"Where are you taking me?" I finally asked so I wouldn't be in the dark any longer.
"I'm taking you to Greenville." He was being short like he really didn't want to tell me and I stared at him like half of his face was gone.
I tried to think of where they could possibly take me in Greenville then it came rushing to me like a team of jealous girls; the Detention Center. Tears erupted once again but this time I cried like a little baby, wailing like I was teething. That was a place I said I would never go or end up.
I cried myself to sleep and when the car stopped moving I woke up to a big building with a big tall fence around it; it looked like a mini prison. I didn’t think I deserved to be there but once I looked around I figured that’s what the other inmates probably thought too.
A short man with a raggedy Mohawk opened the door and greeted me with a smile on his face as he helped me out the vehicle and led me to the building. When I got to the entrance there was a heavy set man standing at the door holding one of those mini hand held metal detectors. He hand searched me first then took the metal detector and went up and down my body with it. When that was over I was taken into a room where two women were seated with big smiles on their faces; one was white and the other was a black woman. I was seated in a metal folding chair between the both of them and I stared at them like the strangers they were to me. I was wondering why everybody was smiling when, to me, there was nothing to smile about. They was cheesing as if they had no worries in the world and it made me mad because it wasn’t a happy moment for me and I didn't see the reason for all the smiling.
"What's your name honey?" The white lady asked politely.
"Missy!" I replied with way too much attitude.
"Do you have thoughts of killing yourself? Do you hate yourself?" The black lady asked from the other side of my face.
"I shook my head." As I stared with a blank expression at the crazy question they were asking me.
After done with all the stupid questioning I was given sweat pants, sweat shirt, t-shirt, sock, underwear and a pair of shower slippers to wear when I take my shower.
"Before you take a shower Missy, we need you to undress, squat, then cough three times to make sure you're not carrying anything else illegal inside of you, ok?" The black lady said it with such a sweet tone.
I did as I was told but felt totally violated when I did; what the hell did they think I was going to stick up my butt? After my shower I got a chance to call home to speak to my mother. When she picked up she talked in a regular tone while I was choking trying to hold back my tears.
"Mommy, I'm soooo sorry. I want to come home, I don’t want to be here, I will never do it again mommy but I did it for us, I did it for you." I cried openly as I pleaded to her.
"I'm sorry baby girl but there's nothing I can do to bring you home." She told me solemnly.
"Mommy forgive me, I'm not used to this! I'm surrounded by a bunch of strangers and they got me fenced in like this is my last strike! PLEASE come get me outta of here ma! This will be the last time, I promise." I cried like the innocent teenager I was supposed to be.
After our short conversation I realized I got myself in something I couldn’t get out of this time. I had made my bed and now I had to lay in it. I was led to my room by a big husky man who gave me a thin mattress and wool blanket with no pillow; I had to use my sweat shirt instead. I was placed in the cell by myself because it was less people in there during the time I got picked up. I was scared to death because of the unknown and was worried about how and when I was going home. I lay my head on the hard bed and took a short nap before I got startled out of my sleep by a loud banging on the door. I got up and the door swung open and one of the staff workers handed me a metal tray filled with food; it looked disgusting. It looked like something they just threw together then dumped it on my plate and had the nerve to give me a lot as if I would want seconds because it was just that good. I was heated, I left the dog food on the floor, laid back down then fell back asleep. When I woke up it was late but I didn't know what time it was; all I heard was the workers talking loud as they watched television. I couldn't go back to sleep and started thinking about what I did while tears rolled down my cheeks. I can't describe what I was feeling but it was more than shame, disappointment or embarrassment; yea, it was worse than that.
I had to cry myself to sleep because my stomach was touching my back from not eating and I was hungry; I felt like I was starving but I refused to eat that slop! When I finally did go back to sleep, it felt like I only slept thirty minutes before a woman woke me up holding a mop, broom and dustpan talking about me cleaning up.
"What time is it?" I asked rubbing my eyes.
"5:30 am." She answered leaning the broom against my bed.
"Do I have to wake up this early every morning?" I asked, shocked when I found out what time it was.
"Yes." She nodded with no emotion.
I cleaned up my room which included sweeping, mopping and making the bed. When I was done I did my daily hygiene ritual before I lay back down to get some more sleep. When they woke me up for breakfast the next hour I noticed something on my door I never noticed before because I was crying the whole time: 23-Hour Lock Down. I was hoping it didn't mean what I thought but I knew it meant I had to stay in my room for a whole 23 hours; I wasn’t feeling that. There was nothing for me to do but read and sleep my life away. I was stripped of my freedom and even the simplest things I took for granted became a major problem; if I needed to go to the bathroom I had to bang on my door like a mad woman until someone came to see what I wanted. Each time I did this I noticed the staff would act like I was lying just to get out my cell. They didn't trust me, they didn't trust anyone in there, they looked at us like criminals no matter what. We were all criminals; I was a criminal.
There was a daily routine I had to follow while I was there. I went to school after breakfast, back to my room and then three hours later I was able to go outside for an hour to play ball in some busted shoes with holes in the soles and dusty sweat pants. I was so unhappy and miserable but there was nothing I could do about it.
I was scheduled to go to court that Friday so I was hoping and praying I would get out and go home. I couldn’t sleep Thursday night because I was anxious and when the lady woke me up to clean Friday morning I did it with no problem or attitude.
"You have a court date today?" She asked.
"Yeah." I answered with a half smile.
"They'll probably let you go home because from what I've seen with you I can tell whatever you did was a mistake. You just made a very bad decision but I think you've learned ya lesson." She said me.
I had a Kool-Aid smile on my face because it was like she knew me or really understood my situation without hearing my whole story. I hurried back to my room when I was done cleaning and took care of my hygiene then lay on the bed and prayed for good news until it was time for them to take me to court in Washington; L Dub. As I was leaving the building the staff told me they hoped I made it home because my behavior, while I was there, was excellent. When it was time for me to walk out the building they stopped me and put me in handcuffs and shackles; so much for my behavior huh? That promptly reminded me I was still a prisoner and it wasn’t a good feeling. I could barely walk in the shackles and the cuffs were tight around my wrist. During the entire ride back to Washington all I could think about was being able to finally go home.
When I showed up to the court house my grandma and aunt was standing outside. I got out the car with all that silver jewelry attached to my wrist and ankles then I burst out crying because I didn’t want them to see me like that; I felt horrible. I was taken into a room where I had a meeting with my lawyer and my mother before I saw the judge. My lawyer told me there was a good chance I would be going home but if I did that I better stay out of trouble until my next court date. I was pass excited but still nervous when I was called up to go in front of the judge because there was no telling what he was going to say even thou
gh this was my first real offense. Just like my lawyer predicted, the judge admonished me then I was given another court date and sent home with my mom. The car ride home was weird, I was sure my mom was going to go in on me about what happened but she never said one word about it and that bothered me because I didn't know what to expect once I got in the house.
When I got home I ran straight to my room and jumped on my bed then I went into the bathroom, took off my clothes and jumped in the shower immediately. It felt so good to take a shower at home. When I got out I devoured some Bojangles my sister, Makea had bought me for a welcome home meal. I was so hungry I gobbled it down like it was my first time eating. The week I spent in jail, I never ate anything but the small portions of snacks they gave us to eat. After I ate, I took the remote off the kitchen counter and went upstairs to my room to lay down. It was a relief to be able to lay on a soft mattress instead of the hard mattress I was forced to sleep on; boy there was no place like home. As I lay there on my bed I promised myself I would change and I did...for a little while.
Chapter 2
It took about four months after my incident before I started hanging with my old friends, Bebo, Nook Nook and Benji. It took me that long because I wanted to be sure I was ready to be responsible enough to hang out with some ole friends. Plus they were my child hood friends even though Bebo and I had a crush on each other since we met. No one knew except for me and him though. The boys were always talking about making quick money and as far as I can remember, I've always loved money; my momma ain't rich! They kept coming to me with plans and ways to get money but I usually denied them because it never sounded good to me until one day they told me they knew where we could get fifteen hundred dollars each and that sounded like something I shouldn't miss out on. Not only would I be set but that payday would allow me to help out my mother. I never thought about myself whenever I got a little piece of change, I always thought of helping out my family with whatever financial problems they were having at the moment.
When we all met up they told me the plan, where we had to go and how we were going to get there. The plan was to raid the heck out of a house; midnight burglary. Bebo was going to drive us there then Nook Nook was going to let everybody in through the backdoor. The people that lived there were supposed to be out of town for the week.
"Nook Nook can get in the window since he the shortest and skinniest but it might not even be locked." Bebo said explaining the plan to me in detail. "But we need you Missy because you the only one that knows how to get pass the security alarms. You got all A's in that electronic class, now it's gonna come in handy." Bebo said sounding hype.
"Bebo's right Missy, you the only person left we know that can help us get this money without it being a problem." Benji said with confidence in his voice.
"Well what about you Nook Nook you ain’t saying nothing." I pointed my finger at him.
He didn’t say anything as if he had a lot on his mind. The plan they devised sounded good although it didn't seem well thought out but I agreed to it anyway because of how much money I could make. We all piled into Benji and Bebo's father car, a Pontiac Oldsmobile Ninety-Eight. We pulled up to our destination, a huge two story white house that looked newly painted located off the waterfront. The only entrance into the house was through a downstairs bathroom window. The window was wide enough for a small person to fit through which was Nook Nook. He climbed in and once inside it took him almost forever to find out where the back door was to let everybody in because it was dark and there were so many doors in the house. When he finally found the back door, he let us in. We rushed inside and ran upstairs to the bedroom to search for jewelry and lift everything of value. When we found the jewelry box it was empty except for a baby's diamond bracelet. The boys were mad because there was supposed to be more jewelry in there so they started looking for other things worth money. The boys were breaking things and ransacking the room out of anger. I stood back and watched them then suddenly got a bad feeling, it was almost like the same feeling I felt when I was in school that time; it was like I was in a movie. Something kept nagging me, telling me to leave so while they tore the room apart I just dipped out quietly without telling them anything. I walked towards the back door and bumped into a small wooden table that had books and a bible on it. I went to fix it back and when I moved it there was $500 under the bible, I hesitated but I had to get it so I took it and fled out the back in a hurry. I closed the door behind me for safety; nosey neighbors or burglars can just walk in you know. I took off running down the street towards my grandmother's house on Fourth Street. When I got there I was breathing heavily and like all grandparents she noticed something wasn't right with me.
"What’s wrong baby?" She asked as I was walking towards the refrigerator.
"Um, nothing gran'ma. I just stopped by to see if you cooked anything." I lied.
She turned and grabbed a plate out the kitchen dish rack and started fixing me a plate of turkey and collards. As I ate my meal I wondered about the boys and when I finished eating my guilt had gotten the best of me for leaving so I left the safety of my grandmother's home to go check on them; I was worried and felt I needed to at least tell them to get out of there. When I got back to the house they were robbing, I was shocked to see flashing lights from a police car. When I got closer they were all in handcuffs coming out of the house with their heads down. I dropped to my knees right where I was standing and burst into tears because that could have been me all over again but God saved me this time.
I felt that incident was my final warning so after that terrible night I stayed to myself. I wanted to be able to control my actions; I wanted to stay out of bad situations. I started going to church again with my family as a way to cleanse myself and ask God for help in getting my life right.
Two weeks before my court date I signed up for a youth program at Job Link to find a summer job so I could earn my money in a positive way. Although I never had a job and felt it wasn't my style, I don't know why, I just felt it wasn’t me. But I knew if I expected to change I had to start somewhere. I also decided to sign up for summer camp just in case I didn’t get accepted for the Job Link youth program; this was to make sure I had something to keep me busy and out of trouble.
June 8th was the day of my court date and it was right around the corner and I only had a week to prepare for it. I was anxious and nervous because I didn’t know what was going to happen. There were three things I knew could happen; I could get probation, I could go back to the detention center or I could get put in a group home. I felt sort of confident because things were changing for me in a positive way since that unfortunate situation with my homeboys and I went a totally different direction with my behavior. The three options I faced were all equally bad either way you looked at it, but if I had to choose, probation would be my choice. Being on probation would be harder because I would have to use all the restraint in my power to comply to the rules but at least I would be home.
When I got caught with that marijuana and went to the detention center, my family didn’t really treat me any different but I lost my father's trust and that’s what hurt me the most. Some of my uncles and aunts picked on me, some even laughed but others spoke to me as if nothing ever happened. I really didn’t want to communicate with my father at all after what I did. Being the tough loving parent he is, I didn’t really want to talk about it to him because I didn’t know how to explain myself. Out of all the people I know and love he would be the one to make me feel worse even though his words would be words of wisdom. I had gotten a phone call from my uncle D from NY and he gave me a speech about what I did. I was upset because I didn't want my father telling everybody. I felt if he was going to do that he should have given me the opportunity to tell them myself. I never thought he would tell anyone but he let it be known. When I finally spoke to him and told him how I felt about him telling everyone he told me if I didn’t want it to be known I shouldn’t have done it. That was a hard slap in my face. He didn't unde
rstand that I had to eat and live every day; I had to do what I had to do, he didn't understand! My mother is sick and handicapped, she has no job and gets a little check every month. She’s unable to provide me with the little things I need and or want. By the time she pays all her bills her check is gone. So I did what I had to do in order to survive. I had to do what I had to at the time because I felt like if I didn’t do it, nothing would get done and my family would suffer. I know my father loves me but when it comes to my wants he doesn't want to get them for me so therefore I have to make it work and the only way I knew was that quick money, that's how I fell in love with the block; it was my best friend, so I thought. I learned real math in the streets if it didn't make money it didn't make sense. One thing about the streets though, no matter how much you love it that bitch WILL NEVER love you back.
Me and my father used to be so close until I grew up and we went different ways. I used to look at him as a person who would always make me feel less of myself. Whenever something happened all he wanted to do was yell, that’s why I never told him anything. But I can’t get mad because he practically raised himself and I'm his first born and he didn’t even raise me. I hold my dad accountable for the way I look at him. It was his fault he didn’t take me when I was younger and wasn’t able to decide what I wanted but no he left me in WACKASS Washington! As a child I always wanted to be with my father. When I was in the fifth grade I went through a stage where all I wanted was my father and I was willing to pack my clothes and move with him and his girlfriend, whom I didn’t like at all. I always felt like we were battling for my father's love and attention whenever I came around, which was total BS to me because her and her children have my father with them every day and all I got was holidays and summer vacation. Whenever he bought me anything it came through the mail.
Lil Mz. Understood (A FourShaodugh Publishing Title) Page 2
