Chapter 4

The next day started badly with a scuffle in the shower block. Callen was not involved but he witnessed another teenager be ridiculed for the scars he had on his back and shoulders, the verbal bullying turning physical as the kid was then punched in the stomach. Only a few boys were involved, the rest, Callen included, stood and watched the humiliation unfold. It took ten minutes for a guard to realise something was happening and even then the result was the boys were dispersed; the teenager concerned was left crying at the side of the showers.

Classes continued much in the same vein, only this time Callen was the victim. Results of the previous day's math work were read out and the two boys with the lowest marks were asked to stand up at the front of the classroom. Callen defiantly stood and moved slowly to the front from the desk he had managed to secure at the back, next to Joe. The other boy, Jake Southerby, was already physically shaking.

"For those that care, this is G. Callen and of course Jake Southerby. Take a close look at these two as this is as much attention as they are every likely to get for their school work." Mr Jessop spoke slowly and condescendingly. The remainder of the class stared at the two boys; a couple started to snigger until Mr Jessop glared at them. "By now you all know Southerby. He's thick. Not just a bit slow, not just extremely stupid – as you all must be to be here– but he's thick. Once again he has failed to get more than 25% on yesterday's math paper and this is the same test he has now taken five times in the last three weeks. I'm sure we'll be seeing him again up here this afternoon when I've reviewed the English results."

By this point Jake Southerby had turned bright red and his eyes were glazed, clearly trying to hold in the tears whilst not focusing on Mr Jessop's words or the looks of amusement from the other boys, several of whom were now openly laughing at him.

"Enough," roared Mr Jessop and the class instantly fell silent. "It looks like we finally have a companion for Southerby. Callen, first name G as in the letter, not as in 'oh gee whizz'," Mr Jessop raised his eyebrows, indicating the boys were allowed to snigger, nudge each other and point to Callen. After allowing them their moment of joviality, he continued. "Now how many people have a letter for a first name? No one. So that makes him special already. And what makes him even more special is that he knew none of the answers. Apart from being able to write his name, well half his name," Mr Jessop paused to bark out a short laugh. "It seems that Callen here cannot actually write. He did not answer a single question. Maybe that means that he can't even read the questions. Well that would certainly make him thicker than Southerby."

Callen stood silent at the front of the class while Mr Jessop ripped in to him. He stared straight ahead at the back wall, anger building inside of him at Jessop's condescending words and how he encouraged the other boys to laugh at him. He felt Joe staring at him and he lowered his gaze to meet Joe's eyes. Joe shook his head slightly to warn Callen to stay quiet and suck it up. Callen lifted his head a little. He tapped his foot slightly and tightened his jaw, determined not to speak out and make matters worse. He was not embarrassed like Jake and was no way near close to tears. It was the anger that he struggled to control; that and his mouth.

Within a minute, Callen had failed to exert any self-control and he snapped his head towards Mr Jessop and said icily. "I can read and write but the questions are so stupid even a ten year old could answer them." He realised his words made Jake look even worse but he had already established that Southgate was all about survival of the fittest.

Without uttering a word Mr Jessop took two strides towards Callen and slapped him on the back of the head, causing Callen to stumble forwards, instinctively placing his hands on the desk in front to steady himself.

"I've been warned about you, boy." Mr Jessop said. "Fighting on your first day and a week in solitary."

"It was six days," Callen corrected his teacher, this time earning himself a slap to his cheek. Callen resisted the urge to raise his hand to rub his face. His cheek smarted and he was pretty sure it had instantly turned red.

"It would appear that you can count," Mr Jessop feigned amazement. "Well in that case you can re-do yesterday's maths in front of the class and without a pen or paper. Let's see if you can score higher than Southerby here."

Callen turned to face Mr Jessop, exhaling slowly as he tried to calm himself down. More time in isolation was not an option so he had to face whatever humiliation was coming his way. He watched Jessop pick up his empty math paper from the previous day, and walk through the desks to the back of the classroom. Jessop opened the first page and began speaking.

"You have a minute to answer each question, starting now. If an item you purchase has an original price of $150 and it's now $90, what percentage saving have you made?"

Callen held Mr Jessop's stare. His memory was pretty good and he could frequently recall information with great clarity, and he knew for a fact, that question was not amongst the first few pages.

"I'd make 100% saving," Callen said defiantly. "I wouldn't buy it in the first place."

"No he'd steal it," a voice from the centre of the room piped up, brave now that Mr Jessop was standing behind him. Muted laughter and muttered insults were again directed at Callen.

"Well?" Mr Jessop asked.

"Well what?"

"Would you steal it to make 100% saving?

"Yeah," Callen admitted, narrowing his eyes and visually daring any member of the class to say they would act any differently. "Then sell it for 75% of the original price so I'd make about $110."

"Interesting. What we have here is a self declared thief and quite possibly a con artist. Sounds like you should have been sent here years ago Callen. You might want to check your figures though as the answer to your own question is that you'd make $112.5 profit."

Callen allowed himself a smug grin as Jessop realised that he now risked making himself look like the stupid one. He could also tell that whatever questions Jessop would proceed to make up, would now be extremely difficult to solve.

"Fractions; what is 2/9 + 2/3?"

Callen stayed silent. He hadn't a clue.

"Shall I give you an easier one? What do the angles in a triangle add up to?"

Callen shrugged and wondered why the hell anyone would want to know that anyway.

"I'll open that up to the class. Hands up if you know the answer, which is of course one hundred and eighty degrees." Mr Jessop waited expectantly. One by one the boys all placed their hands in the air as they realised that it really didn't matter whether they knew the answer or not, Jessop had just given it to them. "Well now, looks like you're the only idiot in the class. Let's try some more; what is the square root of eighty one? What is six squared? What is a prime number?"

The questions came thick and fast. Callen had no idea how basic these questions were but from the looks on the faces of the class, they all seemed to be glad that they had not been made an example of. Callen took the verbal punches and humiliation one after the other and realised that next time he would actually have to make an effort with his work. The previous day he had literally written only his name on all of the papers and so expected a repeat performance when Mr Jessop came to review the class's English work.

Lunch was a welcome reprieve from Mr Jessop, however the humiliation continued in the dining area. He was jostled in the queue, openly talked about and insulted by more boys as news of the class room antics spread. Callen gave back as good as he got, sneaking in punches when the COs weren't looking, and firing back the verbal abuse to several of the boys. When Callen finally had food on his plate, he sat down to eat his lunch with Joe, who gave him the lowdown on Jessop.

"He's nothing more than a bully," Joe warned Callen. "He just finds someone to pick on and then bullies them in front of the class, like with you."

Callen shook his head. "Great," he said sarcastically.

"But what's worse, he picks on the same kid for weeks and weeks until he gets bored. Then he finds his next victim. Looks like he's moving from Jake Southerby to you. He works out what your weak spot is and then picks away at it. I dunno how he does it..."

"He'll have access to all our records, police and school, social services. He probably knows more about us than the COs."

"Oh yeah, I never thought of that," Joe pointed with a fork full of food in Callen's direction as he realised that Callen was correct.

"Guess you're right, Joe," Callen said, stirring round of what he believed was mashed potato on his plate. "It's my turn now - I never wrote on my English paper either. I'm gonna be this afternoon's entertainment too."

Joe leaned forward across the table. "Callen, you just need to keep your mouth shut. Don't say nothin' and you won't piss him off more," he warned.

"Yeah, but he just talks shit and someone has to tell him that," Callen replied, wondering whether the food that might be mash potato was actually safe to eat.

"You're a dumb fuck, y'know?" Joe said, shaking his head. "You must really like getting in trouble."

"Nah," Callen replied with a smug grin. "I prefer getting outta trouble. I'm just gonna out think him and show him up as the thick bastard he is."

"But he's the teacher!" Joe couldn't work out how anyone could upstage a teacher and make them look stupid.

"And..?" Callen questioned.

"You're crazy too," Joe shook his head, smiling at Callen. For someone so serious and intense, Joe found that Callen was actually pretty amusing, in an odd kind of way. "Hey, why don't you have a first name? What was Jessop on about? I thought Callen was your first name."

Callen sighed. He was fed up with telling this story and he had the answer down to two sentences. "Last name Callen, first name starts with G and no one knows what it stands for as I've been in social care since I was five. I have no idea who my parents were."

"Wow," Joe leaned back in his seat and pushed the remains of his lunch to the side. "That's rough. What's on your birth certificate?"

Callen shrugged, "Don't have one."

Joe opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again, thinking. A few seconds later he did speak. "If you don't have a birth certificate," he said slowly. "Then how do you know your last name is actually Callen? And how do you know when your birthday is?"

Callen put down his cutlery and stared at Joe. They were damned good questions, and ones to which he had no real answers. He believed his birth date was 9th March 1970 but he had no idea if that was correct. He was pretty sure he'd glimpsed a paper in his file that said he was found in Maine on 9th March 1975, so he'd reckoned social services had just used that date and deducted five years, once the doctors had confirmed his age. As for his name? His only real possession was an old army bedroll that he'd had when he was found. Printed on that bedroll was the name CALLEN G. It was the only name he had and he was not going to give anyone the satisfaction of taking that - or his bedroll - away from him.

Callen scraped his chair back from the table, and avoided making eye contact with Joe. "Going back to class..."

"Callen," Joe called out, watching Callen walk away. "I'm sorry." Joe mentally chastised himself. He knew Callen was having a tough time settling down at Southgate without him asking dumb questions. He got up and followed Callen. There were only a few minutes until class and a number of the other boys were also drifting towards the classrooms. He'd talk to Callen and apologise later, Joe thought. They were getting along OK, and Callen wasn't really talking to anyone else so he figured they would be friends again that afternoon.

The English class after lunch followed the exact same pattern of the morning. Callen sat at the front of the class just to spite Jessop - and Joe - whose usual seat was towards the back. This time he was the lone boy summoned up to be bullied. If nothing else, Callen thought, at least he had spared Jake Southerby additional humiliation that day. Random words were thrown at him for spelling and clarification of their meaning. Some he knew but most he guessed at phonetically, only to be ridiculed and cuffed around the ear, when he answered back with his smart-ass comments.

Finally the school day was over and Callen decided to try and enjoy his free time. The numerous teenagers split off in different directions and cliques, some returning to their cells voluntarily, some to the recreation area to watch children's television. About thirty five youths were outside where the California sun was still high in the sky. No dull grey clouds were pressing down on them today. A game of basketball started up and several groups of four or five boys moved towards the edge of the grass area, where the fence separated their imprisoned lives from the tantalising view of freedom. Callen observed these mini gangs with interest. Their bodies were positioned in such a way that their actions were hidden. He glanced back towards the building and saw only one CO - Pollack - sitting down on a bench. He was watching the basketball game with his legs stretched out in front of him, enjoying the sunshine. Looking back to the boys he saw wisps of smoke rising and realised they were smoking. Callen remembered he still had the pack of cigarettes he had lifted from a guard on his first day. They were safely stashed inside his mattress after he had ripped a small hole in the seam. They would serve as the usual currency, he was sure about that. He reckoned the same boys also had access to drugs, if they weren't already smoking joints by the fence. Callen wasn't that interested in smoking or drugs. Sure he experimented and seized opportunities when presented to him and the same went for alcohol. Sometimes it was good to indulge as it provided a temporary escape from the reality of how crap his life was but generally, he liked staying in control too much.

Avoiding the other kids, he wandered to the brick wall and sat down against it. His viewpoint encompassed the entire outdoor area. There was still only Pollack on guard and his eyes were now closed. Callen's thoughts went back to his conversation with Joe the previous day. If all the boys outside now rioted, they could escape within minutes, provided of course they could breach either the wall or the fence. Both were covered with razor wire which meant the wall was instantly discounted and the fence could not be climbed over. Therefore, Callen deduced, the only option for escape from the outside area was by cutting a hole in the fence. He thought about how he could incite a riot and sighed. He reckoned he had completely missed his opportunity to influence the other kids through his behaviour and experiences over the past week. He had managed to alienate himself from most of the boys through his first day and subsequent isolation, and then his earlier humiliation by Jessop. If he had been a class clown instead of a loner he thought, the boys would naturally have liked him. Instead, he once again was struggling to make friends and fit in – not that he really wanted to do either at Southgate. He wondered if it was too late to make a character change and pretend that G Callen was really a charismatic clown who enjoyed being the centre of attention amongst a large group of people. Nah, he thought, knowing that any plans for escape would be down to him and him alone.

Callen's thoughts then turned to Joe. He had caught sight of him five minutes earlier. He was playing basketball and had lifted a hand in greeting to Callen, who returned the acknowledgement with a nod of his head. Joe had shouted out an invitation for him to play, to which Callen had simply replied with "later". Despite his best intentions, he realised he was actually enjoying Joe's company - most of the time. Their chats were friendly and honest, and both boys had a tendency to speak their minds. Callen smiled a little as he observed Joe's antics on the basketball court. It looked like there could be some serious competition between them later on, when Callen had calmed down from the events of Jessop's English class.

Callen rested his head against the wall and lifted his face to the sky, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. This was his moment of sanctuary amidst a living nightmare, peace without interruption, peace without fear of violence, a few minutes of safety within his own mind. But it was a moment that was short lived. A shadow fell across him, causing him to open his eyes and look up; Jake Southerby stood in front of him. Jake stood in silence, his eyes flitting from the wall behind Callen to the fence and back again until he finally met Callen's eyes. Callen waited for Jake to speak.

"You alright?" Jake asked.

"Yeah," Callen replied. "Why?"

"Y'know, class today. It's not nice, I know."

Callen shrugged. It wasn't nice but generally he believed verbal assaults were much better than physical ones. Jake sat down next to Callen and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them.

"It happens to me all the time. Not to no one else, just me. And now you." Jake ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. Callen stole a glance in his direction and saw tears starting to glisten in his eyes, just like they had in the classroom. "I just wanted to say I know how you feel. You look real sad, sitting here on your own an'all." Jake paused before adding. "I don't have any friends here either."

Callen remained silent. He was sitting here alone because he wanted to. At the moment he didn't want any company, not after his experience in the classroom, but later he wanted to take Joe on at basketball. He wasn't socially incompetent, and he hoped he wasn't quite as sad and lonely as Jake was suggesting. He sure as hell didn't want Jake to befriend him out of pity.

"Can we be friends?" Jake asked cautiously, sounding like he was nine years old.

"Maybe," Callen said, noncommittally.

"Well maybe we could be more than just friends?" Jake continued to speak cautiously and laid a hand on Callen's thigh.

Callen froze. "I don't think so," he replied slowly, waiting for Jake to remove his hand.

Instead Jake squeezed Callen's thigh causing Callen to jump up. "Fuck off Jake, get away from me," he threatened. "I don't need a friend and I'm not gay."

Jake stood up and faced Callen. "Me neither," he said, not understanding why Callen was so angry.

"You like boys, so you're gay. Don't you fucking come near me ever again," Callen threatened in a low voice. He physically shoved Jake away from him, before turning his back and walking away.

"B..but that's normal," Jake's voice cracked as he called after Callen, watching him walk to the edge of the basketball court and willing him to turn round. "That's what my daddy said, that we're normal," he added to himself.

Callen closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He knew now that Jake was seriously messed up. Not because of their brief encounter but because it was clear he had been sexually abused and conditioned or groomed or brain washed, or whatever the hell it was his father had done to him.

Callen suddenly decided he needed that slice of normality and marched towards the basketball court, knowing that Jake would not follow. He has earlier thought he would wait until the basket ball fell close to him or for Joe to throw the ball in his direction, so he could force his way in to the game in a friendly manner, but Jake had riled him. He felt angry at Jake for coming on to him and angry at himself for reacting like he did. Shit, he thought as he barged his way on to the court, shouting loudly for the ball to be thrown his way. With a sudden burst of energy, Callen released his pent up emotional anger and fully immersed himself in the game, pushing all thoughts of sexual abuse and Jake from his mind.