Chapter 3

Having learnt his lesson the hard way, the remaining few days of isolation passed in silence and every single minute felt like an eternity. Day six finally arrived and the correction officer unlocked the door to Callen's isolation cell and escorted him to the showers at 06:30. Clean clothes, toiletries and a towel were provided and ten minutes later he was taken back to the his cell in the main wing. At precisely 07:15, he was allowed breakfast in the dining area. Callen's first interaction with other youths after a week's isolation was uneventful. He sat at a table on his own and kept his head down, focusing on eating his food and drinking his juice. No one spoke to him and he spoke to no one. After breakfast, he and all the other boys returned to their cells. Classes started at 08:30 and Callen was taken to another room just past the recreation area. The classroom contained about twenty boys ranging in age from fourteen to sixteen. His social worker Miss Williams had advised during his first day that classes were made up of children of similar ages and abilities. Callen sat at the only free desk at the front of the room and slouched back, stretching out his legs. In the past three years he had barely attended school. He was moved so frequently that some social workers had given up registering him in local schools, although many foster families insisted on sending him. However Callen also had a tendency to play truant. School bored him; he had no friends, was always stared at as the 'new kid', and then bullied when he was discovered to be a ward of the state, living in foster care or children's homes. He had also been excluded several times for fighting and word soon got around the local schools as to who were the trouble-makers.

The male class teacher at Southgate was a middle aged man, wearing jeans and a checked shirt. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else than teaching a group of delinquents at a detention centre; an attitude that was mirrored by the facial expressions and body language of each boy in the room. Mr Jessop also exerted an air of authority that was instantly recognised by the class. He was a traditionalist, which in reality meant he would freely use a cane, ruler or a shoe to mete out punishments. A glare from him ensured that silence rapidly ensued, and Mr Jessop handed out packets to each boy, which that morning consisted of Maths papers. English would follow in the afternoon. Callen lazily opened the papers and glanced around him. Seeing most of the class settling down to work, Callen did the same, taking his time and doodling. Maths was a subject he could manage better in his head than on paper so he took to guessing how many minutes had passed, versus the time that had elapsed when he looked at the classroom clock.

A general assumption of Southgate was that the inmates were not as bright as children in the outside population. It was expected that they had learning difficulties or that they had missed so much school through poor behaviour they were perpetually playing catch up. The result was that Southgate had an apathetic attitude towards education; and that was reflected in their standards and their teaching, which consisted of the teacher making sure there was silence in class. There was little interaction or tutoring and therefore no real learning. After two hours, the boys were allowed a fifteen minute break before returning for another hour session that led up to lunch. After lunch there was a further hour and a half class. At 2:30pm, classes finished for the day and the youths were either taken to weekly group or individual therapy sessions or allowed supervised free time, indoors or outside.

That afternoon, Callen decided that outside may be better for his health than hanging around the recreation area after the events of his first day, and he sauntered through the door and leaned against the exterior wall of the building, breathing in the fresh air. He turned his face towards the sky and thought it was rather fitting that grey clouds covered the usual blue California skies; even the weather was depressed in this part of town.

The exercise yard was a reasonable size with a basket ball court marked out, rigid frames cemented into the concrete provided stability for the baskets and about a dozen boys were playing. Past the court was an expanse of grass, edged by tall mesh fences that were topped with razor wire. If the cell bars and constant presence of correction officers weren't enough to remind him he was a prisoner, the razor wire topped it off. Callen sighed and pushed himself off the wall, preparing to take a walk around the perimeter.

"Hey, you that kid who punched Matty B?"

A boy Callen recognised from class was asking the question and he shrugged in response. If he said yes, then maybe this kid would give him a kicking, and Callen had had enough fighting for the moment. The thought of more time in isolation made him want to scream. If he said no, then he would lose any possibility he might have to develop his reputation.

"I'm Joe. I hope you are as Matty B thinks he runs this hole. He's caused a lot of shit for a lot of people and everyone's scared of him," Joe stopped talking to look at Callen, waiting for a response.

Callen sized Joe up. He looked about the same age as he was, but had short brown hair, was taller and carried more weight. Mind you, Callen thought, most people were taller than him and since he had practically starved himself for three days and before that had lived rough, most people were also heavier.

"Yeah, that was me. Callen," Callen warily introduced himself. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers and started walking. He wasn't sure that he needed a friend in this place. Staying on his own was probably safest, but Joe seemed to have other ideas.

"You're already a legend in this place," Joe said, keeping pace with Callen. "Your first day, you beat the top dog and get sent to solitary. That's the stuff legends are made of – and no one even knew your name...classic."

Callen refrained from reacting to Joe's last few words. Jesus, he thought, he didn't even know his own name. "It wasn't really how I thought my first day would go," he admitted.

"Trouble is, Matty B and his gang will be out for revenge, so you need to watch your back,"

"But he got me sent to isolation for a week," Callen had already gathered that neither Matty B or Jose had been written up or punished in any way for their attack on him.

"Doesn't matter. You made Matty B look stupid...I hope you worked out in solitary?"

"What?"

"Worked out, y'know, press ups, sit ups...what else did you do all day?"

Callen shrugged. Exercise had never crossed his mind. Instead he had dwelled on the past, a past that was consuming him. "If he wants a fight he knows where to find me. It's not like I'm going anywhere and he doesn't scare me."

"What you in for?" Joe asked, studying Callen. He looked like all the other kids in Southgate; tough, untrusting and edgy. Sure there was the odd kid that looked like he didn't belong, but once they were all dressed in the same uniform, there was little to distinguish them from one another.

Callen stopped walking and turned to face Joe. "Robbery, mainly," he said, refraining from adding that the judge had also sneaked in charges of resisting arrest, running away from social services and persistent truancy. He also had a list of prior offences that had accumulated over the years. His police record had finally caught up with him and the judge had referred to the previous leniency of Callen's past crimes, as a crime in itself.

"You?"

"Attacking my step dad," Joe looked at Callen. "I had to stop him from getting to my sister," Joe explained. He looked off in to the distance but not before Callen caught a glimpse of a tear forming in his brown eyes.

"Did you?" Callen asked.

"Yeah, but my mom backed him and had me arrested. My sister ran away. I don't know where she is now." Joe bowed his head and scuffed his plimsolls along the ground, kicking tiny pieces of gravel into the air.

Callen felt a pang of sympathy for Joe and was reminded that he wasn't the only teenager to have a rough time of life. At least, he thought wryly, having no parents meant he wasn't stuck with ones who were meant to love him but were only capable of abuse.

"When I got arrested I'd been living on the streets. You sort of go where all the other kids go, it's safer. Y'know, down Venice or Hollywood." Callen nodded his head to encourage Joe to start walking again. "Not many kids use their real name but maybe I met her. What's she like?"

Joe looked up and met Callen's eyes. "She's thirteen, long brown hair to here." Joe pointed to two inches beneath his shoulders. "She's your height and real skinny."

"That could be anyone," Callen said, causing Joe to slump his shoulders and slow almost to a stop. "What makes her stand out?"

"She has braces – train tracks top and bottom that makes her speak with a lisp. Her name's Lizzie."

"Nicknames?" Callen asked. He could not think of anyone matching the description Joe had just given him, but there were thousands of homeless children on the streets of Los Angeles. Most of them did not want to be found and many had no one to miss them.

"Not really," Joe said. "But she always liked the name Maddie. Madeleine's her middle name." Joe looked at Callen, his eyes full of hope.

"When I get out of here, I'll go looking for you," Callen said.

"How long did you get?"

"Six months, but I'll be out in a few weeks," Callen replied confidently.

"You appealing?" Joe asked in surprise. His first impression of Callen was that he came from a poor family and was just as guilty as the rest of them, and so reckoned he was stuck with the rest of them until he served his sentence.

"No," Callen said, glancing around him for anyone that might be in earshot. "This place sucks and I'm not staying here."

"Woah," Joe exclaimed. "You're going to escape? Last time someone tried that they were caught the same day and spent at least six months in isolation."

Callen ignored the warnings from Joe. It sounded like he was exaggerating. He had no escape plan yet but he hated it here. He hated the strict rules, the rigid structure, the school classes, the other kids and the officers. Underneath his quiet exterior he was still seething that he had been placed in isolation for throwing two punches, and physically abused too. He shuddered inwardly as he thought about what the punishment might be for a real fight.

"Maybe you're right," Callen lied to Joe. He was already regretting being so open with Joe but however much he valued his own company, he still secretly craved company and Joe seemed decent enough. "I'm still pissed about being thrown in isolation for so long."

"Some of the COs chuck you in there for no reason," Joe said, as though that explanation made Callen's legitimate punishment acceptable.

"Yeah? So who do I steer clear of?" Callen decided to use Joe to obtain information that may come in useful for in the event of an escape.

"Pollack – he's about ten foot and like a flag pole. He's nasty and he picks on certain kids. He'll be violent just coz he can get away with it. And Brown, he's just evil. He'll just stand there and watch and wait and then come charging in at the last minute to haul your ass off for a beating. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown 'tash - Brown. And then there's Wells. Rumour is he just likes boys so watch for your cell door opening in the middle of the night. Wells is quiet and a bit fat. The rest are OK I guess."

"Hhhmm," Callen reckoned it was Pollack and Brown who had dragged him to the cells the previous week, and Brown who had given him most of the beating. "Do they really watch everything we do?"

The two boys had stopped walking having reached the point where the imposing brick wall met the high mesh fence that gave them a tantalising view of freedom. Callen placed his hands on the fence and curled his fingers, gripping the metal. He gently shook the fence as he kicked at the ground absently, trying to draw information out of Joe.

"Nope. Well, just the ones I told you. The rest don't care. Sometimes at night you can hear them snoring or watching TV. Three months ago, they got drunk and watched porn. You can get away with loads; smoking, drugs, sex, gambling - anything unless it causes them a problem."

"But they don't like us fighting?" Callen said.

"Not unless they're starting it," Joe laughed. "If you get seriously hurt you might end up in hospital but they'd probably just leave you in pain to die on the floor. You were lucky."

"Yeah, real lucky," Callen narrowed his eyes, gazing at the single CO who stood observing the fifty or so youths that were outside. "Y'know, if we all rioted now, we could take over this place in minutes."

Joe stared at Callen. He couldn't tell if the new boy was being serious or just mocking him. He got the sense that Callen was not just street smart but also other smart, like he actually had a brain in his head. He also had a desperate glint in his eyes and that meant he could be dangerous to be around. Joe wanted to serve his sentence without trouble. He had a further five months to go and had no desire to lengthen his stay.

"Look Callen, don't go making trouble. The COs will have marked you now. And don't forget Matty B." Joe glanced around him. "Matty hangs round with Jose, Mark and Will. They're all sixteen, seventeen. Jose was with Matty fighting you. Mark is a big black kid and Will is white trailer trash, real poor, real stupid; tattoos everywhere. He smokes and deals drugs. They run this place and I'm pretty sure they've got some deal with Pollack."

Joe walked back a few paces and Callen observed a change in his body language. He was literally backing away from him, disassociating himself from a trouble-maker. Callen was used to it. Joe had given him insightful information on who really ran Southgate and who to look out for, but Callen was sure that he could befriend Joe properly if he needed.

He stared at the grass and ran his fingers through his hair before looking up at Joe; his clear blue eyes full of pain and hurt. To keep Joe onside, Callen thought he would play on Joe's compassionate nature, but in reality, he allowed a glimpse of his real emotions to show. "Sorry," he shrugged. "I'm just...y'know..."

Joe nodded in understanding and smiled. "Sure...Look I gotta go." He patted Callen on the arm and moved away. "Maybe catch ya later..."

Callen watched Joe walk back towards the basketball court and breathed a sigh of relief. He still had no escape plan but he had at least found someone he could talk to in this hell hole. Even his first day out of isolation had been a challenge. Uneventful maybe, but the long class sessions and periods of free time with nothing much to do, did not to inspire him to believe his stay at Southgate would pass quickly. At least he had been spared the dreaded therapy sessions, and he hoped he would be as lucky tomorrow.

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