“Great, your happiness is our hell,” I replied. The four of us then headed back to the chambers, carting a mix of pride, misery, and jealousy.

We opened the main door to Metallica.

“MATTTTTTTHEWWWWW!!!! SHEEEERRRRAAAA!!”

Good God! Was she dying? Matthew and I sped off.

“Yes, Judge!” I screamed back at her, for the first time. We looked left and right. No judge.

“MAAATTTTHHHHHEW!!!!!! SHEEEEIIIIILLLLLA!!!!”

We followed the screams and came upon the judge, standing inside her elevator, eyes hungry like a wolf’s, robe being pulled east and west, arms prying doors open with mouth poised to scream again. Was that mayonnaise crusted on top of her smeared bright red lipstick? Was she stuck? I was at once worried and hopeful.

“Have you seen Judge Stevens’s law clerks?” she asked, suddenly calm. We shook our heads. She pursed her lips, slid her arms inside the elevator, and off she went. DING! Thirteenth floor, going down. Matthew and I stood staring at each other. Kate and Evan peered around the corner, ensuring that the coast was clear.

“What the fuck was that?” Matthew raised his arms in the air. Betsy’s use of the F-bomb was contagious.

“Well, from what I could tell she just wanted to know where law clerks, who aren’t even her law clerks, were.” I thought I had answered Matthew’s question.

“No, I meant what was that on her mouth? Was that chicken salad?”

“Why didn’t she call for me?” Evan whined and flapped his arms, exasperated. Contrary to what teachers tell you, some questions were stupid and didn’t warrant responses. I returned to my cubicle, which proved strangely comforting amid the pandemonium.

After a few moments of staring at Camden, I turned to my computer. There was a message from James, who’d recently started playing with fire by e-mailing me from the intracourt system:

“Hey. Today was the first day of your sitting, right? I’m sure it’s heinous but take pleasure in knowing that the judge just got a new engine for his scooter, came tearing around the corner about five minutes ago, honking his horn and waving madly. Then he turned to me. Came to a screeching halt and started screaming, ‘Let’s move those motions. Put a little potion in that motion.’ Then he honked again and sped off. And to think that this guy gets laid more than I do.”

As of late, I’d ignored the no e-mail policy and was about to write James when Kate approached my cubicle. “Hey, Sheila, um, I hate to bother you, but do you know what I’m supposed to do?” We weren’t hearing additional cases until the next morning, so I assumed she was supposed to work on a November case.

“I guess Roy and Janet didn’t give you anything this morning?” She shook her head. Now that I’d gotten Janet’s number, she seemed somewhat less intimidating. I grabbed Kate’s arm and dragged her into the secretaries’ den.