I jumped back and read her handwriting. “Tuesday arraignment. One o’clock.” I looked up at her. “That’s today.”
“So?”
Manning was going to court for something he hadn’t done, and I still hadn’t told anybody my side of the story. For all the times he’d protected me, I owed him the same. I didn’t know much about the law, but I’d heard of attorney-client privilege on TV. I was almost positive Manning’s lawyer would need to know the truth, whether or not it could hurt Manning.
I returned to my room and carried my phone to the bed.
Making calls in this house was a dangerous business. At any moment, someone could pick up the line. Sometimes, you wouldn’t even hear the click, you’d just go on talking about stuff parents and older sisters could later tease you about. Vickie had once raved over Luke Harold’s hair, the ways in which it was better than even Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s. My dad had heard ten seconds of it and still hadn’t let me live that down.
Tiffany was the only person home, but she of all people couldn’t hear this call. She’d have every right to demand answers if she found out I had sensitive information about the night her boyfriend was arrested.
I read over her notes again—Arainment Tuesday. 1pm. Dexter Grimes public defender (lawyer).
Once Tiffany had turned her music back up, I dialed four-one-one, got Dexter’s office number, and made the call. As I waited for him to pick up, I glanced around my room. It needed a makeover. My CD collection was a quarter the size of Tiffany’s. Like her, I also collected stickers, but they were confined to my school binders and a bookshelf crammed with paperbacks. Sweet Valley High and Goosebumps had to go. I hadn’t even picked one of those up since sixth grade.
Were they the last books I’d read for fun?
The line clicked over to voicemail. “You’ve reached Dexter Grimes of the public defender’s office—”
Shit, shit, shit. This wasn’t good. The arraignment was in less than three hours. The recording beeped, and I realized I had no idea what I wanted to say. “Hello, Mr. Grimes,” I started.
Tiffany pounded on my door, and I jumped a mile high. “What are you doing?” she asked.
I put my hand over the receiver. “Go away.” I lowered my voice. “Sorry, Mr. Grimes. I’m calling about a client of yours, M—Mr. Manning Sutter. I have information about the night he got in trouble.” I paused. How much should I tell him? I needed to see what he already knew, figure out if I could trust him. “I can’t say it in a message, but it might help him. Please, please call me back when you get this.” I hung up and immediately realized I hadn’t left a number. Or a name. My hand sweat around the receiver. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I needed to. For Manning. I hit redial, stood, and paced the room, back and forth, as far as the cord would allow. “Hi, Mr. Grimes. I just left a message but I forgot to give you my information. I’m Lake. Like the body of water.” I cringed. I hadn’t introduced myself that way since I was a kid. “Lake Kaplan. When you call back, if I don’t answer, please don’t mention what this is about. I live with my family, and they can’t know I’m calling. But it’s really important what I have to tell you.” I relayed my phone number twice and my name again.
I dropped the receiver into its cradle, flopped onto my bed, and looked up at the ceiling. I practiced breathing with my diaphragm as if I were back on the lawn at USC. I tried forcing myself to appreciate what I had around me like Gary had taught us to do. But Manning only grew bigger in my mind.
I had no idea about arraignments. My dad would, but I couldn’t ask him. It’d only been three days. Maybe that was good—I wanted Manning out of there—but it almost seemed too soon. Was an arraignment the same as a trial, like the ones I’d seen on TV shows? In class, we’d watched To Kill a Mockingbird last year. Some of my classmates had fallen asleep, the movie black-and-white, slow-moving, but if the trial scene had been happening in front of my eyes, it would’ve felt fast, with words meant to confuse. Overwhelming. My heart began to race just thinking of Manning in there all alone. Did he even know what to do in an arraignment? How could he, in only three days? If I had information that could help, shouldn’t I be there just in case he needed me?
I sat up quickly, went downstairs, and found Tiffany in the kitchen. “We have to go to Big Bear,” I said.
She pulled her head out of the refrigerator. “What?”
“We need to drive there for the arraignment. Now.”
She took out a carton of orange juice. “Are you kidding? Dad would kill us.”
“Then we won’t tell him.”
She raised a manicured eyebrow as she put the OJ on the counter. “Wow. Since when do you lie to dad?” she asked, unscrewing the cap. “Must really be important to you.”