Chapter 5
The mind-numbing routine of the detention centre seriously tried Callen's patience; the constant regimented structure of the day, the lack of ability for him to do whatever he wanted when he wanted. The craving for freedom persistently gnawed away at him and he struggled to control his emotions and his mouth, regularly earning himself extra class work or a slap either Mr Jessop or one of the Correction Officers. So far the other kids had pretty much left him alone, hopefully, Callen thought, as they realised he would be the one throwing the first punch.
The days soon blurred in to one another and despite his best intentions, he did fall in to the imposed routine without any further incidents. With the exception of his first two days in class, Callen now completed the Maths, English and any other work presented to him. He still did the bare minimum required to scrape through but the result was that he was not hauled in front of the class as often, unlike Southerby, who still suffered that humiliation on a daily basis. Both boys avoided speaking to each other and rarely made eye contact, something that Mr Jessop suddenly noticed the following week.
"And what do we have here?" The teacher asked the class. "Southerby and Callen seem to be doing their best to ignore each other. And when they were so close last week. Lover's tiff, maybe?"
The boys sniggered at Mr Jessop's words; they all knew about Southerby's sexual preferences. A piece of screwed up paper was thrown at the back Callen's head, landing on the floor beside his desk. Callen ignored it but Mr Jessop was not going to allow him that luxury.
"Pick it up boy," he ordered.
Callen leaned over and grabbed it from the floor. He kept it screwed up in his hand and remained at his desk.
"Stand up. Front of the class. You and Southerby."
Reluctantly, Callen noisily scraped his chair along the floor and slowly stood. He walked to the front, paper still in his hand.
"Southerby? Do you know the correct word for 'gay'?" Mr Jessop asked the shaking fourteen year old.
Jake remained silent, his eyes cast on the floor. This was an area of humiliation he had so far managed to avoid in the class and generally at Southgate. Callen on the other hand, was not prepared to be made a laughing stock, no matter what the punishment may be.
"Happy. To be gay means to be happy," Callen interrupted, unsure whether his answer would help build his reputation as fearless or mean he was cementing his association with Jake.
A couple of the boys laughed. Mr Jessop roughly prodded Callen in the chest and said. "Looks like Callen's better at English than he pretends to be. But homosexual is the word I was looking for. What does it mean Callen?"
"Liking other boys," Callen sullenly replied, staring at his feet.
"Do you?" Jessop asked. "And look at me when I speak to you."
Callen slowly lifted his head, tilting up his chin. He narrowed his eyes and met Jessop's. "No," he said, insolently.
"Open up that bit of paper in your hand."
Callen did as he was told, unravelling the screwed up paper and holding it in both hands.
"Tell me and the class what's written on it," Jessop ordered, glancing at his audience.
Callen took a deep breath and swallowed. "It says 'cook socker'." He smirked at Mr Jessop, pleased that whoever wrote it could barely form his letters. Again there was a murmur among the class and muted laughter.
Jessop snatched the paper from his hand. "Interesting, however I think you might need glasses." He took a pen from his desk and traced over the letters to make them clearer and handed the paper back to Callen. "Try again."
Callen held out the paper and without looking at it stared defiantly at Mr Jessop and said. "Cock sucker," sounding out each word as though it were an insult directed at his teacher.
"And are you?" Jessop asked again, taking a threatening step towards the teenager.
"No," Callen replied with force.
"What about you Southerby?" Jessop turned his attention abruptly to the younger boy.
Jake remained silent. His cheeks had turned a bright shade of pink that was rapidly descending down the side of his neck. He blinked heavily, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
"Answer me Southerby," Jessop demanded. "Or you will receive ten lashes of the stick in front of the class. Do you like other boys?"
"Yes," Jake whispered. The ultimate humiliation was complete.
"Louder, they can't hear you at the back."
"Yes" Jake said.
"Callen, give Southerby that piece of paper."
Callen looked at Jessop in disbelief. Was he really going to ask Jake to read the words 'cock sucker' from the paper and then humiliate him further, like Jessop had tried to do with him?
"Why?"
"Don't question me boy, just do it."
"It says 'cock sucker' Jessop, or don't you believe me? You should know, you wrote it yourself. Maybe it did say 'cook socker' and you're the one that's really gay." Callen spat the words out at Jessop and was sure he heard several cheers from the class before Jessop grabbed him by the throat and pushed him several paces until he was slammed against the blackboard.
"I'm warning you kid," Jessop breathed. "You're gonna stand with Southerby at the front here for the rest of the lesson and not say one word. I'm giving you one last chance or by God you'll be sorry." Jessop dropped his voice to a whisper and continued. "Some of the prison officers here like boys, especially ones that need to be taught a lesson."
Callen tried to turn his face away but Jessop held him tight, refusing to loosen his grip. Without warning Jessop suddenly let go, causing Callen to stumble and nearly collapse.
Staring at the two boys, Jessop nodded and smiled. "As this is an English lesson, let me actually attempt to educate you." He turned his attention to the rest of the class. "Homosexuality has featured in literature since the classics – ancient Roman and Greek culture, art, mythology etc. but declared illegal in the eighteenth century. Until recently, writers could face legal action if they wrote about homosexuality. If you boys were intelligent enough I would make you read some of the books where the subtext is clearly homosexual. But I fear that apart from making you feel even more stupid than you already are, it may give you ideas for your communal shower times. For those inclined to go to the movies, if you ever leave prison, watch Less Than Zero. I would suggest reading the book but you'd only use the pages to wipe your ass...I'm sure most of you can identify with the drug fuelled and sexually depraved nature of the characters. Actually, Emmerson here can probably fill you in, he's our resident rich kid in here for dealing. Maybe he has a sick and depraved nature too…you could hook up with Southerby and Callen here, get your own drug dealing male hooker business going..."
Wil Emerson was sat in the back row and smiled briefly as some of the others turned around. Everyone knew he was from Bel Air and in Southgate for dealing a variety of drugs. Somehow, in his ten month stay, he had so far managed to keep himself clean and out of trouble. Or at least he had managed to not get caught, although most at Southgate assumed his rich mommy and daddy paid a premium to keep him safe. Emmerson himself had never encouraged or denied the rumour. Emmerson caught Callen's eye and winked. The two had chatted briefly over the past few weeks and discovered a common enemy in Matty B and his gang. Callen responded with a slight nod of his head. He then look at Joe who was seated next to Emmerson at the back and smiled, not caring whether Jessop saw or not, although luckily for him, he did not.
The brief lesson on homosexuality in literature came to an abrupt halt and Mr Jessop turned to his text book. "Open your books to chapter five. Smith, start reading."
For the next hour the class took turns in reading out aloud whilst Callen and Southerby remained standing at the front of the class. Neither boy was allowed to speak and neither tried. Jessop pointedly ignored them until the clock ticked round to mark the end of the school day. The class and Southerby were dismissed but Callen was ordered to remain standing.
Jessop walked up to Callen, and stood inches from him, invading his personal space. "I don't like you Callen," he said quietly, prodding a finger in to Callen's chest. "You're lazy, rude and nothing but trouble. One of these kids that plays dumb but is actually quite smart, and that can be a dangerous combination, give you ideas that you're better than the worthless piece of crap you really are."
Callen did not answer Jessop. What was he supposed to say, 'You're a total bastard, a shit teacher, and I really hate you, but hey, thanks for the compliment about me being smart and dangerous?' He was pretty sure that would get him a black eye, if not from Jessop, then from Pollack or Brown.
"You'll keep quiet in my class. You'll keep your head down and will not speak unless I ask you to. When you do speak your answers will be correct. I want no more of this smart-ass shit, do you understand?" Jessop paused to allow Callen a chance to answer; he remained silent. "Very good, maybe you're finally learning. If you don't follow these rules, I'll take that stick in the corner to your ass. If you persist, then I will have a word with Pollack. He seems convinced that you need more discipline instilled in you and that he's the man to do it. Do you understand?" Jessop let the threat hang in the air. He couldn't quite tell whether Callen was going to comply; only time would tell, but coupled with his earlier threat, he hoped he would have no more trouble.
"Yes," Callen muttered, deliberately leaving off the 'sir'. He had no respect for Jessop and no intention of pretending he did.
"Good, now get the fuck out of my classroom."
That was one order Callen had no qualms about following and he shot out the door before Mr Jessop really told him how he felt. Selfishly, he felt bad that he was once again dragged in front of the class and forced to defend himself after Jessop's accusations. Then he thought about Jake and figured he should try and find him. Callen still felt bad at not knowing how to handle Jake after their encounter outside the previous week. And as for Jessop's stunt in class, he could only imagine that Jake would probably want the ground to open up and swallow him. Callen himself wasn't feeling great about what happened - he was feeling pissed and angry - but he knew Jake would be feeling a hell of a lot worse than he did right now. Trouble about this place, Callen thought, was that there was nowhere to hide. The only time you were truly on your own was when you were locked in your cell over night.
Callen searched the recreation room, which that afternoon was vacant with the exception of three younger boys watching Roadrunner on TV. He stepped outside and scanned the basketball court but Jake was not one for sport. As he walked round the edge of concrete area he heard several voices shouting at him, calling him gay and something about not dropping the soap in the shower when Callen was around. Callen tried to let the words wash over him and continued walking until he was on the grass. He reminded himself that his first priority was to find Jake, apologise and make sure he was alright. He really did not want to get in to another fight just yet and this was going to be a real test of his self control. Reigning in his temper was not a strong point; in fact his temper and his impetuous nature were his main weaknesses. Callen stood and looked around him. Only the usual small groups of youths were gathered on the grass and Jake was not among them. Callen wondered if he had returned to his cell to escape the name calling that Callen was already experiencing.
He turned and jogged back to the exterior door, and then walked as far as the secure doors that led to the cell areas. Brown was loitering and Callen approached him.
"You seen Jake Southerby?" Callen asked.
"Why?" Brown looked at Callen suspiciously.
"He was complaining about stomach pains," Callen lied. "Did he go back to his cell?"
"No, now get back outside,"
"Maybe he went back and you didn't see?" Callen persisted.
"No he didn't and I don't like your tone or you calling me a liar," Brown took a threatening step towards Callen who instinctively took a pace back, having been on the receiving end of his baton during his first day at Southgate.
"That's not what I meant," Callen tried to explain.
"Get lost Callen, before you get yourself in to more trouble,"
Callen raised his hands in defeat, "Ok, I'm going."
Callen retreated back to the recreation room, where he stood and thought for a minute. Either Brown was lying to him, and he couldn't exclude that possibility, or Jake must be in the washroom. And if Jake was in the washroom then he had been in there for at least twenty minutes. Callen wondered why none of the COs had noticed as there was usually one guard at the entrance to that area. He suddenly felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and he bolted to the corridor that led from the rear of the recreation room. Shouting Jake's name, Callen banged open the door to the toilets, slamming each cubicle door wide open. None were locked and Jake was not in any of them. Callen paused for a moment and then turned the corner to check the communal shower room and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Jake lying fully clothed in a pool of blood. He hesitated, unsure whether to approach Jake or to run for help. He nervously took a few paces towards Jake and knelt down. He was still breathing, although his breaths were coming in shallow gasps. Not knowing what else to do, Callen made a split second decision and headed back to find a guard.
Brown was still the only officer in sight and Callen started shouting at him.
"Brown, you gotta come quick, Jake's been stabbed, he's dying, there's blood everywhere, you gotta help him,"
The words came tumbling out of Callen's mouth and caught the attention of every youth within earshot. Brown tried to grab Callen by the scruff of his neck; he had blood on his trousers and the CO instantly thought Callen was to blame. Callen twisted out of Brown's reach at the same time as five other boys ran past towards the shower block.
"Call 911," Callen shouted to Brown, who was raising his portable radio to his mouth to call for back up first. If he wasn't careful there would be chaos and probably a riot. Pollack, Wells and two other officers suddenly appeared from behind a closed office door and headed after Brown who had started to chase Callen down the corridor.
Forcing the boys aside, Brown swore as he saw the bloodied body of Jake Southerby lying on the cold tiles of the showers. He shouted at Wells to call 911 and moved towards Jake. The blood was from deep cuts to Jake's left wrist; a broken razor blade lay beside his right hand. Brown shouted for one of the boys to give him their sweatshirt and when one was thrown at him, he wrapped it tightly around Jake's wrist. The cut appeared deep and the amount of blood pooled around Jake did not look promising. Someone had sounded the emergency alarm and the COs began to forcefully usher the boys out of the showers and back to their cells where they would be locked up, safely out of the way. Callen was last to be pushed out. It was his sweater that was tied around Jake's wrist; the knees to his trousers and soles of his plimsolls were covered in blood. The last words he heard from Brown were, "I think he's dead."
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It's not a happy story but if an adult Callen still recalls his three weeks in juvie as "hell", it must have been bad, especially if he risked a further prison sentence by escaping, stealing a car, (driving without a licence) and deliberately crashing through a police barrier! I've just tried to imagine a version of that hell that doesn't go to the extremes of abuse, as I certainly couldn't write that and I'm sure most folk won't want to read that either. The power of suggestion is bad enough.
At least we all know there is light at the end of the tunnel and there is a happy ending...