Then
Amari does her signature fist pump after she pulls the door closed behind us. We’re able to slide back into the infirmary without looking like we ever left it, and I feel kind of invincible.
By the time I settle in, I’m still smiling, thinking about how I got to spend my last night in this place.
The stars were sensational, but kissing Amari was definitely the highlight, maybe of the whole year.
I turn over to see her smirking at me from her bed.
I don’t want her to ruin the moment with one of her jokes, so I pull the covers over my head and tell her to go to sleep.
“Now, let’s make this easy. Get up, ladies.”
Director Brewster is muttering something under her breath as she crosses out today’s date on my folder and scribbles a new one. I squint to make out what it is, but she moves her mug to block my view.
“Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Cooper. You’ll know very soon,” she says, underlining the date twice.
I know what she’s thinking, and at this point I don’t think she’s wrong. She told me that we are all here because we belong here, and I’ve only proven that she was right. How many girls are stupid enough to get their sentences extended on the day they should be going home?
She closes the folder and leans back in her chair, sipping from her mug.
The silence makes me more uncomfortable than I expected.
I would rather she just speak her judgment out loud, so I can tell her she was right about me and return to my unit.
I don’t think she can say anything that’s going to be worse than the laughter that’s waiting for me up there.
“I’m surprised and very disappointed to see you back in here.” I sink deeper into my seat. “For the first time in many years, I thought you would be different. I’m not excited to be wrong about that,” she continues.
I’m not excited either.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Well, for last night’s offense, you’re being extended an additional sixty days,” she announces.
“What?!” I blurt out.
“Excuse me, Ms. Cooper? You have something you’d like to say now?”
“Please don’t do this to me,” I beg her.
Director Brewster is unfazed and seems irritated by my insistence.
She takes a letter from the folder and writes her initials at the bottom before folding it and handing it to me.
“The decision has been made, and you should be grateful that this is as far as we’re going.
Leaving the building the way you did is considered AWOL.
The only reason it’s not being taken further is because we don’t have enough room to keep you for another year,” she says.
“I should have just left then,” I mumble.
“You would be sleeping in your own bed tonight if you weren’t so easily influenced. That’s the problem with young girls. You don’t see the benefit of thinking for yourselves.”
I don’t respond. I should probably save all my convincing for the phone call with my mom, the person who really needs to hear my side.
“You can go and wait in the lobby for your escort,” Director Brewster says, dismissing me. She pulls a new folder out of her cabinet, and I only catch the first part of the name, Ama.
I stuff my letter in my sweatshirt pocket and drag myself to the lobby.
Mr. Rick looks at me with so much pity that it embarrasses me.
He says someone will be here in a few minutes and hands me a small bottle of water, but I decline it just because his kindness feels undeserved right now.
I sit in the seat farthest from the glass doors and put my head in my lap.