Page 47 of Precise Justice

Blake moved out. I miss him or, maybe I just don’t like being stuck alone with Mother Dear. I’m sure they’ll get a divorce. Why did it take this long?

NINETEEN

Dear Diary:September 24th

I have been agonizing over something for several weeks. How many minors, children, have been pushed into this trans thing without wanting to? The more I read about it, the more I think it is being done for money and crazy parents. But what can I do about it?

I am writing this after I went to bed. While I was waiting to fall asleep, I came up with an idea. But I need a good lawyer. I know one but the last time he helped me Mother Dear threatened to have him disbarred. If he won’t help me, and who could blame him, maybe he will give me the name of someone who will?

Tomorrow, I’ll pretend to be sick and stay home from school. I will call Marc and see if he can help me.

Marc Kadella’s phone buzzed from an internal office call. It was Carolyn Lucas, the office den mother and de facto office manager.

“Marc,” she began when he answered, “there’s a Robbie Powell on line three for you. Do you know her or…”

“Her?” Marc asked.

“Sounds like a her,” Carolyn replied.

“Yeah, I know Robbie. I’ll take it. Thanks.”

Marc pushed the flashing red light for line three and gave his name.

“Mr. Kadella, this is Robbie Powell. Do you remember me?”

“I sure do, Robbie, how are you?” Marc said, while thinking Carolyn was right, he sounds like a girl.

“Not too good,” Robbie answered. “I need to see you, but I can’t leave the house. Would it be possible for you to come here?”

Marc replied with a mild laugh then said, “The last time I talked to you, your Mother threatened to have me disbarred.”

“Ah! That bitch! I’m so sorry, Mr. Kadella, I…”

“I’m not worried about that. How old are you now?” Marc asked.

“Seventeen, I’ll be eighteen in October, next month. Please, I need to see you. Someone I can trust.”

“I don’t mind coming there, Robbie, but your mother…”

“Isn’t here. She’s at work. She’ll be gone all day. Probably late tonight. Please.”

Marc hesitated for a brief moment before saying, “Sure, why not? I haven’t been out of the office for three days. Give me your address.”

Marc wrote the address down while Robbie told it to him.

“Don’t you have it in my file?”

“I’m sure I do, but that would require me to find it. Lazy lawyer,” Marc replied.

“You are not. You’re a great lawyer. Do you know where I live?”

“I’ll find it. Give me twenty minutes.”

“I’ll find a way to pay you,” Robbie said.

“Let’s worry about that later,” Marc replied.

Marc rang the doorbell then watched through the thick, tinted, beveled glass window of the solid oak door. He was about to ring it again when he saw Robbie slowly walking toward him.

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