story
My "Boot Camp" story... for Riri
It was so easy, after all, to be good
Prologue
I lift up my t-shirt and read my stomach. Most of the little cuts I made are there, since I was not allowed to expose that area of my body. Some people may think what I have done is self-mutilation, or perhaps some kind of fashion statement of teen angst. But it’s not. It’s actually a diary. Every tiny line, every squiggle, is a date. The deliberate shape of each curve is a sentence. Round for confused, for instance, and straight for determined. It’s a code of hieroglyphs that only I understand.
Three lines are thicker than the rest. I cut a little deeper those days. The first is shaped like a V with a line. It is above my lowest left rib and it is supposed to be a bird, although I think it ended up looking like an airplane. The second is a tiny jagged lightning bolt. The third is a snail-shaped one right next to my belly button.
The First
It was four o’clock in the morning when I was awakened in my room. I had gone to bed around two once I returned from sneaking out to see Mark, so I was quite exhausted. Suddenly light flooded my room: someone had unlocked my door from the outside. I covered my face with my hands.
“Ughh…what the hell?” I cried out, “Get out of my room, mom!”
“Not just mom this time,” said a deep male voice I did not recognize. “Get up, we are leaving.”
“Huh?” I said, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness. Two burly men dressed in green uniforms stood at the foot of my bed. One was white, the other black. Mom and dad were behind them. Mom had tears in her eyes. Dad had his arms crossed. He was staring into my psychedelic Bob Marley poster.
“Jenna, your mother and I have enrolled you in a special program in the Caribbean. It’s for your own good. We are doing this because we love you,” my father said in his quiet monotone.
“Remember, it’s better if you don’t explain anything to her,” said the white man. He was bald and had a big tattoo of a red star on his right bicep. “She’ll learn fast enough.”
I started laughing. “What’s this, some kind of Jerry Springer episode?” I stared at the bald man, who looked suspiciously similar to one of Jerry Springer’s bouncers. “You’d better split the money you get for this with me, dad.”
“If you don’t get up on your own, we’ll use handcuffs,” said the black man with a Creole accent. He was also eyeing my Bob Marley poster, but with amusement. He rubbed his goatee, seemingly deep in thought.
I stared into my mother’s puffy red eyes and realized this was no joke.
“Oh God,” I whispered. I jumped out of my bed and went for my window. As I was opening it, one of the men grabbed me and pinned my arms behind my back. Handcuffs were locked onto my thin wrists.
“Get off, asshole!” I cried. “Mom! Why is this happening?”
“Because you are ruining your life. And we decided to pay thousands of dollars to save it for you,” my father spat, his face turning red.
I was led outside of my home, barefoot and still in my pink Curious George pajamas, and into a tinted-window van. The white man sat with me in the backseat as the other sat in the driver’s seat.
“Now, you can make a scene at the airport, and you are still going to get on the plane because your folks have signed over their parental rights. Or you can be a good and stay quiet, and we’ll take those handcuffs off.”
Shocked and frightened, I slowly nodded. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“You are going to the Paradise Learning Center, The P.L.C. You’ll stay there until you fix your attitude problem.”
“My only attitude problem is that I’m dating a black guy,” I said.
The black driver started laughing hard as accented words rolled from his tongue like smooth boulders. “I doubt that, but if it’s true, your smart papa sent you to an island full of scary black men!”
Meanwhile, the bald man next to me unlocked my handcuffs. He gave the driver a look that seemed to say, be serious. The driver stopped laughing, but continued to grin.
“Now be a good girl and you won’t go straight into isolation once we get onto the island,” he said.
I rubbed my abused wrists. From the very beginning there was always a choice. Submit and be rewarded, or defy and be punished.
In a daze I was led through customs. The airport employees seemed to be familiar with the two men, and some greeted them warmly. Suddenly I was on a plane, seated between my captors. As the engine began to rumble, I realized that this was not a dream. Silent tears began to fall.
“I want to go home,” I said. “Who are you people, where am I going?”
“We already told you,” said Baldy. “And from now on, you are to remain silent. You are to ask permission if you want to speak.”
As the sun rose slowly below me in the sky, I bit my lip hard and clasped the tiny white dove necklace Mark had given me for our two-month anniversary. He said he gave it to me because my name means little bird. “This is a dream,” I whispered in my mind.
The plane landed on the soil of Dominica in the early afternoon and I walked down the steps. I had a funny taste in my mouth and I longed to brush my teeth. The sun beat down like an angry bully and the air was wet.
I had to sit down in another van. This one was crappier, though: it smelled of urine and the backseat had several large holes. I watched bright green leaves fly by me as the vehicle climbed hill after bumpy hill, then climbed back down toward the sea below. I watched the coastline of the Caribbean Sea from the window. The inviting green water opened to deep blue further offshore. It sparkled like a million stars. Like glitter.
The road ended at a barbed wire fence and a rusty iron gate. Beyond it was a dirt path leading to the shore through the thick green foliage. Baldy led me away from the van, through the gate, and toward the sea. As I approached the shore, I saw a group of about twenty girls dressed in identical white skirts and t-shirts-a bunch of little brides. They were sitting in a circle on the sand by the water. Further down the beach, I saw several shanty-like buildings. A muscular man in a green uniform stood in front of the main building, his arms crossed, watching me. Much further down the beach, there were more. I could barely make out some male forms walking around in the distance.
“Hello Mama Edna. This is new girl,” said my bald keeper. Mama Edna was sitting cross-legged in the circle. She looked about twenty and wore the green uniform of the staff-a splotch of color in the sea of white. She had thin slits of white for eyes, which would narrow even further in her dark face whenever she smiled, and a prominent bulldog chin. Her hair hung in thin, shoulder-length braids with multicolored beads on the ends.
“Ah, how nice, a new member of our family, “Independence.” She spoke with a Creole accent.
Baldy nodded, gave Edna a wink, and began to walk away.
“What’s your name? How old are you?” she asked.
“I’m Jenna. I just turned sixteen.” I said.
“How sweet. Everyone say hello to Jenna,” said Edna.
“Hello, Jenna,” said the choir of girls. I looked around the circle. Some girls looked as young as twelve, but some looked as old and tough-faced as Edna.
“Our family is having a feedback session this morning because we had some problems last night,” said Edna. “Sit down and join us.”
I looked at the girls again. Most looked down or away, some stared at me with hostility.
“You gonna sit down or what?” Edna said with clear annoyance in her voice. I walked around the circle and took a seat on Edna’s left side on the warm white sand. A plump Asian girl was on my right.
“Now, who wants to teach Jenna the laws of level one?” Edna said enthusiastically.
Several hands shot up into the air.
“Marie.” Edna said.
A black haired, olive-skinned girl about my age stared into my eyes. “You are level one, since you just entered the Program. You must ask for permission to speak by raising your hand. You must ask for permission to use the bathroom by raising your right hand, one finger for number one, two for number two. You must ask for permission to sit and to stand. You will advance to level two when you have earned enough points. If you break any rules, you will lose points, and if you go negative, you will go to the Isolation room.” She paused. “And, by the way, you’re supposed to be looking down when I’m talking to you; I’m level three. You look down when staff and higher level students are talking to you.”
I continued to stare at her in disbelief.
“She said look down, Jenna. Are you deaf?” asked Edna.
“No,” I said.
“She seems stupid,” Marie said, looking up to the sky in boredom.
“Did I give you permission to speak, Jenna?” said Edna.
“No, I mean, I’m sorry Edna.” I looked down.
“I’ll give you a break. Mess up again, and you’ll go to Isolation. And you call me Mama Edna, not Edna.”
“Now, back to feedback. Why were you crying all night and keeping everyone up, Lisa?” Edna continued.
Following the gaze of the others, I glanced up at a preteen blonde with chubby cheeks sitting across from me, hoping I would not be reprimanded. She was mumbling and crying. “I miss my family, I think it was my birthday,” she said in a high, shaky voice.
“Shut up, you whined enough last night,” Marie snapped harshly.
“Yeah, I think she needs to lose some points,” said another girl with a British accent. I did not look up to see what she looked like, figuring she had to be at least a level two. “Why are you always so negative, Lisa? You’re bringing everyone down.”
“Let’s take a vote. Who thinks Lisa needs to go back to level one, and think about her Island family some more before she keeps them up half the night with her boo-hoo-ing?”
Some hands, like Marie’s, shot into the air right away, and some were delayed a second or two. I was one of the last to raise my hand. Lisa raised her hand before I did.
“We don’t have whiners in Independence. I’m demoting you back to level one Lisa. You better watch it,” said Edna.
The discussion continued, with several more girls being attacked. Edna asked a scrawny, mousy-haired girl in braces why she was not finishing her meals. She began to cry and mumble.
“If she doesn’t talk, maybe you should have her put in Isolation, Mama Edna,” said one of the older girls.
“Why don’t you want to share? Do you think you’ll ever heal if you don’t share?” asked Marie.
“I don’t want to be fat. No guy will ever like me. I think my anorexia is coming back,” she wailed.
“Do you want to die?” chimed an older girl girl. “If you are ugly and no guy ever likes you, it’s your fault, because beauty comes from within.”
“Why are you so stupid?” the Asian girl beside me giggled.
Suddenly, I heard splashing in the water. A group of boys clad in white, led by a middle-aged man, walked toward us on the beach. They splashed along in a single file, perfectly ordered from the shortest preteen to taller boys in the back. As they marched past us, a tanned blonde one with a pierced eyebrow smiled and winked at Marie.
Marie immediately looked at Edna, making sure she had not seen, then looked down. I watched the procession continue down the beach.
“You’re not allowed to look at the males, Jenna,” said Edna. “Keep your eyes down.”
That night, sleeping on the fold-out wooden beds of the dormitory shanty, I wondered what it would take for a hurricane to come inland. Maybe if I were good, it would pick me up and blow me away.
“Welcome,” someone had whispered. It was Marie; she slept on the bed next to mine. I turned my head to the side and glanced through the mosquito net of the door-less entryway. The patrolling guard seemed still; he had not heard. Besides, he had other “families” to patrol.
“Can I keep a diary here?” I whispered. “I like to write.”
Marie giggled. She did not answer.
The Second
“Wake up!” shouted Edna.
I awoke with the usual back pain, a result of sleeping on hard wood. I stepped out of bed and folded the bed back against the wall, securing it.
Cold shower, Healthy breakfast, Self-instructed learning, Healthy lunch, Inspirational video about the dangers of vices such as smoking and sex, Feedback, Writing ignored complaint letters to parents, Healthy dinner, Sleep. It was the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. I thought I may begin to forget how long I had been there, if I had not started keeping my diary.
I decided that one particular day should be a special day. I decided that it should be my last day.
As I taught myself World History from a textbook, I played with the tiny dove on my neck. I smiled a little.
“What’s so funny, Jenna?” asked Marie, staring up at me from her Calculus textbook. Most of the girls were studying basic elementary school books. Some were staring at the ceiling, spaced out.
“Permission to speak?” I said politely. I was still level one.
“Speak,” said one of the green-clad male instructors in the back of the classroom. They called him an instructor, but we did all the learning on our own.
“I find World History hysterical, that’s why I smiled…in case you were so curious.” I said, grinning. Soon I will be free, I thought, and these stupid bimbos can rot here forever.
Marie smiled at me and went back to reading.
I quickly raised my right hand and extended my index and middle fingers.
“Let’s go, and next time you show attitude to a high level student, you lose points.” said the instructor. Like I care, I thought to myself.
Outside, dark grey rain-clouds had gathered in the sky, although the unyielding Caribbean sun managed to shine down though their cracks. He walked with me to the outhouse that they called the ladies’ room. I saw a bolt of lighting flash far off, over the calm green waters. He stood outside as I closed the wooden door behind me. The stench of the stagnant air made me choke. Suddenly I remembered how I would run to the bathroom to fix my make-up and hair before fifth period, when I would see Mark. I wondered what my face looked like now; there were no mirrors here.
I quickly unclasped my necklace and lifted my white t-shirt. Most of my cuts were still fresh and unhealed. The greedy flies immediately began to land on them.
This is the last entry, I thought to myself. Today I will be free. I cut a thin jagged line of lightning into my skin with the beak of the bird. My heartbeat quickened from the ecstasy of the forbidden. The trapped pain of the past weeks flooded out red from inside me, becoming physical, becoming real. Smiling through forced breaths, I used some toilet paper to wipe off the tiny trickle of blood, so as not to stain my white uniform. Quickly, I licked my necklace clean and put it back on. I stepped outside and began to walk back toward the classroom shanty. The wind had picked up; it was going to rain.
Just then, a marvelously pretty green parrot with a splotch of red on its neck flew out of the foliage behind the Center and landed on the roof of the classroom. I took this to be my sign. I made a dash toward the forest. I threw myself against the fence and began to climb, ignoring the screaming below. I felt the barbed wire scratch my calf and I tried to remember my last tetanus shot. I began to climb down the other side, but then I realized they were already below me. All they had to do was unlock one of the gates and walk through. I heard shouts, at least five different voices.
“Get down here!” Edna shouted. “You’re gonna get it now. You’re going on your face!”
Splot! A raindrop landed on my reddened cheek. I clung to the fence like a baby monkey clings to mama. It shook beneath me, perhaps because I was shaking, perhaps because of the wind. Splot! Splot! The raindrops were flying across the air. Suddenly, heaven opened its mouth, and the beach was covered in sheets of water. The downpour mixed with my silent tears of surrender. It was over. Since I had come I had thrown my entire self into preparing for this moment, and suddenly I realized that how silly that had been. I thought about Marie and how brilliant she was to play along. I thought about the parrot that betrayed me. I wondered if I would ever get out of here alive. I pushed back against the fence and jumped at Edna, arms spread apart as a last attempt at flight. I was caught and brought face down to the grass. Someone was pinning my arms behind me and my ankles were pushed together. I had seen this done to other screaming girls before; they called it restraint. I didn’t scream, though. I no longer cared to fight. The sun flashed and disappeared again and again like a strobe light. Was I turning? The sound of my heavy breathing was deafening. The thunder purred in the sky and the air was thick with moisture.
I would spend the next twenty-four hours in Isolation, the whitest room I’ve ever seen. Under the watchful eyes of a guard, I was forced to lie perfectly still on a white tiled floor. It looked rather clean from my angle. Great, my uniform won’t get dirty, I thought. I shivered for a few hours, but eventually my shirt and shorts yielded their moisture to the air. I smelled bleach as my nose pressed against the cold tiles. I wondered what they had needed the bleach for: blood stains? I heard the buzz of a mosquito near my left ear. When I turned my head from the left side to the right, I was reprimanded. The only movement I was allowed was blinking. Also, I was allowed to stand and stretch for a few minutes every hour or so, and toward the evening a healthy spinach dinner was brought to me. As I lay, I could feel the cut on my calf burn with greater urgency as time passed-they had bandaged it tightly, and it cried out for breath. My wound seemed to beg me to soothe it with my touch. Soon, I could think of nothing but that burning. Occasionally, I also noticed the irritating sting of a mosquito that frequented my still body. First it stung near the ear, then on the back of my neck. Soon after, it took a hike up the back of my left leg, searching out the perfect location for a drink. At least someone was having a really good day.
Eventually, I began to feel sleepy. I felt my eyelids flutter, but the harsh electric light above drew me back to the awful whiteness of that room. I heard a rustle as the guard folded up his newspaper. He stood up.
“You’re going to stay in here for the night. You’ll be locked in. Sleep if you want, or run around. It’s up to you.”
With that, he walked out, locking the door behind him. He left the lights on. I stood and walked to the door, touching the cool handle. I drew my hand back. I walked to the furthest corner of the room and sat down, hugging my knees close to my chest. I closed my eyes, but the light continued to slip inside underneath my eyelids. I opened my eyes and watched the bare white walls. For the first time in weeks, I could see my reflection.
Of course, the entire ordeal of Isolation was totally unnecessary, as I had already broken the moment I let go of the fence. Edna came to see me the next day.
“You were doing well, you were almost at level two. But then you had to go do something stupid like that Jenna.” Edna scolded.
“Permission to speak,” I muttered from the floor.
“Speak,” she said.
“I am sorry Mama Edna. I really am. I was so stupid. I learned my lesson, and thank you for stopping me. I would have died in that forest if it wasn’t for you all.”
Edna laughed, as did the guard. “Okay. You’re a smart girl. It takes some new ones months in here until they stop yelling and kicking like wild donkeys in heat. Let’s go join the others for breakfast,” she said.
That night, back in the comfort of my stiff wooden bed, I listened to the boards of the dormitory walls creak as the wind sang. Lisa was crying in her sleep again, but I did not feel like sleeping anyway.
“Welcome back,” Marie whispered to me. “It didn’t take you long. Took me two weeks before I stopped fighting.”
“Has anyone ever actually graduated, or do they find excuses to keep us here until we’re eighteen to get as much money as possible?”
“Some,” she whispered. “Very few. I will.”
“I can’t stay two years,” I whispered.
“Some stay longer,” she whispered back. “I knew that you would figure things out quickly. That’s why I didn’t use you for easy tattletale points. I knew you were smart, not like these junkies and anorexic whores.” she dragged out the forbidden word, whores, as if it was a chocolate treat we were savoring. We giggled in the darkness. It was almost like a sleepover, minus the comfy PJs, the stuffed animals, and the nail polish.
“You’ll be high level soon. Truth or Dare?” she asked.
I knew I had to play along. She could be my key to getting high level, and out of here.
“Truth.” I said.
“Have you put out for the guards?”
“Ew, no! Who would do that?” I almost spoke aloud.
“Some girls do it for weed.”
“I don’t do drugs, I’m in here because my parents hated my boyfriend.”
“I’m in here because my gold-digger stepmother hated my brains,” she giggled again.
“Better keep it down. And Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” she whispered.
“Who is that boy that winked at you when they walked by us the first day?”
Marie remained silent for a moment. “Its my boyfriend. I sneaked out a couple of nights to talk to him through the fence. He gave me this,” she reached across the darkness and handed me a snail-like shell. In the pale moonlight I could not make out its colors, but I noted its tiger-like striping. It felt smoothed, either by the touch of sea waves or the constant turning in a human hand. I reached over and returned her gift.
“Why?” I asked. “It’s crazy.”
“Why not?” she retorted. “I am getting out of here soon. It took me eleven months to get level four, and they trust me. Besides, we all have to do some crazy stuff to not go crazy here. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“What if they see you or something? What if someone tells on you?”
“They won’t. I can deduct points too, you know. They’re all afraid of me. Besides, if someone tells, I’ll just say they’re a bunch of whores jealous of my good looks.”
We both burst out laughing uncontrollably.
“STOP.” someone snapped in a harsh whisper. “We’ll all get into trouble, he’s walking this way.”
I closed my eyes tight.
The Third
We were in Feedback on the beach. It was sometime around my fourth month.
The brunette girl next to me began. She had grey bags under her eyes, but that did not stop her from smiling enthusiastically.
“I was failing school, getting B’s and C’s. I just didn’t care anymore, because I liked to smoke weed with my friends. My aunt was at her wits end when she sent me here,” she smiled dreamily. “If she hadn’t I would have been a minimum wager, or a college dropout. Or even a dirty whore!”
“How do you feel about that now, Sarah?” I asked her. I had seen Sarah taken away to the bathroom by a guard the previous night. She had returned two hours later smelling like the sweetness of marijuana.
“Grateful. That she saved my life, I mean.” Sarah beamed at Edna. I was surprised that Edna could not pick up the scent of weed wafting away from her. She probably could, and simply did not care.
It was my turn. I repeated my usual story.
“I was fifteen when I started hanging out with the wrong crowd. My boyfriend was a really bad person. He got me into smoking weed,” I paused for the dramatic effect. “And he got me pregnant. I had to get an abortion.” I put my hand over my eyes.
Marie was on my right side. She looked on at me approvingly. “How do you feel about all that now, Jenna?” she asked.
“I regret it all so much. If my parents had not sent me here, I would have died.”
Several girls looked at me and nodded with approval, as did Edna.
Marie was smiling, not her usual mischievous, half-cruel smirk but a smile of happiness. She was going home in two days--graduating. Therefore, she had the honor of going last.
“I was a straight-A-student, but I was a terrible person,” she said. “I slashed my stepmother’s tires and I called her nasty names, I was so disrespectful. Also, I had sex all the time, a new guy every week or so. I had to get treated for STD’s. My parents saved my life by sending me here. I almost got AIDS and died,” she said. Leave it to Marie to one-up me. She spoke with such conviction and disgust that I found myself thinking, perhaps she was not lying. I watched her, her long black hair in a braid, lying on the white of her t-shirt.
Edna smiled, her eyes narrowing naturally. “You have changed remarkably, Marie.”
“Thank you Mama Edna,” said Marie shyly. “This family, Independence, has truly helped me grow.”
“No, I meant from a few weeks ago,” Edna said. “You used to be so well-behaved, smart, and a good healthy person. But you…relapsed.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “What?” she stammered in a shaking voice.
“Your education does not end when you leave the P.E.C.,” Edna paused, looking at all of us with motherly seriousness. “It continues your entire life. Don’t make her mistake, girls.”
“What mistake?” Marie whispered.
Edna took Marie’s snail-like shell out of her pocket. The color of the tiger-stripes alternated between red and pink. She threw it down into the middle of the circle.
Marie looked at me in horror. “You bitch,” she whispered. “You stole it.”
“Watch the language Marie, or you will go into Isolation on top of going back to level one.” Edna sounded bored. “Shall we continue with feedback?”
“No!” Marie screamed into the circle, searching our faces, any face, for a hint of compassion. “Please, its nothing, its just a seashell I found by the shore,”
“Do you want to lose all your points? Stop lying,” said Sarah, twirling her hair on her index finger. “We all know you sneak out to see a boy.”
“You told them?” Marie mumbled, looking down. I looked away, at the water, ignoring the stares. Suddenly, Marie leaped to her feet and lunged at me, her dark eyes ablaze with the pitiful horror of a cornered animal. I felt her hands clasp around my neck like a hungry clam. I gagged, pushing against her with my arms haphazardly, feeling her skin pass under my nails. I seemed to be making funny sounds as I struggled to inhale. Voices were calling our names and the sky was tumbling downward. The next thing I knew, Edna and two male guards had pulled her off of me. She kicked up sand into my face. For once, I was thankful that they were quick about it: face down, arms locked behind, legs held, ankles together. They restrained her in the middle of our Feedback circle, pushing down onto her, grinding her into a grain of sand. She let out a long wail that was muffled by the gentle waves, and like a slaughtered beast, lay still.
“You gonna behave, missy?” Edna said. “If you tell us his name, you won’t have to go into Isolation.
“OK,” she whispered. “OK.”
That night Marie went to the bathroom with the guard. She did not come back the next day. We were not told what happened to her, but she was smart and creative. I assumed she had escaped, until the next day when they confiscated our shoelaces and handed out white flip-flops.
“Maybe they don’t want us running away easily,” one of the girls whispered in the darkness.
“Nah,” I whispered back. The darkness of her eyes was everywhere. I did not sleep for four nights.
Epilogue
After a few more weeks I graduated and was escorted back to the airport.
When I looked at myself in the mirror in the airport bathroom, I saw a red-haired stranger staring back at me. For one thing, she had a million more freckles than I ever did. She also had marks from mosquito bites in the strangest places: her left ear, even her forehead. Her once pale skin is burnt to pink around her collar and on her cheek bones, although she was forced to apply sun-block religiously-the Island sun is a tough devil. But I recognized the color of her eyes: the same as that deceivingly calm green of the Caribbean’s waters. She smiled at me, the tiny muscles of her face hoisting up her lips. A smile was not so difficult. It was so easy, after all, to be good.
I took the plane home but I never left Paradise. My mind is still there when my parents ask my opinion about the place, my ex-boyfriend, or what I want for dinner. I aim to please. I broke up with Mark as soon as I returned, giving him back the dove necklace. It hurt, but I did not want to be sent back. Sleeping through the night has become really hard because I dream about the P.E.C. and Marie every time. Sometimes I hear a noise and I awake, drenched in sweat, thinking they are here to pick me up. I keep a kitchen knife under my pillow in case they come to take me back. My grades have gotten a lot better, and my dad and I are talking. Yesterday he took me out for an ice cream cone at Cold Stone.
“I’ll have Tira Misu,” he said.
“Me too!” I grinned. “I love that flavor.”
“Like father, like daughter,” my dad beamed.
Sometimes, I see a girl with dark eyes and olive skin and I think of Marie. I was doing the right thing, I tell myself. She would have done it too, right?
The only thing that has become easier is making choices. I don’t ever have to worry about that anymore.
It was so easy, after all, to be good
Prologue
I lift up my t-shirt and read my stomach. Most of the little cuts I made are there, since I was not allowed to expose that area of my body. Some people may think what I have done is self-mutilation, or perhaps some kind of fashion statement of teen angst. But it’s not. It’s actually a diary. Every tiny line, every squiggle, is a date. The deliberate shape of each curve is a sentence. Round for confused, for instance, and straight for determined. It’s a code of hieroglyphs that only I understand.
Three lines are thicker than the rest. I cut a little deeper those days. The first is shaped like a V with a line. It is above my lowest left rib and it is supposed to be a bird, although I think it ended up looking like an airplane. The second is a tiny jagged lightning bolt. The third is a snail-shaped one right next to my belly button.
The First
It was four o’clock in the morning when I was awakened in my room. I had gone to bed around two once I returned from sneaking out to see Mark, so I was quite exhausted. Suddenly light flooded my room: someone had unlocked my door from the outside. I covered my face with my hands.
“Ughh…what the hell?” I cried out, “Get out of my room, mom!”
“Not just mom this time,” said a deep male voice I did not recognize. “Get up, we are leaving.”
“Huh?” I said, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness. Two burly men dressed in green uniforms stood at the foot of my bed. One was white, the other black. Mom and dad were behind them. Mom had tears in her eyes. Dad had his arms crossed. He was staring into my psychedelic Bob Marley poster.
“Jenna, your mother and I have enrolled you in a special program in the Caribbean. It’s for your own good. We are doing this because we love you,” my father said in his quiet monotone.
“Remember, it’s better if you don’t explain anything to her,” said the white man. He was bald and had a big tattoo of a red star on his right bicep. “She’ll learn fast enough.”
I started laughing. “What’s this, some kind of Jerry Springer episode?” I stared at the bald man, who looked suspiciously similar to one of Jerry Springer’s bouncers. “You’d better split the money you get for this with me, dad.”
“If you don’t get up on your own, we’ll use handcuffs,” said the black man with a Creole accent. He was also eyeing my Bob Marley poster, but with amusement. He rubbed his goatee, seemingly deep in thought.
I stared into my mother’s puffy red eyes and realized this was no joke.
“Oh God,” I whispered. I jumped out of my bed and went for my window. As I was opening it, one of the men grabbed me and pinned my arms behind my back. Handcuffs were locked onto my thin wrists.
“Get off, asshole!” I cried. “Mom! Why is this happening?”
“Because you are ruining your life. And we decided to pay thousands of dollars to save it for you,” my father spat, his face turning red.
I was led outside of my home, barefoot and still in my pink Curious George pajamas, and into a tinted-window van. The white man sat with me in the backseat as the other sat in the driver’s seat.
“Now, you can make a scene at the airport, and you are still going to get on the plane because your folks have signed over their parental rights. Or you can be a good and stay quiet, and we’ll take those handcuffs off.”
Shocked and frightened, I slowly nodded. “Where are you taking me?” I asked.
“You are going to the Paradise Learning Center, The P.L.C. You’ll stay there until you fix your attitude problem.”
“My only attitude problem is that I’m dating a black guy,” I said.
The black driver started laughing hard as accented words rolled from his tongue like smooth boulders. “I doubt that, but if it’s true, your smart papa sent you to an island full of scary black men!”
Meanwhile, the bald man next to me unlocked my handcuffs. He gave the driver a look that seemed to say, be serious. The driver stopped laughing, but continued to grin.
“Now be a good girl and you won’t go straight into isolation once we get onto the island,” he said.
I rubbed my abused wrists. From the very beginning there was always a choice. Submit and be rewarded, or defy and be punished.
In a daze I was led through customs. The airport employees seemed to be familiar with the two men, and some greeted them warmly. Suddenly I was on a plane, seated between my captors. As the engine began to rumble, I realized that this was not a dream. Silent tears began to fall.
“I want to go home,” I said. “Who are you people, where am I going?”
“We already told you,” said Baldy. “And from now on, you are to remain silent. You are to ask permission if you want to speak.”
As the sun rose slowly below me in the sky, I bit my lip hard and clasped the tiny white dove necklace Mark had given me for our two-month anniversary. He said he gave it to me because my name means little bird. “This is a dream,” I whispered in my mind.
The plane landed on the soil of Dominica in the early afternoon and I walked down the steps. I had a funny taste in my mouth and I longed to brush my teeth. The sun beat down like an angry bully and the air was wet.
I had to sit down in another van. This one was crappier, though: it smelled of urine and the backseat had several large holes. I watched bright green leaves fly by me as the vehicle climbed hill after bumpy hill, then climbed back down toward the sea below. I watched the coastline of the Caribbean Sea from the window. The inviting green water opened to deep blue further offshore. It sparkled like a million stars. Like glitter.
The road ended at a barbed wire fence and a rusty iron gate. Beyond it was a dirt path leading to the shore through the thick green foliage. Baldy led me away from the van, through the gate, and toward the sea. As I approached the shore, I saw a group of about twenty girls dressed in identical white skirts and t-shirts-a bunch of little brides. They were sitting in a circle on the sand by the water. Further down the beach, I saw several shanty-like buildings. A muscular man in a green uniform stood in front of the main building, his arms crossed, watching me. Much further down the beach, there were more. I could barely make out some male forms walking around in the distance.
“Hello Mama Edna. This is new girl,” said my bald keeper. Mama Edna was sitting cross-legged in the circle. She looked about twenty and wore the green uniform of the staff-a splotch of color in the sea of white. She had thin slits of white for eyes, which would narrow even further in her dark face whenever she smiled, and a prominent bulldog chin. Her hair hung in thin, shoulder-length braids with multicolored beads on the ends.
“Ah, how nice, a new member of our family, “Independence.” She spoke with a Creole accent.
Baldy nodded, gave Edna a wink, and began to walk away.
“What’s your name? How old are you?” she asked.
“I’m Jenna. I just turned sixteen.” I said.
“How sweet. Everyone say hello to Jenna,” said Edna.
“Hello, Jenna,” said the choir of girls. I looked around the circle. Some girls looked as young as twelve, but some looked as old and tough-faced as Edna.
“Our family is having a feedback session this morning because we had some problems last night,” said Edna. “Sit down and join us.”
I looked at the girls again. Most looked down or away, some stared at me with hostility.
“You gonna sit down or what?” Edna said with clear annoyance in her voice. I walked around the circle and took a seat on Edna’s left side on the warm white sand. A plump Asian girl was on my right.
“Now, who wants to teach Jenna the laws of level one?” Edna said enthusiastically.
Several hands shot up into the air.
“Marie.” Edna said.
A black haired, olive-skinned girl about my age stared into my eyes. “You are level one, since you just entered the Program. You must ask for permission to speak by raising your hand. You must ask for permission to use the bathroom by raising your right hand, one finger for number one, two for number two. You must ask for permission to sit and to stand. You will advance to level two when you have earned enough points. If you break any rules, you will lose points, and if you go negative, you will go to the Isolation room.” She paused. “And, by the way, you’re supposed to be looking down when I’m talking to you; I’m level three. You look down when staff and higher level students are talking to you.”
I continued to stare at her in disbelief.
“She said look down, Jenna. Are you deaf?” asked Edna.
“No,” I said.
“She seems stupid,” Marie said, looking up to the sky in boredom.
“Did I give you permission to speak, Jenna?” said Edna.
“No, I mean, I’m sorry Edna.” I looked down.
“I’ll give you a break. Mess up again, and you’ll go to Isolation. And you call me Mama Edna, not Edna.”
“Now, back to feedback. Why were you crying all night and keeping everyone up, Lisa?” Edna continued.
Following the gaze of the others, I glanced up at a preteen blonde with chubby cheeks sitting across from me, hoping I would not be reprimanded. She was mumbling and crying. “I miss my family, I think it was my birthday,” she said in a high, shaky voice.
“Shut up, you whined enough last night,” Marie snapped harshly.
“Yeah, I think she needs to lose some points,” said another girl with a British accent. I did not look up to see what she looked like, figuring she had to be at least a level two. “Why are you always so negative, Lisa? You’re bringing everyone down.”
“Let’s take a vote. Who thinks Lisa needs to go back to level one, and think about her Island family some more before she keeps them up half the night with her boo-hoo-ing?”
Some hands, like Marie’s, shot into the air right away, and some were delayed a second or two. I was one of the last to raise my hand. Lisa raised her hand before I did.
“We don’t have whiners in Independence. I’m demoting you back to level one Lisa. You better watch it,” said Edna.
The discussion continued, with several more girls being attacked. Edna asked a scrawny, mousy-haired girl in braces why she was not finishing her meals. She began to cry and mumble.
“If she doesn’t talk, maybe you should have her put in Isolation, Mama Edna,” said one of the older girls.
“Why don’t you want to share? Do you think you’ll ever heal if you don’t share?” asked Marie.
“I don’t want to be fat. No guy will ever like me. I think my anorexia is coming back,” she wailed.
“Do you want to die?” chimed an older girl girl. “If you are ugly and no guy ever likes you, it’s your fault, because beauty comes from within.”
“Why are you so stupid?” the Asian girl beside me giggled.
Suddenly, I heard splashing in the water. A group of boys clad in white, led by a middle-aged man, walked toward us on the beach. They splashed along in a single file, perfectly ordered from the shortest preteen to taller boys in the back. As they marched past us, a tanned blonde one with a pierced eyebrow smiled and winked at Marie.
Marie immediately looked at Edna, making sure she had not seen, then looked down. I watched the procession continue down the beach.
“You’re not allowed to look at the males, Jenna,” said Edna. “Keep your eyes down.”
That night, sleeping on the fold-out wooden beds of the dormitory shanty, I wondered what it would take for a hurricane to come inland. Maybe if I were good, it would pick me up and blow me away.
“Welcome,” someone had whispered. It was Marie; she slept on the bed next to mine. I turned my head to the side and glanced through the mosquito net of the door-less entryway. The patrolling guard seemed still; he had not heard. Besides, he had other “families” to patrol.
“Can I keep a diary here?” I whispered. “I like to write.”
Marie giggled. She did not answer.
The Second
“Wake up!” shouted Edna.
I awoke with the usual back pain, a result of sleeping on hard wood. I stepped out of bed and folded the bed back against the wall, securing it.
Cold shower, Healthy breakfast, Self-instructed learning, Healthy lunch, Inspirational video about the dangers of vices such as smoking and sex, Feedback, Writing ignored complaint letters to parents, Healthy dinner, Sleep. It was the same as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. I thought I may begin to forget how long I had been there, if I had not started keeping my diary.
I decided that one particular day should be a special day. I decided that it should be my last day.
As I taught myself World History from a textbook, I played with the tiny dove on my neck. I smiled a little.
“What’s so funny, Jenna?” asked Marie, staring up at me from her Calculus textbook. Most of the girls were studying basic elementary school books. Some were staring at the ceiling, spaced out.
“Permission to speak?” I said politely. I was still level one.
“Speak,” said one of the green-clad male instructors in the back of the classroom. They called him an instructor, but we did all the learning on our own.
“I find World History hysterical, that’s why I smiled…in case you were so curious.” I said, grinning. Soon I will be free, I thought, and these stupid bimbos can rot here forever.
Marie smiled at me and went back to reading.
I quickly raised my right hand and extended my index and middle fingers.
“Let’s go, and next time you show attitude to a high level student, you lose points.” said the instructor. Like I care, I thought to myself.
Outside, dark grey rain-clouds had gathered in the sky, although the unyielding Caribbean sun managed to shine down though their cracks. He walked with me to the outhouse that they called the ladies’ room. I saw a bolt of lighting flash far off, over the calm green waters. He stood outside as I closed the wooden door behind me. The stench of the stagnant air made me choke. Suddenly I remembered how I would run to the bathroom to fix my make-up and hair before fifth period, when I would see Mark. I wondered what my face looked like now; there were no mirrors here.
I quickly unclasped my necklace and lifted my white t-shirt. Most of my cuts were still fresh and unhealed. The greedy flies immediately began to land on them.
This is the last entry, I thought to myself. Today I will be free. I cut a thin jagged line of lightning into my skin with the beak of the bird. My heartbeat quickened from the ecstasy of the forbidden. The trapped pain of the past weeks flooded out red from inside me, becoming physical, becoming real. Smiling through forced breaths, I used some toilet paper to wipe off the tiny trickle of blood, so as not to stain my white uniform. Quickly, I licked my necklace clean and put it back on. I stepped outside and began to walk back toward the classroom shanty. The wind had picked up; it was going to rain.
Just then, a marvelously pretty green parrot with a splotch of red on its neck flew out of the foliage behind the Center and landed on the roof of the classroom. I took this to be my sign. I made a dash toward the forest. I threw myself against the fence and began to climb, ignoring the screaming below. I felt the barbed wire scratch my calf and I tried to remember my last tetanus shot. I began to climb down the other side, but then I realized they were already below me. All they had to do was unlock one of the gates and walk through. I heard shouts, at least five different voices.
“Get down here!” Edna shouted. “You’re gonna get it now. You’re going on your face!”
Splot! A raindrop landed on my reddened cheek. I clung to the fence like a baby monkey clings to mama. It shook beneath me, perhaps because I was shaking, perhaps because of the wind. Splot! Splot! The raindrops were flying across the air. Suddenly, heaven opened its mouth, and the beach was covered in sheets of water. The downpour mixed with my silent tears of surrender. It was over. Since I had come I had thrown my entire self into preparing for this moment, and suddenly I realized that how silly that had been. I thought about Marie and how brilliant she was to play along. I thought about the parrot that betrayed me. I wondered if I would ever get out of here alive. I pushed back against the fence and jumped at Edna, arms spread apart as a last attempt at flight. I was caught and brought face down to the grass. Someone was pinning my arms behind me and my ankles were pushed together. I had seen this done to other screaming girls before; they called it restraint. I didn’t scream, though. I no longer cared to fight. The sun flashed and disappeared again and again like a strobe light. Was I turning? The sound of my heavy breathing was deafening. The thunder purred in the sky and the air was thick with moisture.
I would spend the next twenty-four hours in Isolation, the whitest room I’ve ever seen. Under the watchful eyes of a guard, I was forced to lie perfectly still on a white tiled floor. It looked rather clean from my angle. Great, my uniform won’t get dirty, I thought. I shivered for a few hours, but eventually my shirt and shorts yielded their moisture to the air. I smelled bleach as my nose pressed against the cold tiles. I wondered what they had needed the bleach for: blood stains? I heard the buzz of a mosquito near my left ear. When I turned my head from the left side to the right, I was reprimanded. The only movement I was allowed was blinking. Also, I was allowed to stand and stretch for a few minutes every hour or so, and toward the evening a healthy spinach dinner was brought to me. As I lay, I could feel the cut on my calf burn with greater urgency as time passed-they had bandaged it tightly, and it cried out for breath. My wound seemed to beg me to soothe it with my touch. Soon, I could think of nothing but that burning. Occasionally, I also noticed the irritating sting of a mosquito that frequented my still body. First it stung near the ear, then on the back of my neck. Soon after, it took a hike up the back of my left leg, searching out the perfect location for a drink. At least someone was having a really good day.
Eventually, I began to feel sleepy. I felt my eyelids flutter, but the harsh electric light above drew me back to the awful whiteness of that room. I heard a rustle as the guard folded up his newspaper. He stood up.
“You’re going to stay in here for the night. You’ll be locked in. Sleep if you want, or run around. It’s up to you.”
With that, he walked out, locking the door behind him. He left the lights on. I stood and walked to the door, touching the cool handle. I drew my hand back. I walked to the furthest corner of the room and sat down, hugging my knees close to my chest. I closed my eyes, but the light continued to slip inside underneath my eyelids. I opened my eyes and watched the bare white walls. For the first time in weeks, I could see my reflection.
Of course, the entire ordeal of Isolation was totally unnecessary, as I had already broken the moment I let go of the fence. Edna came to see me the next day.
“You were doing well, you were almost at level two. But then you had to go do something stupid like that Jenna.” Edna scolded.
“Permission to speak,” I muttered from the floor.
“Speak,” she said.
“I am sorry Mama Edna. I really am. I was so stupid. I learned my lesson, and thank you for stopping me. I would have died in that forest if it wasn’t for you all.”
Edna laughed, as did the guard. “Okay. You’re a smart girl. It takes some new ones months in here until they stop yelling and kicking like wild donkeys in heat. Let’s go join the others for breakfast,” she said.
That night, back in the comfort of my stiff wooden bed, I listened to the boards of the dormitory walls creak as the wind sang. Lisa was crying in her sleep again, but I did not feel like sleeping anyway.
“Welcome back,” Marie whispered to me. “It didn’t take you long. Took me two weeks before I stopped fighting.”
“Has anyone ever actually graduated, or do they find excuses to keep us here until we’re eighteen to get as much money as possible?”
“Some,” she whispered. “Very few. I will.”
“I can’t stay two years,” I whispered.
“Some stay longer,” she whispered back. “I knew that you would figure things out quickly. That’s why I didn’t use you for easy tattletale points. I knew you were smart, not like these junkies and anorexic whores.” she dragged out the forbidden word, whores, as if it was a chocolate treat we were savoring. We giggled in the darkness. It was almost like a sleepover, minus the comfy PJs, the stuffed animals, and the nail polish.
“You’ll be high level soon. Truth or Dare?” she asked.
I knew I had to play along. She could be my key to getting high level, and out of here.
“Truth.” I said.
“Have you put out for the guards?”
“Ew, no! Who would do that?” I almost spoke aloud.
“Some girls do it for weed.”
“I don’t do drugs, I’m in here because my parents hated my boyfriend.”
“I’m in here because my gold-digger stepmother hated my brains,” she giggled again.
“Better keep it down. And Truth or Dare?”
“Truth,” she whispered.
“Who is that boy that winked at you when they walked by us the first day?”
Marie remained silent for a moment. “Its my boyfriend. I sneaked out a couple of nights to talk to him through the fence. He gave me this,” she reached across the darkness and handed me a snail-like shell. In the pale moonlight I could not make out its colors, but I noted its tiger-like striping. It felt smoothed, either by the touch of sea waves or the constant turning in a human hand. I reached over and returned her gift.
“Why?” I asked. “It’s crazy.”
“Why not?” she retorted. “I am getting out of here soon. It took me eleven months to get level four, and they trust me. Besides, we all have to do some crazy stuff to not go crazy here. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“What if they see you or something? What if someone tells on you?”
“They won’t. I can deduct points too, you know. They’re all afraid of me. Besides, if someone tells, I’ll just say they’re a bunch of whores jealous of my good looks.”
We both burst out laughing uncontrollably.
“STOP.” someone snapped in a harsh whisper. “We’ll all get into trouble, he’s walking this way.”
I closed my eyes tight.
The Third
We were in Feedback on the beach. It was sometime around my fourth month.
The brunette girl next to me began. She had grey bags under her eyes, but that did not stop her from smiling enthusiastically.
“I was failing school, getting B’s and C’s. I just didn’t care anymore, because I liked to smoke weed with my friends. My aunt was at her wits end when she sent me here,” she smiled dreamily. “If she hadn’t I would have been a minimum wager, or a college dropout. Or even a dirty whore!”
“How do you feel about that now, Sarah?” I asked her. I had seen Sarah taken away to the bathroom by a guard the previous night. She had returned two hours later smelling like the sweetness of marijuana.
“Grateful. That she saved my life, I mean.” Sarah beamed at Edna. I was surprised that Edna could not pick up the scent of weed wafting away from her. She probably could, and simply did not care.
It was my turn. I repeated my usual story.
“I was fifteen when I started hanging out with the wrong crowd. My boyfriend was a really bad person. He got me into smoking weed,” I paused for the dramatic effect. “And he got me pregnant. I had to get an abortion.” I put my hand over my eyes.
Marie was on my right side. She looked on at me approvingly. “How do you feel about all that now, Jenna?” she asked.
“I regret it all so much. If my parents had not sent me here, I would have died.”
Several girls looked at me and nodded with approval, as did Edna.
Marie was smiling, not her usual mischievous, half-cruel smirk but a smile of happiness. She was going home in two days--graduating. Therefore, she had the honor of going last.
“I was a straight-A-student, but I was a terrible person,” she said. “I slashed my stepmother’s tires and I called her nasty names, I was so disrespectful. Also, I had sex all the time, a new guy every week or so. I had to get treated for STD’s. My parents saved my life by sending me here. I almost got AIDS and died,” she said. Leave it to Marie to one-up me. She spoke with such conviction and disgust that I found myself thinking, perhaps she was not lying. I watched her, her long black hair in a braid, lying on the white of her t-shirt.
Edna smiled, her eyes narrowing naturally. “You have changed remarkably, Marie.”
“Thank you Mama Edna,” said Marie shyly. “This family, Independence, has truly helped me grow.”
“No, I meant from a few weeks ago,” Edna said. “You used to be so well-behaved, smart, and a good healthy person. But you…relapsed.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “What?” she stammered in a shaking voice.
“Your education does not end when you leave the P.E.C.,” Edna paused, looking at all of us with motherly seriousness. “It continues your entire life. Don’t make her mistake, girls.”
“What mistake?” Marie whispered.
Edna took Marie’s snail-like shell out of her pocket. The color of the tiger-stripes alternated between red and pink. She threw it down into the middle of the circle.
Marie looked at me in horror. “You bitch,” she whispered. “You stole it.”
“Watch the language Marie, or you will go into Isolation on top of going back to level one.” Edna sounded bored. “Shall we continue with feedback?”
“No!” Marie screamed into the circle, searching our faces, any face, for a hint of compassion. “Please, its nothing, its just a seashell I found by the shore,”
“Do you want to lose all your points? Stop lying,” said Sarah, twirling her hair on her index finger. “We all know you sneak out to see a boy.”
“You told them?” Marie mumbled, looking down. I looked away, at the water, ignoring the stares. Suddenly, Marie leaped to her feet and lunged at me, her dark eyes ablaze with the pitiful horror of a cornered animal. I felt her hands clasp around my neck like a hungry clam. I gagged, pushing against her with my arms haphazardly, feeling her skin pass under my nails. I seemed to be making funny sounds as I struggled to inhale. Voices were calling our names and the sky was tumbling downward. The next thing I knew, Edna and two male guards had pulled her off of me. She kicked up sand into my face. For once, I was thankful that they were quick about it: face down, arms locked behind, legs held, ankles together. They restrained her in the middle of our Feedback circle, pushing down onto her, grinding her into a grain of sand. She let out a long wail that was muffled by the gentle waves, and like a slaughtered beast, lay still.
“You gonna behave, missy?” Edna said. “If you tell us his name, you won’t have to go into Isolation.
“OK,” she whispered. “OK.”
That night Marie went to the bathroom with the guard. She did not come back the next day. We were not told what happened to her, but she was smart and creative. I assumed she had escaped, until the next day when they confiscated our shoelaces and handed out white flip-flops.
“Maybe they don’t want us running away easily,” one of the girls whispered in the darkness.
“Nah,” I whispered back. The darkness of her eyes was everywhere. I did not sleep for four nights.
Epilogue
After a few more weeks I graduated and was escorted back to the airport.
When I looked at myself in the mirror in the airport bathroom, I saw a red-haired stranger staring back at me. For one thing, she had a million more freckles than I ever did. She also had marks from mosquito bites in the strangest places: her left ear, even her forehead. Her once pale skin is burnt to pink around her collar and on her cheek bones, although she was forced to apply sun-block religiously-the Island sun is a tough devil. But I recognized the color of her eyes: the same as that deceivingly calm green of the Caribbean’s waters. She smiled at me, the tiny muscles of her face hoisting up her lips. A smile was not so difficult. It was so easy, after all, to be good.
I took the plane home but I never left Paradise. My mind is still there when my parents ask my opinion about the place, my ex-boyfriend, or what I want for dinner. I aim to please. I broke up with Mark as soon as I returned, giving him back the dove necklace. It hurt, but I did not want to be sent back. Sleeping through the night has become really hard because I dream about the P.E.C. and Marie every time. Sometimes I hear a noise and I awake, drenched in sweat, thinking they are here to pick me up. I keep a kitchen knife under my pillow in case they come to take me back. My grades have gotten a lot better, and my dad and I are talking. Yesterday he took me out for an ice cream cone at Cold Stone.
“I’ll have Tira Misu,” he said.
“Me too!” I grinned. “I love that flavor.”
“Like father, like daughter,” my dad beamed.
Sometimes, I see a girl with dark eyes and olive skin and I think of Marie. I was doing the right thing, I tell myself. She would have done it too, right?
The only thing that has become easier is making choices. I don’t ever have to worry about that anymore.