Dad shrugs. “Even if you can’t remember it, it still happened. I loved the kid you used to be—”
I start to protest, and he holds up a hand. “Let me finish. Just because I miss the old Chase doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate who you are now. I’m not blind. I see the bond you have with Helene. You think that would have been possible before your accident?”
“I thought you considered that kind of stuff weakness.”
He reddens. “I just didn’t know the new you yet. It takes strength to eat the blame and not rat out Aaron and Bear, especially when they more than deserve it. Or to try to make things right with Solway or even the Weber kid, whether they appreciate it or not. You’re strong, all right. And stupid. But everybody has stupid moments. The trick is not to let a few bad moments cost you the game.”
There’s something in his expression that I’ve never noticed before. It was probably there a lot before the accident, but this is the first time that I actually see it.
Pride.
Which is going to be worth exactly zero in front of a judge.
As I step through the metal detector at the courthouse, I freeze. I’ve been here before, and the memory comes flooding back.
“Move it along, son,” the security guard urges me. “Plenty of people in line behind you.”
“Right—sorry.” I stumble forward to make room for Mom, Johnny, Dad, and Mr. Landau, our lawyer.
I must look a little shaky, because my brother whispers, “Hang in there, kid.”
I nod, wrapped up in my latest flashback—arriving in this very building with Aaron, Bear, and our families. What I remember the most is my anger, my outrage that the three of us were being hauled into court for booby-trapping Joel’s piano. I was mad at everybody—Joel, the Webers, the school, the police. Didn’t they know who I was? Chase Ambrose, MVP of the state championship game! We ruled that school—whatever we did was okay just because it was us who did it! Yeah, I was mad. I can practically feel the heat of my rage radiating through the memory.
What a difference a few months make. Back then I had such a high opinion of the great Chase Ambrose that I considered myself untouchable. Now it’s the opposite. I hate myself so much that there’s no way any judge could hate me more. That’s why Mr. Landau has been so frustrated with me. How can you create a defense for someone who won’t defend himself?
It’s not that I want to get sent to juvie. I don’t. But I’m one hundred percent guilty. I took the medal; I hid the medal; and if I’d been my old self, I would have sold the medal and pocketed the money. There it is, my whole case. That’s probably why Mr. Landau’s betting everything on character witnesses. Because I refuse to say anything on my own behalf.
I hear my mom drawing a tremulous breath as we enter the courtroom. My dad puts an arm around my shoulders. Believe it or not, I don’t even shrug it off. Right now, I need all the support I can get.
When I take my first look around, I almost lose it.
Everybody’s here!
Brendan and Kimmy are sitting with the video club, along with a lot of kids from school. I see Coach Davenport and a group of football players—Joey and Landon and some others. Ms. DeLeo is there too, along with several of my teachers. In the front row, I’m shocked to find Shoshanna, Joel, and their parents. Shoshanna catches me looking at her and quickly turns her head.
I’m blown away. I already know I’m not the most popular guy in Hiawassee. But the fact that so many people despise me so much that they’d take time out of their day to come and watch me get sentenced to juvie is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to face. All that’s missing is the stocks so the angry mob can throw rotten vegetables at me.
Judge Garfinkle comes in and spends a few minutes reviewing the case file while I sit there and stew. “Oh, I remember now.” He turns his sharp gaze on me. “Young man, I told you that if I ever saw you in my courtroom again, things would go very hard with you. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Mr. Landau starts to get up, and while he’s buttoning his jacket, I reply, “Nothing, Your Honor. I don’t remember why I stole Mr. Solway’s medal. I wouldn’t do it today. But I definitely did it then.”
The judge nods gravely. “I appreciate your honesty. You’re making my job easier, if not any more pleasant.”
“I have some character witnesses who would like to be heard,” Mr. Landau announces, “if it pleases the court.”
Judge Garfinkle sighs. “Proceed.”
Mom goes first, dripping enough tears to warp the wood of the witness stand. Her main message is what a difficult child I used to be and how much I’ve changed since my accident. She spends a lot of time talking about how seriously injured I was and how long I was unconscious. This comes from Mr. Landau’s careful coaching, but Judge Garfinkle looks about as easy to persuade as one of those giant stone heads on Easter Island.
Dad is next, and I’m amazed at some of the things he says. I thought all he cared about was that I’m a chip off the old block. But he only mentions football once. “What kid doesn’t act like he’s got it all figured out when he’s Chase’s age? Even so, getting to know my son the way he is now, I almost wish someone had pushed me off a roof when I was thirteen.”
I’m stunned. The very best part of my father’s forty-eight years was the time he spent in middle and high school. He considers himself to have been the ultimate athlete, hotshot, and big man on campus. He has never—not once—allowed for even the remotest possibility that his youth was anything less than perfect. Until today, when he thought it might help me.
Dr. Cooperman comes up to confirm that my head trauma was as serious as we say it was. Enough to bring on amnesia, and enough to cause a personality change.
Judge Garfinkle frowns. “And the personality change is permanent?”
“It’s impossible to tell,” the doctor admits. “In many ways, we know more about outer space than we do about the innermost workings of the human brain. But there’s every reason to believe that Chase is a new person.”
As Dr. Cooperman steps down, the bailiff reads the name of the next character witness.
“Shoshanna Weber.”
What? I’m frozen in my chair. That has to be a mistake! But no—Shoshanna has gotten up and is heading to the stand.
I tug on Mr. Landau’s sleeve. “No!” I hiss. This “character witness” thinks I’m subhuman garbage!
She’s still avoiding eye contact with me, but there’s an intense expression on her face. She’s a girl on a mission. And I know exactly what the mission is—to bury me. She doesn’t say anything, just sits there, steam building inside her like a boiler about to explode.
Not good. Oh, this is so not good!
“Miss Weber?” prompts the judge.
“I know Chase is guilty,” she begins. “He’s guilty of a lot of things. But he’s done a lot of good things too. He’s trying—even if he isn’t always succeeding.”
Judge Garfinkle clears his throat. “Young lady, the purpose of a character witness is to vouch for character, not to point out faults.”
“I was getting to that part,” she tells him. “The big question is, what kind of person is Chase going to be now? He gave the medal back—that’s a plus. But there are minuses too, like at school, when he lied to cover up for his old friends. I’m not saying that to make him look bad; I’m trying to give you a totally fair picture of Chase today. Thanks to falling off that roof, he’s been given a chance to restart his whole life. Maybe it hasn’t been perfect …” She struggles for the right words.
I’m silently pulling for her not to find them. I’m grateful that she doesn’t seem to hate me as much as before, but this isn’t helping!
“And … ?” the judge prods.
“I was harder on Chase than anybody else,” she explains. “And some of that was justified and some of it wasn’t. I guess what I mean is, if I have faith that he’s going to turn out okay, you can take it to the bank. And I’m amazed to say this, but I just kno
w he’ll be a good person.”
Huh?
It wasn’t the kind of testimonial Mr. Landau was hoping for, but it was absolutely honest. For sure, I wasn’t expecting to hear the words good person coming from Shoshanna—not when she was talking about me.
Don’t get me wrong. If the Webers forgive me, that would be a humongous weight lifted off my shoulders. Mostly, though, I’m just confused. This isn’t going at all the way I expected.
“That’s admirable of you to say, Miss Weber,” Judge Garfinkle comments from the bench. “But that isn’t what this hearing is about. Chase is charged with the theft of a Medal of Honor belonging to Mr. Julius Solway—which nobody denies happened, not even Chase himself.”
“But don’t you see?” she pleads. “If I can misjudge him, anybody can. Even a judge.”
“Thank you for your testimony,” he tells Shoshanna. “Let’s move along. Would anybody else here like to say something on behalf of this young man?”
The chorus of squeaking chair backs and shuffling feet is louder than it should be. That’s when I realize that every single person in the gallery has gotten up. They cross the courtroom in the direction of the witness stand—kids, teachers, and parents alike. The only occupied seats belong to my family and Mr. Landau. Everybody else is in line in front of the bewildered bailiff. Video club kids I know I pushed around in the past. Teachers whose classes I used to disrupt. Football players who thought I deserted them. Even Joel and his parents.
I stare at them—practically everyone I know, waiting their turn to support the bully who deserves no support at all. They nod encouragingly at me, wave, flash me thumbs-up. The picture doesn’t last long. My eyes fill with tears, and it’s all a blur. I was afraid I might cry at some point during the hearing. But not because of this. This is something I couldn’t have imagined in a million centuries.
I bite down on the side of my mouth—hard—and my vision clears a little.
From the bench, Judge Garfinkle gazes at the milling crowd. “All right, I get it.” He turns to me. “This is impressive, and I don’t deny that you must have completed an incredible turnaround. But a serious crime has been committed here—and not a first offense either. Chase, can you guarantee that you’re no longer the same person who stole Mr. Solway’s medal?”
I sense salvation so close I can almost reach out and squeeze it. All I have to do is say yes and I’m off the hook. It’s a happier ending than I could have dreamed of, far happier than I have any right to expect. And yet—
How do I know I’m one hundred percent different? As the memories continue to trickle back, it’s pretty clear that the old me and the new me aren’t two separate Chases. Can I really claim to be “no longer the same person”?
Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from telling the judge what he wants to hear. It’s what the old Chase would do—take the easy way out, like that time in Dr. Fitzwallace’s office. Lie, cheat, say anything to beat the rap.
I’d be proving that I haven’t changed a bit. Okay, Judge Garfinkle will never know the difference.
But I will.
And in that instant, I understand that being true to myself is more important than fooling the judge with the power to send me to juvie.
I shake my head sadly. “I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I can’t make that guarantee. I feel different; I have no urge to do the things I used to do. But the person who stole the medal was inside me once. I can’t promise that he’s gone forever.”
There’s almost a wind in the courtroom—all those people deflating at the same time. Shoshanna. Joel. Brendan. My parents.
Judge Garfinkle lets out a heavy breath. “In that case, Chase Ambrose, you’ve left me no choice. It is the decision of this court that you be remanded to the juvenile authorities—”
“Now, hold on just one cotton-pickin’ minute!”
In the excitement, nobody’s noticed that the courtroom doors have been flung wide. In shuffles Mr. Julius Solway, war hero, struggling behind his walker. Around the neck of his one and only suit hangs his Medal of Honor, freshly polished and gleaming. The look in his blazing eyes plainly says he intends to take on the world—and win.
That gets the judge’s attention. “I assume I’m addressing Mr. Solway. Please take a seat, sir.”
“No, I’m not going to take a seat,” Mr. Solway replies belligerently. “All this ruckus over a stupid medal! Well, here it is with its rightful owner. Case closed. Now, let’s all go home. It’s taco night at Portland Street.”
The judge is respectful but firm. “It doesn’t work that way, Mr. Solway. A crime has been committed here, even if it now has a satisfactory ending.”
“What crime?” Mr. Solway challenges. “Chase didn’t steal my medal. I loaned it to him.”
I jump up. “Mr. Solway, don’t—”
“What do you know about it?” the old soldier roars at me. “You fell on your head and lost your memory. Who are you going to believe, Judge? The fellow who remembers or the fellow who doesn’t?”
Judge Garfinkle frowns. “This may be juvenile court, but it’s still a court of law. We deal in the truth and only the truth.”
“The truth is this is a good kid. How many people do you have to hear it from?” Mr. Solway indicates the lineup in front of the witness stand. “I’d trust him with my medal anytime. Why wouldn’t I?”
Mr. Landau steps forward eagerly. “I believe Mr. Solway has introduced—reasonable doubt.”
The judge snorts a laugh at him. “Watch it, counsel. I’m not an idiot.” His harsh expression softens. “However, in light of the incredible show of community support, plus the testimony of a decorated veteran, I’m going to dismiss the charge against Chase Ambrose.” He looks me straight in the eye. “Don’t prove me wrong.”
I breathe, and realize breathing is something I haven’t been doing since Mr. Solway came shuffling through that door.
An enormous cheer goes up in the courtroom. I’m hugged, kissed, and high-fived; my hand is pumped to the point where my elbow is jelly; my back is pounded until Dr. Cooperman warns about internal injuries. The football players carry me around on their shoulders. Coach Davenport complains that he hasn’t seen this much team spirit all season.
There, high above my celebrating supporters, I experience another flashback. It’s the state championship from last season, and this is our on-field victory dance, my teammates hoisting the newly crowned MVP up in the air. I slap myself in the face to dispel the memory before I spot Aaron or Bear and spoil it.
I’m feeling so many things at the same time. I’m relieved, obviously. But it’s also strange to owe so many people such a debt of gratitude. Back on the floor, I say thank you over and over again until my lips and tongue go numb. And when the crowd finally begins to thin out, I realize that the last person embracing me isn’t my mother; it’s Shoshanna. We jump apart, but Joel is already standing there, pointing and laughing.
“I guess he’s not going in the wood chipper after all,” he says to his sister.
I look at her questioningly. She turns bright red and mumbles, “See you at school tomorrow.” She starts to walk away, then turns and echoes Judge Garfinkle’s parting words. “Chase—don’t prove me wrong.”
Come to think of it, Shoshanna would make a pretty good judge. She’d make an even better jury and executioner.
I wouldn’t want her any other way.
When the Webers leave, I’m down to my last thank-you, and this one’s the most important.
Mr. Solway has established himself in the front row of the gallery. He’s scowling at me. “You know, kid, you’d make a lousy lawyer. You almost blew it up there.”
“Mr. Solway, you know you didn’t lend me that medal.”
He shrugs expansively. “I would have. Besides, you have amnesia; I’m old. Who remembers? But think where you’d be if I hadn’t been able to get a lift over here.”
“Thank you so much!” I quaver, thinking about how hard it is for him to get around.
/> “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”
He motions to the back of the courtroom. There, by the door, stands Corinne. One hand holds on to Helene, the other to the keys of her van. She’s beaming at me.
It’s funny. When I woke up in the hospital at the end of the summer, I didn’t even know myself, much less anybody else. I hope I never again experience a feeling that lonely. But today, with my entire future at stake, I wasn’t alone.
The Chase Ambrose I used to be never would have assembled such support. Mom and Dad. Johnny. Probably Aaron and Bear, who have to be worse than nobody as character witnesses. Maybe a few more teammates, out of obligation. That would have been the sum total of my cheering section.
I follow my family out onto the steps of the courthouse and take a tremulous lungful of free air.
How many people ever get a do-over at life?
Falling on my head was the best thing that ever happened to me.
It has to be the most incredible transformation in the history of middle school.
No, not Chase Ambrose going from thug bully sociopath to human being—although surely that’s in the top ten.
I’m talking about the fact that Kimberly likes me now.
I swear, I’m black-and-blue from pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. But it’s one hundred percent legit. I even call her Kimmy. It’s like a pet name. Nobody else calls her that. If that’s not the real thing, I don’t know what is.
It was the big fight at Portland Street that did it. When Kimmy saw me sacrificing myself—and getting the snot knocked out of me—trying to protect her from Aaron and Bear, that put it over the top. I was like a knight in shining armor—although Kimmy says it’s mostly because she was so amazed I wasn’t dead. Whatever. Before this, she had trouble remembering my name.
Anyway, a bruised jaw is a small price to pay for a girlfriend—especially the most mad-awesome one in all of Hiawassee.
I’m not even worried that she might go back to her old crush on Chase. It looks like Chase and Shoshanna might be starting to turn into something. Not that I’m planning double dates with them anytime soon. No sense playing with fire.