Hey Punk, Keep This a Secret

Chapter Twelve: Danny Stewart

 "You said that Chance was very upset about your arrival being as early as it was. Do you know why," I asked.

"Heck if I know," Hart said. "You'd think he'd be excited to see me so soon, since he loved me so much." He came off as being very upset that this was the case. Yet, I could clearly see that he was using my point from the previous cross-examination to support his own. It did nothing to taint my plan of action, thankfully, so I continued without another thought.

"I do believe he would be excited. That's why I'm inclined to believe that you're leaving something out," I answered. "Let me ask you something. Perhaps, this will answer my suspicions. Did something happen before your arrival that may have caused Chance to already have been mad?"

Hart paused before responding. "Well, there are some things I can think of that may have caused his outrage," he said. I could tell he had to think about his response to avoid the chance of being thrown under the bus, but he was just fast enough to not come across as suspicious to the room.

"List them for me," I said.

Hart began to think about what he could make up that he could get away with. While I waited for his answer, I quickly glanced over at Chance.

He looked scared out of his mind. I imagine he probably thought that these questions were helping Hart win. But he wasn't thinking about it on the same level I was. I mouthed "trust me" to him, and hoped it would ease him.

"Well, I recall him having a similar attitude when we had called a few days before. We had some discourse, but he apologized later of course. His excuse was that he was just approaching that time of the month... if you know what I mean," Hart explained.

Then, Hart started speaking much louder, making sure that this was announced to the entire jury clearly: "For anyone in the jury who is unaware, Chance is assigned female at birth."

I glanced over at Chance- hoping that Hart hadn't already known (or magically guessed) his cycle exactly- and saw him pull out his phone again. "My period isn't due to start for another two weeks. Try again," he said. On his phone screen was a cycle tracking app that said "15 days until period."

I could tell that this had frustrated Hart, which meant that my plan was working. "Well is two-ish weeks not considered approaching," he asked. "Because I swear that that's what you said. 'Oh, it must just be that time of the month, because why else would I be so emotional.' Something like that."

"PMS is usually the week before, not two and a half weeks before," I said. "I'm actually a girl, so I think I know this better than you."

"Well so is Chance, to be honest," Hart mentioned again, probably digging for the approval of the transphobes. That course of action struck me as odd, though, and I can't see why he'd benefit much from that around here.

I didn't let it bother me. "You're clearly choosing to ignore my point," I called him out. "That tells me you're lying to us."

"Since when were you qualified to be a mind-reader," Hart asked sarcastically. As much as I hate Hart, I must admit, that comeback was good.

"If you're not lying, show me the messages where Chance claimed that he was having PMS. Surely that isn't so hard," I said.

"The messages were on Snapchat. They delete after 24 hours. So yeah, it's a little bit harder than you think it is," Hart refuted.

I couldn't recall if Chance usually saved every message or not. I glanced over at him, hoping that he would say something, but he looked like he was trying so hard to mask his tears that he couldn't speak at all.