Chapter 1

'Dumb-ass!' I say to myself. 'Dumb-ass! Dumb-ass! Dumb-ass!' I feel like the scarecrow in "The Wizard of Oz" singing "If I only had a brain".

Here I sit in the hallway of the county courthouse waiting to be called before Judge Hightower. Again! I've already resigned myself to being slapped down pretty hard on this one. Any halfway intelligent person would have accepted his fate and just taken the bust for having an open liquor container in the car. The most I'd have gotten would have been a little fine and a slap on the wrist. But no-o-o-o! There I am, happily celebrating my high school graduation with a friend and sipping from a pint of peach brandy when one of our town constables walks up and shines his million candlepower flashlight on us. Suddenly, it seems perfectly reasonable to hit the gas and peel rubber, momentarily spacing out on the fact that the cop knows me and I know him. I wonder why we don't just call booze 'stupid juice'?

"Randall McPeak!"

Well, here goes. I straighten my tie and try to look my most civilized as I stand before the woman who is known far and wide for being singularly unimpressed by expressions of contrition. Her name is Rose Ann Hightower, an attractive woman in her early forties who has a rep for being as much an 'Iron Lady' as Margaret Thatcher. We've met before. She reads the charges and looks down at me, waiting for my response. For a moment, I have this absurd impulse to use some Flip Wilson humor for a defense and say, "The devil made me do it!" Thank the stars, I catch myself before my mouth leaps ahead of my brain again. This piece of granite peering over her glasses wouldn't have so much as cracked a smile.

Following my Dad's usually sage advice, I plead, "Your Honor, I have no excuse. I just panicked and did something stupid. I'm sorry."

"Yes, I imagine you are. Unfortunately, I can't offer a morning-after pill, Randall. I see here we met once before when one of your friends ratted you out for selling him a joint in the boy's restroom at school. Some friend, huh? I seem to recall that charge resulting in a suspended sentence. Now, these little infractions don't quite put you into the category of the hardened recidivist but you do seem to insist on testing the waters, don't you? Seems to me you need to do one of two things; either get over your errant ways or get a lot smarter. I hope you'll choose the former option because I seriously doubt your capacity to improve your IQ. I mean, really Randall, trying to outrun a cop? Do you have anything else to say?"

"No, Ma'am. Your Honor, I mean."

"Either is appropriate. Very well, Randall, I hope you have a bicycle because your driver's license is suspended for six months. Please surrender it to the clerk on the way out. I happen to be aware of your father's circumstances and I have no intention of putting an additional financial burden on his shoulders. Instead, you'll pay off your fine with community service. Next week is the countywide highway cleanup. Monday morning at 8AM sharp, you will report to Cindy Franklin at the county highway shops. You and the crew you're assigned to will spend eight hours each day for five days cleaning up trash off the highways. If you fail to show up, I'll issue a warrant for your arrest. If that happens, you can pretty much count on doing a few days in our lovely county facility. You're eighteen now, Randall. If you show up in front of me again, the court will not be inclined to mercy. Do you understand everything I've said?"

"Yes, Your Honor. County highway shops next Monday at eight. I'll be there."

"Have a nice day, Mr. McPeak."

When I walk in the door, Dad says, "I didn't hear the car pull up in the driveway."

"Yeah, um, that's because it's still parked at the courthouse. My license is suspended for six months. I'll ask Mr. Anders next door if he and Stevie can pick it up sometime today. The good news is that I didn't get a fine. I have forty hours of community service next week instead. I hand him back the signed check he gave me to pay the fine."

Chapter 2 »