“You ought to be locked in a cage” the judge growled at me from the bench.
I was taken aback but tried to hide that fact from my face.
“Seriously?” I thought to myself “Surely he wasn’t looking at me. What the hell did he see when he looked at me for him say such a thing?”
I had asked him if he could please speak up during yet another six-month review hearing regarding my care.
“Could you please speak up, I can’t hear you.” Those were the words, likely delivered in a tone characteristic of a frustrated 14-year-old girl.
They hadn’t yet found a placement for me and being that it was the holiday season and everyone wanted to go on vacations as soon as possible, the judge did the easiest thing for the time being and placed me into the juvenile detention center. I don’t recall now how long I was there before a foster home was found for me, but it was probably around 60 days.
It was a coed facility, but I only remember one other girl there during my stay while there were boys numbering 15-20. One had lit his mattress on fire. Another was friendly but intimidating and so I would share with him whatever he wanted from my dinner rations.
I remember lining up, being hosed down in a concrete cell by the guards when I had arrived, and lining up to go to the yard where we could shoot hoops. I mostly thought about how I might escape the place, mainly because I couldn’t help it.
Finally, after 60 days or so, I was released to my first foster care placement. Most foster homes were in rural areas in PA and this was no exception. The bright spot was that C was also a foster kid there. She thought that I dressed too modestly and immediately lent me a pair of her shorts, and short they were, denim and frayed. This was the first time I had been introduced to the concept of showing off my body and I was pretty indifferent about it. Others were not.
To be continued…
Leave a Reply