This is rare. Abby posted it on her MySpace briefly then deleted it. The abandoned followup to her book Bad Girl.
THE AFTERMATH OF BEING INSTITUTIONALIZED
When I first got out, after being locked up for a year, I had a sort of honey moon period. Everything was wonderful as it should be, in contrast to chopping wood all day. I experienced the things that I longed for, luxuries that I had missed in my last year of isolation from the outside world. Music, movies and every thing else the world had to offer eagerly awaited me. I had missed a whole cycle of actors, music, styles and trends in the last year that I was locked up with little connection to the world outside of hard core therapy. Movies that went from theater to tape and even the ones that won Acdmey awards were coming to my attention for the first time. There was a freshness in discovering them without the trailers and hype that always came out before a big movie. My appreciation for everything new was the equivalent of a wide eyed child from a third world country coming for the first time to an American toy shop.
It was not only the new but also the forgotten that filled my days with a almost overwhelming appreciation. The silly things that no one notice brought me great joy. Sucking on a lolly pop, chewing gum, seeing a late night movie and eating as much ice cream as I wanted without supervision, without staff always brought a goofy smile to my face. All these simple pleasures all the great joys no one cares about until it's taken away and out of reach did much more then just gratify me. While I was rediscovering all these things I had to wonder if joy was just a relative experience. What was good with out bad. The pleasure of walking barefoot isn't perceived as pleasure until you take off your cramy shoes and your foot is released from confinement. If that was the case then the pleasure I was having was pleasure that someone has when in a very uncomfortable and stifling environment were joys were denied in order for self discipline.
It was the beginning of summer when I got out and the long sunny warm days only added to my uncharacteristic aw for life. I transition from peninsula village a therapeutic school With a boot camp setting in Knoxville T.N. to live with my father and brother. The world in the institution was so much different then the world I found myself in again. My home had stayed the same even while I had changed. As I sleeped in my old bed it was almost like I was a stranger in someone easls world. Even most of my clothes were now two small for me to wear. I had gained 25 pounds in my stay so now if described one would label me as chubby. The Peninsula Village dealt with bulimics, enerxics or just narcissistic girls with image problems bye feeding us allot of food. Concerns with our looks were distractions at the Village. Most of us stopped carrying about how we looked being that no one humar are superficiality.
I had fallen apart as far as looks in more ways then my wait. My hair was neglected too. The once wispy golden mass was now cut to my shoulder and had a greasy look, even when clean. The roots that hung down to my lips rimmed oddly around my head. Even the blonde sections seemed to losse its color. If I woke up and so myself like this last year I would of slit my wrist or at threaten to, the truth was I was a to much of a coward to kill myself even if I wanted to. But now me being almost indifferent to my looks felt odd as I was in the environment that reminded me of importances I once put on such things. Pretty clothes that I spent a fortune on and now didn't fit didn't taught me like they would of when confronted with my past self.
The three of us my brother Will, my Dad and myself lived on Prospect avenue. The avenue provided the boarder between west Hartford, a suburban upper middle class town, and Hartford, a poverty stricken ghetto with a high hiv rate due to a heroin epidemic. Huge homes rested on one side of the street like the one my dad owned and the governors Mansion but only a few blocks down from us there were apartment complexes and projects.
This class diversity some parents blamed as the root cause for teenage drug related problems. The rich kids weren't segregated from the poor and that was what they believed was the cause of the 'problems'. Some believed that if the rich kids weren't exposed to the drugs and the poor kids weren't exposed to the money then drugs wouldn't be bought or distributed. If they hadn't shared schools then both groups would be safer. The Hartford kids wouldn't find opportunities to become drug dealers if there wasn't such a problem while the rich would never see the stuff. This theory was popular amongst other parents who sent there kids to places like the village. To me their theories only proved that they new nothing of their children problems. If they knew the problem then they might be more likely to be able to solve it. Kids from more sheltered suburbs don't do less drugs and segregated city kids don't sell less drugs.
As I looked out into the public flower park that surrounded our property I had a feeling one has when in the house of a dead person. The park that surrounded our yard giving the property an optical elution, that made it seem endless was always a perfect place to secretly meet up with people during the night. Now this aspect of the yard was never going to function in the way it had before, the only people who will be appreciating our yard emerging with the park was the occasional flower loving tourist that sometimes gathered around my dad's privet collection of flowers not realizing they were trespassing. There would never be a Keno, Ben or Steve out there waiting for me to sneak out and walk in the park with them. I would never meet any of my friends to go steal roses in the parks flower beds.
My Dad's house had seven bed rooms, but only three were being occupied. The rooms that were now almost entirely empty had no air-conditioning in the summer and during the winter my dad cut off the heating vents to conserve on the bill. This made it so they remained useless unless we needed the spaciousness of the house. Space away from my Dad was useful when I went from room to room doing things my father wouldn't approve of. I once had my own rooms for smoking pot or have people stay in without my dad even knowing. Now after boot camp, being sober and staying out of trouble, the extra rooms didn't appeal to me. As I past the rooms memories of all I did in them played out like ghosts. They were memories that were already dead and buried.
My fathers house felt cold after being confined to a sometimes stifling cabin. The freedom of the big empty house seemed to me as if the world around me died and I was living in a shell of it. There was no girls around me. I had left the other patient behind when I went back home. It saddened me when I felt that the institution felt more home then home felt. I would of traded my freedom in order to not be left allow with only my brother for most of the day. I knew the village wouldn't of approved the conditions I was living in. Leaving me allow with myself was one thing but allow with my brother wasn't a wise decision on my dad's part. I, fresh out of rehab trying to stay and out of trouble, was left alone with my brother, who after going to college in Vermont actually took his love for pot to a courier level. He now even held business in the basement. Using a scale that I heard from some of his friends over Wade what he was selling.
My Dad, who was working most of the time, ignored my brothers activities. The reason why I never knew because he never acknowledged it even when one would discuss it with him. It wasn't like my brother was discreet my grandmother even knew what he was doing when she came to visit. But my dad always reacted as if he didn't hear or see. There was times my dad had harden proof of my brothers drug use and still found a way to deny it . The most memorable was three years ago when I was fourteen, making my brother who is two years older 16. It started when we got into a fight over the TV clicker. The TV was always a sources of argument for board teens and like all fights we had my brother Will settled it buy the easiest way possible. This particular time it was tossing me out of the house. After I was outside with out a key he then preceded to lock the doors and windows so there was no way of getting back in. Before I could plead with him buy screaming and crying in front of the window of the TV room he sped off in his car before I could reach the other side of the house to stop him.
I wouldn't of cared so much if it wasn't winter time or if I wasn't stuck out side with nothing more then pajamas. If I had clothes that were warm enough I could of found something to preoccupy my time until when my Dad would come home. But I hadn't the clothing to keep me warm and my body started to go numb even with the heat from the rage I felt at my brother. It was more then just physical pain of being cold and shaky. The rage I had built up to a point that I screamed on the top of my lungs. If my dad came home now and saw me scream like this I would be the one in trouble. But my dad wasn't there no one was. After I screamed so hard and loud that my throat hurt, I became to tired for rage. The feeling some how turned inwards. It ran through my body like cold water. I was helpless and my brother just proved it. But what was worse was that there was no one who protected me from him.
I was put in my brothers hands and he had total control over me. He used this control in anyway he sought fit, with no boundaries or since of right or wrong. I didn't think about it so clearly at this time, if I had it would be easier for me to deal. The facted that I felt the injustice and couldn't sort it out added confusion to my despair. I started to cry my whole body trembling from anguished rage that I couldn't vent at my brother and self pity that no one would help me. Then as if god him self came down and put the idea in my little head I knew what to do. I stopped crying and took a deep breath. As I walked across the street to Hartford I told myself I had no choice but to go to the local pay phone and call the cops. It was the best way to get into the house and who knows maybe my brother would get in trouble or better yet they might yell at my dad for letting this all happen.
The police arrived a half hour later with the firemen who's job it was to legally break in, which I found amusing at the time. As I sat warm in the cop car a smile came to my face at the thought of the police destroying my Dads front door. I not only hated my brother for locking me out but my father for letting all this happen, not only for this particular time but for every injustice that happened to me from my brothers hands. But right before they were about to ax the door they noticed a window open on the first floor. I laughed when I saw that the window so happened to belong to my brother's room. How great it would be if they stumbled onto some of my brothers weed. The Irish police were trained to find drugs. They wouldn't be like my Dad who never trespassed into my brothers room like he frequently went into mine. Maybe for once my brother would be the one in trouble. This might be the day that he might even get punished.
While the fireman dismantled the metal bars that were put on for burglary protection, I got out of heated cop car. I wanted to be there to see if they saw anything. The fireman who broke in through my brothers room opened the front door but refused to let me in. "Go back to the car this might take awhile and I don't want you to get a cold" The fire man said blocking me from getting into the house. After he escorted me to the car the fireman went over to one of the cops and whispered something in his ear before leading him back into my house. Maybe my wishes had come true. The fire man might of actually stumbled onto some of my brothers paraphernalia. Before It could get any better my dad arrived. He saw me in the back seat of the cop car, the fire truck and then got out of his car, looking at his house trying to find out were I started the fire. When the cop emerged from the house a few minutes later he sternly approached my father "Sir is this your property" the bulky cop asked with a voice that demanded respect. " Yes, yes it is, is there a problem sir" said his forehead breaking out with beads of cold sweat.
My dad spent an hour being lectured bye the cop in my brothers room and I enjoyed every minute. Apparently the fireman stumbled on my brothers bongs, pipes and resin when he went through his room. All were hard to miss being displayed on my brothers desk like some kind of shrine . My dad look so small and pathetic compared to the police who were brow beating him in his own house. In his defense he expressed to them the difficulties of being a signal father and the police left with nothing more to do or say.
Now maybe my dad was going to see that my brother Will wasn't as good as he made him out to be and I am not as bad. Things will change, he will now believe me when I tell him about Will hitting me, bullying me, stealing from me. Dad has to wake up and see that I am not always the liar, that most of the time it is Will. How nice it would be if my Dad apologized to me for not being a good parent. Then after my Dad takes my side it might be my turn to say to Will that "Dad won't believe you". It could be my turn to make him feel week, trapped and helpless. My brother will now see what it is like being on the other side of things.
This short story up until this point had all the ingredients of karma. But when my brother came home, told my dad that the bongs and pipes were his friends and he needed to give them back, things took a different turn. My dad as though being blindly hypnotised believed him and gave the stuff back. After my Dad was through with my brother he turned to me and instead of apologizing he glared at me. "Why did you call the cops!" My dad said doing little to cover up that he was angry at me. I started to cry, not because of my father scolding me but for the lack of justice and the hopes of my security gone or never really existing.
It was at this point that I knew I was trapped forever. That my father would never believe me over my brother. I would always be under my brother thumb, for him to do whatever he wanted to do. My brother did came out with a lesson, he needed to find a better place for his bongs, and he had to be more careful when picking on his little sister. He went and hid his things on top of the ceiling panels then told me about it afterwards. He knew my dad would never look even if I tattled on him and this information was to show me that he dominated me entirely and there was nothing I could do. Even if cops broke into the house my brother would be prepared, he always seemed to cover all the bases.
My brother wasn't bad all the time, just when I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do. Before I got locked up I enjoyed the aspect of my brother smoking pot. And mixed in with my emotions I even admired him. Pot was one of the thing we bonded over and that was mostly why I did it. I was his morning smoking buddy, being the only person around before he went to school to meet up with his other burn out friends. I was also his vacation smoking buddy. Making new memories, smoking pot filled cigarettes in the middle of the Disney World's magic kingdom. We also used to smoke for medical reasons, or that's what we told our selves. Smoking weed to numb the pain after a day of falling while snow boarding, because we smoked on the chair left before we hit the slopes.
My brother always included me in things he discovered. Every time he discovered something I would be one of the first people to know. This pattern started as kids. I would collect cards because he collected cards. I would play video games because my brother did. When my brother Will was a preteen things turned ugly as far as me following him. He showed me the stash were my father kept his money and told me the trick to slowly take money with out people knowing. This came in use when not only I stole a twenty a day from my father but also when Will started to preformed the trick on me . He taught me to shop lift when I was nine. When my brother was fourteen and smoked for the first time in school, he later brought some of it home for me to try.
Now when I arrived back at home with a different outlook and strong new opinions that were ingrained bye an institutional life, are relationship changed. My brother found my opinions to be a trip. He hardly took me seriously, making a sort of game out of chasing me around the house trying to get me to smoke. " What is this shit" he would say laughing in my face. "That boot camp bullshit really got to you didn't it." He would say finding my behavior amusing and not taking me what I said or did seriously in the slightest. But behind his jokes and teasing I felt an undercurrent of resentment. I wasn't following his lead anymore. It was after the Village that Will lost control of me. Not because I won over him, like I always strived for but because I dropped out of the game he was playing. I wasn't getting in trouble anymore and I wasn't escape goat.
My sobriety problems didn't stop at my brother. Will also sold to allot of my old friends. Some of these people I knew never did any of this before I left, but in the past year developed into habitual smokers. I would jump in the shower to avoid them when there cars pulled up or pretend to be in a very deep sleep. Avoiding them didn't come natural to me, enfacted I wanted to be with them. Sometimes it pained me to hear them come up the stairs and look for me. So called pure pressure was all around me but running away was a pathetic way to deal with it.
As much as Will was an incovence the unfairness didn't pain me anymore. I didn't think much on the facted my Dad had punished the wrong child yet again when he sent me to the rehab boot camp. To me I moved on from it or blocked it out knowing that I couldn't, for my own sanity face the whole thing. My brother should of gone before me that was obvious. I would of followed Will if it was him coming back like I had. But he hadn't gone to get help and I had excepted it regretfully. He hadn't been through what I gone through and but it was his loose now that I came out of it. I had grown so much this year and he hadn't. All that mattered was that I was living with the N.A. version of Satin and how was I to deal with that. My dad who had talked the talk in therapy was missing now that I was in his care. My father had bailed out on me like he always had. Most of my work with him in family therapy seemed so empty now that he didn't keep to his bargain. I wondered what the Village would say if they new the environment I was going into. They would of prepared me differently if they knew I would end up were I left off.
The first time I called the Village, I talked to Miss Strikler to tell her about my problems. She was one of the staffers who I never trusted or was close to. But she was the one who took my call so I told her the dilemma with my brother. "How do you feel" she asked, her voice lacking the concern the other staff had when talking to me. "Pretty good" I responded truthfully, knowing that Miss Strikler always new when you were lying even when you were telling the truth. She always looked for a confession, so I gave it to her because the truth was all this didn't bother me like it should of been. " Do you feel like smoking with your brother?" I pause trying to analyze my feelings in a deep therapeutic way. The whole urges or 'compulsions' that the other girls at rehab had never happed to me. Now even after living with 'things that are bad' I had no real desire, like they said I would have, to really do them. "No not really" I responded.
"Well part of recovery is staying away from people places and things. Have you gone to any meetings" she meant N.A. Meetings. The truth was that I only went to one. It took place in Hartford and was the first N.A. Meeting I went to alone. I was the only person my age and one of the few sober people. One guy did all the talking, or more like crying. He was a hard hitting heroine addict who was experiencing something uncomfortable. It was strange but being around those people hadn't had the effect of not making me want to smoke. The NA meetings weren't the same when the group of other pacents weren't there with me. I felt a certain comradely with them and if they were here I would even feel safer as well.
"Miss Strikler can a N.A. meeting have an opposite effect on some people?" I asked, remembering how strange it was that the only time I had any desire to go back to weed was in the room. "If the meeting is bad, I guess, how about church groups, have you gone to any?" The town I was in had mostly synagogs and I was far away from the bible belt. I had the feeling that the youth bible group thing was something that was predominately in the south. And even if I found a church with other young people like myself then there was still a problem with getting a ride.
As I was on the phone with the staff I knew that I was split between two worlds, two ways of life, views of the closed off world of rehab wasn't making since with reality. But for a while I continued to call the village speaking with various village staffers asking how I should handle whatever circumstance I was in . They told me again and again to join the youth church group which was nonexistent in my vicinity or go to one of those N.A. meetings in Hartford. They never said anything of use other then what I was already doing.
Gradually some of the rehab restrictions lost there affect. I started questioning the Village. The NA life style wasn't fitting or making since with my life. I was never powerless over drugs, and if I was then I would be down there with my brother smoking. How was I powerless when I didn't even have a desire to do it! It was not only the saying that didn't apply to me it was also letting go of my friends. I couldn't stand not seeing my friends. Some of them I really missed and it seemed wrong to avoid them so cowardly. So a week after I arrived home I got rid of that rule "people and places of the past now avoid", which was unpractical being that my home was the place and my people came over every day to buy and smoke with my brother. So I started to hang out with everyone and took the roll of preacher. "Cocaine no don't do that, Rochelle this girl in boot camp got raped on cocaine" I would say before someone snorted a line. The person would usually laugh at me and did it any ways or blow smoke in my face if it was weed that I was telling them not to do.
It wasn't long before I had my own weird niche in the pot head community, being more or less entertainment. There was bets on when or what or who, depending on what principle the bet was on me breaking. For some reason, maybe due to boot camp not totally wiping away my oppositional nature, this made me more ampted to not do these things. The bets were like positive encouragement, goals being set to have me make it as a sober sexless person. I found that all the pressure of being bombarded with questions or long discussions on why I really didn't want to formed my own identity as the girl who didn't do drugs, steal or have sex until two years or even marriage.
While becoming a real person, I put myself on my own intervention. I sighed up for stain glass classes that were held in an old women's basement. This to me was church group, hearing they were really arts and crafty in church groups. I was also keeping a journal, which to me was my N.A. groups. All I really put in it was what happened last year and the time I spent at boot camp. My other project was digging a big hole in the back yard and surrounding it with a brick wall. I planned to put a pond in the hole and mosaic the bottom for gold fish. This to me was like chopping wood. These three activity held my sanity.This warped state of mind stopped right before school started. Like I said before my after boot camp honeymoon period only lasted three months. It ended the day of my 17th birthday party.
My birthday party was held at my house, on a sunny day in August. Both Family and friends came over to celebrate but The two parties hardly mingled. My dad grilled hamburgers and entertained the family on the patio while mine and my brothers friends spent most of the time going in and out of my brothers room. At my party I didn't pay much notice to the three girls that I recently had a falling out with a week earlier. Even with my friends Tonya, Abaonya, and Jenya coming late I didn't think anything of it besides that them being there meant that they forgave and forgotten what happened a week ago.
All three of them had a reputation in our town and to me that had a sort of appeal. After I had gotten over the NA rules and took them allot less literally I found being around them comforting. I knew where they came from and they reminded me of the girls I was around in the institution. I thought for a while, up until a week ago that is, that I could do some good for them. That I was making an impression. Tonya the oldest, was my favorite out of the three. She was a pretty Portorecan girl with a ass the guys at our school dreamed of. And when you would look at her face your eyes always went to the quit round ball of cartilage at the tip of her nose.
Tonya was infamous in our school for being the first girl to loose her virginity. And the only girl in the state of CT that lost it to a second cousin at a family reunion, in the bathroom on top a toilet. Tonya was practically an orhan ever since two years ago when she got kicked out of her house bye her mom. This added to her appeal, being that she had the ability to provoke pity from her friends parents. For the past two years Tonyas been bouncing around like a pinball and for the past two months she's been living with Abaonya's family.
Abaonya was from Albania. Her parents spoke little English but owned and ran an ice-cream shop in down town Hartford. Abanya also had a story that people associated her with. When she came to our school she smelled so bad that some of my friends had to introduce her to deodorant. But now that incident being in the past, things are different for Abanya, I guess you can say she over compensates as do most people do when rediscoving them selves. Albonya now masked herself with layers of cheep makeup, stolen from the corner pharmacy a block away from her. Since Tonya moved in Abanya is now almost unrecognizable from her past self. They've been sharing globs of hair gel. But unlike Tonya who's dark hair comes to round ringlets, Albanya's hair flattened and looked oily, laying limp and clinging awkwardly to her head..
Jenya was the breadwinner out of the three, or at least her parents were. She was the one with the great house to hang out in. The great car to use when her rich Jewish parents were off at work or holidays, which was allot. You wouldn't know that she came from money or an religious family. If you saw her on the street not knowing better you would believe her claim to be Latino descent. Like Albana, Jenya to went through a transformation. She was very obedient and preppy in middle school when I knew her years ago. In the course of high school something happened and that saying 'you are who you hang out with' has deep truth when applied to Jenya. Even her accent evolved into having a Russian, Portorian thing.
These three girls weren't my only friends and were hardly my closets. But there was no argument that they were the worst of my friends and the last people the village would approve of and the first they would recruit in. A week before my birthday the temperature was at its all time high. So I was glad when Jenya called asking if I wanted to go swimming. When she arrived at my house with Albonya and Tonaya I jumped in the car with my bathing suit on. The only summer shorts that now comfortable fit after I had gained wait were still in the dryer and my mind was on getting cool and swimming. We went a couple of miles before we randomly stopped on the side of the street. "Wait in the car we'll be back in a minuet" Jenya said speaking as if something was about to happen but before I could ask she had shut the door. All three of them quickly walked down the street and turned the corner out of sight giving no time for me to figure out what they were up to. So like dogs, old people and children that were left behind I waited in the car for them to get back.
When I hopped over the front seat to turn on the air conditioner I realized that Jenya didn't leave the keys. So I sat in the car a few more minutes trying to be optimistic, thinking they'll be back any second. But they didn't come back and the car played a green house affect that caused sweat to form drops that irritated my skin as they rolled down my body. I had to get out of the car before getting baked alive. I decided to walked the way the three of them went earlier, figuring this was the only strategy to possibly spot them. At first I was glad when I turned the corner and saw them, that was until I figured out they weren't alone.
My first thought when seeing them and what they were doing was that I might be experiencing a merash. I knew enough from watching movies about stranded people in the desert that strange things can happen when your dehydrated. But I knew in the next moment that I wasn't that dehydrated for suck hallucinations. Tonya, Abonya and Jenya were surrounding a beat up brown toyota full of boys and I wasn't seeing things. What ever I was seeing it was an odd scene. I couldn't figure out why these boys were parked in the middle of the road, windows rolled down and why my friends were outside of the car looking confrontational. Scenes played out in my head for what they could be doing. Did my friends need a ride? No they had a car I was waiting in it. Are they trying to have sex with these boys? No if that was the case then they would be in the same car wouldn't they or inviting them back to the pool. It was to hot of a day for anyone to want to be out on the hot pavement.
I watched Abanya pick up a stick from the ground and hold it like a bat in front of the car full of boys. "Abby!" Jenya said tearing my attention away from Abanya, who looked something of a nadertha woman with the stick in her hand. Jenya quickly came up to me, while I stood there dumbfounded. I had trouble reading Jenya and didn't know if she was glad or angry to see me. "Look at those fucked up crackers! They fucked with us before and now they are acting like a bunch of fucken pussys!" Jenya yelled so that the boys in the car could hear her. I wondered why Jenya had approached me so passionently. She knew that I wasn't involved and whatever they were up to I proble wouldn't approve of. "What do you mean? Why are they all in the car like that?" I asked genuinely curious, even though I knew when I found out the chances I would be sympathetic were slim.
"They are pussies! Like I said there about to get there ass beat! I'm going to fucking kill them!" She screamed facing the car as if to yell at them not talk to me. It seemed that my presence was just an excuse for her to vent at them some more. "What did they do?" I asked hoping to get a response to my question this time."Last week than ran off with our boy Brians stash, now they tried to rip us off, thinking the got game or some shit. They have shit! Their nothing more then fucking white boys in fucked up wheels.""So what are you trying to do? What is all this?" I asked pointing at the bizarre scene infront of me.
"We are going to try to steel their weed" she said in a much lower voice, being that it wasn't good for her to yell her plan to the enemies.
"That's going to be hard, don't you think? They seem to know some things up. Don't you see, I mean they are all in the car and your all around the car yelling at them as if your about to steal their weed." Jenya ignored me, walking toward Tonya instead. This plan of hers what ever it was didn't make sense. How could they rob a group of boys when the boys are smart enough to stay in the car. I wanted to yell at her cut out this shit, the day is to hot to fuck around. Plus we could all get arrested and that would suck especaily for me the recovering pot head who was never really an addict.
But being a conservative priss when it came to these things wasn't really in my nature. That was boot camp talking. I didn't have to break rules and be a bad allum to under stand where the three of them were coming from. And I had to admit that a part of me was amused, well the part of be that wasn't beat into corroboration when I was institutionalized. All three of them Jenya, Tonya and Albonya the most with her stick, reminded me of amazon woman. Trying to take on a car full of foot ball players and intimating them was funny. Isn't there times when you rut for the villein? I knew that my thinking was off that the village would consider it wrong. I tried to make since of all of this. Just look at scair-face, god father, they were bad but you found your self getting angry at the cops for trying to stop them. So it made sense that I found my self wanting them to take the weed? Didn't it? I knew that Staff would disagree and find this unjustifiable.
This would of been a good time to call a group and talk about this thinking with my staff and piers at the institution. What would they say? They would say that my thinking was wrong and I should walk away, but on a day like this with the heat, I would die from a heat stroke. To them having a heat stroke was on else par with having a relapse or exposing myself to my friends engaging in not only a drug deal but a drug hold up. Jenya went over to the car put her face up against the car window and started yelling "fuck you! Mother fucking pussy fuckers!" at the boys. There was a strange mixture of 'what is going on', confusion and disbelief on their faces.
This was it for the boy who was driving, he tried to put the car in reverse but crazy Abonya, stick in hand, stood in the way. The boys didn't want to take their chances with running someone over so it was back to square again. For a while it didn't look like things were going anywhere and I was getting cotton mouth. Tonya was on Jenyas cell to someone about what was going on, while the other two surround them from the front and the back so they couldn't move the car. When the fighting was on a sort of half time at the moment, due to the heat, Abonya and Jenya just looked at the boys with angry expressions.
The boys in the car looked cool with the air-conditioner on. I longed to be in the cool car, instead of losing all of my water wait from sweating in the sun. One of the boys looked fermiller. His name was John or Jack or Mat or Michel some common name that's suprisining hard to remember when the person was equally as common. Thinking now things calmed down a little this was a good time to step in , I approached the car and tapped gently on his windshield. "Hey I know you" I said with a smile and figuring this was no time to play the name game.
The boy I knew to my surprise eagerly rolled down his window shield. He was a plain stocky boy covered in black pubescent facial hair. He was not hot but not terribly ugly either. "Hey long time! I was at your house the other day. How's it going?" He said as if we were old friends. His eyes went up and down my almost naked body before changing to a freaked out expression when turning to look at Albonya who stood not to far behind me with her stick. The three girls backed off a bit even more now that I was talking to the enemy. "I've been fine, you?"
" Alright, things been cazzzy..." he said looking around me at the girls. "But things been cool, other then this shit." He said acknowledging my three friends with a nodd. I heard from your bro. that you got sent to some strange boot camp were they did shock therapy or something, he said that your like been hypnotized and are practically a different person." I looked down at the ground, feeling awkward that my therapy was brought up this way. "I was in therapy" I answered and was glad when I saw that he wasn't paying much attention. "Are you with them?" He said quickly changing the subject and referring to Jenya, Albonya and Tonya again. " I came with them to go swimming, but I have no idea what this is all about" I said honestly. " Ya, I see that" He said looking at my half naked body again while smiling. "You have your bathing suit on and everything. We were also going to go swimming. All of us are supposed to be going to go to Jermys house, he has a kick-ass pool, your welcome to come, if you want" He said and his hand was already at the door handle to open the car so I can get in.
"Okay! Sounds great" I said climbing in the car. It was to hot to give much of a thought to loyalty to friends who didn't show you the same consideration. The car was cool and comfortable and I was hot. Even with being cramped with four boys it was much better then being on the hot pavement. As soon as I got in the driver turned around to face me "Your letting her in?" He said as if this was the stupidest thing he had ever heard. "She's cool, Will's little sister, you know Will". The boys in the car all chimed in with Will is the coolest and what a great dealer he is. I wondered if this was my brothers weed that they were all fighting over. Maybe it came from his croquette scale that was known to rip off people.
"Tell these crazy bitches to get away from my fucking car. They wont lesson to me." The driver said to me as if I had control of them. "You should just fucking run this ugly bitch behind us over" the boy sitting to the left of me said referring to Albonya. "You crazy! This is my moms car for one, and we are carrying lots of fucking weed. That's a lifer and I don't want to end up confined with a bunch of fucking ass pumping criminals for the rest of my life". The driver said and for a moment I thought he would hit the kid next to me for suggesting something like that.
The boy in the passengers seat, the biggest guy in the car lend over and handed me a bag full of crystallized herb "Look, isn't this a fatty, smell it. Its hydro, it's the shit". I held the bag. This idiot I thought to myself in disbelief that he actually gave the pot my friends were working so hard to get to me. " It would put her out of her fucking misery" The boy next to me said, continuing the Albonya subject. He didn't realizing what I might be thinking or feeling. As much as I hated that my friends put me in this position I still liked Albonya and felt some what protective of her. "You know, shes so nasty, I herd she has like five S.T.Ds is that true?" He asked me.
I don't know why I did it, maybe because I didn't like these wantobe drug dealers. It was not only who they were but how they talked. But maybe there was more to it. Possibly I secretly wanted it and didn't even know it. My whole subconscious could be craving something and that something could be my suppressed kleptomania. I didn't cancel that one out and it could of been coming to the surface at this moment. Instead of opening the bag and smelling it, I took one last look of the car full of boys, then jumped out of the car making a run for it.
What followed was something between a relay race and foot ball. The bag of weed was thrown from Tonya to Jenya to Albonya who waved her stick and then back to me again. The boys who could of beat us up reframed due to us being girls and them having some ethics. But all was not fun and games we all came out with some bruises from being tackled and one boy with a black eye from Albonyas stick before it all ened. Albonya, Tonya and Jenya jumped in the car driven bye the boy who Tonya was on the phone with earlier. The three of them left me, who was the last one to be tackled before giving the weed to Tonya. It wasn't that they were trying to dict me, I was just the last person to get tackled before they hopped in the car. I was glad when the foot ball guys got off of me and went in their car trying to chase them down. But after the pressure of them being around was gone I was pissed that I had no transportation and was left alone.
I got home after walking a mile. My feet were scorched and my bikini soaked with sweat. When I got home their they were, all three of them were at my house smoking pot with my brother. My brother Will had a big grin on his face while he watched me enter the drive way. He wasn't smiling because he was proud that I stole weed but because he now had something on me. Albonya, who miss interpreted his smile, yelled enthusiastically "I told your bother about how you stole the weed, it was amazing!" I new she wasn't trying to get me in trouble and was supporting me in a really dumb way but I still wanted to kill her. It was bad enough that I was left like I was, but this! My brother didn't have to threaten me I knew that this was the opportunity he was waiting for. It was the perfect situation for him to prove to him self and to my dad that I was still fucked up.
"Wait until dad hears" he said knowing that he had me, that I would do almost anything he wanted. There was two things to do. One would be to tell my dad and possible get sent back and the other was to shut up my brother. So I bribed him with the weed I stole. My actions upset Tonya, Albonya and Jenya even though they didn't protest what I did to protect myself.
Two weeks later, at my birthday party, Albonya, Tonya and Jenya ate the cake, hamburgers and hotdogs and left with out giving a present or even saying happy birthday. But they didn't leave empty handed, no they basically robed my house leaving with my cell phone, wallet and five other peoples stuff. They took my things because they felt I stole the weed from them. I ended up telling my Dad the whole story, feeling guilty for how things turned out and what I did and being reminded of the guilt buy what just happened. This incident affected my decision and my fathers about what school I should go to the fallowing fall. Public school was now not an option, " You can't be around girls like these you'll be killed" my Dad stated while shaking his head, knowing he'll have to pay, literally that is.
6:09 AM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment
