Sidebarred (The Legal Briefs 3.5)

BONUS MATERIAL

Keep reading for a special treat!

What follows is a chapter that ended up getting deleted from the final version of Appealed, but I’m excited to share it with you now! No spoilers if you haven’t read Appealed yet.

Enjoy!

~Emma

Brent & Kennedy – 11 years old

They sat beside each other on the rocks along the water, after sharing the lunch she had stuffed in her backpack—spitting black watermelon seeds into the water.

“So you don’t remember anything?”

Woothoo

Kennedy’s seed flew from her mouth and landed close to shore. As far as spitting distance went—hers was pathetic.

“Nope. Not the day of the accident or the three days before it. It’s just gone.”

It had been two years since Brent’s accident. They hadn’t seen each other the first year—after his long hospital stay there’d been too many doctor appointments and physical therapy sessions. This was the first time they’d talked about “the tragedy,” as Kennedy’s parents called it.

“That must feel strange.”

Woothoo

“Yeah. But my doctors said it’s normal—head injury, the shock from bleeding so much.”

“What happened to the guy who hit you?”

Brent shrugged. And spit. Woothoo. “My parents wanted him to go to jail. Our lawyers argued with the police because they didn’t give him a ticket. But they said he wasn’t speeding, wasn’t drunk. He didn’t see me coming around the bend and I didn’t see him.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I am now. I talked about it with my therapist. Sometimes stuff just happens. And it’s no one’s fault.”

“Your therapist? Like a psychiatrist?”

“Yeah.”

Woothoo

“What’s that like?”

“Weird.” Brent thought for a moment, then added. “But in a good way. My mother insisted on it, said I had to work through the trauma. But I think she’s more traumatized than I am. She says I’m not allowed to ride a bike again—ever. She had them removed from all the houses and gave them to charity. Even the stationery ones.”

“Like Sleeping Beauty.”

“What?” Brent asked.

“Sleeping Beauty. A curse was cast on her that she would prick her finger on a spinning wheel when she was sixteen and fall into a coma. So her parents banned all the spinning wheels from the kingdom to keep her safe.” She patted his head and teased, “You’re just like Aurora.”

He frowned. “If you start calling me Aurora, I’m going to start calling you Speck because you’re so short.”

Kennedy nudged him playfully, and spit another seed—missing the water entirely.

Brent shook his head. “You spit like a girl.”

Kennedy turned towards him, and launched a seed at his forehead. This one was a direct hit.

“Like an awesome girl.” She corrected.

Brent chuckled and wiped his forehead. “Anyway, I’m not Sleeping Beauty and I really miss my bike.” Then he squinted at the sun. “It’s getting late. I gotta go—my mother breaks out in hives if I’m out of the house too long.”

Kennedy watched Brent as he stood and gathered his lacrosse stick and his bucket of balls. And then she had an idea.

“Hey—do you know that field in the woods—the one that used to be an Indian burial ground?”

All the children who grew up in the area knew about it—and most stayed away. Satanic rituals were rumored to be held there.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Kennedy’s top row of braces scraped across her bottom lip as her quick mind outlined a plan. “Meet me there tomorrow.”

****

The Next Day

“What is that?” Brent asked, eyeing the contraption Kennedy stood beside.

“It’s a bike.”

“It’s pink.” Brent pointed out. “Really pink.”

“It’s a bike.” Kennedy repeated, firmer this time.

“It has streamers.”

“It has wheels,” Kennedy replied. “And you’re going to ride it.”

Brent walked closer to the girly nightmare. The memory of coasting down hills, popping wheelies, and jumping over curbs made his pulse quicken. They were things he never thought he’d be able to do again—things his parents would have a heart attack about if he did.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Kennedy.”

Her soft brown eyes looked up at him. “Of course you can.”

“But what if I can’t? Like, anymore?”

Kennedy gently touched Brent’s wrist. “If you really want to, you will.”

She sounded so certain, he believed her.

Brent swung his right leg over the small bike, awkwardly, hopping a bit on his prosthetic. He gripped the handle bars and tried to raise the kickstand. It took him three tries, but he did it. Then he sat on the bike, braced his prosthetic foot on the pedal and pushed. It slipped off before he moved an inch. He repositioned himself and tried again, but his balance was all wrong and he was just able to catch himself before he toppled over.

“This is gonna take a while,” he said, then sighed.

Kennedy sat on the ground and folded her hands around her knees. “We’ve got all summer.”

****

One Week Later

“Woooooo! Faster Brent!”

Kennedy’s brown braid had come loose and her hair tickled his face, lifted by the wind that poured over them as they raced down the hill. She sat on the handlebars, her feet braced on the lip of the bolt on either side of the wheel. Brent stood behind her, pumping the pedals.

“Okay—hold on!”

And they were off. He flew down the path, through shadows and patches of sun, bouncing over roots and rocks, thin branches slapping at his arms, still wet from yesterday’s rain, but he didn’t feel the sting. Because he was having too much fun. It felt like he was flying.

And he felt something else he hadn’t for a long time.

Normal.

“Yes!” Kennedy screeched. “Go-go gadget leg!”

Brent laughed, ducking his head beneath a particularly low br

anch. Then he pulled up on the handlebars to hop over a raised bump, making her bounce.

He was having such a good time, he didn’t notice the large rock right in the bike’s path.

Not until they’d hit it.

And then he was literally flying—they both were. His breath burst from his lungs as he landed in the wet grass with a hard grunt. For a second, he didn’t move. Nothing felt broken or injured. Then he sat up. Brent saw the bike on its side a few feet away, the back tire still spinning. He saw Kennedy a few feet beyond that. Her glasses had been knocked off her face, her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving.

At all.

As he looked at her, something inside him felt like it was breaking after all. In the seconds it took to get to her, a dozen thoughts ran through his head—each more horrible than the one before.

She was hurt—and it was all his fault. He would never forgive himself.

Never.

“Kennedy!” He knelt beside her, touching her cheek, looking for blood, his voice raw. “Kennedy wake up! Look at me.”

Instantly her eyes snapped open, shining like amber stones. And Brent was so relieved, he didn’t realize what was happening.

Not until Kennedy said, “Gotcha!”

Then she laughed. Loudly. Freely. Without a worry in the world.