but more as friends, holding hands before the day of reckoning. They still aren't going to tell the general public (and probably never will, for fear of those who oppose homosexuality) and it's almost a relief to them to be assumed, if nothing else, that they are straight. Now, if she says something stupid, like asking about their boyfriends, then Veronica or Trixie (or both) might snap, but otherwise, they'll let her slip.
"Did you scrape your hands, spawn of Satan?" Another voice, too cowardly to appear before them, calls. It's on the tip of the ex-cheerleaders' tongues to retort something equally cruel and malevolent back, but they are halted in their tracks by yet another tardy person. Well, that makes three…
"Look, just because she's accusing Vicky rightfully for crimes she did commit does not mean she's Satan's daughter or anything as foolhardy as that. I'm disappointed in all of you, turning on an innocent person just because of a prejudice you can't even prove.
"How can you say Vicky's the kind hearted person some of you know her to be when you've only seen her around you? You don't know how she acts when she's with your children, do you? You suppose it's the same, but how can you know for certain?
"It returns to the same idea- you never believe your children. Vicky seems so nice and plausible in her effects to appease you and milk you for every cent you have, you don't waste time thinking if your child may be right. You take her word that everything disdainful occurring in your home was your kid's fault. For you, it's easier to accept that the blame lies where you can control it, instead of deep beneath the surface, where it's so insidious, you can't see it," A.J. replies, placing a hand on Tootie's shoulder. She smiles weakly in response, in awe of his speech.
So…let's see. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my. Lesbians and African Americans and a loser, oh my! It's the lame leading the blind here…
Silence greets his speech, not even Chet Ubetcha commentating. Ricky, pulling up in a separate car, is unnoticed. All eyes, yet again, lay upon the four of them.
It takes all of them a few minutes to realize the trial begins in about five minutes. When they do, they start their battle cry anew and Tootie's heart sinks. Timmy isn't coming…
Wrapping his arms around her tightly (and scorning Timmy mentally), A.J. leads Tootie into the courtroom, accompanied by Trixie, Veronica, Vicky, and Ricky. Let the games begin…
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