Voir Dire: Ken Remembers

"Ms. Lewis, I think I've heard enough"--

"I have one more thing to tell you," I say, and I hate the tremor I hear in my voice.

She hesitates, nails me with a stare as cold as ice. "And what is that?"

"Sara O'Neill is asking for custody because she is experience with the foster care system."

"Yes, that's correct."

"That experience was me."

The judge's head jerks up, her lips tightening. "Is that true, Ms. O'Neill?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sara says smugly, rising and nodding pompously.

"She was also my dance instructor," I say, my voice gaining power. "She pushed me to dance for her, and this case? It's because she wanted me to move back in with her and dance for her."

"Because she felt you needed someone?"

"Because she needed me."

Vivien Anise raises her eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"Yes," I say firmly, looking down from the stand at Sara, whose face darkens. "Yes, she needs me because I draw other students in. And she needs me because the only time she is recognized as a good coach is when she can show me off."

"And when exactly did she ask you to move back in with her, Ms. Lewis?"

"She didn't ask," I say fiercely. "She threatened me. She told me if I didn't break things off with Trace and move back in with her, she would make me pay."

"Those were her words?" Vivien Anise asks sharply, looking from me to Sara, who opens her mouth. "Ms. O'Neill, you've had your turn," the judge snaps.


"I don't remember her exact words, but she threatened that she would sue my mother for custody or worse," I say. "And I told her"--

"Yes, Ms. Lewis?"

"Among-- other things-- I told her I don't dance for anyone, especially her."

"I see. And can you tell me what life was like as Sara's foster child?"

I pause, stare at the ground.

I feel the gazes of everyone in the courtroom, feel my nails biting into my palms, feel every ounce of courage in my body seeping away. I look out over the crowd-- my mum, her face white, Kinley and Ari, holding her up, Brock, Justin, Trace, Drew, Rory, Adie.

And then I see her.

Gia Kudel, frail and petite in her pale blue jumper, staring at me with eyes wide. And she gives me the tiniest of nods.

"Hell," I say. "Pure hell."

I stand. Feel the earth of the mainland firm under my feet, listen for the beat of the ocean only a few miles from where I stand.

I am strong.

I am angry.

And I will not allow my family to fall.

In one motion, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it to the side, ignoring the gasps from the crowd as I stand, sure and strong, in nothing but my bra. I turn my back to the judge.

"Look for yourself."

Vivien Anise sucks in her breath sharply as she looks at the faded red lines crisscrossing my back.

"This one," I say loudly, tracing my finger down one on my right shoulder, "Was for performing poorly at a competition. This one"-- I gesture to one farther down my back-- "Was for saying I missed my mother."

I turn around to face Vivien Anise.

"This is"-- she clears her throat, blinking rapidly. "This is very, um, irregular. Thank you, Ms. Lewis. I suppose I must ask you, are you sure this is the product of-- of Ms. O'Neill?"

"Damn sure."

At the "damn" she flinches slightly, but doesn't respond.

"And how can the court be so sure Karinne is telling the truth?" Sara shouts, jumping to her feet.

Vivien Anise pauses, looking down at me as I stand in my bra.

"Because I saw it happen," a small voice announces, and I look down.

Gia. Standing. Miniscule amidst the Kudels.

"And who are you?" Vivien Anise asks a little too sharply.

"Gia Kudel," she says softly. "I'm his daughter"-- she points to Adam-- "And Sara lives with us."

Adam yanks her back into a sitting position, hissing something into her ear.

"Ms. Lewis, you may get dressed and take your seat. Ms. Gia Kudel, would you step forward to be sworn, please? Mr. Kudel, you will restrain yourself or face removal from this courtroom."

Sara is shouting objections, and Adam is on his feet, but Adie's gruff bailiff intervenes and guides Gia up to the witness stand.

Somehow I had stumbled into my seat beside Trace, and he pulls me into his arms now, clutching me tightly as if I will slip away from him at any moment.

"Gia, right?" the judge is asking.

She nods.

"What can you tell us, sweetheart?" Vivien Anise asks more gently.

Gia looks at her father, at Sara.

At me.

"Nothing."

Then she stands, looks straight at Vivien Anise, and pulls her jumper over her head, tossing it to the side just like I did. "I can show you," she says, standing there, tiny and alone in a faded pink bra I recognize as my first bra once upon a time. And as she turns, I see the scars, newer than mine, crisscrossing her shoulders.

"This one," she says slowly, her hand shaking as she traces a finger down a particularly long scar along her spine. "Was because I couldn't dance as well as Ken Lewis. Because no one can."

I stand, before Trace or anyone else can pull me back into my seat, and walk straight forward to that little girl.

I say nothing, just wrap her in my sweater, and then in my arms.

She sags against me, this brave little girl with scars that match mine.

I look up at Vivien Anise, and there are tears shining in her eyes.

And I know we've won.