Then
It’s been two months since I got here, and I’ve been able to stay out of trouble mostly because everyone kind of ignores me unless I’m in their way.
Tanya moved on to bullying other new girls.
Samantha isn’t as bad of a roommate as I thought she would be.
She’s pretty chill when it’s just the two of us, and she keeps her side of the room clean.
Amari and I still walk to class together, but she’s endlessly mysterious and I’m not sure I can even call her my friend.
I wrote a letter to Desiree. I haven’t really talked or written to anyone else, so it felt good to fill her in on the drama, the gross food, and Amari. I haven’t gotten a letter back yet.
Now, Ms. Bree is taking me to see Director Brewster. She pushes open a large door to a hallway filled with tinted windows. I have never been this far past the intake desk.
“This is the administration building,” she says.
“Hands,” Ms. Bree says, stepping in front of me with the key.
I clasp my hands and apologize for the millionth time. I still haven’t gotten used to the locked door thing and realize that maybe this is what the meeting is about.
Ms. Bree nods and waves to the security behind the desk as we enter a waiting room. There’s a big window on the far end that looks out over the campus. I see the iron gate we all came through on our first day. It looks less intimidating now. Ms. Bree knocks on a door to our left.
“It’s open,” says a stern voice with the same sharpness I remember.
Ms. Bree motions for me to go inside. “This is Jasmine Cooper,” she says.
“Come in and have a seat,” Director Brewster says. I move cautiously to the chair across from her desk and catch a glimpse of a folder with my name written on it in red letters. It looks like the same one that was in Dr. Rose’s office.
“You can go,” she tells Ms. Bree without a second glance.
Ms. Bree doesn’t say anything, but she must have closed the door more forcefully than expected, as Director Brewster seems ready to call her back. Instead, she turns her attention to me.
“Sorry it took so long to schedule our first chat, Ms. Cooper. But you know how things are around here,” she says, opening the folder.
Confused, I feel my eyebrows knit together.
Director Brewster makes a face when she sees the first page.
“Oh, never mind, look at that, you’re a first timer.
” She flips to the next one. “And you were given the full twelve months.” She runs her finger down to the bottom of the page and nods her head slowly, her gray bun bouncing on top of her head.
“Oh, and a ten-month option, that’s rare. ” She closes the folder.
I sit up in my seat as soon as I register what she said. “I can leave early?” I blurt out.
She looks at me but doesn’t seem bothered by my accidental outburst. “If you take this seriously,” she says, “but most of you don’t.”
“Oh, I will. I don’t belong here,” I say with confidence.
“And yet here you are, Ms. Cooper.” Director Brewster takes a sip from the “best grandma” mug on her desk.
I don’t respond and she moves on. I can’t help but wonder what her grandkids are like if they think she’s the “best” anything. She seems like she hates kids—or maybe just “bad” ones.
Director Brewster taps her pen on the folder and rattles off a list of things I can do to leave in ten months. “Follow the rules. Do well in school and therapy. Leave the teen girl drama out of it,” she finishes.
I repeat the list to myself minus the last part.
“If you have any questions, this is the time to ask them.”
I don’t hesitate to ask the only question on my mind. “How do I know I’m being good enough to leave early?”
She slams a “processed” stamp on my folder in red ink. “You won’t be in here again,” she says.
I can tell by her tone that this meeting is over. I absolutely won’t be back. I get up and stand at the door, remembering not to touch it until directed.
“Go ahead, Ms. Cooper.”
The minute I step out of Director Brewster’s office, I smile to myself.
For the first time since I got here, I feel hopeful.
I want to let the whole building know I’m leaving early but I cover my mouth and scream quietly into my hand instead.
When I realize that the guard is talking to someone, I walk faster, hoping Ms. Bree is already here.
“Hi, Jasmine.” Dr. Rose waves, stopping me. “You have a session this evening but since you’re here, wanna chat?”
It’s framed like a question, but I know I don’t have a choice. Besides, therapy might actually be helpful.
She leads me into the nearest room and points to a couch like the ones we have on the unit. This office is way smaller and shabbier than her usual space.
“I’m supposed to be waiting for Ms. Bree out there,” I tell her.
Dr. Rose opens the door and asks the guard to give her twenty minutes. “Now we’ve got a little time,” she reassures me. She sits at a small round table and pulls out a notebook. “So, you just saw Director Brewster. Maybe that’s where you want to start?”
“I mean, she said I can get out early. That’s pretty much all I heard,” I say.
Dr. Rose nods and jots something down. “And do you think you can manage staying out of trouble enough for that?”
“Umm, yes. I wasn’t technically getting myself in trouble in the first place.
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Before that, well, I just ignored a few stupid rules,” I say, thinking of my behavior back then and how innocent it all seems now, in light of where I am.
“My mom just didn’t know what else to do. ”
Dr. Rose scribbles in her notebook and then looks at me thoughtfully. “Are you having a hard time acknowledging why you were sent here? If so, we need to work on that. Acceptance is the first step to real breakthrough.”
Something about her wording makes me sit up straight, puts me on the defense.
“Well, I accept that my mom made up really strict rules because she was busy a lot, and I didn’t ‘break’ them to get in trouble, I was just trying to live my life.
Plus, now I know that she had a boyfriend and that’s probably also why she was so busy.
She was living hers too.” I lean back into the couch and cross my arms.
“Your mother is an adult, and you are a child. She sets rules and you are to abide by them. That’s why you’re here, your failure to follow rules, Jasmine,” Dr. Rose notes sternly.
All of a sudden, this is feeling a lot more like a sentencing than a therapy session. I put my hands on my thighs to stop them from shaking and silently vow to never say another honest word to Dr. Rose. I’ll save everything for my journal.
“Do you understand that? We have to start there, at taking responsibility for—”
“I would like to leave now,” I say firmly.
She pauses for a moment, and I expect her to scold me again or to tell me children don’t get requests either. But she just says, “We have a lot of work to do, Jasmine. See you next week.” She closes the door softly behind me.
In the hallway, Amari is stepping away from the guard’s desk. She plops down on a chair against the wall and makes a face like she’s surprised to see me. The guard snaps his fingers.
“Amari, unit or class?” he asks.
“Wherever she’s going,” Amari says, pointing to me.
The guard shakes his head and picks up the phone to call our escort. I sit on the chair next to Amari.
“Hi to you too,” she says.
The guard hangs up the phone. “Ms. Bree will be here in fifteen minutes.” He opens a drawer and pulls out a small paper cup. “For water,” he says, pointing it at the cooler by the door.
“Oh, no thank you, sir,” I say.
“You can call me Mr. Rick,” he says with a smile.
Amari chuckles and he shoots her a look. “New Girl’s being a kiss ass?” she whispers.
“When are you going to start calling me Jasmine?” I ask. It’s been months now.
Amari shrugs. “I like ‘New Girl’ better.”
I roll my eyes and focus on the door Ms. Bree is going to walk through.
“Where are you from anyway?”
Her question catches me off guard. We’ve chatted a bit on our way to class but mostly just about our days, nothing personal.
She isn’t whispering anymore, and I look at Mr. Rick to see if he thinks I’m talking too.
He isn’t paying attention to us, but I don’t want to take any chances. I cannot be written up.
“We can talk, New Girl, relax.”
“But who says I want to?”
“A lucky guess, since you answered me.” She leans back in her seat with a confidence that’s slightly intriguing.
“Whatever. I’m from Lorial,” I say, giving in.
Amari’s eyes widen just enough for me to notice. “That’s one of those river towns, right? Where the rich people live?”
I laugh at the ridiculousness of the question. Anyone who knows anything about Lorial knows the only rich thing we have is history. “Absolutely not. There are other towns around us that are.”
She nods.
“You?” I ask.
“One of the rich towns around Lorial,” she says with a smirk.
I make a face. “That’s not fair. I answered,” I protest.
“I’m serious. I’m from Plainfield.”
“That’s not that close to Lorial, rich girl,” I say. I’ve heard of Plainfield. It’s about a half hour away from Lorial—and it is super wealthy. I’ve heard everyone drives a Porsche or a BMW. I wonder what someone from Plainfield is doing here.
Amari brushes her shoulder off and smiles at me. I like her attitude.
The phone rings and Mr. Rick answers it. When he hangs up, he tells us we’ve got a little more time to chat because Ms. Bree is running behind.
“She’s always late for something, you’ll get used to it,” Amari says, shrugging.
I want to ask her how long she’s been here since we’re already talking about things we shouldn’t. I look out the windows instead and imagine how long it would take to reach the sidewalk.
“You trying to leave already? You’ll get caught,” she whispers.
I look at the guard to make sure he didn’t hear that and then back at her. “No way,” I say. “Why? Have you tried to leave?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve accepted it. I’ll be here forever.” Her face gets somber for only a moment before her lips quirk back up.
“Well, what happens if you run away?” I ask.
“It’s called going AWOL and it depends,” she says. “If you’re seventeen you go to jail, otherwise they extend your sentence.”
I shake my head. “Oh yeah, no. I’m not risking that.”
She looks at me like I said something strange. “Obviously, New Girl. Anyway, who’s your case manager?”
“I don’t think I have one of those yet.”
“Did your parents send you here or the court?” she asks.
“Both?”
“Then you’ll get one soon, because they decide when you leave,” she informs me.
I refrain from telling her what Director Brewster said in case there are different rules. I want to ask what she’s in here for but maybe it’s better I don’t know. She seems cool enough for now.
Mr. Rick taps his pen on the desk to get our attention. “Escort’s almost here.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
“Well, I think we’re gonna have fun together,” Amari says. “For however long you’re here.”
I look at her, confused.
She laughs a little too loudly and covers her mouth. “Don’t worry, you’ll see,” she says. Her eyes meet mine, holding my gaze for a beat. They’re the darkest brown I’ve ever seen.
I look away. “And how long have you been having fun here?”
“Half a year today. It’s my anniversary.” She snickers.
“You’re actually happy?” I expect to see the same somber look from earlier, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, Amari smiles. “This whole thing is a game. You just need to know how to play it.”
I turn my attention back to the front door and see a group of people walking on the sidewalk way down by the street. My curiosity about Amari is turning to confusion, and I hope Ms. Bree comes soon.
“Yeah, I’m not playing any games. I just want to go home.”
“They already think we’re bad, might as well live up to it.” She shrugs.
“No thanks,” I say, making a mental note for tonight’s journal entry. Part 1: Why do ALL adults suck? and Part 2: Is Amari crazy?
Amari leans back into her chair and stares at the ceiling.
I sneak a look at her face. I notice the constellation of freckles across her nose and how long her eyelashes are.
I also notice the tight set of her jaw, like she’s holding tension there.
I don’t understand her. Does she not want to go home?
The door to the waiting room opens and she catches me looking at her. I turn away quickly. Ms. Bree waves us over and I trail behind, thinking about our conversation. Director Brewster definitely wouldn’t approve, but a part of me can’t wait for the next one.