The Sacrifice by Robert Whitlow Page A

the course?”
    â€œI was supposed to start during summer vacation, but I was in no shape to drive after the night of the party. I think I was still in the hos- pital.” Yvette stopped. “Can I look at my sheet? I can’t remember that part.”
    â€œI’ll give you a break while I talk to Ralph for a minute.”
    Scott scanned the room. Most of the boys slid a little lower in their seats. Scott decided it was time to give Frank the spotlight he seemed to crave. “Frank Jesup, you’re Ralph. Please stand up. I remind you that you are under oath.”
    Frank slid out of his chair and stood. “Which do you want? The truth, the whole truth, or nothing but the truth?”
    â€œAll of the above, within the guidelines of the problem.”
    Frank continued. “Why are the names in the case so corny? Betty Moonbeam, Sarah Rich, Ralph Risky?”
    â€œIt’s often that way,” Scott replied. “Even in law-school competitions the professors who write the case histories do the same thing.”
    â€œI don’t want to look like an idiot spouting these names.”
    Scott resisted an urge to tell Frank to sit down until he could cooperate.
    â€œDon’t worry, Ralph. You’ll get used to it. Now, tell me, how did you and Betty decide to go to the party together?”
    Frank stroked his chin. “I’d been wanting to spend some time with her. A lot of time if you know what I mean.”
    â€œDid you phone her and invite her to ride with you?”
    â€œNo, she called me. Not that I was too surprised. She told me about the problems with her father and the car, but I think it was all an excuse to spend some time alone with me.”
    â€œOver my dead body,” Yvette said.
    â€œNo comments,” Scott said. “I told Frank to be quiet while you were on the witness stand.”
    Frank cut his eyes toward Yvette and said, “You should have seen the dress she was wearing. When she sat down in my car—”
    â€œDon’t go there,” Kay interrupted.
    â€œOkay. I picked her up about eleven-thirty in the morning for the cookout at Sarah’s house.”
    â€œHad you had anything to drink before you got there?”
    â€œMoi?” Frank asked. “I don’t drink anything but bottled water and Cheerwine.”
    â€œDoes Cheerwine contain any alcohol?”
    â€œYou’re from North Carolina, aren’t you? Cheerwine is like a Cherry Coke. It’s bottled in Salisbury.”
    â€œI know that,” Scott answered. “I used to ride my bike to Barnett’s Grocery in the summer to buy a cold Cheerwine. But in a competition you might be in front of judges from someplace who’ve never heard of Cheerwine. The lawyer questioning the witness needs to make sure any uncertainties are cleared up.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œAre you sure you didn’t have any alcohol in your system when you and Betty started for the party?”
    â€œPositive.”
    â€œAny drugs?”
    â€œNot even a Tylenol.”
    â€œHow far is it from Betty’s house to Sarah’s place?”
    â€œAbout five miles. Sarah’s house overlooks a pond and the seventeenth green of the, uh”—Frank thought for a second—“the Maurice Mulligan Memorial Golf Course.”
    Scott smiled. “Now that’s corny.”
    â€œYeah, can I change that?”
    â€œNo. Let’s have a different Betty take up the story.” Scott spoke to the group. “We’re jumping around tonight so as many of you as possible can see what it’s like to be a witness. In a minute, I may ask one of you to be an attorney.” He pointed to Alisha Mason who stood up. “Alisha, right?”
    The tall, dark-skinned girl nodded.
    â€œHave you read the materials?”
    â€œYes, sir.”
    â€œOkay. You’re in the car with Ralph. Were you concerned about Ralph’s driving on the way to the