I didn't sleep well Monday night, so Tuesday morning at breakfast, I was quiet and poured myself a huge cup of coffee. I sat down at

my place at the table, eating and drinking my coffee, aware of Hannah's eyes on me.

I met her gaze, and was struck by the tired look around her eyes. I wasn't the only one who hadn't slept well.

"Did you get your homework finished?" she asked me, making an attempt at normal conversation.

I knew that what was uppermost in her mind was the same thing as mine. Which was those court papers.

I hadn't done hardly any of my homework. I just hadn't been able to concentrate on most of it. But I wasn't going to say so.

I shrugged. "I didn't have much," I said.

Guthrie gave me a sideways glance at that comment. He knew very well that it wasn't the truth. But he wouldn't call me out on it. At least

not until we were alone.

After breakfast, when Guthrie and I were gathering up our books and backpacks to head out to school, Adam came into the living room, coffee

in hand, to give us his standard morning sendoff.

"You kids have a good day," he said.

"Okay," Guthrie said, pausing at the door to wait for me.

I put my backpack over my shoulder, and looked up at Adam.

"Are you calling a lawyer today?" I asked.

"Most likely, we will today, yeah."

"Which one?" I asked.

"I don't think we've decided on a certain one yet."

"Oh." I thought for a moment. "Do we have enough money for a lawyer?"

"I don't want you to worry about that," Adam said.

I gave him a 'you're kidding' type of look. "How can I not worry?" I asked.

"Alright," he conceded. "I know you're going to worry. Nothing to be done about that. But as far as the money end of it goes, that's the one thing

I don't want you to worry about."

I knew no matter what I said, he would keep to his 'don't worry' comments, so I just sighed, and walked to the door to join Guthrie.

"Have a good day," Adam said again, walking behind us.

"I don't think that's even a remote possibility," I said glumly. I was almost down the front steps by then, and when Adam said,

"Hey."

I turned to look back at him.

"Have a good day, Harlie Marie," he said, yet again. This time his voice was stronger, more firm. That, and the added effect of my full

name, and so I said, "I'll try."

"Good enough," he said, and gave me a half-smile.

7

I couldn't concentrate in my classes. I tried. I did. But it was like the teachers were all talking in that weird voice that the teacher

uses on the Charlie Brown specials. 'Blak, blak, blak'.

On Wednesday, I got a test back from the day before in Biology. It had a huge red D written at the top. In the truck, on the way home,

I tossed it across the seat towards Guthrie. He picked it up and gave it a quick glance, while keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.

"I thought you were doin' good in this class," he said, laying it back in the seat.

"I was."

"Test was hard, huh?" he asked, and I thought how sweet he really was. Giving me the benefit of the doubt. Always.

"It wasn't that bad. I just didn't study."

"Oh," Guthrie said, and gave me a thoughtful glance. "How come?"

"I can't concentrate. I even got a bad grade on a phycology quiz."

Guthrie nodded, but he didn't say anything.

"Today's the day that they were going to talk to the lawyer," I reminded him.

"I remember," Guthrie responded, and I realized that he didn't need to be reminded. "I'm worried about it, too, you know," he added gruffly.

"Okay. You don't have to bite my head off," I told him.

"I didn't," he denied.

For a few minutes we rode in silence.

"Sorry I snapped at ya," he offered, after a bit.

"It's okay."

"It's just-" he hesitated. "This isn't just affecting you. Adam's really shook. And Crane's not talkin' hardly at all. And it's tearin' Hannah up, you can

tell."

"I know," I said.

"If Karissa just hadn't come around at all-everybody would have been better off," Guthrie said, in what was for him, an angry voice.

I agreed. Well, mostly I did. But I was tired from my lack of quality sleep, and scared of what was going to happen, and so I turned to Guthrie and said in a huff,

"And it's my fault, right?" I accused him.

"Did I say that?" he countered.

"You didn't have to say it," I said, focusing my attention on the view out of my window.

We'd turned into our driveway, when Guthrie spoke up again.

"You don't wanna go live with her, do you?" he asked.

I turned to look at him in disbelief. I was so hurt that Guthrie would even ask me such a thing that I couldn't even answer at first.

Once Guthrie had come to a stop, I opened my door, picked up my backpack, and said, without even looking at Guthrie at all, "I thought you were

a really smart guy. I was sure wrong about that."

And with that, I got out, slamming the truck door hard, and stomped into the house.

7

That night, after supper, I went upstairs to take a shower. I came out and went to my bedroom, curling up on my bed with a book. It's what

Crane would call a 'nonsense novel'. One of those historical romance books.

After a few minutes, when it was nearly six, there was a tap on my door.

"Come in," I said.

Crane opened the door, and stood in the doorway.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

He took in my appearance, laying on my bed, in fuzzy pajamas, and my hair still wet from the shower.

"What's up?" he asked me.

I knew what he meant, but I answered as though I didn't.

"Not much," I said.

Crane frowned a little, and came on into my room.

"Isn't class tonight?" he asked, coming over to stand beside the bed.

I knew that he knew that it was, indeed, class night."

"I didn't think that I'd go tonight," I told him.

"How come?" he asked.

I knew if I told him the real reason, which was that I just didn't give a rat's ass about class at this particular moment, that he would

be displeased, and give me the look that I hate. So I said, vaguely, "I have a sort of a headache."

"Yeah?" he asked, laying a hand on my forehead. "You're not warm."

"It's just a headache," I said.

"Did you eat junk today?" he asked, referring to my penchant for eating candy, which in turn causes my blood sugar level to skyrocket.

"No."

When he stood there, just looking down at me, all quiet, I said, defensively, "I didn't. I haven't had a candy bar in forever."

"What's really going on?" he asked.

I sighed. Honestly. I think all of my brothers could have had careers in law enforcement, where they interrogate people and get them to confess

to things.

Brian could be the scary one, but Crane would be the one that just sat there, silent, his eyes never wavering from the suspect across the

table.

"I just don't feel like going tonight," I admitted.

"Did you get that essay done?" he asked.

"Yes. I got it done. And it's darn good, too."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yes. That's not the reason I don't want to go. I just-" I hesitated. "I'm tired. I haven't really been sleeping very good."

For the first time in the conversation, Crane's expression softened. "Yeah."

We looked at each other for a couple of moments, and then he said, "Okay. This time. You'd better do lights out early tonight. Try to get some

rest."

"I will."

He left then, but he was back within twenty minutes, setting a glass of warm milk on my nightstand.

When I thanked him, he just said, "You're welcome. Make sure you drink it before it gets cold."

7

Our drive to school the next morning began as silently as the ride home the day before had ended.

The radio was turned up, loud, and Waylon Jennings was singing about "Luckenbach, Texas."

Without warning, Guthrie reached over and snapped the radio off.

"I don't wanna fight," he said.

"Me, either," I agreed. And I meant it. Fighting with Guthrie is rare, but when it happens, it shakes the core of my life. And that core was already

unsteady enough right now, thanks to Karissa and her court papers.

"Even though you called me stupid," Guthrie added.

"I did not," I denied.

Guthrie reached for his always-nearby pack of Juicy Fruit gum, and unwrapped a piece, popping it into his mouth.

"I just don't see how you could even ask me what you did," I told him. I could still feel the remnants of the hurt his question had caused.

Guthrie held out the pack of gum to me, offering me some.

I shook my head in refusal.

When he didn't reply, I spoke up again. "How could you ask me that, Guth?"

"It was just a question."

"No. A question is like 'what do you want for dessert?' or 'what's the high temperature today?'. Those are questions. When you ask me whether I want to

go live with somebody I hardly know-away from everything and everybody that I love-" my voice trailed off, and I swallowed past the lump in

my throat.

"I'm sorry, Har," Guthrie said. "I didn't mean to hurt ya."

That much, I knew, was the truth. "I know you didn't," I conceded. "But how could you even think it for a minute?"

"I just thought maybe-she could do a lot for you that the family can't really do," Guthrie explained.

"Let me ask you something," I said, turning towards him in the truck seat. "Suppose it was you. Would YOU want to go live somebody else? Even if it

was somebody you really liked, and they were going to take you places and maybe even buy you a motorcycle or other stuff?"

Guthrie shook his head at me in denial, and I sat back against the seat.

"Well, that's how I feel, too," I said.

"I'm glad," Guthrie said. "That you don't wanna go, I mean." He gave me a half-grin. "I'd miss your hyena laugh."

"You'd probably get into all sorts of trouble if I wasn't around to keep an eye on you," I said, giving him a grin in return.

"Oh, yeah?" Guthrie scoffed.

The school was within eyesight, and I started to pick up my backpack.

"I just wanna say one thing," Guthrie said, and I looked at him expectantly.

"What?" I asked.

"Maybe you could say somethin' to Adam. And Brian, too. Say what you just told me, I mean."

"Why?" I asked, genuinely puzzled.

"So they know, too. Know that you don't wanna go. That you think what they do for you is fine. That you're not dissatisfied."

"They know that, Guthrie!" I was again shocked by what he was saying.

"Well, probably they do," Guthrie allowed. "But I bet they'd like to hear it, anyway."

7

Mr. Fornelli called on me twice in Biology class, before I heard him, and snapped back to attention.

"I didn't hear the question. I'm sorry," I said.

"It's alright, Harlie," Mr. Fornelli said, and then repeated the question to Miriam Stover. Who answered quickly. And correctly. And then she

promptly turned to smirk at me.

I was embarrassed, and tried to pay attention the rest of the class hour.

Math class didn't go much better for me. I took a test without much confidence that I would do well. At lunchtime, it was warm enough outside

that kids were gathering at the tables to eat in the sunshine.

As I carried my tray outside, I saw Lori waving at me, and made my way over to her table.

"Want to go over there to sit with Chelsea and the other girls?" she asked me, as she pointed out another table full of girls in our class.

"No. I want to talk to you about something in private," I told her.

"Okay," she said, and we leaned in closer together. "What's up?"

"Remember when you told me about your cousin? The one whose parents were getting divorced?"

"Oh. Yeah. You mean Caro," Lori said, taking a bite of apple.

"Yeah. Didn't you tell me that the judge told her parents that Caro could decide who she wanted to live with, since she was 13?"

"Um, yeah," Lori said, looking thoughtful. "Something like that."

"So twelve is the age when the minor has something to say about the court's decision?" I asked her.

"I don't know. I think it depends on the individual case or something," Lori said.

"Oh," I said, feeling dejected.

"Why?" Lori asked.

"Promise me you won't say anything," I told her, and once she'd promised, I told her briefly what was happening. Lori's eyes widened,

and she looked horrified. "Oh, Harlie," she said, in sympathy. "That's just awful!"

"Yeah, it is," I said glumly, and suddenly the food on my tray looked totally unappealing. I nibbled at the roll, but left the rest of it.

"What are you going to do?" Lori asked me.

"I'm not sure. I'm thinking of some plans."

The late lunch bell was ringing, and we both stood up.

"Let me know if you need me to help," Lori offered.

"Thanks, Lori," I said, with a sigh.

7

It was the last hour of the day when I had an idea. After school I climbed into Guthrie's truck, waiting impatiently until he

came out of the school, horsing around with Trent and some of the other guys.

As soon as he got in and slammed his door, I wasted no time.

"I need to stop at the library," I told him.

"Now?" he asked me.

"Yes, now."

"Why didn't you get what you needed from the school library?" he asked.

"Because the school library isn't going to have what I need," I said him.

"What do you need?" he asked, and I told him.

"Okay," Guthrie said, looking thoughtful. "I guess that's a good idea."

So when Guthrie stopped in front of the library, I got out quickly, intent on my mission. Guthrie tagged along behind me, as we

wandered up and down the shelves of books. After a few minutes without any success, Guthrie said he was going to ask the librarian.

When the librarian came around the corner, it happened to be Lila, who Crane had dated for quite a while.

"Hi," Lila said, friendly. "Guthrie says you're wanting a book on law?"

"Yes," I told her.

"Well, what specific sort of law?" she asked me.

"Family law, I guess." I hesitated, not wanting to give out too much information.

"Oh, those are over this way," Lila said, and motioned for Guthrie and I to follow her.

When she reached another aisle, she reached up and took down a book. A really, really large book. Which was also extremely heavy.

"I think this might be what you're wanting," Lila said, handing it me.

I told her thank you, and Guthrie and went out, climbing back into the truck.

"She's nice," Guthrie observed.

"Yeah. She is," I agreed.

"I wonder what happened with her and Crane," Guthrie considered, starting the motor.

"Who knows?" I said. I couldn't focus on anything else but the book I was holding.

"It's gonna take a year to read thru that book," Guthrie said.

"I'm not going to read all of it, silly," I told him. "Only the parts about custody cases."

Once at home, Guthrie headed to the kitchen for his customary after-school snack, and I took the heavy book of law up to my bedroom.

I changed my clothes, and sat down to leaf through the pages. I got involved in reading, and before I knew it, I heard my name being

hollered from the bottom of the stairs.

I went out to the top of the stairs. Brian was leaning on the bannister at the bottom.

"Have you forgotten something?" he asked.

"What?" I asked him.

"Chores?" he prompted. "Those things that you're supposed to do every day, right after you get home from school?"

"Sorry," I told him. "I'll be down as soon as I put on my boots."

"Uh huh," he said drily.

I went back to yank on my cowboy boots, and went outside to start on my chores. After I fed Elwood P. Dowd and his two wives, I turned them

back out into the pasture, and went to start cleaning the stalls.

After a few minutes, Evan wandered into the barn, and began to help, grabbing a rake, and working in the stall next to the one I was in.

"Want to take in a movie with Nancy and me?" he offered.

"When?" I asked, stopping to look over at him.

"Tonight. After supper."

"I'd like to," I told him. "Thanks." The thought of escaping from my worried thoughts into a movie was really appealing.

Evan nodded, and we both went back to mucking the stalls.

After a few minutes, I spoke up, "Evan, what do you think of this whole thing?"

Evan didn't pause his work, as he said, "I think there's a lot of other things that I'd rather be doing than mucking stalls, that's what."

I stopped to lean on my rake, watching him. "Ev," I said, in reproval. I waited.

Evan looked at me, and sighed. "Just tryin' to lighten things up, Har," he said.

"I know," I told him. "And I appreciate it. But I want to know what you think."

"Well," Evan said, looking thoughtful, "I don't see how she can really have a case. It doesn't make any sense to me."

"Me, either," I said. I hesitated. "I'm still scared, though." Tears filled my eyes, and I turned away a little, wiping my face.

A few long moments went by, and then I heard Evan sigh again. And then he came around the corner of the stall, into mine.

"Don't cry, Har," he said.

"I'm trying to stop," I said, brushing at my cheeks.

"You're a mess," Evan said. "You should see your face." He ran a work-glove covered thumb over my cheek. "I'll finish up in here. You

go on and take a shower, so you're ready to hit the movie. I can't take you out lookin' like this."

"Thanks, Ev," I said.

"You're welcome. Go on."

I was at the barn door when he said, "Hey," and I turned back to look at him.

"You asked me what I thought, right?" he asked.

"Right."

"Well, what I really think is this. Karissa is a first class heifer."

I couldn't help the giggle that escaped me. "You're bad, Ev."

"If she goes to the sale barn, they might run her through the ring, and sell her at a penny a pound," Evan added.

I smiled at him thru my wet eyes.

"You're a good brother," I said, feeling grateful.

"Was there ever any doubt of that?" Evan asked, and grinned at me.

Credit for the "first class heifer" comment goes to faithful reviewer and part-time comedian Neenee75! Thanks!