“Okay, I have black with white stripes,” Kara says, holding up a button-up by its hanger. She grabs another shirt from her closet and holds it up with the other hand, “or I have just pure black.”

“I dunno. Neither? I think I look fine,” Zeke hums back.

“Zeke? Babe? You’re wearing the same faded pink polo that I’ve seen you wear literally every single day this summer.”

“What’s wrong with it?” The teenager asks, looking down at his usual working attire.

“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Cherry says from the door frame of Kara’s gothic room, “but we’re supposed to dress business casual. Ya know… Slacks and button-ups and stuff.”

“Oh my god. Wait, Cherry,” Kara says from the depths of her closet. She pulls out a shirt and holds it up to Zeke’s chest as she shows her vision to her roommate, “black with white ruffled collar.”

“Oh my gosh,” the other woman gasps.

“No. Hard no,” Zeke responds, swatting the shirt away, “look, I’ll just take the black one,” he says as he swipes the button-up from Kara. If this is as androgynous as Kara’s wardrobe gets, then he supposes this is what he’ll go with.

“You’re gonna look so cute, Zeke,” Cherry hums as he exits the room. All he does is give her a half-hearted thumbs up before dipping into their shared bathroom. He locks the door behind him and takes a deep breath. His brown eyes meander over to his reflection in the mirror. What’s so wrong with his polo? Sure, it hangs off his body… Yes, it’s this awful washed out pinkish color. But it’s comfortable, and it’s the closest thing he has to business casual.

He looks towards the plain black button-up in hand, thoroughly eying it over. It’s not like it’s overly feminine, but he knows it’ll fit more snug than what he likes. Because the women he’s been bunking with this weekend are pressuring him, he feels somewhat compelled to look semi-presentable today.

He shakes his head and then peels his trusty polo off his body. He takes the black shirt, undoes its buttons, and slides his arms into the long sleeves. His lips purse and his brows furrow immediately with dissatisfaction. Nonetheless, he continues dressing himself by properly buttoning it up. Once he’s tugged at the seams a bit, he peers at himself in the mirror. 

Good god…

He looks like a little boy that’s been forced to put on his Sunday best. He can almost feel the bile in his throat from how much he hates this. He decides to try rolling up the sleeves; marginally, it does make it a little better. But he hates the way it tugs at his shoulders, and the way it pinches his elbows when he bends his arms. He slouches into himself a bit to see if that’ll make the fabric any less tight on his chest. From outside, he can hear the two roommates giggling in the hall. As he fiddles with the collar, he hears Cherry speak up, “how’s it goin in there, Zekey?”

“Fine, I guess,” he hums back.

Her sweet voice pleads back, “you wanna show us?” 

Zeke sighs, but ultimately pulls the door open. Just as he expects, Cherry and Kara stand out in the hall like pets with attachment issues. They both react in their own ways to the teenager’s outfit change; Kara eyes his ensemble while Cherry says, “awww... Zeke, you’re adorable.”

“How do you feel?” Kara asks.

“Like I’m wearing children’s clothes.”

Cherry tilts her head as she scans his outfit, “what do you mean? It fits you really well.”

“It’s - ugh, it’s too damn tight,” he says, stepping deeper into the bathroom to stare daggers at his reflection.

Kara follows him in, her gaze pinned on Zeke through the reflection, “it’s literally your size.”

“Yeah, sure, but it feels small. The - the shoulders are all stiff, and the sleeves don’t even bend right. God, and it’s pinching at my armpits like crazy,” he says as he yanks the fabric.

“Oh, babe,” Kara responds as she puts her hands on her hips, “that’s just what wearing dress clothes is like.”

Zeke turns to face the women staring at him, “I hate it.”

Cherry giggles from the hallway, “trust me, I know sensory issues with clothes. But that’s the great part about being a girl; I can just wear this instead,” she smiles, flaunting her simple red dress.

“Boys can wear dresses too,” Kara responds as she runs her hands through her long hair, “Zeke, you wanna wear a dress?”

“I’d rather be burned alive,” he grumbles back; this comment makes both ladies laugh. Cherry shakes her head with a smile as she dips back into her bedroom to finish getting ready. Now it’s just Kara and Zeke in the quaint bathroom.

“You done in here? I gotta finish my makeup,” Kara says, already bending herself over the counter to get to work.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he hums back, though he stays to tug at the shirt some more. He tries unbuttoning a button, and then another, and then decides that’s too far, so he buttons that one back up.

“Dude, relax. You look fine,” Kara says, obviously noticing how fidgety the teenager is. As she takes out her mascara wand, she adds in a much calmer voice, “you’ll impress Lewis for sure.”

“Uh - what?”

“Yeah. I figured you’d wanna dress up for him.”

Zeke doesn’t really know what to say. He stammers for a moment before settling on, “where’d you get that idea?”

She throws her hands out at the wrist, “cuz you totally have a thing for him..?”

“What the hell? C’mon. You know I’m - "

“Aromantic. Yeah, yeah,” she sighs as she applies jet-black mascara to match her jet-black hair, “first of all: it’s a spectrum. You can still have crushes on people and not wanna date them. Second… Uh, Zeke? My guy? I am so tired of playing into that narrative.”

For a brief moment, the gears churn within Zeke’s head as he tries to figure out what she means. In an instant, it clicks. He just says, “Cherry told you, didn’t she?”

“Duh,” She peers up at him through the mirror with those gray eyes, “we’re best friends. Slash roommates. Slash coworkers,” she looks back down at her mascara as she dips it back into its inky reservoir, “of course I got her to tell me.”

“Oh my god,” Zeke responds, throwing his head back dramatically, “dude, you can’t tell anyone.”

“What? That you have a crush on Lewis?”

He responds back in a low voice, as if someone from the Hotel were to hear him, “that I’m not actually aromantic.”

She pretends to zip her lips and proceeds to throw out the imaginary key. Zeke sighs as he gets back to fiddling with the shirt he’s borrowing. The room is silent until the woman speaks up, “hey. You know you, like, totally dodged everything I said about Lewis… Right?”

Zeke throws his head back with a sigh. He can’t help but to avoid eye contact with the woman’s reflection as she stares up at him expectantly. He says, “it’s not like that with him.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“It’s - it’s just - I dunno. He’s interesting.”

Kara smirks, “and you’re interested in picking him apart?”

Zeke’s brows furrow, “is nothing I tell her confidential?”

Kara peers down at her various eyeliner pens, “I’ll let you in on a secret. It’s called the roommate agreement. Whatever you tell me, I tell Cherry. And whatever you tell her… I make her tell me. But here’s the kicker,” she peers over her shoulder to look the teenager in the eye, “whatever you tell us stays between us. Lauren won’t know. Rosa definitely won’t know. I won’t even tell Becka, and we’re tight.”

Zeke just shakes his head, breaking their eye contact to peer out the ajar bathroom door. Down the hall, he hears Cherry playing quiet music as she gets ready for their big outing. Kara obviously wants him to spill some great big secret, but he’s not even sure if he feels that way about the guy…

Maybe they’d understand if they worked alongside him every day; he’s a highly considerate and very kind boss. Oh, and the guy is far more patient than anyone Zeke knows. He’ll put himself out, even if it’ll result in him cracking up from the pressure… Just look at his relationship with Mr. Wright.

Sure, Lewis is meticulous with every single thing he says and does; his neatly written lists and poised mannerisms in times of distress are a great example for that one. He can get fussy sometimes, but doesn’t everyone? It only proves his debilitatingly human heart.

Oh, and he’s full of passion and loyalty; he’s like a dog, the way he follows his Heart Hollow blood as if it were gospel. The excitement behind his eyes when he gets to share a bit of town history with Zeke is just the sweetest.

Okay… Yeah. Maybe sweet is a good word for Lewis. He even lets himself be vulnerable when the timing is right. Lewis is gentle, like the way he held that old newspaper within his sturdy, freckled hands. He’s soft spoken in a way that Zeke’s never heard from a man before. The way he stutters, the way his voice hangs as he desperately tries to find the right words to fill the silence. The way his Adam’s apple bobs when he’s considering saying something, or the way he busies his hands to let out nervous energy.

God, and the way he smiles so sincerely when Zeke enters his office, how he sets his busywork off to the side to offer his undivided attention, and the way his baby green eyes gaze up through those pale lashes. The way his gently dotted cheeks flush vibrant pinks and reds when he’s embarrassed or flustered…

“Hey, bud?” Kara asks, bringing him back down to the real world. He just peers over to meet her gray gaze through the mirror. She suddenly smiles, and it’s somewhere between sinister and genuine. All she says is, “yeah. I knew it.”

“Kara - "

“I knew it,” her grin widens.

Zeke drops his voice, “c’mon. I don’t even know if it’s like that.”

“You don’t have to. But I know.”

“And how might you possibly know something about my feelings, that I don’t even know myself?”

Kara shakes her head as she returns her focus on perfecting her eyeliner, “you wear your emotions on your face, dude. And it’s, like, really obvious on you.”

Zeke’s attention falls onto his reflection. He furrows his brow, because he has no idea what she’s talking about. His face just looks the exact same as it always has. Same warm skin, same tired brown eyes, same round face, same round nose. The only difference he notices is this semi-fresh scar that heals across his right eyebrow… That’s it. He shakes his head in frustration, “you’re bullshitting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too,” he retorts.

“Am not,” she hisses.

And from the hall, Cherry’s music gets a bit louder as she pokes her head through the bathroom door frame, “you guys almost ready, or what?”

Zeke takes the opportunity to distance himself, “yeah. Just gotta put on my shoes,” he hums as he passes by both women on his way into the two ladies’ cozy living room. He grabs his sneakers from beside the front door, sits on the couch he’s been crashing on, and forces his shoes on. He wonders if Kara would be able to see the frustration that sits heavy on his face right now.

❧

The three of them sit within Cherry’s little red car as she drives them all to their destination. Zeke sits behind the passenger seat, feeling awfully uncomfortable in this snug shirt. He wishes that he had just changed back into his polo purely for the sake of comfort. Nonetheless, he stares out the window as he listens to the two women chat about a new update for an online video game that they both play.

Already ascending up in the sky, the sun sits pretty against the plain blue sky. It’s a phenomenally beautiful day with only a few loose clouds drifting by. Maybe the nice weather is a bit ironic, considering the looming feeling of dread that sits within the teenager’s stomach. If Lewis was right about how bad this case is looking for Mr. Wright, then this may be one of the last days Zeke spends up here in the Poconos. 

In due time, Zeke starts to recognize downtown Heart Hollow, Pennsylvania with its dolled up lamp posts, manicured foliage, swept sidewalks, and quaint historic buildings. Of course, Zeke’s eyes find themselves fixated on the Great Oak once it comes into view. Cherry pulls her car into a parking spot just beside Trueheart’s; it looks like they’re already open for the day as a few guests sit at the patio to enjoy their coffee and breakfast.

While the two women compile their belongings, Zeke decides to hop out. He takes a deep breath into that rich mountain air that he’s growing to appreciate. The two women get out of the car shortly behind him, and the three of them follow the sidewalk along the side of the brick street. Zeke trails behind, his eyes dancing between fellow pedestrians and that Oak that has a knack for catching his attention. It’s funny: he’s not getting the same bewildered looks that he was getting the last time he was in town. Is that because he’s not in a pink shirt, or is it because he’s not accompanied by Lewis?

The three of them cross the street as they head towards the largest building on the block. It rests directly behind the Great Oak, acting as an impressive backdrop. The building itself is colonial in style, with a red-brick exterior that’s dressed in white stone columns. On the front lawn leading up, they pass by two poles that wave the Pennsylvania and United States flags high into the air. They enter through the towering wood and glass double doors and are greeted to a spacious foyer. It’s mostly wood paneling from wall to wall with parquet wood floors that sport elegant, geometric shapes. Zeke can still smell the lemon-scented wood cleaner on the freshly polished panels. At the center of the entryway, there’s a wide staircase that ascends to the second floor, a deep red rug hugging each step. The air within this building is a bit muggy and stuffy, as is with some historical builds.

Zeke isn’t sure where they’re headed, so he just follows the two ladies as they traverse the innards of this building. Under foot, the old boards creak from years of wear. He takes in as much as he can, from the tall ceilings, to the dangling light fixtures above, to the built-in cases that display photographs and awards. They enter a long corridor, and he immediately notices a large mural to their left. He slows his stride as he takes it in.

The painting depicts a man kneeling in front of the Great Oak with a woman lying within his arms. The guy wears the same arched nose and blue eyes as Wallace’s painting. Actually - this may be the same artist that did Wallace’s bust at the Hotel. Zeke’s caught in the anguish captured on the guy’s face. Maybe he’s been thinking too much about it, but the way his brow furrows and the way his nose crinkles kind of reminds him of Lewis’ reflection in that mirror.

“Check it out. Lewis is wearing a suit,” Kara hums at his side, and Zeke’s attention immediately peels off the mural. He peers over to where Cherry and Kara’s gaze rests, and sure enough, the tall ginger sticks out like a sore thumb within the crowd. He’s farther down the hall and appears as though he’s chatting with someone. He does, in fact, wear a rather nice light brown suit today.

Zeke peers over at his friends, “wanna go say hi?”

Cherry smiles, “you go ahead. Think we’ll go get seats inside.”

Kara just gives him a little playful grin before the two ladies dip out into the courtroom that they’re supposed to spend their day in.

Zeke makes his way through the scattered crowd, weaving in and out of folks who are here for similar events today. It isn’t until he’s right up next to Lewis that Zeke recognizes the man he’s chatting with; sure, he’s only seen the guy in a few pictures on Lewis’ phone, but this is definitely who Zeke thinks he is. The older stranger is tall, but no taller than Lewis, of course. He wears a suit similar to Lewis’, but in dark brown. He’s got curly dirty-blonde hair that’s graying a bit with age. The man’s kind eyes are brown, partially hidden behind thin, silver glasses. He wears a similar nose to Lewis, but it’s a bit more pointed at the end. Zeke cautiously leans in on their conversation, peering between the stranger and the ginger, “morning.”

Lewis peers down at his side, and a gentle surprise rests on his face. He says with a shy smile, “good morning, Zeke,” he peers up at the other gentleman he speaks with, “ah… Dad? This is Zeke. Zeke, this is my dad, Lawrence Lockheart.”

“Ah,” Lewis’ father smiles sincerely, “so you’re Zeke then, huh?” He asks, putting a sturdy hand out to shake on it. Under his sleeve, a rather nice silver watch glimmers.

“That’s me,” the teenager hums, taking Lawrence’s hand to shake on it… He’s gotta give it to the guy. He’s got a strong grip.

“It’s great to finally put a face to a name,” Lawrence gives his son a playful smile as he adds, “Lewis talks about you all the time.”

Zeke grins up at the ginger, “all the time?”

“Ah. Well. I’d hardly say all the time,” Lewis smiles nervously.

“Of course not, son,” Lawrence smiles, however he meets Zeke’s gaze, and he gets the idea that Lewis might be understating himself a bit. Lawrence’s brown eyes scan over the teenager’s thrown together outfit for a mere moment, and with a lighthearted smile, he says, “huh. You’re a lot different from what we were expecting.”

“You know, I keep hearing that,” Zeke states.

“Well, I can’t speak for anyone else… But I only mean it as a compliment, son,” he smiles honestly.

Zeke decides to change the subject, because he can feel the discomfort radiating off of Lewis, “so you’re an attorney, yeah?”

“Best attorney this side of the Delaware. Hey,” he reaches into a pocket on the inside of his coat. He then hands Zeke a very professional looking business card; it’s a warm white cardstock with black and brown font. It’s professional, but even this card wears decadent heart imagery on the back. Lawrence continues, “if you ever get into some legal trouble, you know who to call.”

Lewis pipes up, “dad, you’re giving him a business card?”

“Sure. The kid’s new to town. Gotta fill up the ‘ol rolodex.”

Zeke stifles a laugh as he peers up towards Lewis, “the what?”

“Ah… Never mind,” Lawrence smiles, swatting away at the air playfully, “you kids and your digital contacts and whatnot.”

There’s a light lull as Lawrence makes himself laugh, and Lewis just smiles formally. Zeke decides to ask, “so, Mr. Lockheart, are you working on Mr. Wright’s case?”

“Oh, heaven’s no,” he laughs. Even his laugh resembles Lewis’, although Lawrence’s is a bit more robust. The man continues, “Hearts and Wrights don’t work for or against each other in law. Boy, that’s just a disaster waiting to happen. No, no. I’m just doing a boring ‘ol drunken hit and run case today. Nothing special.”

Zeke lights up, “woah. Did someone die?”

“Ahah!” Lawrence laughs robustly, “oh no, son. No one died. Now, bodily injury? That’s another story. Ah… Let me stop there before I break confidentiality.”

“Of course. Didn’t mean to pry,” the teenager hums.

“Nonsense,” he smiles, “you can pry all ya want, Zeke.”

“Really? In that case, I’d love to know what Lewis has been saying about me,” he grins, peering up towards the ginger playfully.

This comment makes Lawrence light up with a big toothy grin. Before he can say anything, however, Lewis speaks up, “well, I think it’s time we go take our seats in the courtroom,” he says as he meets Zeke’s gaze, “shall we?”

“Oh, good call,” Lawrence states, checking that nice watch upon his wrist. He peers up at his son over those thin glasses frames, “ah, Lew? Good luck in there today, okay? You’ve got this.”

The ginger just nods his head softly as he says, “thanks, dad.”

The two men give each other a quick hug, and before they depart, Lawrence shakes the teenager’s hand one more time, “it was an absolute pleasure to meet you, Zeke. Seriously. I cannot wait until the next time.”

“Likewise,” the teenager responds and truly means it, even if there most likely won’t be a second time. He decides to add, “good luck on that hit and run.”

“Oh, it’s like clockwork at this point,” Lawrence grins, before sending the two boys off with a wave.

Down the corridor Zeke and Lewis go, side by side. The teenager can feel how uncomfortable the guy is, so he decides not to say anything more on the subject. Today’s gonna be rough on the guy; Zeke doesn’t need to make it any worse. Instead, he decides to lighten the mood by saying, “dude, you look just like your dad.”

“Really?” Lewis says, obviously a bit surprised, “everyone says that, but I’ve always thought I looked more like my mom.”

“Your coloring, maybe,” Zeke hums, “but you and your dad are, like… I dunno. You have his nose. And your eyes may be green, but you and him have the same, like, eye shape, I guess. And… The way your cheeks kinda… Kinda flow down into your chin and jaw,” he says as he puts his hands atop his own face to convey his point. Lewis just peers over at him with a confused, but appreciative smile. Clearly, he’s at a loss for words, but that’s alright. Zeke isn’t so sure that he wants to continue this conversation anyway. 

As they approach the courtroom, Lewis steps aside to let Zeke pass through the ajar double doors first. As he enters, the teenager’s eyes scan the room that’s divided into two sections. Zeke spots Cherry and Kara sitting amongst the benches and decides to go sit beside them. Lewis follows suit, and he says light good mornings to the two women as they get settled. Kara, on the far right side of the small group’s seating arrangement, leans over Cherry and asks, “who were you two talking to just now?”

“Ah… My dad. He’s working on a case here today,” Lewis says, leaning over Zeke.

“Sick,” she adds, “I always thought he was hot.”

Zeke laughs a bit forcefully, “what?”

Just to the teenager’s right, Cherry nods her head as she says, “gonna have to agree with Kara on this one. Mrs. Lockheart is stunning too,” she smiles warmly towards Lewis, “they’re a beautiful family.”

“Wh…” Zeke grasps for the right words, “is that not a little weird to say about someone’s parents?”

“I’m not being derogatory,” Kara says as she plays with her straight hair, “actually, it’s a rare compliment coming from me.”

Cherry decides to add, “plus, Lewis may be our friend, but his parents are still, like… Celebrities to us, I guess.”

Zeke’s brows furrow despite the grimace on his face, “are you guys seriously having a parasocial relationship with Lewis’ folks?”

“Not like that,” Cherry hums, “they’re just nice to look at.”

Kara leans over and stares daggers at Zeke as she asks, “why? You don’t think Mr. Lockheart is a catch?”

The brunette stammers for a moment as he tries to respond, “I mean - he’s - I just met the guy. At least let me form some opinions about him first.”

Kara squints her eyes while Cherry chuckles, “pffft. Zeke? You still didn’t answer her question.”

Zeke sits back against the bench and diverts his gaze. He shakes his head, but he can’t fight the semblance of a smile at the corners of his lips. Maybe if he hadn’t just told Lewis that he and his dad look identical, then maybe he’d agree with the two women that, yes, the man takes good care of himself. But after this morning, he knows that’s exactly what they’d want to hear.

Just to his left, he feels Lewis bouncing his leg a bit. That’s gotta be anxiety; the guy doesn’t normally do that. Zeke peers over and decides to ask in a low voice, “you gonna be okay today, man?”

Lewis nods his head as he responds, “yeah. Yeah, honestly, just trying not to think too much about it.”

“Got it,” Zeke hums back, knowingly.

The room isn’t loud, but there is a baseline murmuring from the small crowd that’s forming within the benches. From Zeke’s peripherals, he notices Lewis nervously rubbing at the fresh scars atop his right knuckle. The ginger’s next comment comes completely out of left field; he says, in a hushed voice, “you look nice today, Zeke.”

The brunette peers over and meets Lewis’ light green gaze. Actually, he didn’t realize how close they’re sitting until just now. Nervously, Zeke diverts his attention as he clears his throat, “thanks, man. I thought my pink polo was just fine… But Kara made me borrow a shirt,” he says with a light grimace.

This makes Lewis chuckle. He tugs at his suit’s lapel as he leans in and says in that sweet, low voice of his, “this is my dad’s suit.”

The two meet eyes again as Zeke laughs, “seems like we’re both really prepared for today, huh?”

Lewis just laughs, shakes his head, and bites his lip as he looks out amongst the small crowd forming here today. He takes a deep breath in, and releases the tension in his shoulders as he breathes out. He still wears a semblance of that little smile on his face even though he’s clearly beyond nervous.

As they wait for the hour to change, Zeke peers out across the benches they sit at. The only other people he immediately recognizes are the Hotel’s employees; Rosa, Becka, and Lauren all sit amongst the crowd in formal wear. It’s kind of weird to see them out of their casual work clothes. He glances over his shoulder to the benches behind him and spots Angeline amongst the folks spectating today.

Zeke’s attention falls on the rest of the courtroom. Past the wooden division, there’s a table on the left and right side of the room. There’s two folks in black suits that sit at the table to Zeke’s right; they deliberate over briefcases and loose sheets of papers. There’s a woman who clearly manages the conversation; maybe this is the state attorney Lewis has been working with. She’s got warm skin and curly, brunette hair that’s tied into a professional bun. At her side, there’s a younger man with blonde hair and glasses.

At the table to the left side of the room, it’s just two men in similar formal wear. Through the heads in the crowd, Zeke recognizes one of them as Andrei Wright… Wow, actually, he’s cleaned up a bit. His graying, scraggly beard is trimmed for once, and he might have even had a haircut; either that, or he actually took his time styling it this morning. Oh, and for once, his dress shirt is buttoned all the way up, hiding that dark chest hair that usually pops out of his collar. The other guy must be his defense attorney; he’s a shorter man with fair skin and a bald head. Together, they look over some manilla folders.

At the front and center of the room, against the farthest wall, there’s a massive wooden desk that oversees the whole room. Zeke’s seen enough TV to know that this is the judge’s desk. Currently, nobody sits at the top, however there are two folks working beside the desk.  A woman with gray hair sits with a typewriter type device; she must be the one who transcribes the trial. Just to the side of the judge’s desk, there’s a man with dark, coily hair that’s trimmed right up to his scalp. He wears a firm expression as he rifles through paperwork.

Something comes over Zeke, and he suddenly knows why Kara had him change. He looks around at those beyond the room’s divider, as well as those sitting amongst the benches. Not a single person in this courtroom wears jeans or sneakers… Except for himself, of course. He’s out of place here, and it clearly shows.

Actually, Zeke has the rising feeling that someone is staring at him. He peers over to the left side of the room and locks eyes with a police officer; he’s fairly tall with graying hair that’s somewhere between blonde and brunette. His skin is sun tanned, and he stands in such a way that commands respect. The way the officer’s cold eyes pierce into him makes the teenager feel uneasy. Then, Zeke watches as the guy’s attention is grabbed; he casually walks between the defendant’s table and the leftmost wall. On the other side of the separation, Zeke recognizes Officer Stoneheart as he makes his way up through the benches. The two uniformed men meet over the divider and speak with one another.

Lewis, who must have felt Zeke’s prying eyes rest just past him, peers over in that direction as well. His whole body practically goes stiff as the two uniformed men unisonly look their way, both of them staring with the same stone cold blue eyes. Lewis dips his head while Zeke shamelessly stares back at the two officers. The brunette speaks up in a hushed tone, “didn’t think I’d be seeing Officer Stoneheart here today.”

“Me neither,” Lewis says, his head still dipped towards his lap.

“Who’s the other guy?” Zeke asks, keeping his eyes pinned on the police officers as they blatantly talk about the two Hotel employees.

“That’s Sheriff Stoneheart. Alex’s father.”

“Oh,” the teenager hums. No wonder they look so similar.

Lewis just nods his head solemnly. He then darts his green eyes up at Zeke, “are you..? Zeke. Stop staring. Please.”

“What? They started it.”

“This really isn’t the place to play around like that.”

Zeke meets his gaze, and his chest sinks when he reads the desperation on Lewis’ face. The brunette purses his lips, crosses his arms, and sinks down into the uncomfortable wooden bench underneath him. He huffs, “I don’t like people staring at me. Or people staring at you. And people really like to do that here.”

Lewis bites his lip, and nods his head slowly. After a moment, he cautiously says, “I appreciate that… However, I just think it’s better to not pay them any mind.”

“Even though they’re clearly over there talking about us?” Zeke asks, turning his head to look at the ginger, “that doesn’t bug you?”

Lewis meets his gaze, “I never said that it doesn’t bug me,” he says, and there’s a hint of sting to his words. Zeke furrows his brow, because he’s not sure he likes being talked to like that. He decides to drop it as he sinks farther into his seat. What the hell is so serious about today that has Lewis acting so undeniably anxious? The guy is almost acting as if his own future were on the line instead of Mr. Wright’s.

Zeke’s attention is grabbed as one of the doors on the back wall opens, and out walks an old man wearing a black robe and silver glasses. As soon as he enters the room, the man with the coily hair calls out to the restless crowd in a deep, commanding voice, “all rise.”

Everyone amongst the benches and everyone beyond the divider stands as prompted. Zeke follows suit a bit clumsily, only because he’s not sure what would happen if he didn’t. The room goes quiet as all eyes rest upon the judge that makes his way up to the big wooden desk in the sky. Once he sits within his leather desk chair, he begins to rummage through his deskspace. As he does so, he states, “please be seated.”

Blindly, the whole room follows suit. The only body that’s left standing is Sheriff Stoneheart. After a moment, the judge speaks up in an aging, monotonous voice, “good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today we meet on behalf of Pennsylvania v Wright,” he pauses for a moment before stating, “let’s not forget that we are here to uphold complete justice and morality… Not only on behalf of the state of Pennsylvania, but for the honorable township of Heart Hollow and all that this land stands for,” he says. Zeke watches as Sheriff Stoneheart nods his head in agreement. The judge turns to the coily haired man and says, “bring the jury in to commence voir dire.”

This guy, who Zeke is starting to assume is an assistant of sorts to the judge, immediately makes pace over to the second door upon the back wall. Once open, a dozen people parade out quietly and line up within private benches along the right wall. Each person wears a big number atop their breast, ranging from one to twelve. They all stand in place, and for some reason, Zeke thinks about animals lining up to enter a slaughterhouse. He has to stifle a chuckle… After all, the room is eerily silent.

Once the jurors are settled, the clerk begins to ask each individual juror questions regarding their impartiality to Heart Hollow Honeymoon Hotel & Resort, members of the Wright family, and members of the Heart family conglomerate. He asks if they’ve ever been formally involved with Wright Liquors or the Resort in any capacity. He asks if they hold political biases against Mayor Heartwood, and he asks if they hold any strong beliefs regarding the nature of the Hearts and the Wrights. After the second or third juror undergoing this rigorous questionnaire, Zeke’s focus trails out to the windows at the left hand side of the room.

The windows are wide and tall, and they give a great view of downtown Heart Hollow. He can’t exactly see the Great Oak from this side of the room, but he does watch as people go in and out of the shops across the street. As he looks past Lewis, Zeke’s exploratory gaze must have caught the man’s attention, because his light green eyes meander out the tall set of windows as well. As they watch folks enjoy this beautiful summer morning, Zeke wonders what Lewis must be thinking about. His freckled hands still busy themselves with one another, even though his attention is caught outside.

Zeke feels a gentle tap at his right shoulder; he peers over and meets eyes with Cherry. In her hands, she has two fidget toys. One is a plastic loop divided into several different textured segments that bends around itself, and the other is a small cube whose sides are covered in buttons and rollers and joysticks and such. He immediately recognizes the cube, because his brother has one just like that. Hah! Of course, Elijah’s isn’t pink.

He decides to pick the cube and immediately begins fidgeting with it. Each side has a different arrangement of sensory things, however he finds himself leaning towards the mini  joystick; it just feels like home. He peers up at Cherry and gives her an amused smile with a happy thumbs up. She just smiles back in that sweet way as she busies her own hands with that little plastic loop.

He smiles down at the toy in his hand as he listens to juror number twelve tell the court that he’s impartial and unbiased about all the weird Heart Hollow drama. Zeke just sighs, because he’s not sure that should have anything to do with the case at hand. His attention is brought back up to the front of the room as the judge speaks up in that monotone voice of his, “thank you, jury. With that, we will begin with opening statements,” he hums, looking over towards the state’s table.

The professional woman wearing the curly brunette bun stands up and addresses the court and jury as she speaks in a poised voice, “good morning, Your Honor. Good morning, members of the jury. My name is Alicia Pennett, and it is my pleasure to represent the state of Pennsylvania as well as the prosecution within this case. We have collected evidence to believe that the defendant, Mr. Andrei Wright, has been using his Hotel’s income to fund personal purchases. We also have evidence to prove that the defendant has been improperly paying his employees. Additionally, Mr. Andrei Wright has been consistently overlooking vital upkeep and safety regulations on his Hotel property under the pretenses of a tight budget.”

She concludes her statement as she looks over towards the jury, “the defense may argue that the defendant was unaware of the financial mismanagement of his Hotel’s finances. However, we have proof to suggest that the defendant did not only abuse company funds, but also the Hotel property, his staff, and his power,” she pauses to catch her breath before stating, “at the conclusion of this case, we would ask you to find the defendant guilty as the state has met its burden of proof. Thank you,” she states firmly before taking her seat back at the desk on the right side of the room.

The judge looks over to the defendant’s table and says, “would the defense like to make an opening statement?”

From the defendant’s table, the short bald man stands to give his speech. Similarly to the state attorney, he stands to face the judge and jury, “good morning, my name is Ralph Dean. It is my honor to represent Mr. Andrei Wright in this case. The defendant has been accused of fraud, which is a very serious white collar crime. Ladies and gentlemen, this case is about a small business owner that’s been wrongly convicted of stealing funds from his Hotel, even though he has full authority to use those funds as needed.”

The man continues, “the state claims that the defendant has been underpaying his employees and abusing his ownership of the Hotel. However, we’d like to prove that these responsibilities were not solely on Mr. Andrei Wright’s shoulders. The defendant relied on the Hotel’s assistant manager Lewis Lockheart to oversee and to correct any accidental mismanagement. These tasks include employee timekeeping for pay reimbursement, as well as the overall safety and function of the Hotel,” the man states.

Wait a damn minute… Is the defense going to try to pin this against Lewis? Zeke peers up towards the ginger, but the man doesn’t meet his worried gaze. His hands just busy themselves, and his leg just bounces anxiously. The defense attorney continues, “at the conclusion of the case, we would ask you to find that my client is not guilty, and that the state has not met its burden of proof. Thank you,” he states, before sitting back down at the table.

The judge peers back over towards the state attorney’s table and says in that old voice of his, “and now, the prosecution may call up their first witness.”

With that, the meat of the trial begins.