The Sidereus Prophecy Part 3 free porn video

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR: This story is my thank you to a community that has provided me free fiction for years. It is also my first story (and probably my last), and I will warn you- it is long. My intrepid editor, Robyn Hoode, slaved through the drafts of the story, providing insightful and helpful commentary. His enthusiasm for the subject material kept me motivated. Honestly, without him and his constant feedback, this story wouldn't exist. So, if you enjoy this story, you have him to thank, as much as me. This story is very much a slow-burn, character-driven transformation. As I said, it is lengthy, but I hope you will stay for the entire ride. This is a nine part novel that will be posted on a weekly basis. It is complete. Please feel free to leave a comment or to send feedback to the following e-mail: [email protected] DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Part 3 Chapter 36 "Hey, if it isn't the extraordinary teenage lawyer. So were you planning on ignoring me all summer, or just most of the summer? I'm hurt that you didn't at least come and say hello." It was a week later, just two weeks before my hearing, I was trying to enjoy my lunch in peace and Ethan, being his usual sarcastic self, was keeping me from that enjoyment by his very presence. "You know, I don't even know your name." I didn't look up at him. I stayed focused on my phone, trying to complete an e-mail to my parents. They had ridden their motorcycle down the east coast of the United States, and would be in New Orleans in a few days. My father was perfect for the task of rooting out the more unseemly elements of the city's mystic community. He was fearless, as well as practical and had a sense of adventure that took him into the underbelly of cities. He had been to Afghanistan in the late seventies and more recently Nigeria, which he described as beautifully chaotic. I expected that he would enter districts that would make my mother's already grey hair turn white. He would neither take her to those places nor would he tell her about them. I replied, "Let's keep it that way." I stayed focused on my phone. "You've almost always got your headphones on. You love music right? Well why don't you come hear me play? I play every day at lunch over by the fountain next to the skate park." I knew when he played, and I'd seen that he actually attracted a little crowd every day. I had taken my lunch early because I knew that I was going to be very busy in the afternoon. I planned on only taking thirty minutes, even though Stephanie expected me to take an hour, because of my workload. She didn't know that her husband, who had taken a real shine to me, was feeding me extra work. Stephanie would be upset because she would consider it Anthony's work, but it meant that Anthony could work on other projects. Anthony had won the case involving the transport truck driver, and with my help, Stephanie won the media-sensitive case. Due to this, the firm was getting more business, but Stephanie and Anthony were over- stretched. The firm needed to hire another lawyer or, at least, a paralegal. I knew that Stephanie would not agree, but I thought I could convince Anthony to have the firm hire me, since I had worked with him a great deal. This occupied my mind as Ethan continued to bother me. "I see you eat your lunch here alone every day. Why is that?" He moved into my line of sight, and the weasel-like boy with the beady eyes and the near hook-like nose was no more. First, he had grown probably two inches since I had seen him last. Even though it was the middle of summer, he wore the same leather jacket as when I first met him. His hair was still as shaggy, the bangs dancing in his eyes, obscuring them. At the back, it was almost feathered, but not in a girly way, it just had a lot of body. It was dark brown, almost black, but the tips of his bangs were dyed orange and green. It was the type of hair style that screamed 'I don't give a fuck what you think', a testament to teenage rebellion. His face, dotted with acne here and there, was more angular, having lost some of the baby fat that had made him seem so young when we first met. His body was still scrawny. He wore a pair of skinny jeans, the type so popular with teens, both boys and girls. His was a drain pipe style, grey and wedged tightly over chicken legs. I was pleased I could find fault with him. I was less pleased that when he entered my line of my sight there was a sudden tightening in my chest and a little tingle in my brain. It was clear that spending any amount of time around teenage boys was going to be problematic and potentially devastating to my male ego. I answered, "It's because I have a lot of things on my mind. Plus, I'm very busy at work." I don't know why I replied, but I told myself it was because I hoped he would leave me alone, rather than that pleasant tingle in my brain. He put a hand to his heart and acted wounded, staggering about, "Be still my heart, she spoke to me!" I shook my head and glared at him, "You are such an ass." He grinned. "How'd you get that job anyway? And why would you want to work in a place like that. Isn't it boring? Wouldn't you rather work at Dairy Queen or something? There's kids our age there, you know." I said, "I don't really get along with um, kids my age." He shrugged his shoulders, "Because you are so much smarter than us right, working in a big law firm? You are a weird girl. Here it's a beautiful summer day, and you want to go look at books." I suppose I was strange. Whereas most girls my age were working at age- appropriate jobs behind the counter at fast food restaurants or as grocery store cashiers, I was reading and synthesizing legal material. I turned the question on him, "What's wrong with being smart?" He wore a lopsided smile, and his eyes moved upward gently, "Nothing wrong with being smart. You have to admit that not many girls your age are lawyers." "Um, I'm not a lawyer. I do research for them, help them out with their cases. It's fascinating work." Why was I spending all this time talking to him? He changed the subject, "So what kind of music do you like?" I answered, "Hard rock, some metal. Anything with melody really. Nothing too hardcore, like where it is all screaming." Ethan grinned, "Nice. Well I play stuff like that. You should really come and hear me." I shook my head, "I need to head back inside. Really busy today." Ethan's shoulders sagged as I denied his request. "Well mystery not-a- lawyer girl. Can I at least get your name?" The boy looked pathetic. He gave me this sad look where he pushed his lower lip out slightly and stared at me with downcast eyes. I kind of felt bad for him. He was annoyingly like an over-excited puppy dog, the type that peed when he saw his master and barked incessantly, but was generally a good dog. A part of me wanted to blow off the afternoon and jam with him, but I had responsibilities, plus- I didn't really like how his presence made me feel. "It's Abigail. Um, but I really need to head inside." Before I could escape back inside, he said, "Hey look, Abigail if you come and hear me play, I'll let you sing with me. I mean a beautiful girl like you, you probably have a really great voice." I knew that it was a line, and bad one at that. How exactly would beauty equate to having a nice singing voice? There are plenty of singers who have nice voices who wouldn't win any beauty contests. Susan Boyle, who has an amazing voice, is no beauty queen. There are plenty of examples of homely looking men in rock who have powerful voices, Meatloaf being one of them. It was more of a stereotype for the hot girl to have a terrible singing voice. It brought to mind the idea that if you had the body, you could sleep your way to the top, as many critics accused Madonna of doing. She actually can sing, but the electric-laced pop stars of today like Kei$ha, who are attractive, couldn't hold a note without the help of studio magic and a hell of a lot of reverb. I sometimes joked that artists like Kei$sha could actually just have two barking dogs in the studio and still get a number one hit on the pop charts. Who would get the gold record, the dogs or Kei$sha? My vote would go to the dogs. I should have instantly dismissed the compliment, but the attention I received from Ethan awoke something within. As humiliating and worrisome as it is to admit, it was a tiny measure of feminine pride. I knew that the girl I had become was pretty, but beautiful? It was something that I wrestled with from time to time, especially when I saw males staring at me. It was probably so easy for Ethan to say those words to me, but far more difficult for me to accept them as truth. Yes, the skin was beautiful, but the person inside that skin was still confused, unwilling and scared. I felt a little smile creep onto my face. Beautiful. He had called me beautiful, but true beauty was acceptance, and I was not at the end of that road- yet. Still, the feeling it gave, was like the sense of acceptance I had with my band mates and friends, but amplified a hundred times over. Is this how normal girls, actual girls reacted? I had no one to speak to about this. I could not go to Am?lie or my mother, so I bore the burden alone. Ethan smiled back at me, "I knew I could make you smile. See you tomorrow hopefully, Abigail." He put emphasis on my name, allowing the word to dance off his tongue. *** That afternoon, I spoke to Anthony about the possibility of them hiring me at the firm. "Hi Anthony, thanks for agreeing to speak with me." Anthony smiled, his round face and jovial eyes gave him a welcoming presence. Despite Stephanie's pleasant treatment of me, she was vicious in court, taking apart high-priced corporate and government lawyers. Anthony said that women in law often felt the need to take on ultra- aggressive personas because they thought they had more to prove. Am?lie had spoken of women in private firms in similar terms, going as far as calling some of the female lawyers she dealt with 'mega-bitches'. Anthony was a little easier going, still dedicated, but he did not walk around as if he had something to prove. Perhaps because he had no need. "Not a problem, Abigail. Stephanie and I are highly impressed with your work. I had a little time this afternoon. So, I see in the e-mail you sent you would like to discuss future opportunities? Next summer then?" I shook my head, "This fall. I know from the new case load you and Stephanie have, you will need to hire someone after I leave. So why not just hire me? I'm going to come straight out and say it. I am trying to get legal emancipation so I can continue to work- hopefully, here." Anthony frowned slightly, but he didn't have the same expression of disappointment that Stephanie had. It was more one of surprise, but I could see the wheels moving in his brain. I knew then that he was not entirely against the idea. "What about school though? You are probably in your last year right? Why not just finish the year?" I frowned, but a part of me was pleased that Anthony seemed to think I was actually graduating, instead of entering the tenth grade as my school registration stated. "Because you have a need now and, if I go back to school, I will lose that opportunity. I really like working with you and Stephanie, and I feel like I am learning a lot." Anthony smiled, "It's funny- you remind me a lot of Stephanie when she was your age. I didn't know her then, but the way she talks about herself, she was focused and very career driven even in high school. I haven't done any emancipation cases though. Do you know the test?" I nodded my head and answered confidently, "The test requires that the minor have an ability to gain economic independence, a high level of maturity and either a talent or a capacity to perform actions outside of those expected of a minor. Essentially, you and Stephanie would have to indicate, in writing, your intention to hire me. I would need a second letter stating that I have a maturity level above and beyond someone my age, and for the third, proof that I am completing legal work beyond the high school level." Anthony looked impressed and his words matched his face, "Excellent Abigail, a student your age might be able to logically quote jurisprudence, but to explain a test that way and then be able to apply it to your exact situations, is remarkable. How old are you by the way? I can certainly speak to Stephanie, and then we can have a meeting to discuss it all together. How does that sound?" I frowned slightly, "The issue is that I don't think Stephanie thinks it is a good idea. She feels like I am wasting my youth working in a law office. And I'm sixteen." I decided to use the same age I saw in the police report because that was, in my mind at least, more official than the school registration confirmation. Anthony shook his head, "I met Stephanie when she and I were in law school. However I do remember her saying that she felt that her obsession with the law in high school caused her to take her pent up youthful energy and direct it in less than useful ways once she reached university. She was apparently quite the party girl. I think she's become fond of you and doesn't want you to make same mistake." I knew there was more there, probably promiscuity, beer pong and one- night stand mistakes, but Anthony wasn't about to divulge anything like that. I knew girls like that in university, so it was easy to imagine what type of girl Stephanie was. He continued, "The way I see it. It isn't up to either Stephanie or myself. The law isn't about emotion or feelings. It is the facts, and if you meet the test, then Stephanie should respect that. I will speak to her." I was playing a dangerous game. I risked causing an argument to erupt between Stephanie and her husband, but I knew that in order to succeed in this, I needed to gamble. I hadn't been a gambler before, preferring to carefully weigh my options and then choose the least risky, but I was running out of time, and in this case, I needed to roll the dice, even if it meant rolling snake eyes, which meant having Stephanie upset with me. I figured that I couldn't stay at the office either way if Stephanie disagreed with signing the emancipation documents, so I was willing to risk it all, potentially playing husband against wife. "Thanks Anthony. I really appreciate it." He nodded, "You still may have to pretend that you assist Chantal." I smirked and looked at Anthony confidently, "Really? You don't think that clients will be impressed with a teenage paralegal who actually emancipated herself?" Anthony laughed, "You might be right about that, Abigail! I promise that I'll speak to Stephanie about this soon." I asked eagerly, "Do you think that it could be within the next week or so?" He nodded, "I think so, Abigail. And, I actually know a judge who could hear your case. He owes me a favour." I smiled wide, "Great. Now, about the Richardson case, what do you think about using a section 15 Charter argument? It is accepted that the Charter can be used in administrative law." Anthony grinned, "I will talk to Stephanie about it tonight." Chapter 37 As I bit into my ham sandwich at lunch the next day, I heard someone strumming an acoustic guitar gently. It reminded me of when I first sang in front of people other than my family. I was so nervous that my guitar playing was louder than my singing. When my friends asked me to sing louder, I told them I couldn't. I wasn't ready. The strumming behind me was hesitant. The same way my singing had been. I recognized the song, even though the player was making plenty of mistakes. It was "Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton which many mistook for a love song, when in fact, it was about the death of Eric's child. At least I thought so, reading the lyrics, it was certainly no "Wonderful Tonight" which was clearly a love song. I could play both songs on guitar, or at least I used to be able to before I had long nails. I turned around to see who was playing to offer them encouragement, and potentially some advice on easier chord changes and saw that it was Ethan looking terribly nervous. His usual demeanour, sarcastic and confident was gone, replaced with that of a vulnerable amateur musician who looked at the fret board too much rather than the audience. Was he trying to serenade me? Oh god. He was. I raised a brow in his direction. "Hey, uh, aren't you supposed to be by the fountain? It's show time isn't it?" Ethan stopped playing and looked forlorn. He was clearly not happy with his performance. I was shocked that his usual devil-may-care attitude crumbled when faced with something more than simple speech. Was it possible that everything was an act, his television references, his sarcasm? Was it simply the way he dealt with his nervousness? Without his wit and only a guitar, he was laid bare. There was no way his playing was normally this bad because he usually amassed a small crowd when he performed by the fountain. Some of the girls who had spent their morning gabbing and boy watching at the skater park often moved to the fountain to hear him play. Ethan replied, "Oh sorry, I- um, I was just practicing." I shook my head, "Listen, it's fine. Just needs a little work that's all." As bothersome as the boy was, I was not going to crush his musical spirit. I still remember the encouragement I received from my parents, how proud they were when I managed to play my first basic 4/4 pattern on the guitar. When I started singing, my parents were equally supportive, but they offered their suggestions as well. My parents, and especially my mother, had an excellent ear, likely from years of piano lessons. I knew what it was like to suck, and I didn't want Ethan to feel discouraged. I recall Anthony mentioning the boy's playing a few times. He seemed to like what he heard. Ethan grew defensive, "Hey, you know I'm a lot better than this you know. I- I am just having a bad day. I guess I'll play 90s grunge songs this afternoon because even if it's bad, I can just say, oh that's grunge. An excuse to suck at guitar, right?" He tried to laugh it off, but I didn't laugh along with him. He was not preaching to the choir. He was, in fact, preaching to the unconverted anti-Christ at this point. The nineties were a decade that spawned my favourite music. To this day, I have not heard anything that can compare in terms of the style, the tone, the energy and the emotion. Ethan had unleashed a snarling beast when he insulted MY decade. The decade of my youth, when I became musically aware. My eyes widened and the young man turned into a little boy under my gaze. "That is such a stereotypical attitude, and not one I expected from someone struggling with an intermediate level song. Grunge wasn't about playing guitar badly, it was about playing for yourself, not the crowd. It was about a musical evolution that destroyed the stagnation of rock that was 80s hair metal. It was a resurgence of rock. Yes, some of the songs are simplistic, but they are catchy, with a fierce power behind the vocals." He threw his hands up in the air, "Okay, okay. So you think that music is great." I could see the confidence fill him. His shoulders rose, his chest puffed out slightly and his head rose. "But songs are more than just vocals. Name me one good guitar song from the 90s. None of that lazy, three chord, bad guitar playing can even compare to anything that Mars Volta or As I Lay Dying puts out." I smirked, "Dude, let me guess, you read, or at least read comments on, Guitar World magazine's page. They think Van Halen's "Eruption" is a good song, when it's actually just guitar masturbation." Ethan snickered as I said the word 'masturbation' but I frowned at him, and he stopped. I continued, "Sweep picking doesn't make a good song. Have you ever heard of Alice in Chains? Listen to the solo in "Them Bones" and then tell me that there were no good guitar songs in the 90s. In fact..." I took out my phone and my ear buds, which were high-end. I got them on sale, but they were definitely better than the ones that came with the iPhone or any other smart phone. I dropped them into Ethan's hand and said, "Listen to that solo. Each note is perfectly placed, yes it is dirty sounding, but it fits the tone of the song. It doesn't make Jerry's technique bad." I proceeded to play him "Rusty Cage" by Soundgarden. It was a perfect driving song. It had likely caused its fair share of speeding tickets. Ethan's expression went from dislike, to tolerance, to genuine enjoyment as I put him through a musical education over the lunch hour. After thirty minutes of hard rock's greatest songs (in my opinion at least), Ethan said, "So, who turned you onto this stuff? Your dad? I guess, I don't know. I heard Smells like Teen Spirit and the solo is so easy, I learned it in like twenty minutes. It wasn't like the stuff you played for me there. I liked that stuff." I shook my head, "Good music doesn't have to be played fast, or screamed or have a million notes in a solo. It just has to sound good. You can like music you don't want to play. There's no rules, man. That's what is so great about it. Actually, there is one rule. Nickleback sucks." The kid grinned again, and I couldn't help but notice how close he was to me. I inched away from him and took my phone and ear buds back. "Yeah, I hate Nickleback too, they write one song about saving the world and the next about fuck- um, having sex with girls." I nodded, "Nothing worse than an insincere douche rock band. They give all Canadians a bad name. What's it called?" Ethan nodded, "Hoser rock." I laughed, "Yes, exactly." I was aware how easily Ethan and I were getting along, but as a fellow musician this was not too worrisome. What was of a concern was that I wasn't sure my body would allow him into the friend zone. I liked talking to other musicians, and unlike Alyssa, we actually had something in common. Ethan asked, "So you never told me who got you interested in this music. Was it your Dad?" I nodded, "Uh, yeah. He's got a massive CD collection. Played it all the time when I was a kid. Instead of Raffi or Barney, it was anything hard, heavy and loud." Ethan replied, "Your dad sounds really chill." "Yeah he is, uh listen though. I better get back to work." I was glad that Ethan and I were able to have a normal conversation. It was actually reassuring to realize that I was not completely ruled by my hormones. Ethan got up to leave, and he flashed me a smile, "See ya around Abigail." As he smiled at me though, I had that pleasant little tingle, but instead of maintaining position in my brain, it filtered outward filling my shoulders and my chest with a similar sensation. I needed to speak to someone about this because as much as I wanted to be away from him, I wanted just as much to be near him. So while I was not making any moves, as long as he did, the feelings lived. I could absolutely without a doubt not speak to Am?lie or even my mother. Am?lie could never know about this. I could think of only one person- Jacynthe. *** Chantal said teasingly as I entered the office, "Did your boyfriend play you a nice song?" She continued, "I saw you talking to him yesterday. And I see the way you look at him. The way you look at the other girls who sit next to him at the fountain." I shook my head vehemently, "I don't care what those girls do." Chantal said, "Hey Abby, I'm just trying to help you out. I know you are the shy type. I did you a favour. I know how much you like music, so I told that boy to come play you a song. Did you like it?" Apparently, Chantal's revenge was to kill me with kindness by finding me a boyfriend. Great. Although, perhaps she had an ulterior motive. "I know what you are trying to do, Chantal. You are hoping I will get all love struck and either quit, or at the very least, your little ploy is meant to distract me from the fact that you're still making the same mistakes day in and day out." Chantal shook her head. I looked at her face closely for any sign that she was lying. I looked for the tell-tale signs, but she maintained eye contact and a friendly, almost sisterly smile. "Abby, you know it's not strange for you to have feelings for him. I saw your little exchange yesterday and today. It's a crush. Don't you feel all fluttery around him, like your legs are made of jello and like you can't find the right thing to say sometimes? Do you think about him at any point during the day? Do you get mad when the girls flock around him while he's playing guitar?" I replied with a little more force than I intended, "No! I mean, we both like music." I was getting flustered, and while it sounded like she was reading off an official crush checklist from Cosmo, some of the symptoms she described were legitimate. Chantal said softly, "You know, he asked me about you. Would you like to know what he said?" Chantal had power over me like this. She could evoke feelings of nervousness, and genuine fear. My cheeks reddened. I was reacting like a real teenage girl, and it was terrifying. I shook my head repeatedly and sat down at my desk. The open lay-out of the office did not allow me to hide from Chantal's knowing eyes, but I stared down at my work. "If you want to know, I'll tell you." I replied, "I don't care. Can we just get back to work? Mr. Locke is due in court tomorrow morning, and he needs those copies done. I'll likely have to check them over." My last words were meant to retrieve some of the power I had lost. Thankfully, Chantal was still as sloppy as ever. The smile disappeared from her face, "Boys don't like ice queens you know. If you treat him that way, he will find a girl that can show her feelings, that doesn't have her face stuck in a book. When I was your age, I had a boyfriend. I still did OK in school and I had a part-time job, what are you so afraid of?" I narrowed my eyes at her, "Look, I am not falling for some weasel faced, long-haired punk. Just get to work before we fall behind and I need to stay late." Chantal looked down at me with a mixture of frustration and sadness, "And what do I tell him if he asks about you again? Do you want me to tell him that?" "Tell him whatever you want. Just do your job." I huffed and proceeded to focus my attention again on my research. It was hard to concentrate on the employment accommodation research I was doing. Would Chantal tell Ethan that I wasn't interested? In a way, I hoped she would, but I actually did enjoy talking music with him. I didn't have many friends. My band mates were acting strangely around me, and Andrew, my best friend, was barely talking to me. Despite our practices, I felt isolated. We hadn't managed to find a new guitar player. There was plenty of interest, but when we met the people, they were weirded out. Some of them thought we were a family band and lacked the commitment. Others indicated their concern over a teenage girl being on tour with grown men. They questioned my ability to even go on tour, asking if I would be allowed to leave school. The really committed players even questioned Andrew and Steven on their dedication to the band because of their responsibilities as fathers. Musicians could be colossal jerks, but I wondered, too, about their ability to leave on tour. If things snowballed and we gained enough popularity to score a record deal, then we would be expected to tour. Could Steven and Andrew leave their families? Would I be able to leave Am?lie and Chloe for months on end? Were we chasing a dream that would be impossible to live out? Also, it was very difficult to explain that I would still play rhythm guitar. The musicians, one of them a woman, couldn't understand why I wouldn't just cut my nails. Hers were shorter than mine had been before my change. She thought I was some girly-girl princess, and while I didn't sound like it as I sung, the woman, who was in her thirties likely thought I was immature. We were still searching, but our lack of success was causing in-fighting in the group. Steven had discussed me no longer playing guitar and just singing, but Andrew was dead-set against it. As for Ethan, I think part of the reason why I tolerated him was because of my loneliness. I was no social butterfly, but since Stephanie had banished me outside to eat my lunch, I was left on my own. Since I didn't interact with the clients, as I was expected to play Chantal's trainee assistant, my only real contact was with Chantal. The lawyers left me alone, busy with their own work and secure in the knowledge that I needed little supervision. Without the annoying crush, a conversation about favourite bands and guitar styles would have been a godsend. From experience, I knew that crushes usually don't last and mine would likely not be an exception. I immensely disliked the feelings I had because I feared they were changing me somehow. I made a point to speak to Jacynthe after work. *** A few days passed, and still, I had not received an answer from Stephanie or Anthony about my emancipation, nor had I spoken to Jacynthe about my feelings. I asked Anthony, and he said he was still working on it. Ethan hadn't come around since our last conversation, and I was finding myself more and more distracted at work. I knew he was just a kid, but we actually had similar interests. If we could stop making goo-goo eyes at each other, maybe we could be friends. I blamed it on the fact that I just missed talking to people about music, people who understood. Am?lie didn't understand, but Ethan did. Even if he liked some crappy bands. I actually spent a little time at work researching my crush and how to get rid of it. I couldn't have Am?lie catch me conducting research of that nature. I would literally die if she did. First, my heart would stop, then my eyes would bulge out of my skull, and finally, my head would tumble, dangling down like some macabre puppet. I nearly spit water over my screen as I saw one suggestion. "Want to get rid of your crush? Need to know how? Well pucker up baby! Girl, if you don't feel fireworks, then he's wrong for you!" Instead, I choked the water down. I needed to speak to Jacynthe about it, but I hadn't mustered the courage. Chantal giggled at me as I continued to cough. I had a little less than two weeks left before my hearing, and while I didn't want to rush things between Anthony and Stephanie, due to the delicate nature of the conversation, I was running out of time. I noticed as well that Stephanie was distant. Her usual bubbly demeanour, in my presence at least, was replaced by a fraction of what opposing attorneys saw on a regular basis. She tolerated my presence only because we worked together. I also observed Stephanie losing her temper with Anthony. They fought over insignificant things like who had forgotten to refill the kettle. Had I caused this? Guilt crept into my stomach like skeletal hands from the grave. Finally, the next day, Anthony called me into his office. He looked tired. I hoped that my request hadn't put him on the couch the last few days. "Abigail, I managed to convince Stephanie that you should go before a judge and have them determine if you meet the test. She wants to meet your sister though." He pushed my employment form toward me, "It's Am?lie, right? It says here she's your legal guardian." I nodded, surprised at first because I figured he was going to tell me he had been unsuccessful. He really was a talented lawyer. "Yes, that's right." "Great, well have her come here tomorrow after work. Stephanie wants to speak with your sister to make sure she is on board with all this." I smiled, "Thanks Anthony, I really appreciate all you've done." He smiled tiredly, "Thank me when this is over." Chapter 38 It was after work that same day. I had gone home to change first, as I didn't want to try and explain to Jacynthe why I was dressed so nicely. Plus, I was more comfortable that way. After two weeks of wearing a skirt, the kitten heels and blazer, I had to admit it felt less alien, but not exactly comfortable. I walked into the Big Gob Brewery. It was almost empty, except for a few regulars that I recognized. I knew one of them because he had come to both shows and introduced himself afterward. He was a big fan of our band. He spoke to me in French.