Mikey stood in the middle of a hot, stuffy court room, not listening to the endless droning of the white-haired judge who, with maybe the rest of the people in here, regarded her as a despicable criminal who needed to be institutionalized. And in the very distant back of her mind, maybe she was a criminal; maybe not a despicable one, but a criminal none of the less. She did have to agree with the defendants' lawyer that not many other girls could do what she had done nearly a week ago. Mikey stood there, wearing slightly ripped jeans (not the kind that people rip on purpose), a black, spaghetti strap tank top, and black Converse. Her long, jet black hair shined under the late afternoon Californian sunlight that seeped through the dusty court windows.

Bored, and maybe a bit nervous, she glanced behind her shoulder at the crowd of people that had come to see her trial. Her crime wasn't really "television news-worthy", but her trial did attract a fair amount of people.

There, sitting to her left in the front row closest to her, were three very familiar faces she recognized instantly.

Like her, they were young teenagers, boys to be exact, and they were all happened to be her closest friends. They were all still in junior high, four months away from being freshmen in September. The boy sitting closest to Mikey was her best friend out of the three. He had blond hair with black streaks that sort of covered his blue eyes. He also wore ripped jeans and Converse, but had on a green plaid collar shirt over a matching muscle shirt. What first drew a person's eyes to Michael was the unmistakable lip ring smack dab in the middle of his bottom lip which his father had given him hell for after he found out about it. Mikey's best friend's name was Michael Traubenfeld, and she'd known him ever since she could remember.

To his right sat Oswald Green, but he always strongly demanded that he be called Ozz instead. Originally dark brown, his spiked hair was bright orange. His usual mischievous brown eyes, like Mikey's, were looking pretty grim right now, so unlike his usual self. Today he wore a red t-shirt with the words "I'm just a Nobody" with also had ripped jeans and Converse. On his left eyebrow was a piercing that he got on a dare and kept.

Next to him sat Ricky Dilzweld. Ricky might be taken on first appearance as a preppy boy with his crisp clean shirt and non-ripped pants and non-pierced body, but after getting to know him better, he was just as wild and crazy as the rest of the group. Ricky was a good boy; unlike Ozz, who was liable to getting in trouble in five minutes flat in school and was even the class clown. Out of the three, Michael was the most mellow out of them, and was quite known as a ladies' man.

If anyone were to ask them on their opinion of Mikey, they'd probably say that she was a "crazy ass tomboy." And it was pretty much true. Mikey liked dressing up like a boy (only because their clothes were way much comfier) and doing things other girls wouldn't dare do. All four of them loved skateboarding and were even in a band. They hadn't figured a name yet, but who cares? 

Michael and Mikey played guitar, Ozz played bass, and Ricky played the drums. They were pretty g-

"Michelle Johnson!"

Mikey snapped my head forward so fast it actually cracked. She winced. Ow, pain, she thought as she slowly rotated her neck. Mikey brought her full attention back to the old judge in front of her and said loudly, "It's Michelle Halliwell," putting emphasis on the last name.

The judge's brow furrowed in confusion. He looked down at the file lying on his tall wooden desk. "No," he said slowly, "It says here that your last name is Johnson-"

"Johnson is the last name of those wannabe parents of mine," she retorted, a little too harshly. "My real last name before I was taken into their loving-" she spat the word out disgustedly "-care was, and still is, Halliwell."

The old man nodded. "All right, Ms. Halliwell," he said. "As we have heard the case, the jury has made their decision."

Mikey held her breath.

"You are declared guilty for the severe harm done to the five young boys who were physically injured by your hands on the twenty-first of March."

"WHAT?!" Mikey cried. Murmurs of the crowd behind her had broken after the sentence. "I'm friggen innocent!" she yelled. "It was self-defense!"

"ORDER! ORDER!" yelled the judge, banging on the wooden desk to silence everyone. Once order had been restored, he once again turned to the young teenager. "Now," he began as if he hadn't heard what Mikey had previously said, "I have been informed of an opening in a special institution that helps remediate delinquents of your kind. Instead of sentencing you to juvenile hall for two years, I have decided to sentence you to Camp Green Lake for one year."

Mikey walked in a slight daze out of the court room. She couldn't believe it. At the front desk, she was informed that a cop would come to her home at promptly six AM tomorrow morning. In the mean time, she was to pack a few of her belongings. "You are going to make a long trip to Texas-"

"TEXAS?!" Mikey screamed. Her mind reeled and she felt like she would black out then and there.

The guard nodded. Perhaps sensing the state she was in, he took a cautious step towards her. "The facility is located close to the city of Houston, Texas."

Mikey's eyes practically bulged out of her sockets. Texas? Are you kidding me?? she thought. At that precise moment, Mikey felt a hand fall on her shoulder. Instinctively, she shrugged the hand off of her and spun around. She encountered blue eyes and, without hesitation, jumped into Michael's arms.

Her next words came muffled against his chest, but the three boys still heard her clearly, "I can't believe this is fucking happening to me!"

Michael wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair. "I'm sorry," were the only words he could give her. Frankly, he was at lost for words. Behind him, Ozz wasn't. He was cussing out the five boys who were passing them at that moment. None of them looked at Mikey for more than a passing glance. If they had the ability to grin, they would have been doing that right now. But as it was, their bruised visages wouldn't allow them, courtesy of Mikey.

When Mikey had pulled out of Michael's arms, he asked her if she was going to stay at his house tonight. "You don't have to go back to the Johnsons if you don't want to," he coaxed.

Mikey grimaced. Michael always knew what was on her mind. "I have to go and pack my stuff, but I'll come directly to your house after," she promised him. "I'm not going to stay with them longer than I have to." After hugging Ricky and Ozz, Mikey stepped out of the white washed building to see that it was nearly dusk now. With a wave to Michael, accompanied with another grimace from her, Mikey started her way to the Johnson home, to the big surprise that would await there.