remember thinking this: none of those boys looked like criminals to me. They looked like they could have been boys back at my middle school! Or down to the high school where I should have been a freshman. . . .
After we ate, us new kids had orientation in the prison office. First thing a nurse took our temperature. I guess to make sure we werenât sick and bringing in some awful disease. Then we got our hair shaved off and were told to get undressed. We had to put on the Cliffside uniform, which was a white T-shirt, blue pants they called Dickies, and a blue sweatshirt with the name of Cliffside Youth Center on it. Guess they didnât want to advertise the âdetentionâ part of the name. Everything we wore that day, like my jeans, my shirt, even the L.L. Bean watch that my grampa gave me when I turned twelve, all that stuff got put into a bag and sent home. It was like prison stripped away who you were.
Then we had a lecture about how weâd have to do chores and go to school, stuff like that. Get this: we would get a dollar a week and two stamps. And weâd be allowed to make two twenty-minute phone calls.
It was really humiliating. All of it. But donât forget, I had just ridden out to that place in a prison van with handcuffs and shackles on my feet. I was already beaten down from being in court. I was accepting things as they came because I was guilty. I had done wrong, and I was willing to pay for it. So I went with the program. I wasnât scheming to get out or anything. Not then. Even with Tio and a couple of them others, I probably couldâve done the time. But then Mom came to visit, and, like I said, I needed to get home to protect her and somehow fix things.
After we put our uniforms on, they piled up our arms with a load of supplies: sheets, pillowcase, two blankets, socks, boxers, another T-shirt, another pair of blue Dickies, light blue pajamas, a black field jacket, gloves, a wool hat, and boots. But before we left for the dormitory we had to put everything down and fill out a bunch of paperwork about our education and sign promises to obey the school rules. It was pretty basic stuff like: âWhen the teacher is talking, be quiet and listen . . . Raise your hand to be recognized . . . No writing in your textbooks . . . Always do your best work.â We had to promise not to send emails, or download any pornography or gun material from the school computers.
A lot of rules. Later, when we got a tour of the place, I saw a sign in the rec centerâand donât get the wrong idea that this rec center was some incredible entertainment place. It wasnât even like a big room or anything, just the basement of a cabin that had a pool table, a TV, and some video games. It all seemed pretty low-key, but when you walked in, a big sign said: N O F EET ON W ALLS . Which made me think it got kind of rowdy in there sometimes.
Finally, we had to sign a pledge acknowledging that âeveryone has the right to be treated with respect.â Which brings me to my good friend, Tio.
Tio arrived same time as J.T. and me, but in the other van which had brung kids from Baltimore and some place called Montgomery County. First thing you notice about Tio is that his head is like too big for his body, which is short, but really muscular. I think he must have worked out with weights and stuff. Second thing you notice about Tio is his thick, dark curly hair. Let me tell you, there was a mass of it before they shaved it off, which left his head looking like a shiny melon. A real melonhead.
Next thing you see is either the cold look Tio had in his eyes, or else all his tattoos. He was covered with âemâhis hands, his arms, the back of his neck, even his face had a little design on it, up near his ear, and a single-digit number was tattooed at the corner of his eye. I couldnât help but stare at Tio âcause he was the most weird-looking
After we ate, us new kids had orientation in the prison office. First thing a nurse took our temperature. I guess to make sure we werenât sick and bringing in some awful disease. Then we got our hair shaved off and were told to get undressed. We had to put on the Cliffside uniform, which was a white T-shirt, blue pants they called Dickies, and a blue sweatshirt with the name of Cliffside Youth Center on it. Guess they didnât want to advertise the âdetentionâ part of the name. Everything we wore that day, like my jeans, my shirt, even the L.L. Bean watch that my grampa gave me when I turned twelve, all that stuff got put into a bag and sent home. It was like prison stripped away who you were.
Then we had a lecture about how weâd have to do chores and go to school, stuff like that. Get this: we would get a dollar a week and two stamps. And weâd be allowed to make two twenty-minute phone calls.
It was really humiliating. All of it. But donât forget, I had just ridden out to that place in a prison van with handcuffs and shackles on my feet. I was already beaten down from being in court. I was accepting things as they came because I was guilty. I had done wrong, and I was willing to pay for it. So I went with the program. I wasnât scheming to get out or anything. Not then. Even with Tio and a couple of them others, I probably couldâve done the time. But then Mom came to visit, and, like I said, I needed to get home to protect her and somehow fix things.
After we put our uniforms on, they piled up our arms with a load of supplies: sheets, pillowcase, two blankets, socks, boxers, another T-shirt, another pair of blue Dickies, light blue pajamas, a black field jacket, gloves, a wool hat, and boots. But before we left for the dormitory we had to put everything down and fill out a bunch of paperwork about our education and sign promises to obey the school rules. It was pretty basic stuff like: âWhen the teacher is talking, be quiet and listen . . . Raise your hand to be recognized . . . No writing in your textbooks . . . Always do your best work.â We had to promise not to send emails, or download any pornography or gun material from the school computers.
A lot of rules. Later, when we got a tour of the place, I saw a sign in the rec centerâand donât get the wrong idea that this rec center was some incredible entertainment place. It wasnât even like a big room or anything, just the basement of a cabin that had a pool table, a TV, and some video games. It all seemed pretty low-key, but when you walked in, a big sign said: N O F EET ON W ALLS . Which made me think it got kind of rowdy in there sometimes.
Finally, we had to sign a pledge acknowledging that âeveryone has the right to be treated with respect.â Which brings me to my good friend, Tio.
Tio arrived same time as J.T. and me, but in the other van which had brung kids from Baltimore and some place called Montgomery County. First thing you notice about Tio is that his head is like too big for his body, which is short, but really muscular. I think he must have worked out with weights and stuff. Second thing you notice about Tio is his thick, dark curly hair. Let me tell you, there was a mass of it before they shaved it off, which left his head looking like a shiny melon. A real melonhead.
Next thing you see is either the cold look Tio had in his eyes, or else all his tattoos. He was covered with âemâhis hands, his arms, the back of his neck, even his face had a little design on it, up near his ear, and a single-digit number was tattooed at the corner of his eye. I couldnât help but stare at Tio âcause he was the most weird-looking
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