Being True (32 page)

Before we could have our perfect ending, we had one loose end to tie up.

And its name was Rance Parker.

J
AVI
AND
I sat in the second row of seats in the courtroom of Judge Anthony Clarke for Rance’s sentencing. He’d already been found guilty on two counts of third degree assault, which carried with it a mandatory sentence of at least one year in prison for each charge.

That would be two years of Rance’s life lost because he hated himself more than anything else. And since Judge Clarke had a reputation for being tough on juvenile offenders, especially when it involved bullying, chances were high Rance would be remanded to a prison, and not juvenile detention, since Rance had turned eighteen shortly after the crime.

Rance sat next to his attorney at the far right table with its emerald granite top and puke green rollaway chairs. He was dressed in his finest Sunday clothes, no doubt to make a positive impression on the judge, but his suit and tie couldn’t hide his expression or his body language.

Dread and fear tracked across his face, and his shoulders slumped. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone. He stared straight ahead at the beige wall behind the bench, ready to meet the fate he believed he deserved.

I’d never seen anyone so defeated. It made my heart ache.

His parents didn’t look any better. They sat directly behind Rance, and his mother wrung her hands in worry. His father, who was probably twice Rance’s mass, sat with his arm around his wife, trying to offer her comfort, but his empty expression said he really had none to give.

Every now and then, Mrs. Parker glanced over at us. Hopeful optimism danced in her pale blue eyes. Her lips trembled. She was either on the verge of tears, or she wanted to say something. Maybe apologize or plead for us to forgive her son. But every time her mouth opened, she’d shut it again just as quickly.

I turned to see if Javi had noticed, and he was already staring at me. A sad smile inched across his face as he nodded. I didn’t have to say a word. I reached for his hand, and he held it, both of us squeezing the reassurance we both needed from the other.

My mother sat next to me with her arm around my shoulders and her gaze fixed upon Rance. It was her mother bear move. She feared Rance might go berserk and charge at me again, and if he tried, she’d claw him to pieces before he ever reached me.

The Castillos most likely were concerned about the same thing. Mrs. Castillo sat on the other side of Javi, and Mr. Castillo took the aisle seat.

Our parents had surrounded us to protect us, but nothing bad was going to happen here. Today was about healing, not about anger or revenge.

“All rise,” the bailiff said, and we did as instructed. Judge Clarke entered from his chambers. He was a short, pudgy, silver-haired man, who would likely not be seen as an intimidating figure in most settings. But here, his stern eyes and thin lips commanded respect for him, the court, and the law.

After taking his seat behind his wood paneled bench in a flurry of his black robes, he said. “You may be seated.”

Everyone sat down in unison. Judge Clarke stared briefly down at the file he’d carried in with him before peering at Rance over his steel-rimmed glasses. “Mr. Parker, you have been found guilty of two counts of assault in the third degree, and you are here today to learn the consequences of your violent behavior. I am of the mind that young men who so blatantly harm others do not portend a positive, constructive contribution to society in adulthood if they do not face the consequences of their actions. And that is where my court comes in. I see it as my duty to force angry young individuals such as yourself to pay for their crimes in hopes of learning a valuable lesson that will be remembered throughout adulthood.”

Rance didn’t respond, nor did his eyes meet the judge’s.

“But before I hand down your sentencing, it is my understanding that the victims of the assault would like to speak.” He turned to the prosecuting attorney, Ms. Coronado, who straightened her gray suit before standing.

“That is correct, Your Honor,” she said as she motioned for Javi and I to stand.

A quick glance down at the file told him our names. “Mr. Castillo. Mr. Cobbler, is it true you would care to make a statement before this court?”

“Yes, sir,” I said after I swallowed. Javi only nodded.

“And do you both have your parents’ consent?”

My mother stood at my side. “I’m Grace Cobbler, Tru’s mother. And he has my permission to speak.”

Judge Clarke turned his attention to the Castillos. “Javier has our blessing,” Mr. Castillo responded.

“Then please step forward.” He motioned to the podium that stood between the prosecuting and defense tables.

As we made our way to it, Rance never once turned to us. Instead, he closed his eyes and flinched, fearing whatever condemnation might fly from our lips. Mrs. Parker, though, still clung to hope. She sat forward in her chair.

I stood at the microphone and cleared my throat. Then I unfolded a paper from my pocket where I’d written out what I planned to say. “Your Honor, my name is Truman L. Cobbler, and I was one of the boys Rance assaulted in the weight room of Burbank High. It was probably one of the most terrifying ordeals in the already frightening life I’ve led. Rance was the boy who tormented me almost from the first moment I set foot in his school, and every day I had to deal with the hate in his eyes and the hurtful words on his lips. It was tough.” My voice cracked, and Javi placed his hand on my shoulder. His loving touch wiped the tremor from my speech, and I continued. “That day in the weight room, I had no doubt Rance intended to hurt me as badly as he could. I cannot lie about that.”

I glanced over at Rance. His eyes were closed, but the misery and guilt that loomed over him could not be denied.

“But something happened to Rance. The anger that had been there for months vanished when he realized what he’d done, and when Rance cried over Javi, his remorse was real. It wasn’t me or Javi he had a problem with. It was himself he hated. And, Your Honor, as a gay teen myself, I understand that feeling. It’s like walking around with a voice that taunts you every day. That reminds you you’re different from everyone else. That you are some freak, and if you could just change who you are, maybe you’d fit in. Maybe people would like you. And maybe you’d even like yourself. I consider myself lucky. I have my mom. I have my friend Claudia. I have the Castillos. And I have Javi. Rance didn’t have any of that because no one in his life knew who he was. Being that alone drives you crazy, and though it wasn’t right, I understand the reason why Rance hated me. I was nothing in his eyes, yet I had everything he wanted. He didn’t know how to handle that. But that Rance is gone, Your Honor. I saw him die the moment Javi hit the ground. The new Rance doesn’t hold on to that anger anymore. Call it a moment of insanity or whatever legal term best fits, but Rance doesn’t deserve to lose two years of his life any more than Javi or I deserved to lose ours. He should have a second chance. To change. To become the Rance he started to be. The one who took responsibility for his actions. The one who didn’t run away. The one who got help and the one who confessed what he’d done. That Rance deserves a chance to grow.”

I stepped away from the microphone and noticed that Rance had shifted in his seat. He no longer stared blankly into space. His mouth hung open, and he stared at me in surprise.

Javi took my place at the podium and said, “I don’t have a speech like Tru because I’m not that kind of guy. What I want to say is short and sweet.” He turned from the judge and stared at Rance. “I’m angry at you, Rance. For what you did to me. And to Tru.” Rance closed his eyes. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek. “But I want you to know that no matter how angry I am, you have always been like a brother to me. I love you and I forgive you. And more than anything else, I don’t want you to go to jail. But I do want you to get some help. You need it, man. You really do. I hope you realize that.”

When Javi was finished, we walked back to our seats. Judge Clarke sat in stunned silence.

“I am shocked. In all my time on the bench, I have never heard such words uttered. You should both be commended,” he said with a nod. He then turned to Rance. “Mr. Parker, please rise.”

Rance and his attorney stood up. Tears flowed freely down his face, and his shoulders heaved as he sobbed.

“You should know, Mr. Parker, that when I walked into this courtroom, I fully intended to send you to jail for the maximum sentence the state of Texas affords me in such matters. But after what Mr. Cobbler and Mr. Castillo have said, and after seeing your reaction to their words, I realize my previous decision would not be justice served after all.” He pointed his gavel at Rance. “That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. Not by a long shot. I’m sentencing you to two years of conditional imprisonment.”

Mrs. Parker cried out in relief, and Mr. Parker hid his head in his hands. This was what everyone had hoped for. The lessened sentence meant that as long as Rance did as the judge said and followed the court’s orders to the letter of the law, he would not see the inside of a prison.

“For the next two years, you will do twenty hours of community service each week, and you will enroll in court-ordered anger management classes. You will also see a court-appointed therapist to help you deal with the demons that haunt you, as well as work with the local chapter of the Parents, Families, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays to familiarize yourself with the community you are a part of and should embrace. It is my hope these small steps will turn your feet onto the right path. But if you do not follow each and every one of this court’s orders, you will be taken to prison where you will sit out the rest of your sentence in a jail cell. Do you understand me, Mr. Parker?”

Rance nodded. The sobs racking his body made it impossible for him to speak.

Judge Clarke nodded at the court before pounding his gavel.

“It’s over,” my mom said as she ran her hand through my hair. “At last.”

“Thank God,” I said.

“Yes, thank God,” Mrs. Castillo chimed in.

“I’m proud of you both,” Mr. Castillo said. His smile stretched across his tan face.

“We all are,” my mother agreed.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” said Mrs. Castillo. “I’m starving.”

Mr. Castillo patted his belly. “I’m always willing to eat.”

We all laughed as we filed down the aisle. Javi’s hand found mine and pulled me back. “What?” I asked when I saw a strange look I’d never seen in his eyes before.

“Thank you,” he said as he drew me into a hug.

“For what?”

“For being you.”

“It ain’t no big thing,” I said, waving his words away as he so often did to me.

Javi frowned. “You’re right. That
is
annoying.”

“I know!” I said. “Now let’s go eat.”

I grabbed Javi’s hand and headed for the exit, but before we left, we both turned back and glanced at Rance. His parents, who had huge smiles on their faces, stood around him, but he didn’t hear what they were saying to him. He stared after us, and when our eyes locked, he nodded his head once in thanks.

We turned around and left.

Now, it was truly over.

Epilogue

B
URNT
-
ORANGE
CAPS
and gowns crowded the reception area after graduation. Everyone resembled a life-sized Cheeto. I’d be glad never to see the horrid school color again, but I surprised myself by tearing up as I gazed at the wet eyes of the classmates around me who hung on to each other, saying one final good-bye.

And it was a farewell. Most of us would likely never see each other again once we went our separate ways through life.

I wouldn’t miss the pricks like Oscar, who hated Javi and me for being gay. I was going to miss the people who’d become my friends.

Who would have ever thought that would happen to me?

“Tru!” Destiny Villarreal ran up and jumped in my arms. She gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek. “I would never have made it through precalc without you.” And that was the God’s honest truth. She understood advanced math about as well as I understood batting averages, but I’d tutored her to a respectable C+.

“What am I going to do without you?”

She was going to Texas State in San Marcos, where she planned on getting her teacher’s certificate to teach math of all subjects. For the sake of her future students, I hoped she stuck to simple arithmetic. “You’ll be fine,” I said. “You’ll see.”

She smiled and nodded before throwing her arms around the person to my left. I continued on, searching the packed room for Javi. He and I had a date, and it was one I didn’t intend to put off a moment longer.

How the hell had I lost him? He’d sat next to me in the auditorium, but once we filed in here, the great orange crush began, and we’d gotten separated.

“Dude!” a voice behind me said. It was Enrique Fuentes, the guy I’d beat out for valedictorian. “That was an awesome speech.” He bumped my hand and gave me a sideways straight-guy hug, where your hips never touch and you’re patted on the back three times before being released.