Have a Nice Guilt Trip by Lisa Scottoline, Francesca Serritella Read Free Book Online Page B

hesitating, I did a very un–New Yorker thing—I accepted.
    “Thanks, I’m on break from jury duty.”
    “Me too,” he said. And suddenly we were pals, griping about the lawyers, comparing cases, talking about our dogs.
    I hadn’t been this happy to have someone to sit with at lunch since sixth grade.
    Before we knew it, recess was over. Back at the courthouse, we were divided into smaller jury pools and sent to be questioned by the lawyers for each side in a process known as voir dire. French class all over again.
    The defense lawyer was an older Asian man with the voice and demeanor of Joe Pesci. If you had any issues with authority, he was the type of guy you’d want to punch. On the other hand, the plaintiff’s attorney was a young woman, earnest but apologetic. She was the student teacher about to get torn to shreds.
    Every time the lawyers stepped outside to argue, which was often, we erupted in chatter, gossip, and imitations of them, making the most of our unsupervised minutes. But as soon as the door would open, we’d snap back into the little angels that we weren’t.
    And although our group was as varied as Manhattan itself, with every age, race, and profession imaginable, when it came to types, the room could’ve been cast by John Hughes.
    We had the long-haired guy who sat in the back, brooding and mysterious. When I was sixteen, I dated that guy. This time, he didn’t even make me a mix CD.
    There was the popular girl, with long, shiny blond hair, who already seemed to have made friends. She was like Marcia Brady with a better sense of humor and an advanced degree. I wanted to braid her hair.
    The hot-girl foreign-exchange student. When a young, very pretty Hispanic woman asked the lawyer to define “hoarder,” every Spanish-speaking male jumped to help her.
    Our class clown was sitting next to me in the back. He was smart, funny, and a little mischievous.
    He just happened to be seventy-eight years old.
    Once, when one of the lawyers asked a particularly vague, roundabout question, he called out, “Do you believe in Manifest Destiny?”
    Everyone laughed, but the attorney didn’t appreciate his class participation.
    The one difference from high school was the sense of camaraderie. A jury, by its very nature, makes peers of people who may seem completely different. Initially, I thought it was because we were all stuck in this chore together. But despite our shenanigans when the teacher’s back was turned, during the questioning, people took it seriously, answered honestly, and rose to the occasion. Because we’d want someone to do the same for us.

    Because of his priors, Pip is not eligible for jury duty.
    Ultimately, I was not chosen for the trial. But at the end of the day, I rode the subway home with my new friend, a seventy-eight-year-old smart-aleck, and I felt lucky we were stuck in this city, and this nation, together.

 
    To Catch a Predator
    By Lisa
    I have a crush.
    On a fox.
    Literally.
    What can I say?
    He’s foxy.
    Let me explain.
    A few months ago, I noticed that there was a baby fox running around my backyard, hanging out in some brush to the left, far from the house. He was red, fluffy, and adorable, with delicate black paws and ears, and I began to spend time watching him.
    That makes me sound lonelier than I am.
    Also creepier, especially when I use my binoculars.
    If I get a GPS on him, call the authorities.
    In time, the fox grew up, going from cute to handsome and then some. Imagine Justin Bieber turning into Hugh Jackman, like Wolverine, only nice.
    A stone fox.
    His body got fuller, his coat glossier, and he sprouted a thick patch of white fur on his chest.
    I like chest hair, even if it’s white.
    I’m at that age.
    In my own defense, I also like nature, especially when it can be even remotely classified as a Woodland Creature.
    Chipmunks, call me.
    Also I loved that animated movie The Fantastic Mr. Fox, so it was all I could do not to catch the fox and dress him in