Standing By

Removed

(Kirstie)

 To me, it was sounding like things were starting to go in Tim's favor. The unity amongst everyone in Home Free, their loyalty to one another, their love, their willingness to combat their own demons in order to defend Tim, to overcome any and all obstacles thrown at them, was truly special. These five young men were truly best friends, brothers in music, come hell or high water. I could only pray our own group would be the same, and from what Kevin had been saying earlier, we just may be having some hard times coming our way. Avi was stressed to the point of unhappiness? That worried me. He and I are opposites in so many ways; he is quiet and reassured; I am outspoken and unfiltered. He is sensitive; I am tough and have built up thick skin. Life hasn't been particularly easy on me; I have had to work for everything I've ever had or earned. Dad had left when I was very young, just up and left. My mother could have broken down and gotten depressed, given up, lived a life of poverty, but that was not in her nature. She is a strong-willed, proud Mexican woman and she has taught me and my sister Gracie to be the same. Work hard for what you want, aim high, and don't let anyone get in your way or knock you down. I like to think that self-confidence, that pride, the attitude, has gotten me where I am in the music industry today. God only knows I've had my fair share of rejections, but I am tenacious and I will not give up, regardless of anything that gets in my way. Avi, while I love him like brother, is just too kind-hearted, a gentle soul. A bit of a perfectionist, but doesn't have the fire in his heart like I do. It's all too easy to take him for granted, to take his laidback attitude and let him get, I dunno, pushed aside, pulled along. Scott was so right—it did seem time for Pentatonix heart-to-heart. None of us want any one of us to be unhappy and stressed out to that end. It might not be one of us on trial here but we do have a strong friendship that clearly, we needed to nurture alone.

I shifted my weight in my seat, absentmindedly playing with my hair. Tim's being late had scared us all—poor Kevin, as best he tried to hide it, was worried sick. And the longer the hearings went on, especially when first Adam, then Austin and Chance got involved, it became clear both these cases were going to trial. Poor Tim. I didn't know how much more one man could take. He'd been collected, for the most part, on the outside, but who knows the inner turmoil he was enduring? He'd already had a panic attack and collapsed—so why the hell'd poor Chance, of all people, have to testify for Tim's psychological distress? Isn't it fucking obvious? Oh my God, leave the poor psychologically-scarred guy alone! Austin had tried to deflect it from his friend, but nooo, the judge wanted Chance up there on the stand. I decided I didn't particularly care for this judge. He was much too harsh; he'd laid into Tim when he was just five minutes late, dangling the threat of bail-no-bail over him for the longest time, drawing unnecessary 'witnesses.' The only time I'd liked him much was when he'd tell Jenika or this Suddeth woman to shut their traps. And now something about some sort of altercation between Jenika and Chance—thank God they'd agreed to drop that one. Chance had been through the wringer himself these last couple of days, coming up to help his friend, finding him lost in unimaginable pain to the point of unresponsiveness. And did they just say something about Austin having a convulsion? What the hell??? I turned my focus back on the proceedings.

"Your Honor?" the too-round-faced Suddeth woman asked in a sickeningly sweet tone.

"Yes?" he mumbled.

"I continue to contest the veracity of Mr. Brown's convulsion, as we have been unable to obtain a copy of the medical report or even locate the attending EMT, Ms. Kirstin Maldonado."

I let out an involuntary squawk. "What???" OK, that came out way louder than I'd intended. But seriously—what the hell??? Me? I'm no EMT! I can't even pass that damn Red Cross CPR training they do at the Y every summer! What the hell they call me for? How many Kirstin—not Kristin, not Kristine, not Kristina, but Kirstin—Maldonados could there possibly be? My eyes swept to Scott to my right, Mitch on his other side, each with shocked looks on their faces. Kevin had buried his face in his hands.