Tiny Dancer

Witness {2}

The court order is simple; you can even ask my judge. Everything was on the record. Apparently it's good gossip when a seventeen year old boy steals his principles car and get's caught.

I'm standing before him, leaving his question in the air. I can feel my parents behind me in one of the benches, and I feel all eyes on me.

Judge Saunder asks again, softer and more comforting this time. "Micah," he says. God, I hate my name. It's so unisex, why can;t I have a cool name like Josh or Peter or even Simon for God's sake?

"You have two options. A month in Juvenile Detention Center or a month doing community service. Which one?"

My palms are sweating so I clasp them together and think. I don't think I could ever do Juvie. I would get eaten alive. I don't have a six pack or biceps or triceps or abs and I know that I just look teasable.

I lean forward.

"Community service." I croak out. My voice is hoarse because I haven't spoken at all during this court order and it feels like I said it too quietly so I repeat myself. "Community service." I say louder and I try to make it sound firm and confident, like I'm not actually scared out of my mind.

Judge Saunders nods an says brusquely, "Okay. You start tomorrow at Sidorov Ballet Dance Academy. There is already another group of community service members there doing work and you will earn your hours with them. If we get any report of you violating your sentence or more eckless behavior and crimes, you will be sent to Juvie."

I nod and I feel my head spinning as I do so.

Spending the rest of my summer cleanig up and tending to a ginormous ballet studio is not my walk in the park, but it's better than being treated like a criminal. Mom and Dad already treat me like one at home, avoiding me like The Plague.

I hear everyone shuffling and walking out. My parents backs are to me as they wait for me to catch up with them.  I pass ahead of them and it's silence from then on.

I walk over to the car, pushing past reporters and not speaking at all.

The dorrs are unlocked on the car and I slip in the backseat and wait for my parents to catch up. I drum my faingers anxiously against the leather and think about what my day will hold tomorrow.

Mom and Dad slide in soon after, and I see my dad scrutinizing me in the mirror. I suddenly feel like this suit is too tight and my chest tightens and my breath quickens when he opens his mouth.

"Your grandfather is sick. Your mother and I were going to tell you about what happened and you were going to come with us to Wisconsin, but you have community service hours. You are going to be alone for a while. I don't know how long we're going to be gone, but we've left enough money for the essentials. If you do anything that will make us angrier than we already are, I swear that we will send you off to Juvie and keep you there."

Mom gasps and lets out a little sniffle. She probably thought that Dad was being too harsh, but she knew better not to talk about it or reproach him. She knew it was for the best.

As for Grandpa, well, he was a retired veteran and wasn't big on showing feelings. He is my fathers father.

I nod and look at the window at the passing trees and try to think of some way I'll make it up to my parents.