The Intern(14)

Nancy glanced at her watch impatiently, making clear what the right answer was. A good lawyer read documents before signing. But Madison was afraid to annoy her.

“I’d appreciate that,” she said.

“Starting with the NDA—that’s a non-disclosure agreement,” she said, enunciating like she thought Madison was incapable of understanding.

“I’m familiar with those from contracts class.”

“Forget everything you think you know. This NDA goes well beyond what you’re used to, because Judge Conroy has unique security concerns. You can’t discuss anything about this internship with outsiders. And absolutely nothing about the judge. Not what she says or does, who she meets with, what she wears, the papers you see on her desk. Her friends, her pets, her home address. It’s all confidential. That may seem extreme, but it’s for her security.”

“I understand.”

Nancy flipped the form to the signature page. Madison took a deep breath and signed on the dotted line.

“Now, the employment form. We use this with our law clerks. It asks for a lot of specific information that you may not have on hand at the moment. Names, addresses, phone numbers, and so on. Of past employers, references, roommates, housemates, family members. Basically, everyone you know.”

Family members. Shit. She would have to put down Danny’s name, then. Well, of course she would—she’d been planning to tell the judge about him anyway, to clear up the misunderstanding. She just didn’t want to do it on a personnel form, with no context. This was too big a deal. She’d pretended to be an only child, with no siblings. It would look like she lied. Well, because she did lie. To a federal judge, a woman she admired and felt a meaningful connection to. The judge felt it, too. She’d surely feel betrayed. This required an explanation, and an apology. She needed to go back in there and clear things up. Now.

She got to her feet.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Nancy said.

“There’s something I need to tell Judge Conroy.”

“The interview’s over. Sit down.”

“But—”

“I said sit down.”

Nancy spoke softly, but with an edge to her tone that couldn’t be ignored. Madison obeyed.

“If you want to succeed in this office, Miss Rivera, you need to understand something from the start. The judge is a very busy woman with an extremely important job. We’re here to support her, not distract her. If you have questions, or concerns of any kind, you come to me, or ask the law clerks. You do not, under any circumstances, approach the judge. Is that clear?”

“But when we talked in the interview—”

“She can be quite warm,” Nancy said dismissively, like that was a character flaw. “It creates a misimpression.”

“A misimpression. Exactly. You see—”

“No. You need to understand, you’re here to do legal research under the supervision of the law clerks. Your contact with Judge Conroy will be limited to observing her in court. You’re not to knock on her office door or try to initiate small talk or get face time. I know you Harvard kids are hot to network. But if you want to succeed here, keep your head down. Complete your assignments in a timely fashion. And never bother the judge. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The form. Take it home. Fill it out, sign the bottom. You’re affirming the truth of your responses under penalty of perjury—”

“Perjury?”

Her mouth went dry. There it was—possible criminal charges if she didn’t write Danny’s name down. Yet no way to speak to Judge Conroy in advance to clear up the misunderstanding. This was a freaking disaster, and she didn’t know who she was madder at—Danny or herself. She swallowed hard, hoping that the panic didn’t show on her face.

“Is that a problem?” Nancy said, giving her a sharp look.

“No, of course not.”

But Nancy was eyeing her suspiciously.

“Just so you know, I go over these things with a fine-tooth comb. Any misrepresentations or inaccuracies will be reported to your law school dean, as well as referred to the FBI for investigation.”

“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” Madison said, as an anxious pulse beat in her throat.

“I hope not. Bring it back tomorrow when you start the job.”

After coming to terms on the hours Madison would work, they said good night. Nancy saw her out, shutting the chambers door firmly behind her.

Back in her dorm room, she scarfed down a Kind bar as she studied the specific wording of the question about family members. It was airtight, asking for the names, addresses, and Social Security numbers of mother, father, spouse, children, and siblings. For each, it asked you to fill in place of birth, immigration status, place of employment—and whether they’d been convicted of a crime. There was no way to avoid mentioning Danny, or his drug case, other than to lie, which obviously she wasn’t going to do. Lying to the judge during the interview had been a stupid mistake made in the heat of the moment. It was not intentional. And she didn’t plan to repeat it. That would be insane when the form had to be filled out in writing and signed under penalty of perjury, and Nancy had put her on notice that she’d be vetting it carefully.

Madison read through the form again, looking for a place to explain why she hadn’t brought up Danny in the interview. But there was no way to expound on your answers. No box saying “other” or “additional information,” only specific questions with limited space to respond. That was just as well. This problem was too big to fix with a couple of sentences on a form. If she wanted to salvage her working relationship with Conroy, she needed to speak to her personally. It was the only way. Nancy had made it clear that wouldn’t be happening in the office. She’d have to approach Judge Conroy after class, at the law school. But Conroy only taught once a week. Madison wouldn’t see her at the law school for days.