Then
After our pizza dinner, me, Amari, and two girls I don’t know that well—Kia and Mary—are on cleanup duty. Samantha walks into the kitchen just as I load the last plate into the dishwasher. She gives me a knowing look, raising her eyebrows as she passes.
“Ms. Pat said there should be a slice in here for me,” she says, slamming the fridge shut when she doesn’t find one.
“She lied to you,” Amari says, laughing. “They ordered like one slice per person.”
“Exactly?” She throws her hands up in confusion. “So, where’s mine?”
Mary stops wiping down the counter and opens the microwave. “In there,” she mumbles.
“Thank you for your hard work,” Samantha says sarcastically.
“You’re lucky we didn’t eat it,” Kia says.
Samantha doesn’t respond and just presses a button to warm up her pizza.
I walk over to her because I want to know where she was. It kept crossing my mind that maybe she had left already. “Why did you miss dinner?” I ask quietly. The sound of the dishwasher masks our conversation.
“Later,” is all she says, looking away from the microwave.
Kia and Mary finish up with the counters and take their rags and water into the dining room, laughing about something.
“Secrets are against the rules,” Amari says. That only makes them laugh harder.
“You’re one to talk!” Kia says. Amari chases after them.
Samantha pulls her plate out of the microwave and smiles at the slice. “Was it any good?” she asks before taking a bite.
“It’s not any better than the pizza they serve in the cafeteria,” I shrug.
“You’re gonna eat those words in a few months,” she says, taking a huge bite. “This is fine dining for this place.”
At this point, I know she’s right.
Amari comes back into the kitchen with a smile that neither of us returns. She looks like she’s up to something. Samantha shoves the last bites of her pizza into her mouth and hands me her plate. I look right at Amari and put it in the sink.
“Oh really?” Amari says, leaning into the sink to grab the plate.
We laugh and Samantha grabs my arm with her oily fingers, pulling me out of the kitchen. We bump into Ms. Pat.
“Ohh, what is this? Touching, running.” Ms. Pat counts off on her fingers. “Points just flying away.”
“Sorry, Ms. Pat,” we mumble.
“Get out of here, ladies, and join the others.” She waves us off.
When we get to the rec room, the girls are watching Wheel of Fortune and yelling out incorrect letters.
Ms. Kim motions for us to take the two seats in front of where she’s standing. “Right here, ladies.”
Samantha doesn’t sit right away. She looks at the office and then back at Ms. Kim. “Is Ms. Bree coming in tonight?” she asks.
Ms. Kim shakes her head no.
Samantha plops down between me and the other girl on the couch, who shoots her a look. “Oops,” Samantha says, before turning to me. “My stomach is killing me.”
“Already?” I ask.
She winks. “Yeah, pizza does it to me every tiiiime,” she whines, holding her stomach.
“Hell yeah, I apologize to my roomie in advance,” Tanya says. “My stomach is bugging.”
“Language!” Ms. Kim calls out.
Some of the other girls start joking about the aftereffects of pizza night.
Samantha turns to Ms. Kim. “But seriously, I might need the nurse. She has those pills for lactose or whatever.”
“Not right now, Samantha,” Ms. Kim says. “Wait until night staff gets here.”
Samantha groans but shoots me a smirk.
I wonder if this is part of her plan, but I don’t want to upset her by asking here. “Can you come to the room before you go?” I whisper. She winks again but doesn’t respond. I take that as a yes.
Someone puts on a movie and I try to focus, but I can’t stop thinking about Samantha and worrying that she’s going to get caught.
I tell myself to relax and manage to doze off halfway through the movie.
By the time Ms. Kim sends us to bed, Samantha isn’t next to me anymore.
I look around but she isn’t in the room at all. A lot of the girls have left already.
“Now you can take that snoring to the privacy of your own room,” Ms. Kim says, motioning for me to go.
“Where’s Samantha?” I ask.
“Nurse,” she replies. “Bed, ladies,” she orders a few girls lingering by the TV.
“Gooo-iiiing,” they say in unison, and I follow them.
My room is dark. I check Samantha’s closet again. She couldn’t leave without taking anything, could she? I see her journal and some hair stuff and realize that I don’t know what’s important to her. I let myself assume it all is and climb into bed.
I snap awake from a deep sleep when the door slams open. Startled, I sit up. For a moment, fluorescent light pours in from the hallway, blinding me. Then the door closes with a bang, and I see Samantha leaning against the wall in a dark hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. She’s breathing hard.
“Samantha? Are you okay?”
“They … they were waiting for me!” she says, her voice breaking at the end.
I’m disoriented and blink my eyes just to make sure I’m actually awake. “Who was?” I look out the window and see the sky is dark but also kind of blue. It must be the middle of the night.
“Everyone!!” she yells. “It’s like they knew I was going to be there! This was supposed to work!”
My stomach drops. She ran—and was caught.
Samantha sinks onto her bed. “I hate this place,” she screams into her pillow. “This is so unfair!!”
I lie back and pull the covers up to my eyes. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest.
I hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. “This is her room,” someone says quietly just outside. A few seconds later, the door opens and the light comes on.
“Samantha, pack your things,” an unfamiliar man’s voice booms.
“Go to hell,” she yells back. An object hits the floor.
“Yeah, we’re not doing this,” he says. “Get your things—now.”
“Samantha,” Ms. Pat pleads, “just get your things, dear.”
I’m surprised to hear Ms. Pat’s voice this late. Samantha doesn’t get up.
“Get the roommate out of here, please,” the man says.
“Jasmine, get up, please,” Ms. Pat says. She sounds concerned and exhausted.
I don’t want to make this any worse for Samantha, so I don’t protest. As I climb down, I see her face is still buried in her pillow.
The unfamiliar man stands nearby. Almost as tall as our bunk bed, he’s wearing a staff uniform and has a belt with lots of gear on it, like a police officer’s, except there’s no gun or handcuffs.
He glances at me before turning his attention back to Samantha. Ms. Pat shoos me out the door.
“Bye, Samantha,” I say, even though I know I’ll probably get in trouble for it. But she doesn’t respond. I hope she doesn’t hate me too.
There are two more men in the hallway, dressed just like the one in our room, and neither even looks in my direction. Ms. Pat passes me off to a woman on the night staff and goes back to Samantha. The men follow her and shut the door.
“Let’s go,” the woman says, pushing me to walk. “I need to get you an escort.”
“For what?” I ask, starting to cry. I don’t understand why it seems like I’m in trouble too.
She doesn’t say anything. I see some of the girls pressed against the small windows on their doors, trying to figure out what happened. I put my head down before we pass Amari’s room and hope she’s not awake. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.
The night staff woman takes me to the rec room and tells me to have a seat. I head to my usual couch, but she stops me. “Over there.” She points to a folding chair near the first set of double doors that lead to my unit. Then she goes into the office and gets on the phone.
“When can I go back to bed?” I ask. “Why am I in trouble?”
Nothing. I hear a door slam down the hallway.
“Hold still,” the men are saying.
“Leave me alone!” Samantha yells.
I bury my head in my hands as the tears come again.
“They just got her out the back door,” the night staff woman says into the phone. “Send someone up for Jasmine too.”