IT’S TOO BAD THAT AIN’T ONE OF THE TEXTBOOKS WE’RE SUPPOSED to learn something from this year,” observed Aidan dryly as he lay on his bed, flipping through one of Poole’s magazines. Charles was bent over a civics book he had stolen from The Coffin’s classroom on Monday, reading as if it were a story of adventure on the high seas or a daring train robbery. He grunted in response to Aidan and kept reading, occasionally pulling out a well-worn folded piece of paper from the back of the book and making a note with a short stub of pencil. All week he’d been at it. Aidan was quite sure Charles had never spent so much time in front of an open book.
Finally, the day of the trial arrived. Attendance was not mandatory, but most trials attracted a fair number of boys. For the more interesting trials, wagering added an extra level of interest. Merton Poole set the odds and collected the bets prior to the trial. Since Poole had begun fulfilling this responsibility last year, his math grades had improved—much to the pleasure of The Coffin, who was unaware of how Poole was practicing his basic arithmetic.
Wagering on Lucifer’s trial hit a new record. “Over 60 percent of the boys got some hide in this game!” Poole proclaimed to those around him as the boys filed into the room. He had set odds for Lucifer’s acquittal at 6 to 1, but a surprising number of bettors had faith in either the dog or in Charles.
Aidan filed in with all the Laurel boys, plus Salt and Dec. As they took their seats, he heard other Third Classers discussing the case in the row in front of him.
“That Weston mug’s got fire in the belly—he’ll run circles around Ralph,” claimed Cantrell.
“Don’t matter how clever Weston’s palaver is—that dog has a record of bein’ vicious. How’s he gonna explain that away?” retorted Pickering.
Aidan looked to the back of the room and saw the superintendent, the matron, and Mr. Fielding standing against the wall. Was this good or bad for Charles? Mr. Bradley looked peeved. Bill had mentioned that Mr. Bradley had repeatedly asked Fielding to “take care of the problem” but that Fielding had never gotten around to doing away with Lucifer. Was Mr. Bradley now irritated with Charles as well as Fielding?
After a prolonged effort to quiet the crowd down, the judge had Charles and Hinkley make opening statements, limited to two minutes each.
Sweating visibly, Charles glanced one more time at his creased sheet of notes on the table and began. “Wasn’t too long ago—” His voice came out in a raspy squeak, and he stopped to clear his throat as the boys laughed. When they were quiet again, he restarted. “Wasn’t too long ago I found out that Mr. Fielding was aimin’ to put Lucifer down. But I got to know Lucifer, and he isn’t a bad dog. He’s a scared dog, and he knows nobody likes him. But he isn’t bad inside, and he don’t deserve to be shot.” He sat down abruptly and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.
Hinkley stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t hate this dog or anything, but he ripped up old Percy pretty good, and I don’t feel like I could ever turn my back on him. Even Mr. Fielding keeps us away from him. Maybe he don’t need to be shot. Maybe Mr. Fielding should take him on the steamer to the mainland and dump him somewhere in Boston to fend for himself. But if he stays here, what if he goes for someone’s neck next time? He don’t belong on the island with all us boys.”
The judge allowed some time for the murmuring of boys comparing these opening statements before he brought the gavel down. “Call your first witness, Ralph.”
“I call Mr. Fielding.”
Hinkley went through a brief summary of facts with Fielding: Lucifer was mean since he was a puppy, he had bit Percy Tisdale, Mr. Bradley had asked him more than once to put Lucifer down. Aidan thought Fielding looked pleased to be the center of attention and seemed to want Hinkley to ask him more questions, but Hinkley was not one to drag things out and was quickly done.
Charles approached Fielding’s chair. “Has Lucifer ever bit anyone except Percy?”
“Not that I know of,” said Fielding.
“Don’t you think you’d have heard about it if he’d bit someone else?”
Fielding thought about this. “You’re probably right. But he’s snapped at me and some of you boys plenty of times.”
“Was he pretty close to you when he snapped?”
“Well, sure! He’s gotten right up to me and done it, mean little bugger.” Fielding straightened in his chair a bit. Aidan thought he almost looked proud to have survived the dog’s dangerous advances.
“So he was close enough that he could have bit you—and he chose not to,” said Charles.
Fielding didn’t say anything.
“Thanks. That’s it.” Charles took his seat back at the table.
Bill leaned over to Aidan and whispered, “Now that there was a nice piece of work by your brother.” Aidan felt a little flush of pride.
Fielding, looking confused, proceeded to the back of the room and stood next to Bradley.
Hinkley called Percy Tisdale as his next witness and got right down to business.
“Tell us about the day that Lucifer bit you.”
Percy scratched his neck and shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Well, it sure was a beautiful day that day. Saturday. In the spring, um, maybe April. First nice day in a long time. Everyone itchin’ to get out and explore the island. You know, after bein’ cooped up all winter.”
Hinkley crossed his arms. “Can you get to the part about the dog?”
“Um, right. Well, I was walkin’ along, mindin’ my own business, and Lucifer just come outta nowhere and attacked me.” Percy scratched his neck some more.
“Where did he get ya?”
“Well, everybody knows it was my leg, here.” He rubbed his left thigh.
“Can you show the court your scar?”
“Okay.” Percy was shrugging his suspenders from his shoulders when Charles stood suddenly. “Objection!”
The judge looked surprised. “About what?”
“Inflammatory.”
“Well I don’t think Percy here is going to burst into flames, Weston.” The crowd had a good laugh at Charles’s expense.
Charles’s hands balled into fists by his side, but he kept control of his voice. “What I mean to say is that seein’ Percy’s scar is gonna, uh, prejudice the court against Lucifer.”
“Seems like it oughta. Overruled. Sit down, Weston.”
Charles’s hands remained in fists, hanging at the sides of his chair when he sat. His face looked neutral, but Aidan could tell he was seething.
Percy was so thin that once his suspenders were no longer on his shoulders, his pants dropped comically to his ankles. He seemed to know this would happen, and he waited until all eyes were on him to do it. When the laughter died down, everyone in the room focused on the long, jagged scar on the inside of Percy’s thigh. Percy had clearly enjoyed the attention up until this point, but now he began to look somewhat uncomfortable.
“You can pull ’em up, Percy. Your witness, Weston.”
Charles strode to the chair as Percy snapped his suspenders back in place and sat. Though Charles was now looking directly at him, Percy looked out the window and scratched his neck, which was by this time quite red.
“Where exactly were you when all this happened?”
“I don’t exactly remember.”
“Huh. So you remember the weather, the month, but you don’t remember where you were.”
“Well, it weren’t too far,” said Percy nervously, looking to the back of the room where the superintendent was.
“Huh. Do you remember talkin’ to me a few weeks ago about all this?”
“Uh-huh.” Percy picked at his cuticles.
“Do you remember telling me you were far up the shoreline when this happened?”
Percy said nothing. Every boy in the room, even Aidan, knew that “far up the shoreline” was beyond where any boy was allowed to go unsupervised.
“So which is it?”
Percy moved on to a different cuticle.
“I’ve been doin’ a bit of reading about somethin’ called perjury, Percy. Turns out it’s a real bad thing to lie in a court of law. Much worse than just lyin’ to people on any old day. You could be in some serious hot water for lyin’ to this court.” Aidan didn’t see how this could be true, since this was a court run by twelve-year-olds, but it seemed to have an effect on Percy, who was now jiggling his leg nervously. “So even if you been lyin’ about somethin’ all this time, that really ain’t a big deal. We’ve all done it before, even me. It’s natural.” Charles paused here for a heartbeat. “But if you lie today and leave that chair, that’s a whole different ball of wax. You’d be lyin’ in front of the matron, the superintendent”—and here he leaned in closer—“in front of God, Percy.”
Aidan had to cover his mouth with his hand to prevent his laugh from escaping. No one else thought this was amusing—the room was deathly quiet—but Aidan knew that Charles could give a rat’s ass about all things religious.
Bill leaned over to Aidan and whispered, “You think it’s funny, but he’s done it. He’s a natural—brilliant.”
And indeed, Percy cracked.
Out tumbled the story of how Percy had been exploring the shoreline alone, had somehow not noticed that he was far beyond the allowable boundaries—“musta been spring fever and all,” he posited—and had climbed atop a large boulder sporting a dirt-filled crevice in its side that was so deep it had sprouted a small tree. Percy slipped off the boulder and snapped the sapling off with his boot, and the jagged wood edge ripped through his trouser and into his leg. As he limped back to the buildings, he concocted the story that Lucifer had done it so he wouldn’t have to explain where he had been.
Charles was not done with Percy. “Why did you choose Lucifer?”
“Well, everyone knows he’s mean as sin. Weren’t no stretch of the imagination to believe he done it.”
“Did anyone question your story at the time?”
“Not a one.”
Charles walked back to his table, and Percy scooted out of his chair with evident relief, but before he could take his seat among his classmates, Mr. Bradley’s voice rang out from the back of the room. “I’ll see you in my office after supper, Mr. Tisdale.”
The boys then looked to Ralph Hinkley, who was frowning. “Your next witness?” asked the judge, but Hinkley shook his head. “Prosecution, uh, rests,” he said glumly.
Without waiting to be asked, Charles said, “I call Lucifer.”
It took several bangs of the gavel to quiet the boys’ response to that. “You’re gonna question a dog?” asked Hinkley.
“Your Honor,” said Charles to the judge, “just give me five minutes to get him up here, and you’ll see.”
The judge made a pretense of considering this, but it was clear that the boys were dying to see whatever spectacle would result from bringing Lucifer into the room, and the judge was no less curious. Finally, he said with feigned restraint, “I’ll allow it,” and the boys cheered. Aidan turned to look at the back of the room and saw Fielding and Bradley conversing intensely, culminating with Bradley waving Fielding away, shaking his head.
Charles was off like a shot out the door, and the conversation among the boys never flagged in his absence. Some were badgering Poole to change or augment their bets, but Poole refused. Others were recounting personal experiences with Lucifer and interpreting them in light of the new information. Neither Bradley nor the matron made any attempt to quiet them.
Dec said to Bill, “Mister Former Prosecutor, is it your professional opinion that our boy has kicked the prosecution’s arse?”
“It would appear so, but our boy is taking a gamble by fetching that dog. It’s like he won the bet pool with a great hand of poker, and now he just went double or nothing.”
It took Charles a minute or two to convince Lucifer to enter the room, despite the bacon he was dangling. Lucifer did not stop his low growl even as he advanced upon the meat, a growl that could be heard in the utter silence of the room as every boy stared at the dog. Aidan had not yet seen Lucifer and was surprised at how small he was, his back not even two feet off the ground.
Charles had been walking backward and making a soft clucking sound, but now he stopped and said, “Lucy, sit!”
Lucifer dropped his rear end to the ground and gobbled his reward.
Charles slowly knelt down while retrieving another piece of bacon from his pocket. Some boys gasped to see how near he was to the dog, within easy striking range if Lucifer decided to lunge.
“Lucy, shake!”
Lucifer held up a paw and rested it on Charles’s open hand. As soon as the bacon was in his mouth, both the hand and paw retracted. Lucifer began a low growl. Aidan could see sweat trickling down Charles’s temple and darkening the back of his shirt.
“Lucy, lick,” Charles said as he placed more bacon on the flat of his trembling hand. Lucifer delicately snatched the meat and ate it, but then came forward and licked Charles’s palm several times. A collective “oh!” rose from many of the boys. Aidan could see that the last had not really been a command—Charles was just showing that Lucifer was tame enough to eat from his hand—but it had given the impression that Charles was controlling all of what Lucifer did.
Loud enough for at least some of the boys to hear, Charles said, “You’re a good dog.” And he led Lucifer out of the room.
Conversation escalated to a fever pitch, and the judge made no attempt to quell it. Aidan looked over his shoulder to the back of the room. Fielding was talking with the matron, but Bradley stood rigidly, no expression on his face.
When Charles came back, wiping his greasy hand on his trousers, conversation died down. He said, “The defense rests,” and sat down in his chair.
“Final arguments. Ralph, you first,” intoned the judge.
Hinkley thought for a minute before he stood. “Weston’s got a nice parlor trick there, but how many of us have bacon in our pockets all the time?” He paused as the boys murmured. “Maybe Lucifer didn’t bite Percy, but that don’t mean he isn’t dangerous. You all heard him growling. Maybe he likes Weston, but say he decides he don’t like you. How would you feel walking in the dark one night and hearing that growl behind you? He don’t belong on the island.”
Hinkley sat as Charles rose, and after a few bangs of the gavel, it was quiet enough for Charles to speak.
“Sounds like Hinkley’s afraid of his own shadow. One thing he didn’t mention is that life is full of dangerous stuff. We got snakes on this island. Pickering’s allergic to bees. Heck, Percy ripped his leg open on a tree.” The boys guffawed. “Lucifer’s no blind baby kitten, I know. He growls a lot. And he’s not pretty. But he’s not really mean on the inside. He’s scared. And I proved that he’s trainable. He’s getting to trust me. He can change. You gotta give him a chance.” Charles looked like he had more to say, but then he sat down.
Minutes passed as the judge conferred with the jury members. Bill was confident. “He’s won for sure. He made that cur look like an obedient pup.”
“Woulda been better if he hadn’t growled the whole time,” observed Salt.
“I’m with Bill,” said Tink. “He showed that Percy’s been lyin’ the whole time, that weasel. Everyone’s been thinkin’ that dog’s vicious for months, but everything they been thinkin’ was built on a lie.”
Aidan thought about this. “But can everybody really forget what they thought about him, just on account of that lie being shown to be a lie? Are people really gonna turn on a dime like that, reverse what they felt about him?”
“I think they could,” said Bill. “I think some are gonna see Lucifer in a whole new light.”
This idea, the sudden reversal of opinion, bothered Aidan for some reason, but before he could think on it, the gavel went down, and the room fell silent.
“Jury,” said the judge, “you reached a decision?”
The foreman stood. “We have, Your Honor. On the charge of being dangerous enough to be put down, we find Lucifer the dog,” and here he paused for dramatic effect, “guilty.”
The judge did not pretend to have any control over the crowd at this point. Chairs were knocked over as boys jumped to their feet. They stood, yelled, cheered, booed. A few approached the jury and began to argue. Aidan looked to the back of the room and saw the matron, but Fielding and Bradley were gone.
Through the din, the boys heard the bell ringing for lineup, the only sound that could pierce through the noise. Slowly, the boys filed out, getting in their last exclamations about the trial before they exited in order to avoid demerits for talking during lineup.
Charles made no move to join the exiting boys. Aidan sat down next to him as the last boy left the room. They could hear Fielding administering count off outside. Aidan knew they would be demerited for their absence, but he stayed with Charles, discarding idea after idea of what he could say.
The door opened to reveal the stern countenance of the matron. “The superintendent would like to see you in his office.”
“Grand,” said Charles under his breath. The boys rose to follow her. Charles crumpled the lead-smudged paper that had been his constant companion for the past week and threw it viciously at the trash bin near the door, where it bounced off the wall and landed on the floor.
The boys took their seats across from Bradley’s desk. Aidan knew that he was an interloper here, that Bradley only wanted to see Charles, but the superintendent didn’t seem to object to Aidan’s presence.
Bradley cleared his throat and tugged his vest downward. “Master Weston. Master Charles Weston, that is. I see you have the support of your brother, which I will allow. This time.” He paused. “Today you engaged in an effort to clear that dog’s name—a failed effort, but an effort nonetheless. Frankly, I cannot fathom why you would undertake this effort. Furthermore, you knew the outcome you desired directly opposed my wishes pertaining to that dog. And yet you persisted.”
Aidan looked over at Charles, expecting to see him examining his shoes. Instead, Charles was locking eyes with Bradley, one hand fiercely squeezing the other in his lap. Jaysus, thought Aidan, can’t he ever back down?
Bradley continued. “I’m going to be perfectly honest with you. I found—”
“You coulda stopped this trial before—” Charles interrupted.
“Silence. You have done all the defending you will do today. As I was saying, I found your arguments . . . persuasive.” Bradley let the word hang in the air. “I did not initially favor this trial at all, but I was curious to see what you would do with it. In your months here, you have not shown much interest in anything—until, that is, you became part of the legal branch of the Cottage Row government. I found this encouraging, and I was further encouraged to see the commitment you showed to your cause, however misguided I believed it to be. But most of all, I was impressed by your defense itself. You did quite well for yourself in there.”
“But I lost,” said Charles bitterly.
“The verdict was against you, that is true. But Lucifer did not lose.” Bradley leaned forward and put his forearms on his desk with his fingers knitted together. “I have decided to intervene. I have never done so before in these trials, but I no longer believe that Lucifer is the threat I thought him to be. I will lift his death sentence, to use the legal parlance. You will continue to work with him, to socialize him so that he will cease growling at the boys and scaring them. You should also know that if Lucifer does attack anyone here, including you, his death will be swift. I am putting my trust in you that that will not happen.”
“Yessir. And sir?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Lucy. Not Lucifer anymore.”
“Ah, a rose by any other name . . . You are aware that the dog is not a bitch?”
“Yessir. But he answers to Lucy now, and him bein’ called by the devil’s name ain’t, er, isn’t helpin’ with the boys.”
“Point taken. You may tell Fielding your dog has been officially renamed.”
Bradley excused them and they headed down the oak stairs. They could hear the boys milling about in the yard, and they knew Charles would be swarmed once they emerged from the building. Aidan punched Charles’s arm. “So you won after all. Except not how you wanted to.”
Charles pushed open the heavy door, and the sun poured over them like stage limelight. “This weren’t a bad way to win.”