“You can’t even read,” Tanya says. She doesn’t look at Amari but we all know she’s talking to her.
“Your mother can’t either,” Amari says.
A hush falls over the rec room the way it always does when the two of them get into something.
“The one who actually gives a crap about me?” Tanya shoots back.
“Enough,” Ms. Kim cuts in.
“Go to hell,” Amari snaps, flipping Tanya off.
“All right, line up, it’s bedtime,” Ms. Kim says, exasperated. “Amari and Tanya, you just lost points.”
Tanya and Amari stare each other down. We start the day with sixteen points each, for every hour we’re awake to potentially lose them. With the way they’ve been going at it, they’re probably both at zero and a level lower than they were yesterday.
I feel bad about what Tanya said to Amari, even though I don’t know what she’s talking about. Did Amari’s mom send her here? What does Tanya know? Or did she just get lucky and hit a nerve?
I get in line and stand behind Amari so we can speak quietly. “Are you okay?” I ask.
She turns to face me. The crease in her brow smooths, and she smiles. “I am now,” she says.
Ms. Kim looks at us and I try to hide the fact that I’m blushing. “To your rooms, ladies, and quietly, thank you,” she says.
The line moves and the girls start to disappear into theirrooms. Amari’s is one of the first and she walks in and slams the door behind her. I walk faster down the hall. I’m looking forward to some quiet time.
My door is partially open and I hear sniffles coming from inside. I slowly push the door open wider. It’s dark, but a small amount of light from the hallway spills in and I see Samantha sitting on her bed clutching her knees to her chest. I close the door quickly behind me. The spotlights outside are bright enough to see that her face is red and wet.
“Sorry, do you want to be alone?” I say.
“It’s fine,” she says, wiping her tears with her sheet. Samantha hasn’t said more than a couple of words to me since I got here. She skips rec time most nights and is usually asleep when I come in. “I’ll go in the bathroom,” she continues.
“Umm, no, you were here first,” I say. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” I move backward toward the door. It’s weird to listen to someone cry and not ask what’s wrong, but I don’t want her to think I’m prying.Don’t ask, period, is pretty much the unwritten rule of juvenile detention.
“No, it’s cool,” she says, wiping her face. “You’d better get in your bed anyway before you lose a point,” she adds.
I agree and climb up to my bunk. I hear footsteps in the hall and let my head hit the pillow. It hits the bed frame instead, and the whole bed creaks loudly.
“Ouch,” I shriek just as our door opens and Ms. Bree pops her head in.
“You good in here, ladies?”
Samantha doesn’t respond.
“Yes,” I say, “just hit my head.”
“Be more careful,” Ms. Bree says. “Still mad at me, Samantha?”
Samantha says nothing.
“You’ll get over it, hun,” she says, closing the door.
Samantha starts to cry again, and I pull the covers up to my chin.Don’t ask, I tell myself before doing the exact opposite. “Are you okay?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Not really,” she says finally. “I just want to go home.”
“Is your sentence almost over?” I ask, even though I know we’re not supposed to.
“It was,” she says, “but I called my boyfriend and someone told on me. So now it’s not.”
