Pushing Send

by Ally Derby

  Her sigh is exaggerated, “Let’s go, ladies.”

  Seanna and I follow Keller through the same door they took Lucia through, into a wide hall. The floor is grey, black, and white speckled, and the walls white—well, what I can see of them with my eyes focused down on the large, black boots YDA Keller wears in front of me.

  My anxiety is rising, and I wish someone would tell me something as we walk through what I assume is the cafeteria and turn down another hallway.

  “Three new residents today, Margaret.”

  “All right, one stays with me; one goes with you,” Margaret responds.

  “I’m gonna take the feisty one first. She’s suicide watch. Make sure she doesn’t forget to tell you that. Let’s go, Hadley.”

  I follow Keller down a narrow hall that is lit with florescent bulbs and has no natural light coming in. It reminds me of the police station, and I start to feel dizzy again. Regardless, I breathe deeply and will myself to move forward.

  Keller stops at the door and turns around, “Gonna take off the restraints. You good?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “Okay, turn around, please.”

  I do as I am asked, and Red squats down, then removes the shackles on my ankles. When she stands, Keller removes the wrist restraints.

  “All right, time for the search and delouse,” Red says, waving her hand toward the door Keller is opening.

  I stand in the middle of a locker-room-style bathroom that is stark white.

  “Clothes off and in the bag,” she says as she hands me a garbage bag. When I don’t take it right away, she shakes her head. “No extra staff today. If you fight me, we will get you stripped, deloused, showered, and in your uniform, so I suggest you do as you’re told, ‘cause in here, we can do it the hard way or the easy way.”

  I swallow hard and look up at her, “I don’t have lice.”

  “It’s policy and procedure. Rules are to be followed. We’ll drill that into your head.”

  “Do you think it’s okay to treat people like that? Do you think—”

  “Keller,” she yells to the door, “looks like I’m gonna need your help in here.”

  “No, no, you don’t. I want a lawyer. I have rights! I—”

  Keller walks in, looking angry. “Clothes in the bag, now.”

  “I will not. I will—

  He pushes a button on his radio.

  Over the PA, I hear, “Response team red to Medical Center Intake. Response team red to Medical Center Intake.”

  In seconds, Keller has my arms linked behind my back, and I struggle to pull away.

  “The more you fight, the worse it’s gonna be. This did not have to go down like this,” he hisses, “Could have done this yourself, dammit.”

  My sandals are yanked from my feet, and then I kick at Red while she reaches for the buttons on my pants. Keller’s leg hooks around me from behind, capturing my legs as I continue to fight. He is too strong, but I don’t care. Never in my life have I been so afraid.

  In one quick yank, my pants and underwear are at my knees, and two grey suits run in, grab my legs and hold them still as Keller unhooks his leg from around mine. Then my pants are pulled off by Red and the others.

  “You gonna stop this, kid, and do it yourself? Or do we need to continue this fight?” he hisses in my ear.

  “Screw you,” I cry, “you sick sons of bitches!”

  Once I am pushed into the wall in front of me, the two guards take my arms from him and hold them up above my head. I feel my shirt lift, and my sports bra is pulled up, as well.

  I try with everything I have to pull away. “No! No, no, no!” I scream, but my plea for help goes unnoticed as I am stripped bare in front of four complete strangers, one who is male.

  “You got this?” Keller growls.

  “Yep,” I hear one say.

  I look to my left as he heads out the door.

  “Miss Asher—”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “We would love to. Listen to me. This has to happen. There’s nothing we can do about it. We will make this as fast as we can, but the harder you fight, the less comfortable it’s going to be for all of us.”

  “I’m the one being abused! I’m the only one uncomfortable! Call me a damn lawyer! This is—”

  I feel my arms being yanked behind me again, and then I hear water running.

  “Last chance to do this on your own, kid. For God’s sake, make the right choice, or we will be forced to wash and delouse you. Please do the right thing.” Whoever the woman instructing me is, she seems to have emotions, but right now, I couldn’t care less.

  “Go to hell,” I snap at her.

  I am pushed under the running water of an open shower while my arms are hooked up behind my back.

  “Damn, kid,” Red snaps as she situates herself in front of me and holds up a container. “This lotion has to be put everywhere you have hair. Then it has to sit for ten minutes before it’s washed off. Is that something you want me to do?”

  “Get away from—” I stop when she pulls on a pair of rubber gloves and begins to dump the bottle labeled ‘RID’ into her gloved hand.

  Suddenly, I know there is no way in hell I am going to win. Three to one is not good odds.

  “I’ll do it!” I say as the water turns off, and she steps toward me.

  Once my hair and body hair are covered, I stand, shivering, still wet in the stall with three women—Red, a blonde woman, and an African-American woman.

  The African-American woman is not wearing a uniform. She has dreadlocks; small, circular glasses; and she looks less angry than the other two, who are soaking wet.

  After the ten minutes is up, the water begins again, and I am allowed to rinse. Then I am made to squat and cough, turn around, bend over, and spread my butt cheeks because they are looking for weapons or paraphernalia that are not allowed in the facility.

  I am in hell, and there is no forgiveness for sins, whether they are yours or not. No one here believes me; no one at school believes me. However, I know my parents question what happened, and I know they will do whatever they can to get me out of here.

  But will they be able to?

  The woman with dreads hands me two towels. “Mrs. Redder and Ms. Timms are going to give you some clothes, then bring you to my office. I am Mrs. Keller, your YDC, or Youth Division Counselor. You and I are going to sit down and have a talk.”

  I say nothing.

  “Hadley, do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “Mrs. Redder, when you are done, we have two more for transport. Rodney is getting the information.” Then she leaves.

  “Busy day today,” Red, or Mrs. Redder, says to Ms. Timms.

  Ms. Timms walks to a closet and opens it with the keys hanging from the orange spiral wristlet. “You a medium or small?”

  “Medium,” I answer quietly.

  “Aw, now she speaks.” Red laughs.

  “Well, I’m wrapped in a towel, freezing, and after being stripped down and forced into a shower, then being watched by three people, I want clothes.”

  “Your choice—”

  “Choice?” I say as I feel emotions build again.

  “We all have them—”

  “I choose to leave, then.”

  “A smart mouth and crappy attitude will get you nowhere, young lady,” she snaps at me.

  Unable to contain myself, I retort, “Seems to have landed you a job here.”

  She glares at me, and I hold her stare.

  “You are in for one hell of a rude awakening.”

  “Mrs. Redder, I have this.”

  “Excuse me,” she says to Timms.

  “You have transports, and Margaret is down the hall.”

  “There are rules here,” Redder reminds her.

  Timms looks at me, “Here you go: underwear, bra, shirt, pants, and we seem to be out of socks, so shower shoes until we get you socks and shoes.” She looks at Redder. “When she is dressed, I’ve got it.�
��

  “But—” Redder starts.

  “I know the rules. She and I will be fine. Netta is seeing her next, so she obviously believes she is calm enough to sit and talk. Besides, you are needed for transport.” The way she talks to Redder is professional and calm.

  I dress quickly while Ms. Timms stands in the doorway, giving me some privacy. The sooner I get away from Redder and get to this Netta Keller, the sooner I get out. I hope so, anyway.

  Once dressed, I clear my throat.

  Ms. Timms turns back and looks at me, “You ready?”

  I nod.

  “There are a lot of rules here, not all that you’ll like,” she says, as she motions for me to follow her. “They are all necessary for the safety and security of the residents and staff here, though.” She stops as we walk into the medical center, and I see Seanna sitting in a chair, covering her eyes. “Margaret, Netta wants to see Hadley. You need her for anything right now?”

  “Just the PPD test,” she says as she unlocks a cabinet. “Pull your sleeve up,” she instructs. “This is used to test if you have been exposed to tuberculosis.”

  I see her drawing medicine from a glass tube into a syringe. I hate shots, hate them.

  Ms. Timms looks at me. “Isn’t bad, I promise. Just goes under the skin. She marks it with a marker and checks it to see the results in a day. Again, it’s for the safety of all residents and staff.

  “Okay, pull up the sleeve.”

  I reluctantly do as asked, only because I notice Lucia is now shackled to a chair just outside the door, staring at me with a mischievous smirk.

  I don’t like her.

  I look at Timms while the nurse, Margaret, pricks me. I don’t flinch; I just stare back at Lucia. Lucifer.

  “Okay,” Nurse Margaret says as she places the plastic cap over the needle and discards it in the hazard box beside me on the wall. Then she takes a marker out of her hot pink and yellow flowered scrub shirt and marks my arm.

  “Let’s go,” Timms says, walking out the door.

  I glance down at Seanna, who has not moved, before walking out.

  We walk through a cafeteria, where the round tables have attached seats, and there are approximately thirty of them.

  “This is Café Tryon,” Timms says as she continues toward the large hall I walked in through. “Three times a day, you will come in and eat. From what I understand, the food is pretty good.” We walk out the set of large, metal doors she has to unlock first and then turn right down another hallway. “Administrative offices are down here. That’s where the director, assistant director, and YDC’s offices are. Normally, you would be taken to the Intake Unit directly after search and shower, but Mrs. Keller seems to want to chat with you.” She stops, unlocks the doors, and then we pass through. “Director Darrow’s office is first. Assistant Directors Fallen and Newcumber are here.” She points across the hall to two doors side by side. “YDC Keller’s office is here.”

  She leans in the open doorway. “Oh, sorry to interrupt, Netta and Isaiah.”

  “No. It’s fine. Just give us one minute,” I hear Mrs. Keller, or Netta, respond.

  When she looks back at me and smiles, I look down.

  “See you at home. Love you,” I hear Mrs. Keller say from inside the door.

  Mr. Keller walks out of the room and looks at me, his lips forming a straight line. “You good?”

  I nod once, and then he walks away.

  “Come on in, Hadley,” she calls from inside.

  Timms walks in behind me.

  “Have a seat.” She looks up at Timms. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  Timms puts her hand on my shoulder, “You’re going to be fine.”

  When she closes the door behind me, Mrs. Keller pushes a file toward me. “This is everything documented about Hadley Asher, a very small file. You can look if you’d like. You are a great student, not even a write up all through school until the incident happened. I know there are two sides to a story—”

  “Can you please tell me why I am here? I mean, really why? I didn’t push post. I didn’t do what they think. I—” The tears don’t fall; they pour. It figures, the minute I find my voice again, I drown it in tears.

  She leans forward, hands me a tissue, and shakes her head slowly. “Hadley, I want you to know this is a first for me. I have never seen something like this. I don’t know how they think they can charge you with manslaughter because a girl killed herself. It makes no sense to me, and trust me, I have been looking all over the internet, trying to find a newly placed law or something that makes sense here. Nothing does.” Confusion must show in my face because she continues, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No, I want to know.”

  “A judge obviously gave a warrant. I know your parents have contacted a lawyer—”

  “Did you talk to them?” I gasp out.

  “Yes, they called here about a half an hour after you left then again an hour ago, just as you got here.”

  “Are they okay?” I don’t know why I ask this. She doesn’t know them. For a moment, I wish my voice had stayed lost.

  “No, Hadley, they are not. They are as perplexed about all the things going on, as I am and so is the lawyer.”

  “Can I talk to them? Can I—?”

  “Hadley, we have rules, ones I have to go by. I will tell you that they are coming here Saturday and that your lawyer is working hard to get you into court. But I don’t want to get your hopes up, okay? I am your counselor here. I can help with many things, but you have to want it just as badly as I want to give it to you.”

  “I want it. I swear I want it.”

  “What happened at Intake cannot happen again.”

  I have no idea how I pushed passed being pissed over Intake, but maybe it’s because each moment in here seems worse than the moment before.

  “Hadley, Mr. Keller—”

  “Your husband.”

  “Yes,” She nods. “He is not okay with what went on, not in the slightest. He really thought you would do as you were told and what you forced him into—”

  “They stripped me,” I say, scowling down at my lap.

  “You gave them no choice, Hadley.”

  I fiddle with my hands because I guess she is right, but… “It doesn’t seem right.”

  “I understand, but the rules are here to keep everyone safe and the facility secure. Do you understand?”

  I nod.

  “Okay. Look at me, Hadley.” I look up. “I am not your enemy. The staff is not your enemy. You are the only person in here who can be your enemy. Follow the rules, keep to yourself, and wait this out. You have me here and your family at home, working to help you.”

  I swallow hard. “Thank you.”

  “Okay, so next you go to the Direction Unit. I don’t know how long you’ll be there. You should find out more soon. But, Hadley, just follow directions.”

  chapter nine

  Intake

  I follow Mrs. Keller through the light gray halls toward a door that leads outside.

  “This is quad C. It has four buildings, one being Intake.” She points behind her then left. “Direction Unit is where you will be staying for now. You’ll learn the rules while you stay at Direction Unit. If you do well, you’ll move from here to Adjustment Unit, then Changeover Unit.” She points to all the buildings surrounding us. “Then, you can possibly be moved to Privilege Unit. With each movement, there is less structure, more responsibility, and more freedom within the facility.”

  She grabs the key on her wristband and sticks it in the lock. As she turns the key, my stomach mimics its motion.

  For a moment, I look to my left, seeking an escape.

  “Hadley, think about what I have said. I cannot help you if you don’t help yourself. Do yourself a favor and think about this.”

  I feel my breathing become more rapid as Mrs. Keller holds the door open wider and whispers, “One step at a time.”

  Two women in grey uniforms stand up fro
m a shared table at the opposite side of the wide open room when we walk in.

  “This is Hadley. She is to be added to your count,” Mrs. Keller says as she walks toward them, and I follow. “Hadley, this is Ms. Hanson”—she points to the younger, dark-haired woman and then the older woman with the long, brown ponytail—“and Mrs. Reaves. They will give you a handbook of rules and expectations. Read it, learn it, and obey. Things will go much smoother that way.” She turns to the guards, “Need anything from me?”

  They shake their heads, and she turns to leave. I turn with her. I don’t really like the woman, but she is the first person I have felt was on my side since I left my parents.

  “Can’t I go with you?” There is a plea in my voice.

  She turns back, slowly shakes her head, and gives me a sad smile, “Read the handbook, Hadley.”

  When she walks away, I turn when my name is called.

  “Come with me, and we will get you set up.” Hanson walks toward the wall and looks back at me. “Come on, we have a very structured program that you need to learn as quickly as possible.” I stand next to her, following her finger as she points to a large, framed poster. “Direction Unit’s rules are posted here. They are also in your handbook. Not too hard to learn. Everything you do is directed, leaving zero reasons to screw up.” Before I have time to read them, she is moving again. “Come on.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “Just follow direction. That’s it. Simple.” She walks toward a closet and uses her keys to open it. “Sheets, pillow case, blanket,” she says as she pulls each stark white item off its labeled shelf and hands them to me. Next, I am given two pairs of white pajamas, underpants, sports bras, a tee shirt, a pair of sweats, two pairs of socks, and a blue terrycloth bathrobe.