2:
The judge was an old woman with pince-nez, silver hair, and the darkest skin I'd ever seen. As I stood before her in the courtroom, she sat on the bench, reviewing my file in a manila folder.
She took off the glasses and pointed them at me. "I see you have a record of stealing." I shrugged. "Three attempts last year, two this year, and now this." She paused. "I see, though, that you only steal food. Why is that, Young Man? Don't you have enough to eat at home?"
"I don't have a home."
She was silent. "Oh." She finally said. "I see. You're a street kid."
"That's right."
"In that case," she picked up a gavel. "I'm sending you to the St. Jerome Emiliani Home for Boys." She rapped the wooden mallet.
"Hey wait!" I interjected, breaking away from the cop. "I don't want to go to some orphanage! I've already run away from two of them!"
She was unmoved. "It's either this, Young Man, or Juvie."
I'd already been in Juvie once. And I never wanted to go back. So I consented. I was headed to St. Jerome Whatever.
St. Jerome Emiliani was some pious looking guy with a beard and priest's robe. In the front of the orphanage, there was a stained glass window of him surrounded by children. Nuns ran the whole place.
There wasn't much to do but go to my new room. I had no luggage with me, nothing but the clothes on my back. And even those were about to be tossed.
The Mother Superior had given me a new uniform: A white button up shirt, a tie, and an itchy gray jacket and pants set.
She also gave me the Evil Eye. "In my orphanage," she warned. "We have little tolerance for misbehavior. I don't care what you got away with in your last two homes, or on the streets, but here, you will follow the guidelines I set before you. Understand?" Before I had a chance to answer, she said, "Good. Now put your new uniform on and deposit your old clothes in the box by the stairs. We will donate them to charity."
"Aren't we charity?" My remark was evidently not appreciated, but before the Mother Superior had a chance to reprimand me, there were shouts and several boys ran by the room. One kid with frizzy brown hair and acne dashed in.
"Mother Superior, Mother Superior! There's a fight in the kitchen!"
She sighed irritably. "It's Vicious again, isn't it?" She muttered something, crossed herself, and left me, wondering just what was so vicious.
So there I was in my new room. All I really had to do besides change was make up my new bed. I'd never done it before, and soon, the whole thing looked worse than if I slept in it.
The door opened and a tall kid with a large nose walked in. He was three years older than me. "You must be the new guy."
I noted the shiner around his eye. "You must be the kid who was in that fight."
"What?" He touched his bruise. "Oh no, not me." He grinned. "Stray punch. I was trying to pull Vicious off of Ricky and he belted me."
"So why'd you get involved?" I asked. I was stuffing the ends of the sheet under the mattress.
He shrugged. "When Vicious gets going, he's pretty hard to handle. The nuns have a rough time controlling him, so us boys jump in and try to help whenever he starts a fight, which is everyday." He paused. "I'm Harold by the way."
"This Vicious guy sounds real pleasant," I said sarcastically. "I'm just going to love it here."
"Eh, it's not so bad at St. Jerome's," said Harold, sitting on the bed across from me. "I've been in worse places. At least we have heat and AC, and the Sisters really do try hard. Here," he stood up and walked over to my bed. "Lemme show you how to make your bed. I couldn't do it either when I first got here. Get on the other side and you can imitate what I do." I was in no position to argue; my new bed looked like a bomb had exploded under the sheets.
As we smoothed out the wrinkles on the bottom sheet with our hands, Harold said, "I've been in about three fights with Vicious. He's pretty cool, but he tends to explode over little things. Other than that, he's ok." I nodded and we pulled the top sheet to the headboard. "Don't worry," Harold continued. "Once you get used to this place, you'll like it."