The People vs. Cashmere (17 page)

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Authors: Karen Williams

BOOK: The People vs. Cashmere
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Chapter 23
They took a mug shot and fingerprints. Then the officer got on the phone and called somebody, and the next thing I knew, I was being transported somewhere else.
Some black lady was in the room. She asked me a series of questions: Do you need to see a doctor? Do you have any cuts or bruises? Do you have a history of medical problems? Are you allergic to any foods? Do you use drugs?
To her last question, I thought,
Now is as good a time as any to use some
. Instead I said, “I used to, but not anymore.”
“When did you last eat?”
“I'm cool.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Then I was asked if I heard voices, or ever thought about killing or hurting myself. I said no to all. Then they had me sign all these papers.
“This is an OC warning.” She explained to me that staff there used pepper spray and, if an OC warning is given, I am to drop. Then she gave me my charge and my court date. 187.
I was then taken to a room, where the doctor examined me. They took all my shit, did a strip-search, and gave me a pair of pants, two tops, a sweatshirt, and some “bubblegum” tennis shoes.
“Now grab a bedroll, young lady.”
She was referring to a black burlap-looking blanket that was rolled up. I grabbed one from the stack.
“Now follow me.” She walked to the door, paused, and looked at me over her shoulder. “Now when you step out, young lady, you need to be quiet, with your hands behind your back.” She demonstrated, her hands behind her back, the top of her hands resting on her back, and her forefinger and thumb pressed against each other.
I obeyed her.
“You also need to look straight ahead. If you see a rival gang, don't—”
“I don't gang—”
“Quiet!”
She guided me down this long hallway. The place looked more like a funeral hall to me, with all these old-looking buildings and all this grass. We stopped at one building that read
East B
on it. My eyes narrowed 'cause I didn't know what it stood for.
“Hold up!”
I stopped in my tracks, assuming the command meant stop.
As she unlocked the door, I was fighting because I needed some ecs now more than ever. Despite my promise to never touch it again, I was craving it. To erase the image of my sister lying on that ground still, her eyes open. Fuck that shit about staying clean.
And damn praying to God. After Sunday after Sunday of going to church with Daddy and praying to God, trying to live my life right and honoring my parents, I was in some shit like this for killing my sister. I winced.
I followed behind her down a hall that had doors on each side. Each door had a skinny piece of glass on it.
The lady took me into an office set in the center, with another hall on the other side of it. She said, “This is Ms. Pierce. Here is her chart.”
The black lady with the all gray hair, and long-ass nails studied me quietly. She said, “You need to put your hair up,” and handed me a thick rubber band.
She must be the supervisor
. I thought.
I pulled it all back till it was in a ponytail.
There were two other women in the room, a Latina with long, straight, black hair, and an older, heavy-set, brown-skin black woman with soft brown eyes.
“Rino, put her in room seven.”
The Latina chick stood and said, “Come on.”
I didn't say shit, just followed after her.
She unlocked a door and said, “Step inside.”
Once I did, she locked the door. I watched the bolt slip into the opening in the wood of the door. I didn't bother putting the blankets and sheets on the bed because I couldn't sleep. I just sat on the bed and stared out, looking at nothing in particular.
I was able to get a little sleep, I heard a male's voice bellowing down the highway, “Step the fuck out and face your muthafuckin' doors!” He unlocked our doors in a rush.
Once we did, he continued, “Listen up, bitches! It's been far too much shit going down in this unit, and I'm not gonna stand for it no more. Keep in mind, I have no problem locking y'all up in your rooms.”
I took a look at the short, black man, who looked like George Jefferson, his shoes knocking against the hardwood floors.
“Y'all crazy bitches hear that? So y'all best to take y'all meds and run a decent muthafuckin' program or I'm fuckin' y'all up for sure!” He peered in all our windows as he spoke, pausing when he got to mine, maybe because I didn't bow my head as he talked his shit.
I looked right back at him.
“Let the supervisor call me again 'cause y'all silly ass wanna act stupid. Step out your rooms on the two-count . . . one, two!”
We all stepped out.
“About face!”
I stayed the way I was because I didn't know what he meant, but the other females moved.
“Bitch, step the fuck back in the room!”
I heard the brown-skin lady, Ms. Clark, say, “She just got here.”
“I don't give a muthafuck! All y'all hoes, step back in your room.” Then he walked on the other side to the opposite hall and repeated the same thing. I found out later that he ran the facility and gave those speeches once a week to scare the new kids that came in. Sound like he had short man syndrome to me.
The next voice I heard was Ms. Clark's. She walked down the hall and said, “It's time to get up, get groomed, and dressed.”
Once my door was opened, a box with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a comb was slid in my room.
“Make sure, when ready to step out, you have your clothes on the right way and your hair is combed.”
I went to the small sink and brushed my teeth. I didn't even bother combing my hair. It didn't even matter 'cause I ended up eating in my room and, boy, was it some nasty-ass shit—some cold-ass eggs with no white in them, two pieces of bread, a banana, and a carton of milk.
When it was time for lunch, I was able to step out because I got it right. As I stood in line, there was a bunch of mumbling from the other chicks as we waited for the next command.
‘Where she from?'
“She got pretty hair.”
“La-La said that bitch from
A
tray.”
“No, she from Hoover.”
“Big-booty hoes!”
I heard snickers, but I wasn't tripping off them bitches. And they damn sure didn't wanna see me. I didn't have shit to live for and didn't mind breaking one of those bitches in quarters, but for now I was gonna leave it alone.
“Hold up!”
I stood quiet, but a bitch behind me bumped into me.
When I ignored her, she whispered, “I can't stand nappy-headed sissies.”
Now the last time I checked, I didn't have nappy hair, and I wasn't no sissy, so I knew she wasn't talking to me or about me.
The girl in front of me whispered, “You gonna let her diss your set like that?”
“Set?”
“Quiet, ladies,” Ms. Clark said, shoving a plate in my hand.
I followed after the girl in front of me to the rec-room, where tables were set up for us to eat, and sat down.
“Fuck sissies!”
Here this bitch goes again
.
When she stood, I stood. I wasn't gonna get hit sitting down at all. But staff was on us. Before we could do shit, they were dragging us both away. She kept on calling me bitch and ho, but I never responded.
The next morning was pretty much the same. Bitches fucking with me, dissin' my ‘hood.' I didn't bother telling them that I had no hood, other than the ones on my sweatshirts. Them bitches were weird as hell. Most of them looked like fucking boys. We wore the same clothes, but their pants sagged, and they either had fades or cornrows. And the hoes, they looked feminine, but they were trying to fuck each other.
I was placed on the other side of the hall for my protection because, according to the short-ass supervisor, there were no gangbangers on the other side. They placed me in this double-bunked room with some heavy-set, freckle-faced, light-skin chick called Basil. As long as she didn't fuck wit' me, it was cool. And she was cool.
I was making up my bed, fastening the sheet around the edges, when she asked, “This your first time here?”
I nodded.
“What did you do?”
When I paused, she smiled. “It's okay. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just making conversation, girl. To tell the truth, I don't like talking about what I did either.”
I managed a half-smile.
She tossed something my way, a plastic bag with a white substance. I narrowed my eyes and frowned.
She giggled. “It's not what you think it is, girl. It's salt! The food here is fucking terrible.” She rubbed her bulging tummy. “Man, I sure miss Mama's food. She makes the best smothered pork chops. And her fried chicken, girl, it taste better than KFC.”
I nodded.
“Can your mom cook?”
I stiffened and said softly, “Yeah, she could cook.”
“I been here ten times, girl. My mom is pissed at me. I gotta get my shit together, so she won't have to keep missing work to come to my court dates. When you go to court?”
“The 14th.”
“Whatever you do, girl, don't piss the judge off, 'cause he can put our black asses away for a long time. My homegirl just got fifteen years in YA.”
My eyes widened. I wondered what YA was. I later found out that YA stood for Youth Authority and it was no joke.
“But you don't look like you did anything too bad, right?”
I eyed her. It was just a slick way for her to get in my business, to trick me into telling her what I did.
Basil talked me to fucking death, until we went down for showers. When we came back, it was lights out, and I drifted off to sleep.
“Aye! Aye!”
First my vision was blurry from sleep. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes. I gasped to see her sprawled across her bed, and finger-fucking herself, her legs bent out like chicken wings. I placed my hands over my mouth. Basil had her head thrown back and kept stroking herself so hard, I thought her pussy was gonna rip apart.
“Look! Look, Pierce!” she said, breathing hard, three fingers jammed inside her vagina. She sat up in the bed, moved closer to the edge close to me, and held her fleshy, fat-ass legs open. “Come on, come on!”
“Come on what?”
“Come on, you know, eat me, Pierce. Then I'll do you too.” Her feet and legs were in the air shaking as she tried to hold them up. She dropped them and grabbed them back.
“I'm not doing that gay shit. Take your nasty ass to sleep!” I threw the covers over my head and turned my back on her, so I didn't have to see that nasty-ass bitch.
She got real silent, so I thought she was doing like I said, and was gonna go to sleep.
A few moments later, I felt my eyelids start to get heavy and was about to drift right off when I felt a draft of air. I turned around to find the bitch in my bed, my blanket on the floor, and her fingers inching up my thighs to my pussy, her ass naked as a newborn baby.
“Bitch, I told you to stop that nasty shit!” I leaped on top of her big ass and punched her in the face, big-ass titties, and stomach until she started screaming loudly like a wild animal.
When she wouldn't fight back, I pounded her in her face. “Hit me back, nasty ass!” I jabbed her in her stomach, and she curled into a bowl of fat. I kept on punching her.
Her screaming got louder. Then footsteps were heard running down the hall to us. Staff was on me trying to get me off her naked ass.
“Move, shit! Y'all shouldn't have put me in the room with her nasty ass!”
They pulled me out of the room and dragged me down the hallway. Then they shoved me in another room, this time by myself.
After that incident, I was pretty much isolated because she was gang-affiliated. She was supposed to be a real hard bitch that was gunning for me. Ain't that a bitch. They were all a bunch of silly broads to me, so it didn't bother me much that I had to eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner alone. Cool, since I didn't really taste it anyway.
After lunch I was sent to this small office to see some psychologist bitch.
I'd like to see her white, privileged ass diagnose me
. With her perfectly straight blonde hair and headband that had a
C
written on it in glitter, she had some glasses on and some lip gloss. What the fuck was she gonna do for me, but give me a headache?

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