Blue Lily, Lily Blue

Adam tried to soothe himself by telling himself that people worked here every day, this was nothing extraordinary to them, there was nothing special about this building. But the old, mold-and-glue smell of it, the feeling of threadbare carpet beneath his feet, the sickly, uneven light of the fluorescents overhead — all of it felt alien. All of it burdened his senses with how this day was like no other. He was going to be sick. Or faint.

Was his father in the building yet?

It was a closed courtroom for juvenile cases, so the only people in the room so far were the staff: clerks, lawyers, bailiffs.

Adam turned over the possible outcomes in his head. If he lost, he knew academically that the court couldn’t make him return home. He was eighteen and free to go and fail or succeed in life apart from his family. But would this linger on his record then: a boy who had spuriously taken his father to court? How ugly that would look. How base. He imagined Gansey’s father interpreting: familial squabbling of the lower classes. This is how the low stayed low, he would say. Infighting and drinking, daytime TV and Walmart everyday low prices.

He couldn’t quite feel invested in winning, either, because he wasn’t sure what it would look like. It was possible that his father would go back to jail. If he did, could his mother pay the bills?

He shouldn’t care. But he couldn’t make himself stop.

Adam felt as if he were playing pretend in his good suit.

But you are just one of them, white trash in diamonds.

There was his father.

He was in a jacket with some local company’s logo on the back and his company polo shirt. Adam prayed for some sort of clarity, to see his father as everyone else saw him, instead of as Dad? It’s Adam —

“There’s still time for you to tell the truth,” Robert Parrish said.

Adam’s mother had not come.

Adam’s fingers were numb.

Even if I lose, he thought weakly, he can’t have me back, so it won’t matter. It will only be this hour of humiliation and then it will be over.

He wished he had never done this.

“All right, then,” said the judge. His face was a memory that vanished the minute Adam blinked.

Cabeswater stole him away for a blissful second, leaves curled against his throat, and then released him. How desperately Adam wanted to cling to Cabeswater. Strange as it was, it was familiar, and on his side.

He had been wrong to come here alone. Why did he care if Gansey and Ronan saw this? They already knew. They knew everything about him. What a lie unknowable was. The only person who didn’t know Adam was himself.

What a proud idiot you have been, Adam Parrish.

“Are there any witnesses for this case?” the judge asked.

There were not.

Adam didn’t look at his father.

“Then I guess we shall begin.”

A hissing sound came from the bailiff beside the judge: a voice through his radio. The bailiff leaned his head to listen, then muttered something back to the speaker. Coming close to the judge, he said, “Your Honor, Bailiff Myley says there are some witnesses for the case outside if it’s not too late for them to come in.”

“The door’s already closed, is it not?”

“It is.”

The judge peered at his watch. “They are certainly for the Parrish case?”

“Bailiff Myley seems to think they are.”

The judge smiled with some private humor; this was some long-running joke the others weren’t privy to. “Far be it from me to doubt him. Send them in, and I’ll decide whether to allow them.”

Adam miserably wondered which of the neighbors were coming to his father’s defense.

In an hour, this will be over. You will never have to do it again. All you have to do is survive.

The door cracked open. Adam didn’t want to look, but he did anyway.

In the hall stood Richard Campbell Gansey III in his school uniform and overcoat and scarf and gloves, looking like someone from another world. Behind him was Ronan Lynch, his damn tie knotted right for once and his shirt tucked in.

Humiliation and joy warred furiously inside Adam.

Gansey strode between the pews as Adam’s father stared at him. He went directly to the bench, straight up to the judge. Now that he stood directly beside Adam, not looking at him, Adam could see that he was a little out of breath. Ronan, behind him, was as well. They had run.

For him.

Removing his right glove, Gansey shook hands with the judge.

“Judge Harris,” he said warmly.

“Mr. Gansey,” said Judge Harris. “Have you found that king of yours yet?”

“Not just yet. Have you finished that terrace yet?”

“Not just yet,” Harris replied. “What’s your business with this case?”

“Ronan Lynch here was at the incident,” Gansey said. “I thought his side of the story might be worthy. And I’ve been friends with Adam since day one here in Henrietta, and I’m glad to see this miserable business over. I’d like to be a character witness, if I could.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Harris said.

“I object,” Robert Parrish exclaimed.

Gansey turned to Adam, finally. He was still wearing his glorious kingly face, Richard Campbell Gansey III, white knight, but his eyes were uncertain. Is this okay?

Was it okay? Adam had turned down so many offers of help from Gansey. Money for school, money for food, money for rent. Pity and charity, Adam had thought. For so long, he’d wanted Gansey to see him as an equal, but it was possible that all this time, the only person who needed to see that was Adam.

Now he could see that it wasn’t charity Gansey was offering. It was just truth.

And something else: friendship of the unshakable kind. Friendship you could swear on. That could be busted nearly to breaking and come back stronger than before.

Adam held out his right hand, and Gansey clasped it in a handshake, like they were men, because they were men.

“All right,” Harris reported. “Let’s get this case under way.”

39

Adam didn’t normally take anyone with him when he did Cabeswater’s work. He trusted his skills on his own. His emotions he trusted on his own. He could hurt no one in an empty room. No one could hurt him.

He was unknowable.

Except that he wasn’t.

So he asked Blue Sargent to come with him when he finally went to do what Cabeswater had asked him to do weeks before. He didn’t tell her, in case it didn’t work, but he thought that if he brought her with him, Cabeswater might help them find Maura.