The Littlest Prosecutor novel · Chapter 10 of 24

Chapter 10: Saturday Court

Grandpa Ambrose did not let Daddy take me home that day.

"She stays until Sunday dinner," he said, in the hall, under my red sticker. "At my table, with both of you there. If you take her tonight, Patrick, you take her past me."

Daddy looked at the cane.

Then he looked at the sticker.

Then he looked at the floor, and said "Sunday," and left without kissing me.

Faye followed him out.

She did not look at me at all.

That was the worst part.

By Saturday, I had been at Grandpa's house for four days, and something strange had happened.

I had started to feel safe.

I woke up to the smell of toast.

Nobody pinched me, and nobody told me what I deserved.

On Saturday morning, all five uncles came over at nine, and Aunt Jo came too, and they brought two dozen donuts in a pink box.

"Court is in session," said the fifth uncle, in his big laugh voice.

He set a wooden spoon in my hand.

"You're the judge, counselor. This is your gavel."

I banged it on Grandpa's dining table.

Everyone clapped.

"Order," I said.

"Order!" said the second uncle, and he sat up so straight that his chair creaked.

"The case before the court," said the third uncle, who liked to be the prosecutor, "is the People versus Uncle Desmond. The charge is the theft of the last chocolate donut."

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