“Where’s Samantha?” I ask.
“Nurse,” she replies. “Bed, ladies,” she orders a few girls lingering by the TV.
“Gooo-iiiing,” they say in unison, and I follow them.
My room is dark. I check Samantha’s closet again. She couldn’t leave without taking anything, could she? I see her journal and some hair stuff and realize that I don’t know what’s important to her. I let myself assume it all is and climb into bed.
I snap awake from a deep sleep when the door slams open. Startled, I sit up. For a moment, fluorescent light pours in from the hallway, blinding me. Then the door closes with a bang, and I see Samantha leaning against the wall in a dark hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. She’s breathing hard.
“Samantha? Are you okay?”
“They… they were waiting for me!” she says, her voice breaking at the end.
I’m disoriented and blink my eyes just to make sure I’m actually awake. “Who was?” I look out the window and see the sky is dark but also kind of blue. It must be the middle of the night.
“Everyone!!” she yells. “It’s like they knew I was going to be there! This was supposed to work!”
My stomach drops. She ran—and was caught.
Samantha sinks onto her bed. “I hate this place,” she screams into her pillow. “This is so unfair!!”
I lie back and pull the covers up to my eyes. My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest.
I hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. “This is her room,” someone says quietly just outside. A few seconds later, the door opens and the light comes on.
“Samantha, pack your things,” an unfamiliar man’s voice booms.
“Go to hell,” she yells back. An object hits the floor.
“Yeah, we’re not doing this,” he says. “Get your things—now.”
“Samantha,” Ms. Pat pleads, “just get your things, dear.”
I’m surprised to hear Ms. Pat’s voice this late. Samantha doesn’t get up.
“Get the roommate out of here, please,” the man says.
“Jasmine, get up, please,” Ms. Pat says. She sounds concerned and exhausted.
I don’t want to make this any worse for Samantha, so I don’t protest. As I climb down, I see her face is still buried in her pillow. The unfamiliar man stands nearby. Almost as tall as our bunk bed, he’s wearing a staff uniform and has a belt with lots of gear on it, like a police officer’s, except there’s no gun or handcuffs. He glances at me before turning his attention back to Samantha. Ms. Pat shoos me out the door.
“Bye, Samantha,” I say, even though I know I’ll probably get in trouble for it. But she doesn’t respond. I hope she doesn’t hate me too.
There are two more men in the hallway, dressed just like the one in our room, and neither even looks in my direction. Ms. Pat passes me off to a woman on the night staff and goes back to Samantha. The men follow her and shut the door.
“Let’s go,” the woman says, pushing me to walk. “I need to get you an escort.”
“For what?” I ask, starting to cry. I don’t understand why it seems like I’m in trouble too.
She doesn’t say anything. I see some of the girls pressed against the small windows on their doors, trying to figure out what happened. I put my head down before we pass Amari’s room and hope she’s not awake. I’m embarrassed enough as it is.
The night staff woman takes me to the rec room and tells me to have a seat. I head to my usual couch, but she stops me. “Over there.” She points to a folding chair near the first set ofdouble doors that lead to my unit. Then she goes into the office and gets on the phone.
“When can I go back to bed?” I ask. “Why am I in trouble?”
Nothing. I hear a door slam down the hallway.
“Hold still,” the men are saying.
