“Miss West, have you read the presentencereport?”
I let out a little grunt as Barry kicks my ankle under thetable.
Presentence report. Presentencereport.
I hope that’s the thick binder Barry brought over last night filled with pages and pages about my life and character and the personal interviews I did. If not, I honestly have no idea what I’m agreeingto.
I stand this time because I’ve always been a quick learner. “Yes, yourHonor.”
I did read it, and honestly, I don’t believe there’s a chance in hell I’m not getting thechair.
Heaving a sigh, Judge Oliver runs his forefinger down the length of his gavel. It’s an odd gesture in the middle of a sentencing in my opinion, but this being my first and only experience in this situation, what do Iknow?
“Miss West, do you wish to address the court prior to yoursentencing?”
Barry and I worked on a speech all last night. It was close to two o’clock in the morning before he finally closed the door to the penthouse, confident that I’d rattle off the self-deprecating monologue he’d written. Maybe that’s why his body language seems so relaxed seconds before I open my mouth and blow everything all tohell.
“Yes, your Honor. I realize that my actions have caused a hell of a lot of pain. There’s no way I can justify causing my best friend’s death. If I could turn back time, I would.” Barry’s eyes flash with panic as I turn around and face Kirkland’s parents’ tear-stained faces. “I swear Iwould.”
Judge Oliver bangs the gavel he seems to love so much. “Miss West, do not address the victim’s familydirectly.”
“Right, sorry. I can’t change what’s happened; I can only change how I act from now on.” An unfamiliar burn stings my eyes, and I blink repeatedly, determined to finish despite the abuse Barry’s fake Testoni dress shoes are inflicting against my shin. “I’m not a good person, Judge Oliver. Ask anyone who’s ever known me. I’ve done a lot of bad things, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to the Maynards. However long that maybe.”
The minute I sit down, I feel Barry’s stare burning into the side of my face. He’s livid, and with good reason. In one thirty-second speech, I dismantled all of his hard work—weeks of tap dancing lessons down thedrain.
“Sorry,” Iwhisper.
He just shakes his head. “Enjoy stateprison.”
My stomach knots, and I grow old waiting for Judge Oliver to move his crooked finger from his lips and say something—anything.
Finally, he leans back in his oversized chair. “Miss West, please riseagain.”
Stand up. Sit down. Fight. Fight. Fight. Go teamWest.
I can hear my mother sniffle to my right as I stand and I want to slap her. Bianca West is a bigger drama queen than me, and that’s saying something. After Barry left last night, it took me two hours to peel her off the ceiling fan long enough to crush up a Xanax in her White Russian. Looking at her now will destroy any composure I haveleft.
“Miss West,” Judge Oliver begins. “You’ve been found guilty of felony vehicular manslaughter. The guidelines for such an offense carry up to a year in county jail or four to ten years in state prison, as well as up to a ten thousand dollar fine and mandatory alcohol and drugtreatment.”
Apparently, I wobble, because Barry grabs my wrist to steady me. My mother sobslouder.
“However,” he continues, reaching for his wire-rimmed glasses. “In the state of California, I have the power to issue felony probation. In reading the presentence report, I see you’ve had no prior incidences, you’ve sought professional and rehabilitative help, and your character profiles are very complimentary—contrary to your little speechthere.”
Of course they were. My father owns seven marketing companies in the United States and three overseas. Need a character reference? Don’t worry, Daddy will sign the check with a flourish and never think about it again. Just likeme.
Money talks. Bullshitwalks.
Not once in thirty days did Alistair West fly in from his “extended” European business trip to visit me in the hospital. Not once did he FaceTime me to ask how my scars were healing. Not once did he attend a day of my trial. Flowers and jewelry were all I got. They’re all I’ve ever gotten my whole life. Sent by his secretary, of course. She knows all myfavorites.
“Felony probation is an alternative to prison, Miss West. It would allow you to serve your sentence in the community under supervision. I don’t see prison as an effective rehabilitation option for someone like you. On the contrary, I foresee two tragic endings to this case rather thanone.”
Barry moves closer and takes my hand. Normally, physical touch repulses me, but I gladly latch onto his fingers as vomit rises in mythroat.
“Therefore, I’m sentencing you to three years felony probation. You must pay the victim’s family restitution, and you’ll perform a three-year sentence of forty hours of weekly community service at a location of my choosing. You’ll forfeit your license for five years, attend drug rehabilitation classes, and meet with your probation officer for mandatory drugscreening.”
No jail. Holy shit, nojail.
My mind is reeling, and my mouth takes over my brain. “Are you shittingme?”
