Page 31 of The Banned Books Club
MR. BRINDLEY:Is that when you pressed him to give you a better grade?
Again, Cormac could tell, especially as an adult, that Brindley had been trying to preempt the defense by getting ahead of the story that she was so disappointed with her grade she was smearing her teacher’s reputation as a form of revenge.
GIA ROSSI:I didn’t press him to give me a better grade. I was hoping he’d allow me to rewrite the paper. He sometimes did that when he knew a student could do better.
MR. BRINDLEY:You’re saying he allowed his pupils to redo an assignment and they could still get an A?
GIA ROSSI:No, the highest he’d give on that type of thing was a B, but a B was all I needed on this paper to get an A in the class.
MR. BRINDLEY:Were his wife and children at home the evening you were there?
GIA ROSSI:No.
MR. BRINDLEY:Did he tell you where they were?
GIA ROSSI:He might have. I don’t remember. I know now that they were at the high school watching Cormac’s baseball game.
Cormac had been a decent pitcher—nothing for the major leagues, but he’d earned a baseball scholarship at Duke, where he’d gotten his bachelor’s in animal science. Wakefield had been playing their biggest rivals that night, so even his sisters had attended. Only his father had missed the game, saying he had papers to grade. The end of the year in Honors English always required a great deal of his time.
But if what Gia said was true, Evan hadn’t begged off because of work; he’d been planning to spend those hours having sex with a student he’d become infatuated with.
MR. BRINDLEY:Did you have your paper with you?
GIA ROSSI:I brought it, yes. But he had me set it aside, said we’d get to it later. First, he wanted to give me some suggestions for my Banned Books Club and asked me if I wanted a drink.
MR. BRINDLEY:He offered you something like a Coke? Maybe iced tea?
Cormac remembered her gaze darting self-consciously in the direction of Cormac’s father.
GIA ROSSI:No. Alcohol.
The DA’s eyes had gone wide as he pandered to the judge.
MR. BRINDLEY:But you’re only seventeen. What would make a teacher give an underage student alcohol?
GIA ROSSI:He said I probably drank with my friends already, and it wouldn’t hurt to have a little rum and Coke.
MR. BRINDLEY:Didyou drink with your friends?
She’d hung her head.
GIA ROSSI:Sometimes.
MR. BRINDLEY:And did you drink that night with Mr. Hart?
She’d looked up again, long enough for Cormac to see her face turn bright red.
GIA ROSSI:A little.
Cormac remembered the murmuring that rose in the gallery—it would probably always stay with him—and the frowns that’d creased the faces of her own family, all of whom were sitting on the opposite side, across the aisle. Obviously, they hadn’t liked the idea of her accepting alcohol. That besmirchedherreputation, made her something slightly less than an innocent victim.
But that had probably been orchestrated. Admitting to doingsomethingwrong gave her more credibility. It would be logical for the judge—for anyone—to think, if she’d tell the truth about that, she must be telling the truth about all of it.
Cormac hadn’t let it sway him, though. There was no way his father would offer alcohol to any of his students. That right there would risk his job.
The DA had spoken above the noise.
MR. BRINDLEY:Then what happened?
