Megan would have laughed if she weren't so anxious. She'd voted to acquit Steere, but didn't want to say so with this going on. The fighting was getting worse. She really wanted this trial over with. Her e-mail had already been deleted by AOL. Megan wondered if that guy she met in the chat room had written back. He even had his own webpage. Megan liked that in a man.
Christopher remained focused on Kenny. 'But Steere was scared. He panicked.'
'Ain't no call to panic!' Kenny shouted. 'Dude was just drunk, is all. He wasn't gonna hurt nobody! He was jus' an old man talkin' out his mouth!'
Megan flinched at the decibel level, and Nick grew even more nervous. He couldn't believe this was happening. The voting, the hollering. He never decided anything without Antoinetta. His stomach was killing him.
'Gentlemen,' said Mrs. Wahlbaum, who stood up at the middle of the table, a matronly fulcrum between Christopher and Kenny. Her form was stocky in a knit dress that flattened her generous bosom, and she raised her arms as if to separate the men. 'Gentlemen, please. There are two sides to every story. We have to discuss this like civilized people, sitting down at the table, not shouting across it. You're calmer if you're sitting, you just are. It's your body language. I think it's a shame that that homeless man was killed, but I can't blame—'
'I wasn't talkin' to you, teacher,' Kenny said, his smooth head snapping toward Mrs. Wahlbaum. 'Backoff.'
'Just one minute, Kenny,' Ralph said.
'I'm fine, Ralph.' Mrs. Wahlbaum silenced him with a wrinkled hand. She knew the way to deal with bullies was to stand them down. 'Why don't you both sit down, Christopher? Kenny? Just sit right down, both of you.' She waved her arms at them, so hard she could feel the fat wiggle underneath.
Nick was getting more worried by the minute. He ate some Tums but his stomach was still on fire. He didn't like being here without his wife. Forty-two years he'd been married, and Antoinetta had made all the decisions. Paid the bills, cooked the meals, raised the girls. Nick wished he had something to relax him. He wished he had some milk. Milk was supposed to be good for ulcers. Or maybe some nice, cold anisette in a little glass.
Christopher folded his large frame into the hard chair, but Kenny didn't budge. 'What?' Kenny said, with an incredulous laugh in Mrs. Wahlbaum's direction. 'Teacher, you gonna tell Kenny Manning what to do, you got a lesson to learn.'
'Kenny, I have forty years on you. You'd better show me some respect.'
'Respect?' Kenny said, menacing her with a smile. 'Show
'The expert again,' muttered Mr. Fogel. 'The expert in sitting. She knows all about sitting. Ask her anything.' He leaned over to Wanthida. 'It's Iraq and Iran in here, and she thinks if they sit down, they'll make nice. Like it's automatic.'
'I'm ignoring you, Mr. Fogel,' Mrs. Wahlbaum snapped. Troublemakers hated being ignored. 'Now, Kenny, you sit down. Sit, sit,
'Lady, you out your fuckin' mind?' Kenny spat out, his smile vanishing. 'Who you think you are, be orderin'
Ralph figured if he didn't step in Mrs. Wahlbaum would be dead. 'Kenny,' he said, 'tell us why you think Steere is guilty. You can stand or sit, whatever you like. Make the case, like the lawyers. We'll listen. This is supposed to be a legal-type discussion.'
'Hey, Ralph Mouth, back off my man,' Lucky Seven said, and laughed nervously.
Isaiah Fellers sat off to the side, silent. He had voted not guilty the first time even though Kenny would be pissed off. The way Isaiah saw it, Steere was just protecting himself and his property. Didn't matter who was black and who was white. Steere had a right as a man.
'It wasn't an order, Kenny, it was a request,' Mrs. Wahlbaum soothed. 'Please. We have to reason together, all of us. Discuss it. Sitting down.' Her knees were shaking slightly and she figured it was a good time to sit down. 'See?'
Kenny stood alone, still braced on his arms at the other end of the table. Damned if he would sit down just because some Jew teacher told him to. She was dissing him but his arms were getting tired. The room fell quiet, waiting. Watching.
Nick wished he could cover his eyes. When the fighting stopped they'd have to vote again and he'd have to decide all alone. On his last visit with Antoinetta, she told him he should vote to convict. She said Mr. Steere was a crook and the Trolios had sold him their house for a song. But if Nick voted guilty he'd have to go up against all the other white people. He didn't know how to vote. When the paper came to him, could he write I STILL DON'T KNOW?
In the meantime Kenny had made a decision and was pointing at Mrs. Wahlbaum. 'Don't be tellin' me what to do, teacher. You understand what I'm sayin'?' His bicep knotted and nobody, including Nick, missed the small tattoo on his arm. It was a Chinese symbol that Nick couldn't read, which only scared him more.
'She understands,' Ralph said, quickly.
Mr. Fogel shrugged his skinny shoulders. 'Of course she understands. She understands everything. I bet she can predict the future.'
'Fine, Kenny,' Mrs. Wahlbaum said, knowing Kenny had to save face. 'I understand.'
'Just so you understand,' Kenny said, a warning in his voice.
'I do. I understand.'
'Good.' Kenny slid into his chair almost as an afterthought. Lucky Seven didn't meet his eye.
Megan Gerrity glanced at her Swatch watch. Babies' heads tumbled around the circle. The watch was barely readable, but it was so cute. 'It's almost seven o'clock. How late can we deliberate tonight? Does anybody know? Maybe we can fit in a final vote.'
