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he could do.
No more questions. No tests. Not even
the rush of a strip search.
They marched me down to a
holding cell, gave me four solid
hours to wonder what came next.
No word from my family. Not
Kristina’s. Surely not Bree’s.
They took my clothes, gave me
baggy gray sweats, assigned me
a bed in the dormitory.
I joined the general population.
I wonder where that term came from.
They were not general at all.
Roomie #1, Lucinda, was a gangbanger,
involved in a drive-by.
Roomie #2, Felice, was in for wrecking
a Caddie, carjacked at knifepoint.
Roomie #3, Rose, had beaten up
her mother—with the butt of her gun.
Of course, she had a good excuse.
All of us had one thing in common:
a total infatuation with the monster.
Tell you the truth, that scared me
a little. But not that much.
Tough Girls
I let Bree do my trash talking.
Kristina stuck with honesty.
Somehow, Lucinda and I found an odd rapport.
And by the time Chase called my parents
