by Nancy Isaak
It was late afternoon before we finally reached the Agoura Hills Library.
I had spent many hours in that building—reading books, checking out movies, attending special events. Like many in our city, the Library had become a big part of my life; it was important to me.
Now—sadly—I was standing in front of a broken shell.
The Library had indeed burned down.
Part of the south wall still stood, however, teetering at an unnatural angle. The rest was ashes.
Ironically, the ‘Book Return’ boxes out front had been left untouched by the fire. There were no books inside of them, however. Someone had already been there and had jimmied their little side-doors open.
They were empty.
* * * *
We wandered through the ashes for a while.
Alice found two books tucked under a fallen beam—one on computer operating systems, the other was a book on car maintenance.
She left them both where they were.
A couple of other girls found a book here or there—fiction, all of them, none on our lists.
They still went into our carts.
The real ‘prize’ was found by Jude, though—a calendar that she discovered inside one of the cars in the parking lot.
We all oohed and ahhed when she pulled it out of the vehicle. Girls shoved at one another to look over Jude’s shoulder as she turned from one page to another, all photos of bare-chested young men, each holding a dog or a cat.
Half-naked television actors with their pets—it just didn’t get better than that!
* * * *
It started raining soon after we arrived at the library—big, fat drops that eventually transformed themselves into a torrential downpour. On the hill behind the library, mud began to wash away, cascading down into the parking lot and turning everything into a brown, sticky soup.
We took refuge in City Hall—a small building that (until the fire) had been attached to the Library.
For the most part, the building had been left intact. There was some evidence that people had gone through the offices and rooms, however. Drawers had been pulled open, supply cabinets emptied.
There was no sign of any direct vandalism, though; neither, did we see any graffiti.
* * * *
Alice decided that we’d bunk down in the main hall.
To protect them from predators—human or otherwise—the horses were also brought inside and stabled in a nearby office. They would be fed from a sack of oats that one of the girls had been pushing in her cart.
Other girls built a small fire, using wooden legs that they broke from some of the office chairs. Then two 11th graders cooked a rather amazing supper of bean stew and fried bread. Cherry and I added dessert when we came across a candy machine in a back room that—miraculously—hadn’t already been emptied.
The Protection Detail, meanwhile, alternated sentries throughout the storm and—when the rains didn’t stop—through the next morning and into mid-afternoon.
Two girls were always on duty—patrolling inside City Hall and without.
* * * *
Just for fun, a bunch of us played ‘Truth or Dare’ that night.
During the game, I found out that Cherry had kissed four different boys and that Jude had played the accordion when she was little. Because I took the dare, everyone got to see me doing cartwheels through the muddy parking lot. Then Jude sang the National Anthem as she hung upside down, while Cherry mooned us from an outside window.
And—just around midnight—we ate all the rest of the candy and chocolate bars from the machine.
So worth the bellyache!
For a few hours—we were just a bunch of girls on a sleepover being silly.
It was great.
JOURNAL ENTRY: JAY #1
Hi, it’s Jay here.
Kaylee has asked me to write this next bit for the record, because she wasn’t there. I’m not as good a writer as Kaylee, so you’re going to have to forgive me if I mess things up.
The first thing me and Wandy did when Kaylee, Cherry, and Jude left for the library was to take Shawnee and Lily over to the cafeteria to wait for lunch. Then Wandy watched the girls while I went on my own mission. With so many of the Protection Detail gone to the library, I figured that it would be a good time to score some Adderall for Jude.
Even though I’m in charge of the Medical Center, the Council keeps really tight control on all the medication. They have it locked up in one of the classrooms on the south side of the school. When I want something I have to actually order it through one of the 12th graders. The only thing I’m allowed to keep in the Medical Center are some light pain relievers and antibiotics.
It’s way stupid!
Anyway, I just waited until everyone was eating lunch. Then I used my keys and went into the room and pulled out enough Addies to last Jude for the next few months. Since I was there, I also grabbed some other stuff I might need, mainly sedatives and some of the stronger pain relievers.
* * * *
When I went back to the cafeteria—it was crazy!
Wandy was screaming, Lily was crying, and Tray and the Protection Detail were pulling a sobbing Shawnee off by gunpoint.
“What the heck are you doing?” I yelled, running forward.
A 12th grader immediately rushed me, holding me back—just like the one who was holding back Wandy. We were both struggling, trying to reach Shawnee, who was holding onto the edges of the doorway as Tray ripped at her fingers.
“Stop it, you little brat!” Tray snarled. “Let go!”
“Tray, why are you doing this?” I called out. “She’s just a girl!”
“She’s a thief is what she is!” Tray finally managed to pry loose Shawnee’s fingers. Immediately, another 12th grader rushed forward, and helped Tray pull Shawnee around the corner.
Wandy, meanwhile, was still struggling with the girl who was holding her.
“What happened?” I called over to Wandy.
“They caught Shawnee with some cookies,” she yelled back. “Now they’re going to put her on trial.”
“What?!”
“That’s what we do to thieves!” This had come from the girl holding onto me. I turned and looked her straight in the face, absolutely furious.
“You better hope to heck that you don’t get sick—because I’ll be the one treating you,” I warned. “And I know lots of stuff to make you hurt now!”
She immediately let me go.
So did the girl holding onto Wandy.
Then, both 12th graders stalked out of the cafeteria—frowning, throwing me dirty looks over their shoulders.
As I helped a sobbing Lily off of the floor—where she’d apparently been thrown as she’d tried to protect Shawnee—Wandy came over, sat down on a chair, and promptly burst into tears.
“Oh god!” she cried. “What are we going to do?”
* * * *
We had always kept a careful watch over Shawnee and Lily because we knew there could be trouble. Mostly we figured it would come from something dangerous like mountain lions breaching our territory or an attack by another group of girls.
And, of course, there were always the ‘beasts’.
We didn’t like to talk about them too much, however—because even the thought of such feral monsters coming our way was just too scary.
But the one thing none of us had ever considered—was that ‘trouble’ would ultimately come from a stupid cookie!
* * * *
It had started while everyone was eating lunch.
Wandy had left the girls alone for a few moments, while she visited the foul area. When she came back, Lily was sitting at their table—but Shawnee was missing.
When asked where Shawnee went, Lily said that she wasn’t supposed to tell. She said that Shawnee had told her that it was a big secret.
Of course, it only took a few minutes for Wandy to get Lily to spill everything, but it was too late by then. The Protection Detail had already ca
ught Shawnee, as she was sneaking into the back of the kitchen to steal a cookie.
* * * *
Full of righteous anger, I stalked over to the Foxes Compound, intending to talk some sense into Orla. Wandy had wanted to come with me, but I figured that maybe it was better if she stayed behind with Lily. I was hoping that Orla and Tray might listen to me because of everything I was doing over in the Medical Center.
Wandy, I knew, held absolutely no sway over either of them. In fact, her presence might actually have made everything worse.
When I arrived at the house that the Foxes lived in, there were two 11th graders from the Protection Detail standing outside. They had their guns out, which I thought was kind of stupid. I mean, I was unarmed and half their size. What did they think I was going to do? Pull a Chuck Norris on them?!
They also wouldn’t let me speak to Orla—and I didn’t get to see Shawnee either.
Tray came out, though. “What do you want, Jay?”
“It was a cookie,” I said, trying to sound reasonable. “Shawnee is 12-years old. She made a mistake.”
“And she needs to pay for it.”
“But it was her first time. So, show her some compassion and let her off with a warning.”
Tray snorted. “You think we don’t know that Cherry lied for her that last time. Shawnee is a thief. She’s stolen before and she’s going to steal again unless she gets punished.”
“So, what are you going to do? Whip a 12-year old girl?” It was difficult to remain calm. I was so angry right then that I wanted to whip Tray!
“Oh, we’re not going to whip Shawnee. But she’s going to get punished,” said Tray, grinning. “No big sister to protect her this time.”
“What about a trial?” I asked. “Like, she’s going to get a trial, right? I’ll represent her then.”
Tray burst out into laughter. “This isn’t the United States of freaking-America anymore, Jay. This is Agoura Hills and we’ve got our own judicial system now. Shawnee was caught red-handed. There isn’t going to be a trial.”
“But that isn’t right!” I gasped.
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Tray sneered. “Tell it to someone who cares. Assembly is tonight at 8 p.m. She’ll be punished then.”
“Tray, come on.”
“Be there or be square.”
And Tray turned and walked back into the house.
I yelled at her to come back and talk to me—but she didn’t. The Protection Detail wouldn’t let me go any closer, so I couldn’t knock on the Foxes’ door either.
So, I just stood there for a while.
Then, finally, I went back to the cafeteria to tell Wandy.
* * * *
When they let us into the auditorium at 8 p.m., Shawnee was already sitting on a chair in the middle of the stage.
She looked absolutely terrified.
There were tear stains on her cheeks and one of the sleeves of her blouse had been ripped and was hanging down.
Two 12th graders were on stage with her—one on each side. They had their guns in their belts and one of them was carrying a whip. Shawnee kept looking at the whip, her lips quivering in fear each time.
Both Wandy and I tried to go up and talk to Shawnee, but there were other 12th graders at the front of the audience who held us back. They said that nobody was allowed to talk to the thief until after the sentence had been carried out.
“It’s okay, Shawnee,” I called out, trying to reassure her. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I want to go home,” cried Shawnee. She sounded so scared, it broke my heart. “Can’t you make them let me go home?”
The 12th grader on the left smacked Shawnee on the head. “Shaddup…no talking!”
“Hey!” yelled Wandy. “Don’t you dare hit her!”
Other girls in the audience yelled out the same thing, which kind of surprised me. I think that it surprised the Protection Detail, too, because they didn’t touch Shawnee again after that.
A little while later, the side door opened, and Orla and Tray came onto the stage. While Orla went directly to the podium, Tray stood behind Shawnee.
No one in the audience applauded. I wondered if Orla noticed.
“Once again,” Orla began, “we are here because of stealing. Shawnee Winslette has been found guilty of the attempted theft of a box of cookies from our kitchen.”
“How can she be found guilty if there wasn’t a trial?” Wandy yelled out.
There was some grumbling at this from the girls in the audience.
Orla held up her hands for quiet. “We had no need for a trial. Shawnee Winslette admitted her guilt.”
“Oh, Shawnee!” Wandy cried out. “What did you do?!”
“I was supposed to tell the truth,” Shawnee sobbed. “You always told me that it was what I was supposed to do!”
“You were right, Shawnee,” said Orla, turning directly toward the girl. “And the Council and I appreciated your honesty. Believe me—that counted a great deal in our sentencing.”
“I’m not going to be whipped,” asked the girl, hopefully.
“No, sweetheart,” said Orla. “But you do need to be punished. We simply cannot have people stealing from the Community. It’s unacceptable.”
The grumbling from the girls around me had stopped. They were listening carefully to what Orla was saying, trying to figure out what the punishment would be.
A slight nod passed from Orla to Tray.
“Stand up.” Tray grabbed Shawnee by the arm and pulled her up. Then—Tray sat down in the chair that Shawnee had just left.
I was confused, but Wandy wasn’t. “No!” she gasped, horrified.
“In view of your young age, Shawnee,” Orla continued, “instead of being whipped twelve times—you will be spanked twelve times.”
“Come on, Orla!” I yelled, jumping up. “You know this isn’t right.”
Orla pointed a finger directly at me. “And—for every interruption—Tray will add another hit. This isn’t your Medical Center, Jay. This is my court and I make the rules here. So—interrupt or sit down. It’s your choice. But if you interrupt again, it will be Shawnee who pays the price.”
Wandy quickly reached up and pulled me back down into my seat.
“But…this is stupid!” I hissed. “I mean, we can’t really let this happen, can we?”
“It’s a spanking,” said Wandy—her lips tight with suppressed anger. “Twelve hits and Shawnee will be done. We can’t make it worse for her.”
But—it did get worse.
Tray made Shawnee pull down her jeans and panties and lean over her knees. Then she started hitting Shawnee hard.
On her bare bottom.
Humiliated…in pain…Shawnee began to cry.
* * * *
Some of the girls in the audience began to cry, too.
But I saw others who were actually snickering. One 11thgrader even said that she wished there was still internet—so she could YouTube it.
Up on the stage, meanwhile, Orla stood to one side. She wasn’t watching what was going on between Tray and Shawnee, though.
She was watching us—the girls in the audience.
And—the absolutely worst thing about the whole thing—I’m pretty sure that Tray was getting off on hitting Shawnee.
I think that she was actually having fun.
ON TO THE NEXT LIBRARY
As we pushed our carts down Agoura Road toward the Westlake Village Library that second day, we came across two other buildings that had also burned up. Because they were blocks apart and on opposite sides of the street, it left little doubt that the fires had been intentionally set.
We also discovered one significant incident of graffiti along our route.
At Reyes Adobe Road and Agoura Road—near the onramp to the 101 Freeway—we found a collection of letters and symbols, spray-painted onto the side of a bus bench. These ones were almost identical to the graffiti inside of Ladyface Ale Companie.
“Guess they’ve made it fart
her than Orla thinks,” announced Cherry—obviously talking about the juvie girls from the Probationary Camp near Malibu Creek.
“I wonder if they’re the ones who burned down the Agoura Hills Library,” I said.
“Stupid if they did,” Cherry snorted. “Guess they missed the one about ‘knowledge being power’.
* * * *
The entrance to the Westlake Village Library was actually situated just off of Agoura Road. As we neared the turn off, our eyes widened at the sight of a skinny girl, seated cross-legged on the trunk of a car—smack dab in the middle of the road.
She was loosely cradling a shotgun and appeared to have been waiting for us.
The girl was about sixteen and had red hair, much like Orla’s, except that hers was much longer—worn in two braids that fell down on either side of her head. And, while she was quite pretty, both the girl’s face and the overalls she was wearing were smudged with dirt.
“Heard you coming,” she grinned. “Hard to sneak up when you’re pushing shopping carts.”
Alice rode right up to her—taking out her gun and aiming it directly at the younger girl. “Who are you?”
“Cammie,” the girl answered, calmly. “And you might want to put that mischief-maker away.”
“Why should I?” asked Alice.
“Because she’s not alone!” called a voice to our left.
We all spun around looking but—we could see no one.
Cammie burst out into delighted laughter, waving her hands in a circle around her. “Yeah, they’re everywhere. Bam-bam, you get too frisky.”
