1 August 2007Chapter 3
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Well, the morning of January 1 came. Not surprising, actually. The sun came up almost every day. Make that every day. I woke up when Mrs. B. opened the door. I'm a pretty light sleeper, and I wake at just about any noise. I looked at the clock: 9:47. I saw Mrs. B. and she saw me awake, when I turned my head to the door. Obviously, she saw Lu, too.
Lu was partly uncovered by the blanket, still in her blouse, and one foot exposed, still in her heels. Lu was curled up against my back and I was on my side facing away. We were like spoons in the drawer. I started to rouse myself, and Mrs. B. shushed me, smiled and closed the door.
What she didn't see was Lu was curled up against my back all right, but her hand was draped over my hip and she was holding my cock. Boy was I hard!
I had to pee. Everybody must have to pee, I think, when they first wake up. But I was in the wall-side of the bed, and I'd have to crawl over Lu to get out. I didn't want to wake her. Did I mention that she had a hold of my cock? I didn't want to mess that up either. So, I clenched my abdominals and prayed that I could hold in the pee for a while.
Pretty soon, I went back to sleep.
I awoke later in the morning when Lu did. It seems she awoke and realized where her hand was, and jerked it away. That's when I woke. She was out of the bed in two seconds flat, and tried to sneak out of the room.
I rolled over and propped myself on an elbow. "You're welcome, Lu."
She stopped tiptoeing out of the room and straightened. It was like Bugs Bunny trying to sneak away from Elmer Fudd. Naturally, I was Elmer Fudd.
She turned and said, "Um ... thanks, Chris. I really needed ... um ... last night I was really scared ... and angry." She came back and sat on my desk chair, after putting my last-night-jeans onto the back of the chair. "I ... I ... well, I'm sorry about where I was holding you while I was asleep. I didn't mean ... You're really big. I couldn't help but notice. I guess the girls weren't kidding."
"I'm not sorry about it at all, Lu," I said. I decided if I couldn't tell her now, I'd never tell her. After all, she still had my penis cooties on her hand. LOL. "You know that I love you, right?"
"You what?! Oh. I don't ... well I mean, I do love you. Like a brother. One I care for A LOT."
I knew that she didn't love me like I loved her. It was okay. I'd just go on loving her, until I met somebody that I loved more. Right now, that didn't seem possible, but ... no sense in getting all pervey on her if she didn't love me back.
"It's okay, Lu. I know what you mean. There's romantic love and there's other kinds of love. But just so you'll know: I love you in every way there is," I said. And I probably would forever, too.
"Good, Chris. 'Cause I love you too." And then she tousled my hair and went out to her own room.
I got up and made my way to the bathroom, just in my boxers and t-shirt. After doing my thing in there, I came out and Lu was waiting, wrapped up in a terrycloth robe. It came down to mid-thigh and I got a boner again thinking that she might be naked under there. That wasn't that unusual, because I got a boner about every other minute. It made the front of my boxers into a tent.
Lu went back to school in early January, and with the help of the editor of the school newspaper – who was a geeky friend of mine – I ran a full page ad that he sneaked in without the school censor knowing about it – I mean 'advisor.' It said:
Chris Harcourt is not the father. Congratulations to Morrisette and ToddAnd we ran the same ad in the local paper -- full page ad in the sports section.
Boy oh boy did it ever make waves. Surprisingly I didn't get a call from the school board or anybody else. I heard through the grapevine – that means Lu told me – that Morrisette was crying all day, and most students were just buzzing with talking about it. She was even bigger, Lu said, than when she'd come over to the house. Lu put her hands out in front of her stomach as far as she could. "I mean, like, really, really big." It was supposed to be her last day of school before she had the baby.
In the next few days, I got a lot of phone calls, most from former friends who said 'I knew it wasn't you all along' or stuff like that. Mostly I just said 'Yeah. Thanks for being there for me.' Some of them got it and felt bad. Some of them didn't get it.
And I got some calls from the girls squad, who had been inviting me to parties and doing stuff with me last summer. Mostly they wanted to get together and do more stuff. I thought about it, let me tell you. I was getting a boner about every time the phone rang. I pretty much said the same thing to all of them: 'Yah maybe. I got lots to do now with homeschool. I got kicked out, you know.'
Between watching the internet videos and remembering the parties this past summer and then Lu coming into my bed on New Year's, it was giving my right hand a lot of exercise let me tell you. I got a boner every other minute, and when I was alone in my room, I used nearly every one of them and fantasized about Lu. Somebody must have gotten suspicious about my excessive use of tissues, I guess, but nobody ever said anything about it. Maybe they thought I had allergies. Lu's image got engraved on the inside of my eyelids.
One day Lu got into a shoving match with Anson, and it was right in front of our house. I mean the B.'s house. She got out of his car, and he did too. They were hollering at each other and then he shoved her with both hands. He was hollering so loud, I could hear it inside, and when I looked out the window they were going at it. I moved to the front door and opened it. They didn't notice.
He said, "Well, I did."
Lu said, "And I didn't."
"You've been playing hard to get a long time, Lucy. God! What a cocktease."
"Am not. I told you, I wasn't going to do that until graduation."
Then he shoved her with both hands. "Fine! Just keep away from me."
She fell back on her ass on the grass, but got up quickly. She moved back at him. Lu had never had any problem taking on guys who were bigger than she was. I thought back to a smaller version of her getting in the face of bigger guys about the 'Baby Huey' insults I took when I was younger. But this was a big football player, with muscles, against a girl that didn't weigh half what he did. I think she had always depended on guys not hitting her out of some sense of honor or doing the right thing or something.
She shoved him with both hands and said "Great. Never darken my door again ... Creep!"
By now I was out the front door and nearly behind Lu. He went to shove her again hard, like a football player hits those practice sleds, you know? But he looked up in time to see the expression on my face, and stopped himself short. It was one thing to hit or shove a small girl, and another thing if he'd have to deal with a guy who was just as tall as he was and maybe outweighed him by fifty pounds. Even if I was a 'dummy' with a fucked up left arm.
"Aggghhh. It ain't worth it ... Cocktease!" he shouted and then got back into his Jeep and drove off.
Lu stood at the end of the paved sidewalk that led from the door to the mailbox, and watched him drive off. I was about two feet behind her. She pirouetted and took a half step toward the house, when she noticed I was right behind her.
"Ah! Chris! It's you!" She was surprised. I put out my hands to steady her and grabbed her arms. I let them go almost right away.
"Yep. It's me. What are you doing with Anson? I thought you'd have broken up with him back when..."
"Well, I needed a ride home..." That was baloney and she knew it. And I knew it. I looked at her like she couldn't be that dumb, so she knew that I knew. " ... and, well ... I needed to talk to him."
"Yeah. I saw how that worked out," I said as we walked back into the house.
"Oh crap! I left my books in the back of that Jeep," she stopped and looked at the road where Anson's Jeep had disappeared.
"You can call him and then we'll go over there and pick up your books," I said.
"No, Chris. You don't have to..."
"Yes I do, Lu."
And so, that was that. We went over and I walked up to his door and got her books. He didn't even have the nerve to answer the door himself. Instead, his little sister gave me Lu's backpack. I knew her. Ashleigh was a nice looking blonde girl. She was in my class – well my former class – and still had some baby fat on her. She was a little pudgy, but she was getting pretty big up top. And she wasn't as pudgy this year as she was last year, so maybe she was growing out of it. Like I said, she was a nice looking girl.
Anyway, I got Lu's backpack and headed back to the car.
"Thanks, Chris. I didn't really want to face him again."
"Ashleigh gave me the books. Anson didn't show."
"Typical," she said.
In about the middle of January, I got a phone call from the lawyer that Mr. B. knew, Mr. Rice. He told me that there was a preliminary injunction hearing in two days and that I had to show up. I was to wear a sport coat and tie. It was the middle of the day, so I checked with Mrs. B. about a ride and then told Mr. Rice that I'd be there.
We got to the courthouse in time for the 10 a.m. hearing and he introduced himself as Mr. Rice, but I remembered him from before. Mr. B. was there, too. And of course, my ride, Mrs. B. was there. We went in and Mr. Fellsmore and some other guy was sitting at the other table.
"ALL RISE," said the bailiff in a loud voice. "Judge Abigail Wentworth presiding. You may be seated."
"This proceeding," said the Judge, "is for a preliminary injunction at the behest of Mr. James Harcourt. Is he here?"
"He is, your honor. If I may, he prefers to be known by his middle name, Chris," said Mr. Rice. "Steven Rice appearing for Mr. Harcourt. His foster parents are here as well, your honor."
"Do you have any witnesses besides Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Rice?" asked the judge.
"No. I'll just want to introduce the will and the trust document of his parents, Your Honor."
"I have them here, from Mr. Fellsmore. But I'll take what you have now." Mr. Rice brought some papers up to the judge and gave a copy to the other table. "Now," said the judge, "as Mr. Harcourt is a minor and has diminished capacity, I'll do the questioning. If I leave anything out, either side may raise it with me. Clear?" She got a yes from both sides.
"Mr. Harcourt would you come up here and be sworn in?" she ordered me. It was like she was asking me, but she wasn't really asking, if you know what I mean.
I promised to tell the truth and then got seated. Before she even asked me anything I spoke up. "Excuse me, but what should I call you? Judge or Judge Wentworth or Ma'am or Your Honor or something else?"
"Well," she answered, "any of those is fine. Now, you're James Chris Harcourt, is that right? Is your full middle name Christopher?"
"Yes, Judge. But I want to say something first. Is that okay?"
She obviously wasn't prepared for me to say anything, let alone to interrupt her, but she agreed. "Yes, go right ahead."
"I object to being called that I have diminished capacity. Why did you say that?"
"I mean no disrespect, I assure you. It says in the papers that your IQ is below standard," she explained gently.
"That's because I can't read. There's a problem with me recognizing written words. That and I have a handicap with my left arm." I held it up jerkily. "People think that means I'm a dummy. But I'm not. That's all. You can continue now, Judge."
Her face broke out into a smile. "How old are you, Chris?"
"14"
"I'll make a note of that. It's the first time anybody has ever given me permission to continue, in my own court," she said with a little smile.
"I'm sorry, Judge."
"No. It's all right. You are perfectly correct ... Now, why do you think I should prevent the trustee from investing your funds in any manner that he deems prudent?"
"'Cause it's not what my dad said. He wrote me that he set it up to invest in the S&P and in U.S. Bonds and in Overseas companies. He said it was going to be in an account at Fidelity, which from their ads on TV is a discount broker. I think Mr. Fellsmore is going to put it into a smaller broker, who I don't even know who it is."
"You say he wrote it to you? Do you have that letter?"
"Yes," and I pulled the envelope with my dad's letter out of my jacket pocket.
"I object," said Mr. Fellsmore. "We don't even know what's in that envelope, Your Honor."
"Overruled. We won't know what's in there until we open it, will we? ... Now then, Chris, may I have that envelope please?" Another question that wasn't a question.
"Judge, can you make a copy of it for yourself? It's the only letter that my mom and dad ever wrote to me, and I want to keep it safe," I said.
"I'll be very careful with it, Chris. It won't leave my hand, and then I'll make copies of it if we have to have it for the record."
"Thank you, Judge." I gave her the envelope.
She opened it and read it all, then she sniffled a little into her hanky. Then she went through several other papers, lifting pages that were stapled together.
She snapped them all closed and looked kinda angry. "Mr. Rice, where did your copies of the will and trust documents come from?"
"They were found among the personal papers in the office of Mr. Harcourt at home. They were in a safe, I believe."
"No," I said. "They were in a locked fireproof box. It was real heavy."
"Were there any witness to the opening of the locked box?"
"Well, Lu was there. She was helping me go through the papers," I said.
"Who is Lu?" she asked.
"That's Lucinda Belevere, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Belevere. She is 19 and the daughter of Mr. Harcourt's foster family," said Mr. Rice. I smiled a bit – he left off the 'of the Fox Avenue Belevere's.'
"Thank you," said the Judge. "Mr. Fellsmore, there are some discrepancies between the documents you presented and those presented by Mr. Rice. I will hear you now."
I was still sitting in the chair next to her desk and so I got a good look at Mr. Fellsmore. He was pretty upset.
"The documents I presented are the originals. I doubt the authenticity of those other documents. Perhaps young Mr. Harcourt doctored them to support his claim that his father had limited the powers of the trustee," he said.
"Mr. Fellsmore," the Judge continued, "what brokerage firm do you propose to handled the accounts under discussion?"
"American Eagle Investments, Your Honor."
"Do you have any personal involvement in that firm?" she asked. This was kind of strange, I thought. I watched enough 'Law & Order' to know that I was supposed to be the one answering questions, since I was the witness. But she was asking Mr. Fellsmore about stuff.
"No, Your Honor."
"Who is the broker? A Mr. Whistler, I believe. How do you know him, Mr. Fellsmore? I can't believe you selected him from the Yellow Pages."
That made me almost laugh. Nobody uses the Yellow Pages any more. They use the Internet.
"Your Honor, he is my brother-in-law. But I assure you he is qualified and fully licensed."
"Yes, thank you Mr. Fellsmore," she cut him off. I think he was getting ready to go on for some time about how okey-dokey Mr. Whistler was. She paused a bit then said, "There are serious issues I see here. I am going to grant petitioners motion for a Temporary Injunction on this matter. No changes will be allowed on this trust or any of its accounts until I have a report from the Special Master. I am appointing a Special Master for this case to determine which of these sets of documents is more accurate in regards to the testator's instruction. Until such time as a Special Master is named, all requests for disbursements from the trusts assets will be directed to this court for approval."
Stevie
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