Monthly Archives: August 2018

THE INCIDENT – CHAPTER 11

I had to go back to court at the end of the school year. The teachers at the court school all gave me good letters and the judge asked if I’d learned my lesson and I told him “Yes, sir.” He let me off probation and said I could go back to regular school, but warned me that if he saw me in his courtroom again, I wouldn’t get off so easy.

Easy. He doesn’t know what happened at court school. No one does. I want to talk about it, but I can’t. Anyone I told would hate me as much as I hate myself.

I have two weeks at home before going to my new boarding school. It was decided I should attend their summer session to catch up on some of what I missed this year.

It’s worse being home all day every day than it was being at school, except for that one day, the one I can’t talk about. The one that makes me feel like I’m every bit as awful as my parents think. If they knew, they wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

I wanted to go visit Mary before I head off to school, but my parents are keeping a short leash on me. I don’t go anywhere here without my mother. I don’t want Mary to come visit me, because then I’d have to explain why my parents are acting like they are, or Rose would blurt out something about how bad I am. Someday I’ll go back to Colorado for a visit and be able to pretend all this stuff didn’t happen.

It’s not that I wanted to fit in with the majority gang. I just didn’t want to be noticed. And I was. I was stared at because I wasn’t doing anything when everyone else was. I tried to fade into the background, but it didn’t work. I had to challenge what I knew was wrong, or participate.

I wasn’t brave enough to challenge them all.

That’s not the whole truth. If it were, maybe I could have said something, at least after. Part of me was tired of being alone all the time. Part of me wanted to be one with the group. It’s good that I’m being sent away to school. I’ll be far from the group and they won’t expect me to be part of them. I’ll probably never see them again. Except in my nightmares.

I leave for school next week. I asked to go camping this weekend. I’ll stay up late and burn this in the campfire after everyone’s asleep, so they won’t ask questions.

So I have to say it now. What happened. I know I’ll live with it forever, but maybe this burning thing will help. I don’t know. I know I can’t tell anyone about it.

Sheri2012RGB2inch

www.sherimcguinn.com
www.amazon.com/author/sherimcguinn

The Incident is contemporary YA (Young Adult). Following time-honored tradition, I’m publishing it here in installments. To be alerted when the next segment goes online, “follow” this blog. The entire story will be published here. You are welcome to share this link with others, but please respect copyright by contacting me for permission if you want to publish the story elsewhere. Thank you.

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THE INCIDENT – CHAPTER 10

In the hall, we all had to wear one-piece jumpsuits. Most of us wore orange. Blue meant you had extra responsibilities and privileges. The first time I saw a red jumpsuit, I thought it was for Christmas. That was dumb. People wore red jumpsuits for a week after they’d done something so crazy that they had to be put in solitary to calm down.

I’d ruined the holiday for my whole family, getting locked up. Rose was worried that if they put up a stocking for me, Santa would skip our house. My parents put it up and found some coal to put in it, like the old stories about bad little children. They told me my lawyer’s fees were my Christmas present. At least Rose sent me a picture she’d drawn.

I didn’t want her to see me in the hall.

Aside from my being depressed, juvenile hall wasn’t all that bad. We had classes all but a few days around Christmas and New Year’s Day. It was like being back in grade school, but I didn’t say so because a lot of people were struggling with the work. Most of them were very angry people and I knew we’d be in classes together at court school when we got out.

There were gangs, but they had to put up with each other.

The really good thing about the hall was that the adults had almost total control, since we were there 24/7. Sometimes stuff happened behind their backs, and the wrong person would end up in trouble, but from what I heard people saying, the gangs ruled at court school. That made me wish they’d put me in the hall for six months with no court school. But at least I’d be living at home when I transferred.

They kept me in the hall exactly a month, even though that meant starting a week into the semester at court school. I guess the teachers were used to that, though, because most of them had handouts explaining all their rules and procedures. The classes were a little harder than they’d been in the hall, but a lot of my classmates could barely read. When I had to read aloud, I was careful not to let it seem too easy. Still, people started looking to me for help, at least the ones who cared about doing the work.

There were two rival gangs on the campus, with one of them definitely having the majority of the student body. From what I could see, they had a lot more in common with each other than different, but they chose to focus on the differences.

What they had in common: They didn’t have much positive going on with their parents or at school, and they didn’t see much positive in the future. Most of them had never considered as possible things I took for granted, like graduating from high school, getting a good job someday, having a nice home. They saw the people in their gangs as the ones to whom they owed loyalty, and everyone else was “them.”

I found most of them more likeable than Angelica or Natalie.

When I explained how all that went down, there were offers to “take care of them” for me. Fortunately, I’d never mentioned their names, so I didn’t have to worry about anyone doing me a favor I didn’t want.

I tried to keep clear of both groups, but they heard I was good at schoolwork. It got so I automatically printed out two extra copies of my work, so I could deliver a copy to each gang. At last being a nerd had a benefit. I gave help freely to all and wasn’t expected to pick sides.

All I asked was that they not let teachers know who was helping. Some of the teachers were too burned out to care that averages suddenly went up. Only one cornered me to ask about it. I shrugged as if I didn’t know anything and said I was keeping to myself, just trying not to get hurt before the semester ended and I could get out of there. I didn’t say anyone had threatened me, but I think that’s how the guy took it, because he didn’t hassle me about it anymore.

Meanwhile, I was living at home, looking at that mural of our backyard back in Colorado every day, wishing we’d never moved. The coal in my stocking, which I hadn’t been there to see, pretty much summed up how my parents were feeling about me. They didn’t trust me at all anymore. Mom drove me to school and picked me up after. Some of the kids got picked up by older gang members in cars with music on to make everything around them vibrate. Mom would give me this sad, disappointed look every time. She wouldn’t bring Rose with her.

They called the school and talked to my teachers when I told them I didn’t have any homework. That’s what it took to make them believe that the few assignments that were given were easy to finish before the end of class. They decided to try and get me into a private school for the next year, but my “legal issues” were an automatic no thank you at all the ones nearby. So they started looking at boarding schools. That would eat up the pay raise my dad had gotten and then some, but at least they wouldn’t have to see their disappointing child all the time. I’d probably have to repeat this year in any decent school, but I’d have a shot at a good college again if I was eighteen before I graduated and could get my records sealed.

Yeah, I picked up that bit of advice from my probation officer. I had to report to one of those every week, but he came to the school, so it was no hassle for my parents. He always said the same thing, that I was doing good so far, just stay out of trouble.

I never said much of anything.

Sheri2012RGB2inch

www.sherimcguinn.com
www.amazon.com/author/sherimcguinn

The Incident is contemporary YA (Young Adult). Following time-honored tradition, I’m publishing it here in installments. To be alerted when the next segment goes online, “follow” this blog. The entire story will be published here. You are welcome to share this link with others, but please respect copyright by contacting me for permission if you want to publish the story elsewhere. Thank you.

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THE INCIDENT – CHAPTER 9

It was an electronics store. We should have known they’d have cameras, even if we didn’t see them. There wasn’t any audio. It looked like I was talking Natalie into taking it. It was clear that Angelica and I were acting as look-outs. Did you know that’s the same thing as if you were the one stashing something into your bag? We were all charged with shoplifting. Angelica and Natalie didn’t say anything while we were in that little room with the store manager, waiting for our parents to come and get us. I didn’t say anything, either. I was too miserable imagining how disappointed my parents were going to be.

That was the incident. Some advice: If you’re going to do something incredibly stupid and/or illegal, you should make sure you’re doing it with friends who’ve got your back.

My parents got there first, and insisted I be honest, so I told about how the girls were always going to the mall, and about our first trip and Natalie shoplifting, and how today I hadn’t thought she’d really steal it, but I was trying to fit in. Natalie and Angelica didn’t say anything, they just stared at me as if they couldn’t believe what I was saying. Then my parents took me home.

Natalie’s father was an attorney, so they didn’t say a word that night. When they gave their statements to the police, it was all my fault.

They were top students, in the International Baccalaureate program. I was the new kid in the wrong classes. I was the one who convinced them to skip school twice—the only times either of them had been absent all year. I was the one who stole the nail kit, which they’d thought I paid for until I said Natalie took it. I was the one who challenged Natalie to steal that electronic gadget. She was doing it on a dare and fully intended to return it to the store, once she’d proven she wasn’t afraid to take it. Their statements agreed with everything down to the wording of my challenge.

Natalie and Angelica, as top students, were put onto a diversion program. All charges would disappear from their records once they behaved for six months. Even though I was not the one who actually took the device, I was charged with felony theft—I told you it was crazy expensive. The attorney my parents hired recommended that I plead guilty, since I clearly was guilty, on tape, and ask for leniency because I’d never been in trouble before. But the store wanted to make an example of someone, and given the statements of the other girls, I was the bad seed. The judge sentenced me to one month in juvenile hall, and then I was to attend the court school, where I wouldn’t lead any other good kids astray. That placement would be reviewed at the end of the school year.

I was terrified, and it was only the first step toward this cliff I’m sitting on.

Sheri2012RGB2inch

www.sherimcguinn.com
www.amazon.com/author/sherimcguinn

The Incident is contemporary YA (Young Adult). Following time-honored tradition, I’m publishing it here in installments. To be alerted when the next segment goes online, “follow” this blog. The entire story will be published here. You are welcome to share this link with others, but please respect copyright by contacting me for permission if you want to publish the story elsewhere. Thank you.

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THE INCIDENT – CHAPTER 8

When Mom caught me walking home alone one day, I assured her it was fine, that Angelica and Natalie had to stay after for talking in one of their classes, but that I was being alert and felt comfortable walking home alone. Even outside the gate, it was a decent neighborhood.

So the fall went okay. I even got invited to a Halloween party one of the kids in my art classes was having. My Dad checked out the address and nixed my going there at night, but at least I was asked.

After that invitation, my parents started investigating private schools for me and Rose. We’d been in public school in our small town, where everyone knew everyone, regardless of family income or which side of the tracks you lived. I’d never really thought about it, how it was only kids my parents approved of that I’d spent time with back home. There was this one girl in my Scout troop who wore the same clothes every day and we didn’t make fun of her because we knew she didn’t have any others and that the nurse washed them regularly while the girl wore a donated gym suit. But I don’t know anyone who ever went to that girl’s house.

So the city was different in a lot of ways—and regardless of my Inparents’ belief it was a small town, we were part of the metropolis. I didn’t notice anyone wearing exactly the same clothes every day, but some of the boys would when they’d been out all night partying. They talked about it right in front of the teachers, so I guess no one cared.

Of course, I was in classes with throw-away kids.

It seemed like Angelica and Natalie asked me to go to the mall with them at least once a week. That should have rung some alarm bells, but it didn’t. I knew I could miss half my classes and still ace them. Maybe the IB program wasn’t all that hard, either, or maybe they were smarter than I thought.

I was so stupid. It never occurred to me that they weren’t going without me, that they didn’t shoplift on a regular basis.

They asked about the boy I’d used as an excuse and I told them it was all over. He’d kissed another girl, made me cry, got me in trouble, and that was the end of it for me. In reality, I did have a crush on a boy in my art class, but I wasn’t about to tell anyone about that.

Joey was such a good artist, and he had the longest, thickest eyelashes. I’d never seen him with a girl, but I was sure I wasn’t the only one who liked him. We had the same two art classes, back to back, in the same room, so we could keep working on a project for both periods. He didn’t talk a lot with anyone, he’d get so involved in his art, but when we had to critique each other’s work, he always found something nice to say about mine. Actually, he did the same thing with anyone, but it felt special at the time. Then the first week in December, in art class, I heard him ask another girl to go to the Christmas dance with him. I knew no one would ask me. No one else even talked to me much.

So the next day, when Angelica and Natalie tried to get me to go to the mall with them, I jumped on the chance to avoid art. They seemed surprised, almost reluctant to have me go along, even though they’d been asking me for weeks.

They were both going to the Christmas dance, so we spent all morning looking at dresses. I tried some on, too, so they wouldn’t know I wasn’t going. Out of habit, I kept checking price tags and shying away from the expensive dresses. They made fun of that, as if price was never an object for them.

During lunch, they barely spoke to me. In fact, they’d talked mostly between themselves all day. After we ate, they wanted to go to an electronics store. There was some gadget Natalie’s boyfriend wanted for Christmas. We must have looked at everything in the store before we found it, and it was crazy expensive.

“You’re not going to try and walk out of here with that, are you?” I asked.

I should have kept my mouth shut. Natalie took it as a challenge.

“If you and Angelica watch that no one’s coming.”

We went to opposite ends of the aisle and gave her a thumb’s up when no one was coming. She slipped it into her bag and we headed for the door. We started giggling about ten feet outside the store.

Right before the security guard stopped us.

Sheri2012RGB2inch

www.sherimcguinn.com
www.amazon.com/author/sherimcguinn

The Incident is contemporary YA (Young Adult). Following time-honored tradition, I’m publishing it here in installments. To be alerted when the next segment goes online, “follow” this blog. The entire story will be published here. You are welcome to share this link with others, but please respect copyright by contacting me for permission if you want to publish the story elsewhere. Thank you.

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THE INCIDENT – CHAPTER 7

It’s not really an excuse, but aside from art, my classes bored me stiff, even Spanish. The teacher had such a horrible accent, I could hardly understand whether he was speaking English or Spanish at any given moment. Angelica and Natalie kept walking to school with me. At first it shocked me when they talked about skipping classes. I mean, they were in the illustrious IB program, not the drivel I had to slog through every day.

But there was a mall near the school, and eventually I went along with them, partly because they offered to help me buy makeup and get my nails done properly. Mom’s never been into that stuff. She and Dad would rather hike a mountain than go to a formal dinner, though they don’t do either now. He’s always at work. But I was woefully ignorant of girly things.

Nail polish was my gateway drug.

See? I may not be in AP classes anymore, but I still plan on college, if I live that long.

Anyway, that first time I went to the mall with them, they showed me posters of French and American manicures and they debated which was better. Angelica acted like I was someone special when I agreed with her that the American manicure looked better. It was more natural-looking. We got a kit to do an American manicure, two different emery boards and a pair of cuticle scissors, mascara, eyeliner, and eye shadow that they said would really make my eyes pop, by which I figured out they meant my eyes would stand out more with the makeup. By the time we had it all in the basket, I realized I hadn’t brought enough cash. It was embarrassing, but I admitted I hadn’t realized how much I’d need. Natalie offered to put the American manicure kit back on the shelf and pick up a clear polish, since I liked the natural look.

We got home about the same time we’d get there if we’d been in classes all day. We dropped by my house long enough to tell my mom that we’d made it back to the gated community safely. I dropped off my pack. We’d put all my stuff into Angelica’s bag—I’d have to keep it at her house or my mother would want to know when and where I’d gotten it. I couldn’t very well tell her I ditched school. We all went to Angelica’s house to do our manicures. Angelica had some of the stuff we needed, but they used what I’d bought, too.

When our nails were all shaped and ready for polish, Natalie got this devious smile on her face and said to wait, while she opened her pack. She pulled out the American manicure kit.

“You went ahead and bought it?” I asked. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I didn’t have to buy it. I just put it into my pack.”

“You stole it?”

“It was overpriced.”

If I’d said I wanted no part of it and gone home that day, I would have lost the only people I talked to outside of school. Looking back, that sure would have been the better choice. But I really liked the way those nails looked, so I went along with them and let them do my nails with the stolen kit. So I guess my Gateway drug wasn’t really nail polish, it was the whole kit.

“The only people I talked to outside of school.” You notice I didn’t call them my only friends outside of school? Of course I am writing this with hindsight—I know now they were not my friends—but even back then, on some level I knew they were simply entertaining themselves with me. I thought that meant they were helping the little country bumpkin learn city ways. That would have inferred that they liked me, but they didn’t. They proved that, alright, but not until December.

Through the fall, I went back and forth within myself about the shoplifting. I mean, I used the kit, so did that make me just as guilty as Natalie? I avoided most of their trips to the mall, saying a teacher had called home and my parents were suspicious of my explanation. Having invented this phone call, I then had to invent an explanation. So I said I’d told my parents I had a crush on a boy and had been so upset seeing him locking lips with a girl on the way into art class, and that I had hidden in the bathroom to compose myself.

Angelica and Natalie considered my imaginary excuse to be brilliant and cursed the teacher for being a busy-body who’d call home if I missed class. Other teachers didn’t do that. I blamed Mr. Bonhomme’s artistic nature for caring too much.

In reality, he rarely took attendance. I was more concerned one of the other teachers might say something if I was absent too often, though that was probably me being paranoid. The classes I was in had so many losers in them that a quarter of the seats were empty most days. I doubted any teacher phone calls home for absent students. But Angelica and Natalie bought the excuse. That was all that mattered. We still walked to school together, and often I’d run into them on the way home.

And they still asked me to go to the mall with them, maybe when there was a sub in art.

I thought they liked me.

Sheri2012RGB2inch

www.sherimcguinn.com
www.amazon.com/author/sherimcguinn

The Incident is contemporary YA (Young Adult). Following time-honored tradition, I’m publishing it here in installments. To be alerted when the next segment goes online, “follow” this blog. The entire story will be published here. You are welcome to share this link with others, but please respect copyright by contacting me for permission if you want to publish the story elsewhere. Thank you.

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