………………………….Cross Exam

The prosecutor rose, the sinister sleepy smile on his face. Johnny swallowed hard. I felt the dull pulse of a headache behind my eyes.

The jury was silent, all eyes on the prosecutor in his gray suit and dark gray tie.

"Mr. Cade, did you know who Bob Sheldon was when you first saw him on the night in question?"

"Yeah,"

"How did you know him?"

Johnny had a funny blank look on his face. The headache behind my eyes was sharp now, hammer blows to the head. I thought I might throw up.

"I, uh, he beat me up before,"

"How did you know it was him?"

"The rings,"

"Rings? He wore rings, you mean?"

"Yeah," Johnny was looking down, and I noticed his hair was getting longer, shaggy bangs reaching for his eyes.

"That scar on your cheek, how did you get it?"

Johnny touched the scar, closed his eyes for longer than a blink.

"That time Bob beat me up, his rings…"

"Okay. On that night that you killed him you had a switchblade with you, correct?"

"Yeah,"

"When did you start carrying the switchblade?"

"Around spring,"

"Why did you start carrying it?"

Johnny sighed and I noticed his friends shifting uncomfortably in their seats. Darry had a grim expression. Ponyboy looked wide eyed and scared.

"Cause I got beat up like that…"

"So you started carrying a six inch switchblade?"

"Yeah," He had been looking down but then he looked up, his dark eyes boring into the prosecutor, "so it wouldn't happen again,"

………………………….Scrambling

I shuffled through my notes, desperate for something I could use in the redirect. My head pulsed, the lights were too bright.

Aha! A note scribbled months ago. Johnny had told me once they had a blade that night, the socs had a blade.

"They were drowning Ponyboy and threatening you, right?" I said gently. He was looking down again and I felt a surge of emotions, glanced at the spectators and saw Dally, his gaze steady, and he caught my eye. He nodded to me and I nodded, ever so slightly, back.

"Right," Johnny said, his voice tired.

"Did the "socs" have a weapon?"

"Yeah. They had a blade,"

……………………………..Limbo

"C'mon, Dean, let's get a coffee," Clyde said, steering me toward the kiosk. I went through the ritual of doctoring up my coffee, cream, sugars, stir, stir. I took a sip. The caffeine had no power to help or heal.

Clyde put a hand on my shoulder, looked me straight in the eye.

"It's in their hands now,"

The jury was deliberating. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. The thing was, this trial had felt less and less in my hands. It seemed entirely possible that Johnny would get the death penalty. And I could imagine it with frightening clarity. They'd shave his head because of the electrodes they place there, it conducts electricity better against skin. When the jolts hit there is the contortion of all the muscles, sometimes the fingers and toes curl backwards, curls of smoke, singed flesh, that silent scream because the vocal chords freeze, can't make a sound…

"Dean!" My eyes cleared and I snapped to attention. Clyde, holding onto me. If he hadn't been I might have fallen.

"I'm okay," I lied dully, and slipped seamlessly back into my visions of capital punishment.