Trials and Tiaras (Untouchable #7) - Heather Long Page 0,68
do you prefer Francesca?”
Great. He asked me a question. “Honestly, sir, I would prefer Frankie.” Fuck. “I mean, Your Honor. Sorry.”
He smiled, a bare flicker, and it eased some of the sternness in his expression. “Sir is fine, Frankie. Is it all right if I call you that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Frankie, have you ever met your father?”
“No, sir.” I didn’t hesitate, and I didn’t turn around to see what Eddie’s reaction was. I also ignored Maddy. Thankfully, Wittaker stood between us so I didn’t have to see her.
He nodded once. “Do you know his name?”
“No, sir.”
The judge glanced at the paperwork in front of him. “So you have no relationship with anyone who fills the role of father?”
“No, sir. It was always Ms. Curtis and myself.”
Yep. Not even going to call her Maddy right now.
The judge nodded again.
“Ms. Curtis,” he said, and I almost sagged at being out from under his focus, even if it wasn’t as bad as I expected. “You were not married at the time of Frankie’s birth?”
“No, Your Honor.”
“You have never been married.” It wasn’t a question.
“No, Your Honor.”
I kind of wondered where the judge was going with this, but I couldn’t exactly ask.
The judge wrote something down. “Ms. Curtis, are you aware that your daughter has filed paperwork to legally sever herself from you and that an earlier court granted her emergency and temporary emancipation ahead of this proceeding?”
“Of course I’m aware.”
Oh, someone didn’t like that. I sucked my upper lip between my teeth.
“And you didn’t contest the emergency order?”
“No, I was not present in the state when the order went through, and I only found out about it after the fact.” Yep. She was pissed. Maddy did not like to be made to look bad. “Your Honor,” she tacked on, almost as an afterthought.
Another half-nod, then the judge looked at me. Pen down, he folded his hands together and leaned forward. The scrutiny in that gaze had me standing up a little straighter.
“Frankie, do you think you are doing well enough to be in charge of your own life?”
“I do, sir.”
“Can you tell me why you think that?”
“Because I’ve been in charge of it for a few years now. I’ve certainly been in charge of it for over a year, particularly after Ms. Curtis’ frequent absences for ‘work’ that began last spring and escalated over the summer. “
“You traveled yourself this past Christmas.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where did you go?”
“To a place in Colorado owned by a friend’s grandfather.”
“A boyfriend’s?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge nodded. “What did you do during your time there?”
“Learned how to ski. Talked about college. Played video games. Read books. Hung out with my best friends. Celebrated Christmas. Got away from the crazy.”
The judge smiled. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“It was.”
“You’ve also been awarded at least two considerable scholarships in the last few months, one from a place you work?”
I blew out a breath. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell me about the scholarship?” He framed it like a request, but I got the impression it wasn’t one, and since Wittaker didn’t interfere, I answered it. It didn’t take long, but then he wanted to know about Mason’s, how long had I worked there, the hours I worked, then he asked about the second job with the food delivery and why I’d needed that.
Finally, he said, “While I’m not going to ask you to go into too much detail, your records also indicate you are in therapy. In fact, your psychologist has written a glowing recommendation for you with regard to your independence and maturity. She’s not alone. I have recommendations here from your manager at Mason’s, several teachers, and friends of the family, as well as the parents of all of your friends.”
Wait, what?
All of them?
“I have to say, young lady, this is an impressive list of accolades and character references. If I deny your petition for emancipation today, what will you do?”
My gut dropped, but I kept my focus on the judge. “The same thing I’ll do if you grant it, sir. I’ll go back to my apartment, catch up on my homework, and get ready for school tomorrow. I might be a little upset and vent to my friends.”
The judge gave me another one of those smiles.
“Your Honor,” Maddy said. “May I speak?”
“No,” the judge said. “You may not.”
Shock locked me in place, because the judge barely looked at her.
“Your Honor,” her attorney tried.
“I said no, Mr. Alden,” the judge stated. “Ms. Curtis has had ample opportunity to be present in the last year. According to all