Graceful Waters

PROLOGUE

The booming voice of the bailiff cut through the din of the courtroom. “All rise, Family Court of Iroquois County is now in session. Honorable Judge Grimm presiding.” Grace stood next to the public defender, her hair a rainbow of pink, green, white, and blue with blonde roots. “Be seated.” The bailiff sat after the judge took the bench.

“Miss Waters,” Judge Grimm said, looking squarely at Grace. “This is not the first time you’ve appeared before me, but this will be the last. You have no regard for the rights of others, and no amount of community service or probation is going to change that.” Grace rolled her eyes. “I know you think this is all some kind of fun little game, but your playtime is over, young woman,” he said, his voice rising with anger. “You assaulted a teacher and that kind of behavior cannot be tolerated. I agree with the school board’s recommendation that you not be allowed to return to Iroquois High School. Since the district attorney has decided not to charge you as an adult, the question before this court then becomes what to do with you.”

“Who cares,” Grace said, then rolled her eyes at the reproachful look from her court-appointed lawyer.

“Indeed, Miss Waters,” the judge said. “It’s clear you don’t. It is also clear to this court that your mother is unable to maintain any type of control over you, and releasing you to her custody again will only result in allowing you the opportunity to add to your already lengthy record. Therefore, the sentencing will be as follows; the minor Graceful Lake Waters is remanded to the custody of the state until the age of eighteen, which I understand to be in six months.”

“Big fucking deal,” Grace said, ignoring the stifled cries of her mother sitting in the row behind the defense table.

Judge Grimm’s face turned beet-red. “That’s enough from you. I was going to send you to Crestwood, but after listening to you, I think something more than a minimum-security youth facility is in order. I’m sending you and that smart mouth of yours to Sapling Hill.”

“You had to open your mouth,” her lawyer whispered.

“Big deal,” Grace said, flipping her middle finger at the judge before the handcuffs were put on her by the bailiff. “Boot camp for girls. Who cares?”

“Oh Grace,” her mother said as the bailiff passed her to the correction’s officer for the youth facility.