“You’re not allowed to talk to your boyfriend?” I just wrote a letter to my best friend. I’m still waiting for a response from Desiree but she’s probably so busy with community service and stuff.
The bed creaks as Samantha settles in. She sighs. “I forget how long it takes to learn how everything works around here. You can write to friends and family members, but you can only speak on the phone to your parents,” she says. “Even if they’re the ones that put you here. And it has to be a scheduled call.”
I’m grateful for her willingness to break this down for me in the middle of what seems like a hard night for her. I hope having me to talk to makes her feel a little better about whatever is going on, and that she might even share it with me.
“What if you don’t have parents?” I ask.
“Then it’s whoever is in charge of you, I guess,” she says.
“Oh okay, got it. That sucks.”
“It does, and Mark is on probation anyway, so that makes it worse.”
I cover my mouth to catch the loud gasp that was on its way out. I don’t know how else to ask my question so I just blurt it out. “Your boyfriend was in prison?”
Samantha chuckles. “No, just jail. Probation, not parole!” she says.
I nod, forgetting she can’t see it in the dark.
“Anyway, he’s innocent. It was a wrong place, wrong time kind of thing.”
I can’t help but think of how I ended up here.Wrong place, wrong time kind of thing. “Okay, so jail, but how old is he?” I ask. “And wait, how old are you?”
She lets out a laugh. “You’re funny. He’s nineteen and I’m almost seventeen.”
“Got it.”
“There’s something else, but you have to swear you won’t tell anyone. Someone is already in my business,” she says.
“Yeah, of course,” I say, happy that she trusts me with any information at all.
“He’s supposed to come to get me next week, but now they took my call privileges away.”
“Wait, you’re leaving? Isn’t that good?”
She doesn’t respond right away. When she does, her tone has shifted. She sounds serious. “Jasmine, I’m running. I got extended six months for some BS, so I’m out of here.”
I stare hard at the dull neon stars stuck on the ceiling and remember what Amari told me about running—or “going AWOL.” I have no idea how to respond, and I don’t want her to think I’m judging her. I’m happy to have her talking to me and hope we can talk more.
The silence doesn’t seem to bother Samantha, though, because she continues. “Mark is waiting for an update but now I can’t call him. So yeaaah,” she finishes with a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry someone did that, but you’ll figure it out,” I finally say, my voice cracking under the weight of the secret, and my new loyalty to Samantha.
“Yeah, and thanks for listening, Jasmine,” she says.
“Anytime, Samantha.”
The sliver of hallway light underneath our door goes out and we’re in complete darkness. I feel the heaviness of my eyes as they try to adjust. I’m tired. I hear a shuffle below me and the sound of slow breathing as Samantha falls asleep. I wonder how long she’s been waiting to get that off her chest.
The faint noise of footsteps means that night staff is making their rounds. I close my eyes and replay the conversation in my head until the thoughts start getting jumbled. It was nice to laugh with someone before bed, and I can imagine being friends with Samantha. I’d like that.
I doze off thinking about more nights like this. I hope she doesn’t leave.
10
When Saturday comes, I’m surprised by my growing excitement about Alice’s sleepover. I decide this is the perfect time to finally respond to Amari’s email. I know that right now, I won’t overthink it. I dash off a response:I’m thinking of you, but I’m still winning back my mom’s trust, and it’s risky for me to be in touch. I hope you’re well.—Jasmine.
I close my laptop and turn to my closet to pick out an outfit for tonight.
