Pushing Send

by Ally Derby

  “It’s in Mr. and Mrs. Jamison’s reports. They wonder if Lana got the pills from your home.”

  “She was never there long enough. We were always at her house, and my father’s medication is because of his pain from an injury. Why would they do that to him? Talk about him? It’s me they hate. They want to see someone hang, don’t they? Why would they do this?”

  He shakes his head. “Hadley, they have to blame someone. Unfortunately, they are an affluent family, and you are—”

  “Nothing. Nobodies.”

  “New to the community. It makes for an easy target.”

  “So tell me what I should do. I just want them to leave me alone, not talk about my family, because them believing I didn’t do it seems hopeless.”

  “You and your parents have to make that choice. I can’t do it for you.”

  “Then what would you advise? That’s your job, right? To advise me?”

  “The deal puts you here for a year. Court is never a guarantee.”

  “Do I have to choose now?” I ask in a broken, tear-filled voice.

  “You need to speak to your folks about that. I am just giving you the options.”

  “Why isn’t my mom here?”

  “Well, she went to Buffalo for a couple days for work,” he answers. “She said she would be here for her Saturday visit and talk then. I ’can’t make it tomorrow, so I came today.”

  “Why isn’t she working at the shop?”

  He looks at me, shaking his head slightly. “It’s been slow.”

  Realization strikes that her business is dying, just like Lana did, all because of me.

  He stands. “Any other questions for me, Hadley?”

  I shake my head.

  “All right, then. I will see you in two weeks to—”

  “Two weeks?” I gasp.

  “Yes, dear. These things take time. Mrs. Keller assures me you are doing very well in here. Keep it together. If we go to court, we need the support of the people in here.”

  When he walks out, I stand.

  “Hadley, I am here for you to talk to, so talk to me.”

  I shrug and shake my head. “Two more weeks in here… I can’t … I can’t—”

  “There is no other choice, Hadley. We will get you through this.” She points to the chair, and I sit down, trying to catch my breath that has been stolen by panic. “I see that you haven’t made any phone calls or approved anyone’s mailing address.”

  “What?” I shake my head. “No, no one ever told me I had to approve anything. I just got told I could make calls on Wednesdays and Sundays.”

  “It should have been done at Intake.” She seems annoyed. “You have ten minute calls. I will have your unit YDA set the times for your days. As far as mail goes, I have four letters in your file. You need to approve the senders, and we have to open and skim them so we know there isn’t any contraband.”

  She radios CS, or Central Services, and asks that someone bring them down with the proper form for me to fill out.

  It only takes seconds before YDA Redder brings them in.

  “She has been here too long to not have this done,” Mrs. Keller says firmly. “It should have been passed on to her unit that it needed to be done.”

  “Well, it was a little crazy—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Each resident has rights, YDA Redder,” she says in an annoyed tone. “All set.”

  Redder disappears out the door.

  “ ’Kay, here is the form. Add any address or name you would like to approve, and we will check to make sure they weren’t involved in the reason you are here.”

  “Just my parents and my half-brother JJ,” I say as I take the pen she extends to me and write their address down.

  I see her shuffle through the envelopes. “Not Bee, or Skylar, or Pax … Oh, maybe not Pax. Is he the brother of—?”

  “Yes, but why would he be writing?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know you shouldn’t be in contact with him.”

  “Okay, but … I just want to know how they are. I swear, Mrs. Keller, I never—”

  “You want me to read this and tell you what it says?”

  “Yes,” I say quickly. “Yes, please.”

  “Okay, but I am telling you I can’t approve this without your lawyer advising that it’s okay. Not because I am cruel or uncaring, but—”

  “I understand.”

  I wait rather impatiently to hear what the letter says. As she skims through it, I read the emotions on her face. I don’t know if I want to hear what it says, but I know I need to. Don’t I?

  She looks up at me and smiles. “You need to worry about you and not them.”

  Fear chills my body, and my lungs seemingly refuse to give me the air I need to fill them.

  Hadley,

  I am not sure why I am writing or if I should be. I am not sure, because I have no idea what happen to you or how I could have believed you were different than the rest of the people in Blue Valley or the world, for that matter.

  I thought you were good. Hell, I still question if I was wrong, and you were hiding a part of you, a part that I had never seen that was mean, vindictive, and manipulative. I wonder if you could be the kind of person with the mindset it would take to do something like that, something so intentionally malicious, knowing it would hurt someone.

  Regardless of who Hadley Asher truly is, I want you to know I hope you’ll be okay someday. Regardless of who Hadley Asher truly is, I hope you can see your way back to who I believed you to be. Regardless of who Hadley Asher truly is, I hope—no, pray—that the girl I thought I knew can find a way out of the darkness that must be surrounding her, because I know it’s surrounding me.

  Truly regardless,

  Pax

  When she finishes, she hands me the letter as she opens the other two. She ’doesn’t read them, only skims through them and shakes out the envelopes, no doubt looking for some sort of weapon or something I could dig myself out of here with.

  I don’t care at all because I’m still hung up on “Truly regardless, Pax.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as she hands me the letters.

  “No.”

  “It sounds like he knows the girl I see inside, the girl your parents know you are, Hadley. I’m guessing these two know you, too.” She stands. “I’ll walk you to your unit as soon as you finish your lunch.”

  “I’d like to go now. I’m not hungry.”

  “Hadley, you have to eat.”

  “I don’t feel well. I just want to go back and lie down. Can I please just go back and—” I stop as I feel tears spring up.

  “Please drink your milk.”

  “Lactose intolerant.” My voice cracks.

  “Right, then why do they keep giving it to you?” Mrs. Keller’s voice waivers. I look up at her to see she tries to hide her emotions. “I’m sorry, Hadley. I’m truly sorry.”

  I eat some crackers, hoping that will help me get out of here and into my room. Then I take two bites of my apple and put it back down.

  She gives me a sad smile and nods. “Thank you,” she says. “Let’s take your tray back.”

  ~*~

  I lie in my bed, reading the letters from Bee and Skylar. Bee tells me she is sorry I am here. She also says she gave my mom some books to bring when she visits next, and she hopes we can correspond via mail about the books.

  Skylar’s is much shorter. She, too, is sorry. She wishes me the best and would like to believe she knows who I truly am and that I would never intend to hurt Lana. She is struggling and misses us both very much.

  I go to dinner with my unit and eat as I see Mrs. Keller and the nurse watching to make sure I am.

  That night, I lie in bed and try to sleep, but I can’t. Everything about today weighs on me heavily: the lawyer; knowing my mother has no work; knowing Pax is hurting; Skylar is hurting; and Bee is trying to support me in her own way, but she is also hurting.

  I roll to my side and count the bri
cks on the wall. Sheep are too sweet, too pure, and too innocent to be invited behind the razor wire here at Tryon, a place where criminals like me are contained so they cannot hurt anyone else.

  There was a young girl who committed a crime. I don’t know why she committed a crime. Perhaps she’ll fry, I think to myself.

  A crime that really isn’t defined, but it will be in order to make an example to the rest of the world of bullies.

  I never liked bullies, never liked drama, always kept to myself until I didn’t, until I was so embarrassed by my mother that I ran to the yard of a stranger to make fun of my mom in order to make myself feel better. The stranger who made me laugh and feel less like a freak is now dead. Her moment of kindness to me caused her death, her moment of kindness to a freak, an unsociable girl, a girl who should have never laughed behind her mother’s back. A mother whose kindness and caring to other people and animals trumped her happiness, or did it cause her happiness?

  My head spins, and my stomach aches as I continue to try to figure it out in my mind.

  There was a young girl who tried to fit in. I don’t know why she tried to fit in. Perhaps she’ll fry.

  There was a young girl who made a video to please the host. I don’t know why she tried to fit in. Perhaps she’ll fry.

  There was a young girl who erased the post of the video she made to please the host. She made the video to try to fit in. I don’t know why she tried to fit in. Perhaps she’ll fry.

  There was a young girl who went to school. She tried to act normal to please her folks after deleting the post. I don’t know why she tried to fit in. Perhaps she’ll fry.

  There was a young girl who broke just one rule. She broke a rule so she could save face because she committed a crime by making a video to please the host. She dropped the phone and is said to have pressed send. She ruined a friend. I don’t why she ruined a friend. Perhaps she’ll fry.

  I try to allow my eyes to close, but when I do, I see Lana lying in Paxton’s arms as he cries.

  Perhaps I should fry.

  ~*~

  I watch through the shatterproof glass as my mother comes in for her visit. She smiles at Redder, who doesn’t return the smile.

  I want to smack that bitch. Yes, I said bitch. The woman is pure evil. She derives pleasure from making other people feel like crap. I know she does. She is a damn bully.

  Mom walks in after she has been berated by the bitch standing guard, but she has a smile on her face. I stand when she walks in, and she hugs me tightly, then quickly pushes me back.

  “Let me look at you.” She smiles as she inspects me from head to toe. “No bruises, phew,” she says with sigh. “You look better, so much better. Tell me what’s gone on this week. Every detail.”

  “Hi, Mom,” I say as I sit, and she sits next to me.

  She looks at me adoringly. “Hi, sweet girl.”

  It takes me only a moment to break the silence since, at this moment, she appears to have taken a breath. “I moved units. I’m in the Guidance Unit. There is much more freedom.”

  “Oh, good, I am so glad.”

  I nod. “There aren’t as many issues.” I pause, realizing she is hanging on to every word as if it’s her lifeline, and I know it is. “I really think Mrs. Keller believes me. She even said she’d go to court for me.”

  “Oh, good, that’s wonderful.”

  “I … um …” I pause because what more is there to talk about? Every day is the same. I say nothing to anyone.

  “Friends?” she asks.

  I allow myself to smile. “Do you really want me to make friends in here, Mom?”

  She looks around the room and smirks. “Well, maybe some of the girls are in here due to circumstances like you.”

  “Right.” I nod. I dig deep, needing to give her something. Regardless of what everyone else thinks, I am not a criminal or a liar, and I don’t want my “circumstance” to turn me into one, either. “There is a girl who seems nice, Seanna. She’s quiet, but if I had to pick someone to be friends with in here, I would pick her.”

  “Well, see, there’s some sunshine.”

  “Yes.” I nod. “I got a couple letters.”

  “From?”

  “Bee and Skylar wrote.” I leave out Pax. It’s a lie of sorts, though not really.

  “Right.” She smiles. “I gave the guard there a bag. She is looking through it now. It’s just some approved items on the list in the parents’ orientation booklet.”

  The way she says orientation booklet makes me think of a camp of sorts. Sunshine and positivity is what Pammy Asher brings to the table, and it’s needed now more than ever.

  “They said they would bring it in after it’s searched. I brought some scrunchies, a brush, an MP3 player loaded with music I thought you’d like—”

  “An MP3 player?”

  She smiles. “Before iPhones, they were the gadget to have. It’s hard to find anything that doesn’t connect to Wi-Fi now, but I did.”

  “Mom, I know what they are, but you really shouldn’t have.”

  “Of course I should have. I also brought a stuffed animal, one that looks like Yolo, and a few notepads without metal. I know you must want to write.”

  “Mom, I don’t have a stuffed animal that looks like Yolo,” I say.

  “You do now. It’s one of those really soft and fluffy ones, too. Beautiful, almost as good as the real thing.”

  “Please tell me you had it declawed,” I say with a smirk.

  She laughs, like really laughs, and then I see tears welling. “I did.”

  I hug her tightly. “I love you, Mom, and appreciate it, but honestly, I am fine. Please don’t spend any more money on me.”

  “Well, we had some extra,” she says, kissing my cheek.

  “The lawyer said you went to Buffalo for work. I know there isn’t extra.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. There is enough to pay him and buy you a lovable version of Yolo.”

  “Did you rob a bank?” I laugh.

  “No, I took some money out against the house.”

  “Mom,” I huff.

  “Don’t you fuss, sweet girl. Plus, your dad is going to find work soon.” She smiles. “It’ll all be fine.”

  chapter twelve

  One month later …

  Three days after Mom’s visit, Seanna is moved to G Unit.

  “Are you nervous?” Seanna asks as she braids my hair so tightly I know my eyes are slanting.

  “I would be lying if I said no. I’m actually terrified. I just want out of here,” I whisper, knowing we shouldn’t be talking about “community” things.

  “I will miss you, but I want you to be released, too,” she says with a sincere, yet sad tone.

  “You’ll be next to walk out of here. I know you will, Seanna,” I whisper back.

  “No, I’m here for two years, minimum. That’s what the court-appointed lawyer told me.”

  “You don’t deserve to be in here.”

  “I took a life,” she whispers.

  “He stole something from you, too, Seanna,” I say louder as I turn to look at her. “Besides, you’re pregnant. You’ll have to get out in less than eight months.”

  “No, the baby will go into foster care, maybe get adopted.”

  “But you said you might want to keep it.”

  “When I think of this child and me, I believe I can do it. When I think that it is part my rapist’s, I don’t know.” Tears fall from her eyes. “It’s not the baby’s fault, and I think he or she deserves parents who aren’t murderers.”

  “You did what you had to do to survive.”

  “A life is a life. I took one. How do I deserve—”

  “You’re the one always saying God forgives. Well, I know he has forgiven you, and he gave you a child, Seanna.”

  “Poor kid.” She smiles as she rubs her tiny, flat belly.

  “Well, whatever you decide—”

  “Whatever God leads me to decide,” she corrects in a very
soft, yet firm voice.

  “That, too.” I smile. “Whatever it is will be best for you both.”

  “Ten minutes, Hadley,” YDA Austin yells over to me from her seat.

  “You look as white as…” Seanna smiles. “Well, you’re always white, but even whiter now. You’ll be fine.” She frowns. “I don’t want to see you back here.”

  “Do you promise me you’ll keep reading?” I whisper, as she tightens the braid and then fastens the end with a hair tie.

  “I will try,” she says, as she sits back.

  “No trying, doing. You are doing great.”

  “Thanks to you.” She nods to me.

  I have been teaching Seanna to read, and she’s been doing so well. She lacks confidence, though. I can understand, but reading, which I don’t allow myself to do for pleasure anymore, can open a whole new world for her.

  “No, you wanted to learn, and it gave me the excuse I needed to allow myself to enjoy one thing in this place. You’re that one thing, Seanna. Remember, I live in—”

  “Pleasant Valley,” she jokes.

  “Blue Valley,” I whisper. “When you get out, just call anyone in that town. Lord knows they all know me.”

  “Pray with me?” She grabs my hands, and I try to pull away, not wanting to get in trouble, but she holds tight. “God, please watch over Hadley. Help her through the darkness and into truth’s light. Guide the judgments of those who seek to pass it when we believers know only You can judge. Let her release be in Your glory. Amen.”

  “Amen.”

  “Amen.” I look up to see Mrs. Keller. “Okay, Hadley, let’s go.”

  ~*~

  At one o’clock, we pull up in front of the Tompkins County courthouse, and Mrs. Keller looks in the back of the van. My eyes meet hers, and she swallows hard.

  “Focus right here, Hadley. Eyes on me.”

  “There’s—”

  “I know, but right here, right now, it’s you, me, and Mr. Keller.” She opens the door and gets out of the van, then opens the slider and gets in next to me before shutting the door. “I’m going to unshackle you,” she says, as she shrugs off her sweater. “This will go over your wrist cuffs.”