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’em I did, and they said we should go tag some stuff.”
    “’Tag some stuff’—” the judge rested his elbows on his desk and his chin on his fisted hands “—meaning to spray paint your name or your gang sign on dumpsters or fences or buildings or whatever, correct?”
    “I’m not in a gang.” Zach quickly added, “sir.” He swallowed hard. “And the taggin’ was their idea, not mine.”
    “But you admitted to buying the paint. The police report states the receipt was in your pocket.”
    The teen lifted one shoulder and his voice went meek. “I was the only one who had any money.”
    Lucas could feel Zach’s shame, his defeat. “Your Honor, I’ve already explained that I just met Zach. That I don’ fohat I dt really know him. But he’s never been in any trouble before. I think it’s quite clear that he just got in over his head here. Those boys were older than Zach. I’m sure he felt flattered that they’d even talked to him.”
    Taylor glanced at a document on his desk. “Officer Perez noted in her report that Zach mouthed off, and that he acted rudely.”
    “That was posturing,” Lucas countered. “I’m sure he was doing that for the benefit of the other boys. You were fifteen once. Don’t you remember—”
    “ I never back-talked a police officer, Counselor.”
    Lucas laced his fingers and rested his hands on the table top. “Sir, I have no idea what kind of parenting Zach has had up to this point. And I’ll admit that three unsupervised weekends a month would leave any teenager with way too much time on his hands.”
    He remembered his own youth. Those long lists of never ending chores his uncle always had at the ready. Like any adolescent, Lucas had felt he was being treated with unfair harshness. But now he realized there must have been good motives behind his uncle’s madness.
    “Good!” the judge said. “I’m glad we agree that Zach needs supervision. What we need now is a plan. A plan that will assure that Zach doesn’t show up in front of me again.”
    Lucas placed his palms firmly on the table. “That’s not going to happen, is it, Zach?”
    The teen adamantly shook his head. “No, sir.”
    “Promises are all well and good.” Taylor looked from Lucas to Zach. “But I can tell you, son, that eight out of every ten minors who sit where you’re sitting come in here to pay me a second visit. And of those, an even higher percentage pay me a third visit.” His stern stare remained steady. “And the punishment is stiffer for each offense.” He picked up his gavel, slid his fingers down the length of it, his gaze raking over everyone sitting in front of him. “Like I said, we need a plan for this young man. Or I’m going to have to come up with one of my own.”
    No one said a word for several long seconds.
    Tyne leaned forward, twisting to face Lucas. “I could try to get someone to cover my weekends for a while.”
    “Ms. Whitlock,” the judge said, “I understand your dilemma. You’re a single, working parent trying to raise a teenager on your own. I empathize. But I would be derelict in my duties if I didn’t stress that there’ll be no trying in whatever strategy we make here today. We will do something solid. Something concrete.”
    Lucas spent most of his weekends reading briefs. But he couldn’t see why the kid couldn’t hang out at his place while he read.
    “I don’t think I’ve made you understand the importance of what’s happening here today,” Judge Taylor told Tyne. “If your son shows up in my courtroom again, you won’t be seeing him for a while. Unless, of course, you go to Juvenile Hall for a visit. Do I make myself clear?” He narrowed his gaze at Zach. “Don’t let the name fool you, son. It’s a prison. With bars on the windows and guards who carry weapons.”
    Eight out of every ten minors .
    Bad odds. Very bad odds.
    Lucas stole a glance at Zach. Fear hummed from the teen like low-voltage current, but he was doing his