Collateral Damage

Chapter Twenty-Two

I wasn't sure what to expect with John at school the next morning. When I caught him at his locker before first period, his appearance was more disheveled than usual. The wild hair under his trucker cap hadn't even touched a comb. His clothes didn't even look washed; he probably slept in them the previous night...yet judging from his bloodshot eyes, there had been little sleep involved.

He glanced at me, his mouth set in a grim line. "You heard," he stated.

I nodded. It was amazing how he could tell just by looking at me. Not even Matt had been able to read my face like that. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing you did," he shrugged, digging through his locker for his books. "And it's not like I didn't see it coming."

"How's Jasmine doing?" I asked. Even after I left the house, I couldn't stop worrying about her. Her pale face, the way she looked at that doll before she broke down...desolation didn't belong on a face that young. It was enough to make me worry that she would try to hurt herself. I knew John and Grams would never let that happen, but the foreboding remained.

"About what you'd expect," he replied grimly. "Yesterday was a mess. Grams had to give her a valium just to stop her crying. We couldn't let her go to school all doped like that."

"Is that you stayed home yesterday?" I was touched. "To take care of her."

"Tried to." He closed his locker, then leaned against it, closing his eyes. "But I couldn't take it either. So I went out."

I couldn't blame him for that.

"Anyway, the case is in two weeks."

"Before Christmas?" I guessed.

"Frances wants it over with real quick," he sneered. "All wrapped up in a nice little bow, just in time for the holidays."

"She won't win," I told him stoutly.

He barked a laugh. "That's what they said about Donald Trump when he ran for President. We all know how that worked out, don't we?"

"This is different. The court won't let her have Jasmine."

"If that was true, it wouldn't have gotten this far in the first place," he said dismissively. "She's got plenty of things in her favor: she hasn't actually abused us, she doesn't have a mental defect, she's employed, and most importantly, she's our biological mother."

"She's been spying on you," I confessed, unable to keep it to myself anymore. "I saw her car when we were at Pizza Hut the other night. I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner."

He was neither surprised nor angry. All he did was cock an eyebrow. "Figures. Well, it doesn't make a difference, since there isn't a restraining order. Even if there was, you were the only one that saw her. It's hearsay."

"What about what she did to you guys?" I demanded. I couldn't believe he was being so apathetic; he acted like it was already a done deal. "Doesn't that matter?"

He sighed. "Wendy, you've never been to family court. I have. I know how it works."

"She hasn't gotten custody up until now," I argued. "Why would this time be any different?"

"Because she's got more ammunition. She can argue that being separated from her mother is affecting Jasmine's mental state."

"What?" I shrieked. Two girls standing nearby stared. Flushing, I lowered my voice to an angry hiss. "Are you serious?"