Disclaimer: Lisi Harrison owns the character names- everything else about them is pretty much mine, as I've totally altered their personalities =)
Enjoy, pretties.
The first thing they do to you in juvie is strip you of your identity. They take your clothing and force you to wear a rough orange jumpsuit, the same as every other kid in your block. They take away your makeup, jewelry, socks, shoes, extra clothes, your gun- everything but your underwear and your ID. You are nothing but a name on a piece of plastic, two lacy bra-panty sets, and an orange jumpsuit.
The second thing they do to you in juvie is strip you of your pride. They drag you by the elbow to the common room- a huge chamber with bare walls, three leaking sinks, an old black and white television set with no remote, and a threadbare sofa- and introduce you to all the other kids there. I was one of three females in juvie- the other two were huge, lurking girls, huddled together in a corner with a comic book. There must have been thirty boys, all lounging around the room, eyes glued to the TV set- a week-old baseball game was on, and everyone was anxious to see if the Yankees would win the World Series. I already knew they did.
When the smelly oaf holding onto my arm screamed "Men!" all the kids in the room turned to look at us. A slow trail of elbow nudges, murmured expletives, and soft whistles traveled through the crowd of boys. The two girls in the corner merely groaned. The oaf ignored it.
"This is Olivia." The oaf had a thick Australian accent. "She's the newest addition to our family here at Cumberland. Play nice, boys. Dinner in ten minutes." With that, it dropped my elbow and walked away, and the group of boys began to swarm around me.
Fear and memory seized me. I bit my lip and did my best not to scream, because if I knew anything about places like this, it was that it did no good to be a wimp- but standing up for myself in a situation just like this had landed me here. I reached into my pocket, instinctively, for my precious pocket knife, but of course it had been taken away from me. The two guards- one on each side of the room- were asleep. I was on my own, facing a room full of troubled, testosterone-filled sixteen-year-old boys. Why did these kinds of things always happen to me?
I was dragged by a large boy with a sweaty red face into the center of the mob. He forced me on to the floor, and I landed sprawled on my stomach. Suddenly I felt a cool hand on my ankle. "Hey Olivia."
The voice belonged to a tall, muscular boy with pin straight, towhead hair, who I immediately recognized.
"Christopher Plovert."
"It's good seeing you again, Olivia." He began, his voice the low rumbling I remembered it to be. "Although I always knew you would one day get on your hands and knees for me, I never knew it would be like this."
He didn't speak like the others there, because he was not like his companions in any way. Chris was from my town, a wealthy suburb located south of New York City. The kids surrounding him were ghetto-dwellers, and it was obvious. Everyone had dark tattoos, grimy piercings, scars and bruises all over their bodies. He was different. His life was toil-free, and it was obvious in his manner.
"Get off of me, Chris." His right hand was perched dangerously close to my knee, creeping upward as the time ticked by.
"Oh, Olivia. It's not that easy here. This isn't high school anymore, sweetie. This is jail. You aren't loved any more, Olivia. You're a bad girl and you did a bad thing."
"I didn't do anything, Chris. I'm innocent."
"You lying bitch." He slapped me across the face, and my cheeks burned red on impact. I whimpered and curled myself into a ball. "Shut up, Olive," he taunted. "You little pussy. I know you fucking want me. Bitch."
The crowd surrounding me inched closer. All these sex-deprived teenage boys desperately wanted a piece of me- the real thing- instead of just the contraband Playboys that no doubt circulated among the dormitory.
"What are we gonna do, Pitty?" Had Chris acquired a nickname? "What are we gonna do to the little bitch?" A tubby boy had snuck up next to him. He had two eyebrow piercings and the same short crew cut as every other boy there.
"Calm down, Chubs. I'm not doing anything to the bitch just yet." The boys snickered, and Chris- with a smirk on his pretty-boy face- loped out of the room, down a dim hallway assumingly leading to dinner.
Slowly, the rest of the boys filed out behind him. Some brushed past me as they went- I was standing up at this point- and whispered into my ear. "You're real pretty, whore," they said. "I'll be seein' you lots round here. Lots. Come fuckin' visit me if you want, bitch."
I shuddered as the last few filtered out of the common room, and I was left with the two girls. They were still huddled in the corner, and I slowly approached them. "Um. Hi, guys. I'm Olivia."
The two girls looked up, shocked to see me there. "Uh. Hey." The larger of the two was the first to speak. "I'm Dylan. This is Alicia."
"How long have you guys been here? In Cumberland, I mean." I felt stupid, making whatever conversation I could.
Dylan sighed. "A month. But it feels like a million years longer. When you're in this fuckin' place, you learn the rules real fast. You don't, you're dead. Hope you don't mind me cussin'."
"I sure don't mind. No, you two are the most civil people I've met here so far."
"Yeah, well. Sorry 'bout what just happened. We woulda helped you, but… those boys don't like us too much."
"And why's that?"
"Ain't you got a brain, girl?" This time, it was Alicia who responded. "It's cause we fat. They's like you cause you is skinny and you is pretty. They ain't never gots a girl like you in this dump before."
I didn't know how to respond. "Well, um. Thanks for that, I suppose. That's really sweet of you to say."
The two girls exchanged a look. It seemed as if hours passed before Dylan finally broke the silence.
"Arright, Olivia. Now, we don't normally do this for nobody, but we feel bad for you, so we're gonna help you out. You know. So you can learn the ropes or whatever."
"Oh gosh, you guys, that would be so amazing. Thank you so much." I sighed in relief. I had friends here! I would be okay!
"Now you don't tell no one, you hear? If those boys find out we stoppin' them from gettin' you, they'll kill all three of us.
"Don't worry, Dylan. Who would I tell?"
"True. You don't got too many friends here." We laughed at that statement.
"I think I may have gotten off on the wrong foot."
"Agreed."
The three of us started to walk down the corridor, following yellow, molding signs toward the Dining Hall. The hallway smelled like frying oil.
"Girls," I began, apprehensively, "what's for dinner?"
"Well it'd be a Tuesday, so it's fried chicken day. The better of the meals, I gotta say. Course, that ain't sayin' much." That was Alicia's response. Dylan, however, had a quick rebuttal.
"Don't give her any ideas, Leesh." She turned to me. "The food here is shitty. It's cause we gotta make it. They's got rotatin' kitchen duty. Them boys are gonna roofie your food, no doubt."
"Can they do that?"
The large redhead laughed. "They can do whatever the fuck they want. Ward pretends she runs the place but she's so wrong. She just sits in her office and smokes shit she pretends isn't weed and comes out every few hours to scream at us."
"Ward is…?"
"The lady who dragged you here this morning. You know- she kinda looks like that guy from the Exorcist?"
Oh- the oaf! "I see. And the guards?"
She gestured back into the common room. "Did you see those two guys? Tito and Nate. They were delinquents here a few years ago. They give the boys whatever the fuck they want because Tito and Munchkin are in some street gang together. So… you might wanna watch what's in your food here."
"I wasn't planning on eating it anyway," I responded. "I don't eat meat. Or dairy. Or eggs. Any animal products, actually."
Dylan and Alicia burst out laughing. "Girl, how do you expect to survive here? You eat what you get served, and you don't complain!"
"So they don't have any vegetables here?"
Alicia gave a reluctant sort of look to Dylan. "Well… they do. It just might not be exactly… edible."
This was terrible. I wasn't the type of girl who was meant to live in prison. I didn't even do anything- I was framed. Horribly, horribly hurt and framed by the one boy who I would have to spend the next year with, here in this vile place, the teeming underbelly of all that is civil and safe and peaceful.
Let me know what you think! Shall I continue on with a second chapter? Reviews would brighten my day (although Irene was rather lame, and did little to ruin the day in the first place!)
Thanks, lovelies!