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“Good morning, class,” Mrs Caxton trilled.
“Good morning, Mrs Caxton,” the fourth graders recited back.
Mrs Caxton surveyed the room – as usual there was one empty chair in the back left corner, but she was surprised to see that the one in front and the one to the right were empty as well.
“We’re missing a few today, aren’t we?” she said thoughtfully. “Does anyone know where-“
The door crashed open.
“MORNING, MISS!” Phoenix burst out, breathless and red in the face from running across the playground.
He held his satchel cradled in his arms, and Mrs Caxton could see things were spilling through the bottom of it. A stray eraser wriggled free and dropped to the floor, followed by a pencil.
“Good morning, Phoenix,” she said, crouching down to pick up the eraser and pencil. “You have a good reason for missing the morning bell, I take it?”
“Yes, miss!” Phoenix said, hefting his satchel up in his arms so he could get a better grip of it. “My satchel broke on my way to school, and all my stuff fell out and went everywhere and it took me ages to pick it all up.“
“Not true, miss! His satchel was broken yesterday afternoon, in fact. Though all his things did fall out just now – I’m late because I stopped to help him pick them all up.”
“Edgey!” Phoenix turned around to glare at Miles, who was standing behind him.
“Good morning, Miles – thankyou for being honest on Phoenix’s behalf,” Mrs Caxton smiled.
“Good morning, Mrs Caxton,” Miles said politely. “How are you?”
“Very well, thankyou, Miles – have a seat, and make sure you’ve got last night’s homework sheet ready.”
“Traitor,” Phoenix hissed at Miles as he went past.
“You would’ve tripped yourself up anyway,” Miles pointed out. “Your homework sheet got all wet when it fell into that puddle from the bottom of your satchel – how were you going to explain that when it’s dry today?”
“No homework either, then, Phoenix?” Mrs Caxton drummed her fingers on the desk, an ominous rumble that usually meant an impending detention. “I don’t think I can turn a blind eye to that!”
“No no, I’ve done the homework!” Phoenix babbled, shifting the satchel so he was supporting it one-handed in order to dig inside it.
“Let’s see it, then,” Mrs Caxton said patiently – she’d gone through this so many times with both Phoenix and Larry that she now had a pile of pre-written detention slips with their names on it in her drawer.
At that point the bottom of Phoenix’s satchel gave out again, his books, pencil tin and his packed lunch spilling onto the floor with a clatter. But Phoenix had still kept hold of the piece of paper he had just grabbed, and he pulled it out of the top of the satchel triumphantly, presenting it with a theatrical flourish.
“I dried it out over the heater, and I even did the extra questions!” Phoenix said proudly as she took the wrinkled sheet from him. “Does that make up for me being late, miss?”
“Not when I can guess where you were,” Mrs Caxton replied, fishing out a detention slip.
Phoenix had crouched down to scoop all his belongings back into his broken satchel, but he looked up at Mrs Caxton guiltily. The Playhouse theatre was on his route to school – the dress rehearsals for Bugsy Malone were in full swing, and the Playhouse’s caretaker would sometimes let him in the side door to watch what was happening. And sometimes, entranced by the songs and absorbed in watching the dance routines, he would lose track of time. Hence he was late.
“And why is your satchel in such a sorry state?”
“Uhh,” Phoenix stalled, trying to think of a good excuse.
The truth of the matter was, Larry had found a pocket knife in the gutter a few days ago, and had decided to see how sharp it was. He had offered to engrave Phoenix’s name into the bottom of the leather satchel, only to find that the knife was a bit sharper than he’d thought. It had gone right into the seams, and despite him trying to fix it with superglue and staples, the whole thing had just ripped apart as the three of them had walked home from school.
He was still scratching around for an idea, when he had a flash of inspiration.
“Yeah, miss, I got attacked!” he said, pausing for a moment, waiting for Miles to butt in and spoil it with The Truth.
Miles didn’t say anything. Though he was prone to exposing Phoenix’s excuses where he felt they were of no benefit, he did know when to keep his mouth shut. If this came out Larry would probably get a suspension, and neither of them wanted that.
“You got attacked?” Mrs Caxton frowned. “By who?”
“No no, it wasn’t a who, it was a what, miss!” Phoenix continued, getting into the spirit of it. “It was huge!”
“A big dog,” Miles piped up. “I think it was a wolfhound, it was really hairy.”
Mrs Caxton looked across at him. He had a sincere expression on his face, replacing the solemn one he usually wore. Looking back at Phoenix’s satchel, the way the ragged flap of the satchel bottom was trailing from between the young boy’s arms made it seem like it really had been torn at by something with teeth.
“A dog, you say?” she asked. “Why was it off the lead?”
“I didn’t even know it was a dog till it knocked me over!” Phoenix exclaimed. “Edgey saw it all – the dog was dragging this lead along behind it, so maybe it had run away or something.”
“Better to take a bite out of a satchel than a bite out of Nick, right, miss?” Miles said.
“Very true, Miles,” Mrs Caxton agreed, looking at Phoenix. He had scratches running up his forearms – they looked a lot like the gravel rash caused by a fall, and he hadn’t had them yesterday. Perhaps they were telling the truth after all. “So why did the dog bite your satchel, then, Phoenix? You were lucky it didn’t bite you!”
“Ah, well!” Phoenix said with a grin – this was going to be the best bit of his hastily invented excuse. “I dropped my satchel when I fell, miss, and then Edgey picked it up, and he said GO AWAY! BAD DOG! and he threw my satchel at the dog to make it run away, you see? And it did, but before it ran away it chewed my satchel, miss! It ripped all the stitches and it’s no good for anything now. Mom’s buying me another one this weekend.”
Actually, his mother had no idea his satchel was even broken – he was putting the contents of his piggy bank together with some of Miles’ allowance to get another.
“Hmm,” Mrs Caxton said dubiously. “Very well. At least you’re both okay, that is the important thing. Take this, Phoenix,” she handed him the detention slip, receiving a sad little sigh in return, “and sit down – we’ve wasted enough class time already.”
Phoenix slid into his chair at the back, scrunching the detention slip into his pocket, then he tapped Miles on the shoulder and flashed him a thumbs up sign under the desk. Miles ignored it.
“Right, then, class,” Mrs Caxton addressed them. “As you all know, we do a Christmas show every year, with each class doing a performance – but this year things are going to be slightly different! We’re still doing a performance as a whole class, but this time around we want some little groups and solo performers to go on in between. Is anyone interested in getting a group together and doing an act?”
There were some whispers amongst the class, and hands started to go up one by one.
“We will!” Phoenix stood up and raised his hand in the air, stretching up on tippytoes to get his hand the highest. “Me, Edgey and Larry!”
Miles turned around to look at him, an indignant expression on his face.
“Not me, I don’t want to!” he hissed.
“Aw c’mon, it’ll be fun,” Phoenix said, still waving his hand in the air.
“I’m not going up on stage.”
“Edgey is a boring-pants,” Phoenix sang.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Phoenix, enough of that – if he doesn’t want to be in it he doesn’t have to,” Mrs Caxton said, trying to keep the peace. “You and Larry can do a show, I’ll write your names down,” she began counting hands, “and that’s also Anna, Danny…” she began writing down the names.
“Miss!”
Mrs Caxton looked up. Miles had his hand in the air as well.
“Put me down with Larry and Nick,” he asked. “Please.”
She sighed – it was always the way – and added his name to the list.
“Okay, I’ve got all your names – I’ll need the details of your shows by next Friday, understood? If I don’t get them, you’re not in it.” She put the list away in the drawer. “And Phoenix, if Larry’s this late tomorrow he’s not in it either – you pass that on, got it?”
Phoenix gulped.
“Yes, miss!”
****
“Aw, man, but school starts so early!” Larry complained, scratching rude faces into the dirt with the stick he’d picked up on their way through the playground.
“C’mon, Larry – it’ll be the greatest,” Phoenix tried to persuade him. “We’re gonna do an awesome skit, you and me! Edgey’s gonna write it, aren’t you, Edgey?”
“Am I?” Miles blinked. Then he realised that if he did write it, he could make it so he didn’t have to be on the stage with the two lunatics. “Oh! Yes, yes, I most certainly am.”
They were sitting in their usual spot behind the third grade classroom, eating their packed lunches. It was quiet, away from the hubbub of the rest of the playground. Miles had picked it for that reason, and Larry and Phoenix liked it because it was even further away from the staffroom and nosy teachers.
“But Nick, dude, that means I have to get up before nine – that’s a big deal, y’know! You’ve gotta make it a bit more worth my while…” he held up his hand, rubbing fingers and thumb together with a wink.
“I’ve not got any allowance left after what you did to my satchel!” Phoenix said crossly. “And you owe me and Edgey big time, we had to tell a real tall story today to cover up how it got all ripped.”
Larry stared at him.
“Why’d you bring it back to school again, doofus?” he demanded. “Of course Caxy’s gonna ask questions, seeing it like that – why didn’t you find something else to carry your stuff in?”
“I don’t have anything else!”
“You could’ve had my spare satchel,” Miles pointed out.
“But it’s PINK!”
“It’s not pink!” Miles said hotly. “It’s magenta.”
“Whatever the hell colour it is, it’s still g-“ Larry was cut off mid-sentence by a swift kick to his shins, and Phoenix had his football boots on today. “Oww!” Then he remembered he wasn’t allowed to call Miles that anymore, or he’d never be able to copy his homework again. “Uh, it’s still guh, guh, gonna be obvious it was yours originally! They’d think he, like, stole it or something. ‘Cause we all know Nicky’s a thief,” another kick to the shins, “OW MAN! I was only kidding!”
“This is serious, Larry!” Phoenix folded his arms, glaring at him. “Mrs Caxton would’ve totally thrown a fit if she’d known what had really happened to my satchel. You would’ve gotten chucked outa school or something!”
“Psh,” Larry expertly twirled the stick around in one hand, sipping at his juice drink with the other. “That’d be pretty cool, actually – then I wouldn’t have to get up at all!”
“Do you not care about having a proper education?” Miles asked.
“Nope.”
“Do you not care about seeing Anna Tovey in a fairy outfit?”
“Nope. Wait!” Larry stopped twirling the stick, looking up at Miles. “Hey, you were trying to trip me up there!”
“You don’t say.”
“Anna Tovey…” Larry crooned. “In a fairy outfit, huh? And at the Christmas show thing?”
“The chances indicate so, yes.”
“Oh yes yes yes, I sure do care about that!” Larry whooped. “She’s totally what I come to school for.”
“Thanks a bunch,” Phoenix grumbled.
“Hey, Nick, buddy – what’s all this about a skit you wanna do?”
2 weeks later
“Oh wow, you’ve done it!” Phoenix said gleefully, grabbing up the two little booklets that Miles deposited on his desk.
“Why are you so surprised?” Miles replied. “You’ve only been pestering me about it every day.”
“Well, I dunno, something could’ve gone wrong, or something.”
“I got Father to help me. How could it go wrong?”
Phoenix opened up the booklet, reading aloud,
“State versus Santa. The court is now in se… se-sh-i-on – session! For the trial of Mr. Santa Claus who has been charged with the murder of Mr. Rudolph T.R.N. Reindeer. The prosecution is ready, your honour. The defense is ready, your Honour…” he carried on reading. “What’s this word, Edgey?” he tried to pronounce it phonetically like he’d been taught. “Huh-eh-i-ne-oh-uh-s…”
“Heinous.”
“Hee-nus. What does that mean?”
“Something really terrible.”
“Oh, right.” Phoenix scanned some more of the script. “Edgey… there’s a lot of big words in here. Like wit-less-ness-“
“Witnesses. They see crimes and stuff.”
“And what’s this one?”
“Con-tra-dic-tions. To say something that doesn’t fit in with what you said before.”
“Will Larry be able to read all this stuff? He’s not so good with big words-“ the booklet was snatched from Phoenix’s hands.
“Why did you ask for it to be set in a courtroom if neither of you know how to say any of the words?” Miles said testily, grabbing the other booklet and stuffing them back in his satchel. “In court, words are your weapons, so you have to get them right!”
“Hey, give us it back – we can learn how to say them if you teach us,” Phoenix protested. “Larry’s great at repeating stuff, even if he doesn’t know what it means he can still say it good!”
“That’s not good enough!” Miles snapped. “Didn’t you say acting was all about being the character and not yourself? A defense attorney puts everything they have into what they say because it’s a matter of life or death! If you fail, Nick, Santa Claus DIES!”
“No he doesn’t! Santa can’t die, ‘cause, ‘cause, he’s Santa!”
“If Santa’s committed a crime then he’s nothing more than a criminal in the eyes of the law. And that means he can get a guilty verdict, and if he gets a guilty verdict, that means he dies!”
“But Santa’s innocent! Santa didn’t kill Rudolph!”
“Then tell that to the court!”
“Fine, I will!” Phoenix stood up, climbed onto his chair, stomped one foot onto his desk and flung his hand out to point at the rest of the class, who stopped talking amongst themselves and turned to look. “OBJECTION!” he yelled. “SANTA IS NOT GUILTY!”
“And why is that, Phoenix?”
Phoenix looked behind him – Mrs Caxton had just walked into the room, a bemused expression on her face.
“Ulp.”
Then he remembered he was Phoenix Wright, ace attorney, and faced with a question like that, there was only one answer! He turned, jumped down from the chair and slammed the desk hard with both palms.
“Because if he is, then we get no presents this year because he’ll be DEAD!”
Mrs Caxton blinked, a little nonplussed by this shouted declaration from the nine-year-old boy that stood in front of her, eyes burning with a passion she’d never seen before.
“S…Santa,” Anna Tovey hiccupped. “Don’t kill Santa!” she burst into tears.
At this point Larry strolled in, and within an instant flat he was by her side.
“Heeey, whassamatter?” he drawled, digging down the front of his singlet to produce and offer his snotty hanky. “Wanna hug to make it better?”
“EW!” Anna stopped crying immediately, pushing Larry away. “BOY GERMS!” she ran away from him to join her friends in the corner of the classroom.
Larry just shrugged – he’d try again some other time, then went to join Miles and Phoenix. But Mrs Caxton was standing there waiting for him, holding out a detention slip towards him.
“Aw, miss, I only just got here!” Larry complained. “I haven’t done nothing yet!”
“Exactly,” Mrs Caxton replied. “ ’I haven’t done nothing’, from my experience, also applies to your homework!”
“Oh,” said Larry. “Yeah, that’s true an’ all.” He took the slip – he didn’t even invent excuses anymore. Then he turned to Miles. “You on for lunchtime, Edgey? ‘Cause you know what’s on this afternoon, don’tcha?”
Miles sighed, rolling his eyes, but he nodded. Mrs Caxton had already turned away, pretending she hadn’t heard their little exchange. But she knew full well the deal that Miles and Larry had – Miles would stay in this lunchtime during Larry’s detention, patiently explaining the homework to him. It all went in one ear and out the other, of course, Larry nodding along and marking in the answers Miles was giving him. But it was a two-way thing – Art and Craft period was on in the afternoon, and not only was it Larry’s one forte, it was also Miles’ worst subject. It took both Larry and Phoenix to keep him on track, Phoenix suggesting the ideas for the pictures and Larry helping him out with making them happen.
“Hey, miss, what did you think of my lawyer-ing?” Phoenix asked excitedly. “Our show is gonna be great!”
“I’d prefer it if you didn’t ‘lawyer’ in my classroom, Phoenix – practice at lunchtime.”
“Aw, but Larry’s in detention all lunch so we can’t!” Phoenix looked up at her, a pathetic expression on his face that would’ve been almost convincing, were it not for the fact that she’d seen it so many times before. “Miiiss…”
“No.”
“But we’ve just got the script!”
“What did I just say, Phoenix?”
“But Santa might die!” Phoenix pleaded. “Think of Santa, miss!”
“Then the trial is adjourned until tomorrow – now sit down.”
“Ah, but wait!” Phoenix held up one finger. “I have de… de… uhh-“
“Decisive,” Miles interjected.
“Decisive evidence! That we should be allowed to rehearse today,” Phoenix said quickly.
Mrs Caxton put her hands on her hips, shaking her head.
“I’m not putting up with any more of this, Phoenix-“
“Hear me out!” Phoenix declared, voice taking on the tone of an orator. “I have heard from a reliable witless-“
“Witness!” Miles corrected him.
“-witness, that there’s a prize for the best performance at the Christmas show, miss. And it’s a prize for the whole class – a trip to go and see Bugsy Malone at the Playhouse!”
His voice carried across the room, and a hubbub broke out at that.
“I wanted to go see that with Mom-“
“I heard they throw custard pies at each other – how awesome is that?”
“That would be such a cool prize-“
“Shush, class!” Mrs Caxton raised her voice over the top of them, and the noise died down. “Phoenix, who is your reliable witness?” She had only just been told about it earlier that morning in the staff room.
“The Playhouse Caretaker,” Phoenix said proudly. “See, told you it was reliable!”
“It’s the truth, yes – there is a prize. But I need better justification than that to let Larry off a detention,” Mrs Caxton was still resolute.
Phoenix looked a little helpless in response to that – he’d tried his best and it apparently wasn’t enough.
“Take that!”
Mrs Caxton turned to look behind her in surprise. Miles was brandishing a copy of the script at her, a determined look on his face. When he saw the look she was giving her, however, he shrank back, face flushing.
“Uh, I, I’m sorry, miss, I, I never meant…” he stammered, but he was still holding out the script, so she took it.
“Go Edgey!” Larry cheered. “Just like your Dad!”
Mrs Caxton opened the booklet, eyes flicking across the script. It was very good – a lot of effort had gone into it, she could see. However, the English was complicated and she knew Larry and Phoenix would struggle. She went to the end, reading the closing pages, and couldn’t help but smile at the ending. It had the potential to be a good performance if they practiced, and it would certainly help their comprehension skills.
She handed the script back to Miles, who didn’t meet her gaze. He was still embarrassed from his earlier outburst.
“Larry can go out to lunch once he’s done his homework. That’s my final word on the matter,” she said.
On hearing that Phoenix’s face lit up, and Larry was grinning from ear to ear.
“Thankyou miss!” Phoenix exclaimed.
“What are you thanking me for? He’ll be missing recess tomorrow to make up the time he’s getting off here, after all.”
“Oh,” Phoenix said, crestfallen. But it was better than nothing.
At lunch Miles went through Larry’s homework – he started off explaining everything as he normally did, but Phoenix was making faster-faster gestures at him, and in the end he scribbled down the answers on a piece of paper and got Larry to copy them over surreptitiously. Mr. Lowdon was doing the detention session anyway and it was a well-known fact that he spent most sessions shopping online for DVDs and paid little attention to what they were all doing. Larry turned in his finished homework and Mr. Lowdon didn’t even look up, making a shooing gesture at them.
“Last one to the big old tree is a poo-head!” Larry yelled when they were outside, and the three of them ran across the playground. Phoenix was way ahead of the other two – he was on the football team because of his speed, not because he was any good at actually kicking the ball. Larry and Miles were tying for last place – Larry was trying to trip Miles up, but Miles was well used to such dirty tactics and managed to avoid it, putting on a last burst of speed to just inch ahead of his friend.
“You’re the poo-head!” Phoenix laughed, pointing at Larry.
“You stink more!” Larry retorted breathlessly. “First one to the tree is a BIG poo-head!”
Miles was crouching down to catch his breath, pleased he had beaten Larry for once. It didn’t happen very often – he usually fell over a Larry foot eventually. He got the booklets out of his bag, handing them over to the other two.
“There’s big words in it, Larry,” Phoenix warned him. “We’ve gotta be careful we say them right.”
Larry was reading, tongue between teeth as he traced his finger painstakingly across each line and brow furrowed in concentration.
“…and then,” he read aloud, “the judge said… ‘Edgey is a know-it-all showoff smartypants. GUILTY!’ The end.”
“Objection!” Miles cried. “That’s not in the script!”
“’Course not, dummy, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true!” Larry grinned.
“Stop it, you guys,” Phoenix protested, for he could see Miles had a peeved expression on his face. “Let’s do this properly, okay? Come on then, Larry, you can do the judge’s voice and be the prosecutor and stuff!”
“Cool, I get to kill Santa!”
“Not if I can help it!” Phoenix said, puffing out his skinny chest and putting on his best defense attorney’s voice. “I will fight to the very end!”
“Santa’s guilty, Santa’s guilty,” Larry chanted.
“Hey, you’re the judge so you’re doing the opening line, Larry – you can say that, right? Edgey will help you if you get stuck.”
“He’d better, or I’ll put him on trial too!” Larry turned back to the first page of the script, scanned it, then thrust the book at Miles. “Ah screw it, I can’t be arsed to read this – Edgey, you tell me what my lines are and I’ll remember them, how ‘bout that, huh?”
Miles shrugged, then gave him the first line.
***
The school hall was filling up, and though the hubbub of arriving parents and families was muffled by the thick curtain drawn across the stage, Phoenix could tell they were going to be playing to a full house. The Christmas program was always a big hit, but the addition of the extra acts between the whole-class performances had drawn in an even bigger audience this year. His stomach clenched a little nervously at the thought of performing in front of so many people, but if he didn’t go for it with everything he had now, then how would he ever make it to Broadway? However, he knew that his parents were going to be in the audience somewhere, as was Miles’ father, and perhaps even Larry’s mother if she remembered which day of the week it was. If he made a mistake, they would all see it… What was his first line again? ‘The defence is ready, your Honour.’ He could remember that. But what was his second line?
“Nick?”
Phoenix jumped, whirling to face Miles.
“Edgey!” he hissed. “You nearly killed me there.”
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”
Grey eyes watched him with concern.
“Uh… no!” Phoenix scratched the back of his head, smiling sheepishly. “I’m… I’m fine! No worries, huh, Edgey?”
Miles looked as if about to say something, then he just shook his head, sighing.
“Alright…” Phoenix admitted. “I am a little. But once I get out there, I’ll be fine… right?” he asked a little uncertainly.
“We’re gonna kick ass, Nick-o!” Larry punched the air. “We’re gonna give it to ‘em good, and Anna Tovey’s gonna be my date when we go see Bugsy Malone!”
“There we go, Nick!” Miles said. “You’ve got to have something to fight for, so think of going to see Bugsy at the Playhouse.”
“Yes!” Phoenix declared. “We’re gonna go see it, guys – we’re gonna win this!”
“But whatever happens, Nick, don’t look at the audience,” Miles warned him. “It’s like Father says - when he’s in court, if he looks at the gallery he forgets what he was going to say because they’re all watching him. So don’t look at the audience, or you’ll forget what you were going to say. Got it?”
Phoenix nodded, then the headmaster came along to shoo them all into the wings.
“Are you ready?” he asked the three of them.
“More than ready, sir!” Miles replied confidently. Phoenix, standing behind him, didn’t look so sure, and Larry was amusing himself by pulling on the elasticated beard he was wearing as part of his judge costume, letting it twang back against his chin with a silly grin on his face.
“Give it your best shot,” the headmaster murmured, though he wondered if it had been such a good idea to listen to Mrs Caxton and put this unlikely trio on first.
He turned and strode back onto the stage, in front of the curtain, and the audience hushed as he walked on stage. While he was introducing himself and the program Miles turned to the other two.
“We’re going to be the best in the show,” he whispered. “Keep telling yourself that, and we will be.”
“Nah, you’ve got it all wrong, Edgey,” Larry replied. “We’re going to suck, but because it’s the Christmas program nobody’s gonna care, see?”
“Don’t be so defeatist,” Miles retorted.
“I ain’t deaf-nothing, I’m just saying it like it is!”
In response to that, Miles irritably seized Larry’s beard, yanked it down as far as it would go and released it, the whole thing smacking him right between the eyes.
“OW!”
“I give up trying to expand your vocabulary, Larry – it’s wasted on you.”
“And I give up trying to teach you how not to be a stuckup jerk!” Larry shot back, stepping forward and about to push Miles in the chest, but Phoenix stepped between them.
“Guys, we’re about to go on! Stop it!” he protested.
“Smartarse.”
“Ignoramus.”
“Jerkface.”
“Dimwit,” they traded insults over Phoenix’s shoulder.
“Shut up, both of you,” Phoenix hissed. “We’re going to put on a good show and if either of you let me down I’ll never speak to you again. Got it?”
“I was trying to say ‘we’ll put on a good show’ in the beginning!” Miles grumbled. “Larry started it.”
“I don’t even know what the heck death-eaters are anyway, Edgey, so I dunno why you expected Larry to know it either. So if none of the rest of us know what it means - and you know I’m not bad at English – then it doesn’t really matter, does it?” Phoenix pointed out.
“No, I suppose not,” Miles mumbled.
“So we’re all friends, right?” Phoenix said, looking at him and Larry.
Miles nodded.
“Who needs you as a friend, Nick-o?” Larry shrugged, an impudent look on his face.
“You need my Pokemon cards for the tournament this weekend.”
“Do not.”
“Your deck’s poo without my Charizard.”
“Shut up,” Larry’s response was instant, which meant he’d lost.
“So… friends?” Phoenix asked again.
“Yeah, whatever,” Larry brushed it off. “Sheesh, is Mr. Cage still talking? Get us on already!”
Listening, they could hear the headmaster was winding down his opening speech.
“-And now, we shall begin with the first act in tonight’s program! From class 4C is Phoenix Wright and Larry Butz, with their show ‘Courtroom Christmas’, which was written by Miles Edgeworth.”
“S’us!” Larry said, striding out on the stage to raucous applause from the audience.
Phoenix hesitated a moment, and felt a gentle push in the back from Miles. So he walked onto the stage, shaky fingers touching the little lacquered attorney’s badge his mother had made for him out of cardboard.
“Let the gallery be seated!” Larry declared in a pompous, judgely voice. “For we are about to begin a trial – a murder trial, no less!”
That wasn’t what his line was, but it was close enough. Phoenix had been expecting this – Larry could trot out his lines word perfect, parrot-fashion, in the rehearsals. But when it came to the real thing it was guaranteed that Larry would play up to the audience. Miles would be standing in the wings despairing, but there was nothing he could do now. Phoenix would just have to work with whatever Larry threw his way.
“Today we are trialling Mr. Santa Claus for the horrible murder of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer! And because it’s Christmas – Christmas hat, therefore it’s Christmas, got it?” Larry pointed to the Santa hat he wore. “’Cause it’s Christmas, there ain’t no prosecutors in town, so I’M the prosecutor as well as the judge! HAH! Santa’s going down for sure!” he cackled.
There was a chorus of boos from the audience – they were getting into the spirit of things with Larry’s pantomime villain persona.
“BUT!” Larry held up one finger. “There’s somebody who can save Santa – ‘cause this is a courtroom, and Santa’s entitled to have a lawyer. Can Phoenix Wright, ace attorney, save Santa?” he gestured towards Phoenix, and the crowd began to cheer.
Phoenix looked towards them. His eyes were drawn to Miles’ father in the third row – the thick-set glasses were unmistakeable, and sat right next to him were his own mother and father. He opened his mouth to say his line, but a cold, paralysing horror swept over him as he realised that he couldn’t remember what it was. Larry had changed his lines, and the trigger line that prompted his own wasn’t there.
What’s my line? What’s my line?
“The defence is ready, your Honour!”
Phoenix stepped towards Larry in response to Miles’ voice, remembering what he had to say next, and he followed with,
“I won’t let you convict Santa because he’s INNOCENT!”
“We’ll see about that!” Larry said smugly. “Santa’s guilty until proven otherwise – and you can’t prove nothing without evidence! And you know what? ‘Cause it’s Christmas all the witnesses are away on holiday too – so I’m giving all the testimonies! HAH!”
“They could be given by a talking parrot, for all I care – Santa didn’t do the deed, and the evidence will show the truth!”
Miles and his father had been very thorough with the storyline. The contradictions were subtle, but despite Larry hamming up his role for the audience he still remembered the main points of the case, and Phoenix was able to seize the inconsistencies, turn them into gaping holes and slam them home with a dramatic finger-point and “TAKE THAT!” Larry’s painstakingly constructed papier mache props became vital pieces of evidence in his hands, and eventually the truth came out for all the gallery to see.
“And this leaves only one conclusion,” Phoenix announced. “YOU murdered Rudolph!” he flung his hand out to point at Larry. “You’re a reindeer in disguise, and you framed Santa for the dirty deed because you wanted to help pull the sleigh and he wouldn’t let you!”
“Oh, that’s right, blame it all on the bad guy!” Larry protested. “Where are my antlers, then, huh? Prove that!”
Phoenix turned to the audience.
“WHERE ARE HIS ANTLERS?” he shouted.
“UNDER THE HAT!” the audience shouted back.
“Oh no they’re not!” Larry cried, but Phoenix ran up to him and whipped his Santa hat off, to reveal the felt reindeer antlers he wore underneath. “Nooo, I have been exposed! But you’re too late, I’m the judge AND the prosecutor, therefore I can declare Santa guilty any time I like!”
“OBJECTION!” Phoenix shouted. “There’s a fatal flaw in your logic!”
“I hereby declare Santa-“
“If Santa’s guilty, he gets the death sentence, and then there’ll be no Christmas because Santa’s dead and you won’t get to pull the sleigh anyway!”
A short silence. Larry abruptly twitched. Then twitched again.
“GARRRRGHHHHHH!” he’d been practicing this for the last week, this scream of defeat, and with it he collapsed into a writhing heap. “I have failed! Nooooooo… Santa’s… not… guilty…” he gurgled his last, lying motionless on the floor.
There was a rousing cheer from the audience, who broke into applause. Phoenix just couldn’t help himself, his determined lawyer demeanour was fractured by the huge grin that spread across his face, the sound of everybody clapping wildly sending his adrenaline soaring. They’d done it! He held his hand out to the left, beckoning to the wings as Larry stood to his right. Miles walked onstage – he wasn’t grinning like Phoenix and Larry were, but his face was flushed with pride and he smiled a little half-smile as he took Phoenix’s outstretched hand. Larry took Phoenix’s other hand and the three of them bowed to another surge in the applause. As Phoenix straightened up he could see his mother and father waving at him, his father putting two fingers in his mouth to whistle loudly. Miles’ father was clapping, hands high above his head, and others had joined in as they bowed one last time, the headmaster returning to usher them off the stage.
“That was AMAZING!” Phoenix said excitedly as they ran down the stairs to join their class, who were getting into their costumes for the class performance later on in the night. “Larry, you were fantastic!”
“Dude, you’re talking to Larry Butz – of course I’m fantastic,” Larry smirked.
“Fantastically hopeless at sticking to the script, you mean,” Miles sighed, but there wasn’t any bite to his comment – it had all worked out for the best, after all, and when dealing with The Butz such things were only to be expected.
“Ah, shush, Edgey – the crowd loved it, that’s all that matters, right?” Larry said, taking off his false beard. “You need to take a chill pill at Christmas!” he put the beard on Miles before the other boy could react. Miles just raised one eyebrow, and Phoenix laughed because the whole thing looked utterly ridiculous, which made Miles laugh too.
“Hey, Edgey, you really saved me back there,” Phoenix said. “I clean forgot my opening line, I can’t believe I was so dumb – I saw your Dad and my Mom and Dad there, and it just went out of my head!”
“Told you not to look at the audience!” Miles replied, taking the beard off and giving it back to Larry. “My father’s never wrong about things like that.”
“Ugh, I know,” Phoenix groaned. “I couldn’t help it, I just glanced over - and your Dad really stands out in a crowd so I spotted him straight away. Hey, he looked like he really enjoyed it, he was clapping like crazy!”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Miles really did grin this time. “I think we were the best!”
“Totally!” Larry agreed. “You think I’m the best, don’t you, Anna?” he called out to Anna Tovey, who was sitting in the corner wearing her fairy dress and tiara, holding a wand with a star on the end. She just stuck her tongue out at him in response.
“See, she digs me!” Larry whispered to Phoenix and Miles, who exchanged resigned glances. There really was no telling him.
“Get into your costumes, you three – we’re on soon!” Mrs Caxton called to them, holding out the white sheets that were to be their angel outfits. They were performing ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ as a class.
“I’m not wearing that, miss, it looks stupid!” Larry protested. “Anna gets to be a fairy so can’t I be, like, a demon or something?”
“No. You can be a seraphim or a cherubim, or you can sit out, and if you sit out then you’re not going to Bugsy Malone if we win the prize. Your choice, Larry.”
Larry made a face, but reached out for his costume. He still bent his halo out of shape before putting it on, though. When they went on to perform their carol, Phoenix couldn’t help but feel a little chuffed that the applause they received wasn’t half as loud as that of their opening skit.
At the end of the show, the headmaster went back on stage, the classes filing on after him one by one.
“Well, I hope you have all enjoyed yourselves!” Mr. Cage announced, to which he received cheers and applause from the audience. “But all good things must come to an end, sadly – it is time to bring our Christmas program to a close, and the end of another term with it. But there’s still one more end-of-term treat in store for one lucky class standing onstage tonight! The winners of the best individual act, along with their class, will get to see the opening night showing of Bugsy Malone down at the Playhouse.”
“This is it!” Phoenix whispered.
“And I’m pleased to announce that the winners are… Petra Hicks and Gerry Thompson of class 3C!”
The audience immediately began clapping, and the boys and girls of class 3C cheered, swarming around Petra and Gerry to congratulate them. Miles, Larry and Phoenix just stared at the headmaster’s back in shocked dismay.
“It’s… not us,” Phoenix said slowly.
“Man, that’s lame!” Larry grumbled.
“FAVOURITISM!” Miles shouted over the applause. His face was red with fury.
The clapping slowed – some of the audience had heard this.
“You just gave it to them because Petra’s the Mayor’s daughter! They couldn’t even SING!” Miles continued loudly. Behind him Mrs Caxton was pushing her way through the class to try and get to him. “That’s totally unjust – I ob-“ she clapped her hand over his mouth.
“Another word, Miles, and that’ll be a week’s worth of detentions!”
“No, Edgey’s right, miss!” Phoenix said. “This is unfair – our show was ten million times better-“
“YEAH!” Larry butted in. “WE should win!”
There was a rustling sound as the curtains drew shut, the heavy velvet muffling the ruckus they were creating and leaving the headmaster in front to still address the audience. Some of them had stopped clapping, while others were continuing half-heartedly. They weren’t sure how to react after that.
“Quiet!” Mrs Caxton said over the top of Larry and Phoenix’s objections.
“But miss!”
“What did I. Just. Say?”
They fell silent. Through the curtain came the sound of the headmaster wishing everyone a Happy Christmas, acting as if the disruption had never occurred, then a hubbub was audible as the audience began leaving the hall. The rest of the class stood uneasily, and when Mrs Caxton turned to them to dismiss them they scattered with relief, running down the stairs to go and find their parents. Anna Tovey paused as she passed them.
“I think… I think you guys were great!” she whispered, then she was gone.
Phoenix looked across at Larry, who was smiling like Christmas had come early. But then he heard a sound next to him, and turning he realised that Miles had tears running down his face.
“I’m really sorry, miss,” Miles hiccupped, looking up at Mrs Caxton. “I didn’t mean to shout like that… you’re going to give us a detention, aren’t you?”
“I won’t turn up for it,” Phoenix said resolutely, hand flying to the attorney’s badge at his chest. “I won’t!”
“Yeah, what he said!” Larry chimed in.
Mrs Caxton looked around. The other classes were dispersing, so she crouched down, at eye level with the three boys, and murmured,
“I’m not giving you a detention. Okay?” she dug a packet of tissues out of her pocket, opening them up and offering one to Miles, who took it and tried to wipe the tears away from his eyes even though more were still coming. “I think you should have won too, but sometimes things don’t work out the way they should.”
“Then why can’t we do something about it, miss?” Phoenix asked.
“Because…” Mrs Caxton began, but looking at Phoenix’s face she realised that she couldn’t just dismiss it. What had happened was inevitable – the school lacked funding and the Mayor was on the verge of approving a grant to replace the beaten-up minibus that would be taking class 3C to the Playhouse at the weekend. But she couldn’t tell them that – they just wouldn’t understand. Yet they had worked so hard, the three of them. Larry had turned up on time every day for the last three weeks, and she knew well enough that the only time Miles ever cried was when he was frustrated. And the downhearted look on Phoenix’s face was just too much for her to bear. “Because I’m taking the three of you to see Bugsy Malone anyway,” she said, her mind made up.
“Really, miss?” Phoenix brightened up immediately. “We can still go?”
“Yes. And we’ll go on the second night so we can watch it in peace without class 3C being there. How about that?”
“Oh wow!” Phoenix exclaimed. “That would be awesome!”
“Score!” Larry whooped.
“Thankyou, Mrs Caxton,” Miles said politely. The corners of his eyes were still slightly wet but he’d regained his composure.
“You’re welcome, Miles,” Mrs Caxton replied with a smile, standing up. “Now go and find your parents, the three of you – I’m sure they’re waiting.”
“Nah, my Mum’s not,” Larry stuck his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “She forgot to come, I think. Or something.”
He seemed totally unfussed by this. Then again, it was a regular occurrence, Mrs Caxton knew. She had only met Mrs. Butz once – the sweet smell of ethanol on her breath had told her a lot about Larry’s home situation, that she wished wasn’t the case. But Larry took it all in his stride, and despite being a thoroughly disreputable boy, Mrs Caxton was inexplicably fond of him.
“She missed a good show, Larry. You were excellent,” she said.
“Thanks, miss!” she was treated to a classic Butz grin – wide and gappy-toothed.
“I’ll pick you up from the school gates – see you Sunday.”
“Bye, miss!” they chorused as she made her way off-stage.
“Let’s go!” Larry said, and the three of them ran down the stairs and around to the front entrance where Phoenix and Miles’ parents were waiting.
***
December 23rd
“What a show!” Phoenix said excitedly as they left the Playhouse. “I’m gonna have the songs stuck in my head all Christmas.”
“Yeah, that Blousey girl really was something,” Larry sighed happily.
“I thought it was very impressive,” Miles said thoughtfully. “It had some very clever lines.”
“I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” Mrs Caxton was looking through the program. “They did a good job of it.”
“I wanna be a gangster when I grow up!” Larry declared. “I’m gonna make a fortune selling rare Pokemon cards. And chewing gum! And if anyone tries to stop me, WHAM, that’ll be a custard pie in your face, buddy!”
“That’s a bad idea, Larry. I don’t want to be defending you in court when I grow up!” Miles said as they got into Mrs Caxton’s car.
“Psh, I’d never make it to court because I’d be a master criminal and nobody would catch me!”
“They always leave traces, Larry. They’d catch you somehow.”
“Yeah, ‘cause if something smells, it’s usually the Butz!” Phoenix laughed, batting away Larry’s retaliatory poke in the side.
“Don’t stink as bad as you, Nick-o!”
“Now now,” Mrs Caxton said, looking at the three of them in her rear view mirror. “No fighting in my car, please!”
“Hey, Larry, where would you get all your rare Pokemon cards from?” Phoenix asked.
“Easy! I’d steal all yours.”
“I’ve only got three!”
“Then I’ll steal all of Edgey’s too!”
“I’ve only got one and it’s the one Nick gave me. You can have it if you want – I’ve never used it.”
“Hey, you’re meant to be saving up for a starter pack to put it in!” Phoenix protested.
“I don’t have the money right now, do I?”
“Nah, it’s ‘cause Edgey’s too boring to play Pokemon,” Larry sniggered.
“Am not!” Miles said hotly. “I’ve only got no allowance left because I gave it all to Nick to replace the satchel that YOU wrecked!”
Mrs Caxton frowned.
“What’s this about your satchel, Phoenix?”
The three boys froze on the back seat. In the mirror Mrs Caxton could see the guilty, guilty looks on their faces.
“Ulp…”