Chapter 10

The tension in the room is palpable as Bob Ewell steps forward to the microphone. What could he possibly be planning? Since this morning, I've had a creeping sensation of dread that Bob had something in his back pocket that could ruin my reputation. He's jealous. Obviously.

Bob taps the mic once to make sure it's working properly. He disconnects it from the stand and begins to speak to the eagerly anticipating crowd, "First of all, I'd like to thank you all for coming to this most prestigious Maycomb High School: Ad Astra Per Aspera Halloween Pageant."

The crowd erupts into a polite applause. They seem to just be going along with it. Dang it.

"We here at Maycomb High School have a tradition of holding ourselves to the highest standards we can attain. We represent the best of man - and women - kind."

Dang it again. He's playing the feminist card. The liberals in the crowd love him.

"Which is exactly the reason why I cannot allow this pageant contest to continue when there is a fraud amongst my beloved competitors here on the stage."

The crowd gasps.

Dang it thrice. A tiny part of me in the back of my brain was hoping that Bob wasn't doing this to ruin my rep. Clearly, he's making good on his promise to ruin me and my relationship with Atticus. Atticus! I glance over beside me, he's let go of my hand to cover his own mouth in shock and horror. Surely he won't believe Bob? I pray to the stars that he is only horrified that Bob Ewell would stoop so low to attack me. I hope.

"I have proof that a certain someone on stage has tarnished our school's name through cheating and gaming the system. Some, when they realize who, would say that the recent accident he underwent would be punishment enough. But I say differently. I say, that anyone who dares sully our beloved school's name should feel the wrath of justice to the fullest extent."

He pauses for dramatic effect.

He slowly turns his face to gesture towards me. Quadruple dang it.

"Tom Robinson. Do you deny it? There were several witnesses during the Cotton-Ginning 101 class. Did you really think the rest of the class would believe you were THAT talented at the gin? You, Tom, turned off the safety function to expedite your craft. Only a worthless scum like you would stoop that low to raise his grades."

Safety function? I open my mouth to argue that there is no such thing as a safety function on a cotton gin. He should've known that - seeing as he was in the same class nearly a year ago.

I don't get my words out, though. Bob continues this overly dramatic speech. I think he's enjoying it far too much.

"You turned off the safety function, Tom, and as a result your hand was crushed. What poetic justice: to lose your hand and spend at least two days in the hospi. That's justice for sure, right? NO. Even you need to be held accountable, by all of the school. Your peers in Cotton-Ginning 101 do not deserve to live in the shadows while you stand in the limelight."

Bob turns to the crowd once more, opening his arms wide for more dramatic effect. "I call for a trial! Right here, right now, on the nights of nights, tonight! You, Tom Robinson, will answer for your crimes against the student population of Maycomb High School."

He looks ridiculous, arms spread, slightly wobbling from the size of his salami meat costume. The crowd is energized though, calling for the trial to begin. Bob looks glorious, smirking in his victory, savoring his win as he poses onstage, cape billowing in the indoor wind.

"Tom Robinson. How do you plead?"

I'm paralyzed with fear. I didn't take debate. That was Atticus' thing. Atticus? I glance sideways. He's gone.

I look around frantically. Even Atti has left me to the mob. What am I going to do? I'm trapped.

A figure approaches Bob Ewell at the mic. The figure is large, rotund, brown, as though it were made of chicken wire and canvas. It looks exactly like a ham with legs.

Atticus.

A/N: As of tomorrow, it will have been 5 years since we began The Perfect Year. What a journey! Thank you for sticking us. As for the last comment - stopping flaming! Their relationship is a beaut - pet names like Atti are a part of love. Threes to you, our lovelies!

-May and Dasie