Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Molly's Life Part 9- Snitches Get Stitches aka My New Home Sweet Home

It has been about a month since we last met my dear reader! Writing at that last shelter was next to impossible. I was antagonized a lot and teased for being a book worm and staff pet etc. Apparently I am too much of a "goody two shoes".

So thirty days came and went at that deplorable place and once again the ultimatum was given to drop me off at human services headquarters on day 30 if I was not "placed" elsewhere. Once again, all of my belongings were stuffed into big trash bags. Once again I climbed into the city owned mini van headed to a new home. 

This time, the caseworker had found me a group home. This was a more permanent solution. It was with Catholic Social Services so I was kind of excited! Finally, I thought, here was a place I could fit. Somewhere I could feel comfortable to lay my head down at night.

Oh dear, dear reader, was I ever wrong.

When I first arrived for "intake' to the group home I noticed it was in a part of the city where I had never been before that day. They said it was the "north" part of the city. I grew up in the lower northeast but was excited to explore more of the city. I had been pretty sheltered and looked forward to spreading my wings and indulging my voracious curiosity.

I walked in to my new home bright eyed and bushy tailed. Some of the girls were standing around looking at me. I smiled and they looked away but remained standing near by until one of the "house moms", Ms. Justine told them to go find something to do. I was taken to the back office to fill out some paperwork and be assigned my bed linens and such. I had my own bed linens on the way from my last shelter but took the ones the director of the home offered with an enthusiastic smile.

The director, Ms. Karen, seemed really really nice! She asked me about school, my activities, my grades and helped me figure out what bus routes I would need to take to get to school and even the best times to take them so I would be at first period on time. She introduced me to the other girls in the house. Right now there are 4 other girls, though the house can take up to 6.

Sandy is a slightly heavyset red head with awesome curly long hair. A little frizzed but gorgeous. She wears glasses but talks like she is pretty "tough". I think she came from a bad neighborhood. She seems really friendly though and showed me where my bed was. I am room mates with June. June is a gorgeous Cambodian 13 year old girl. She is petite but has a well developed figure. She seems to be everyone's favorite in the house. Then there is Sheniqa. She barely said a word to me but the director told me a lot of girls come and go very quickly so people take time to warm up to each other here. I understand that. It seemed in the shelters as soon as I made a friend they were leaving or I was. Plus it is not like we have cell phones or any permanent numbers to stay in touch. The fourth girl was named Robin. She is tall and thin and kind of seems to be off by herself more than the others though the conversations she does have with them seem easy and full of laughter and smiles and jokes.

So all seems well right dear reader? I have finally found my home. Well, then I went to bed.

I awoke at night to some noise and quickly had a hand come down over my mouth as the blur of sleep cleared from my eyes. I was going to panic but June was standing there signaling to me to be quiet and explaining that they were just sneaking Sheniqa's boyfriend in the house. The bedroom that June and I shared has a room for the kitchen addition outside our window which apparently makes it easy for company that isn't approved to sneak into the house when we unlock the window. I was freaking out hoping that the neighbors don't see or that we don't get hurt or heard by the staff.

June and Sandy assured me Ms. Justine was in the staff bedroom asleep and she is a heavy sleeper and told me to go back to bed while Sheniqa snuck her boyfriend back to her room. Sheniqa has no room mate. Sandy and Robin share a room.

The next day Ms. Karen was driving me to school to get the group home added to my contact info at the school office. Ms. Swank, the disciplinarian, congratulated me on the more permanent residence and I really think she meant it! Ms. Swank never seems nice to anyone!

Here is where my trouble started. Ms. Karen, the director, was asking me questions about the home and the girls and what they have been doing. She acted like she knew something was happening that shouldn't be and it was best if I tell her. I am a horrible liar and figured she was testing me so I better come clean about boys being snuck in the house through the window. So I did. That was my first mistake. Ms. Karen acted like she already knew and thanked me for being honest. She said she was glad she could come to me and get the truth and that she would make sure I liked it there because she was happy to have honest girls in her house.

I was glad I passed the test and forgot all about it.

I guess Ms. Karen acted on the information and didn't even know about it until I told her! I was making my bed with my own sheets that had just arrived yesterday when a sheet came down over my head and I was knocked to the bed. I was being punched from all sides on the bed and couldn't even get the air to scream. tears were streaming down my face and I felt like I couldn't breathe. Next thing I know it stops and I hear Ms. Justine telling all the girls to go downstairs and telling me I am ok. But I guess I didn't look okay. I was all bruised including my face and Ms. Justine had to call Ms. Karen who came out late at night to look me over and call the police and file a police report. They wouldn't let me change. I was wearing my cutest night gown which was, in my opinion, much too skimpy to have male police officers looking at me while I was wearing it. I sat there shivering and scared until the police arrived. They said if I wanted to file a report I would have to come down to the station and let them take pictures of my face and such. I said well, can I get dressed? They said no! Something about needing me looking the way I did at the time of the assault! That just doesn't seem right, does it? You tell me dear reader! 

Then Ms. Justine mentioned that I would probably be out too late to make school tomorrow. I CANNOT miss school! The police officers agreed I would probably be at the station for an undisclosed number of hours. I was still debating whether to go file when Sandy walked up and said, "If you file a report and get anyone in trouble it will happen again and worse. If one of us gets in trouble the rest will kick your @$$."

The police officers told her to go upstairs and so did the director and Ms. Justine. My decision was made. I would be going to bed and not filing a report. 

June was nice to me when I went upstairs and helped me ice my face. She said nothing about the incident except this. "You shouldn't have snitched, yo. Snitches get stitches and end up in ditches"

Lesson learned. I will NOT be snitching again. Consequences be damned. Adults don't care unless they are using you anyway. At least if you stick to the code with the other kids in the system you are all on the same team. I know what team I want to play, dear reader. I am not a fan of having a bruised face and even more badly bruised ego.



Saturday, August 24, 2013

Molly's Life Part 8- Merry Christmas Everyone

I love the holidays, dear reader! They fill me with wonder and delight and the promises of better days to come! Even after tonight I still love them. Last time I wrote I didn't know where I was spending the night. I have been at the new shelter two days. They treat us all like we are criminals it seems. You know, dear reader (well at least I hope you know by now!) that I am NOT a troublemaker. I really do not appreciate being treated like one.

We all have chores on a schedule that we have to do each day. A few of the other kids here were refusing to do theirs so I started to do them to stop the arguing. I was in the other room figured it would not matter but the staff here really flipped out on me. Like I have no right to do chores that aren't mine. I considered giving them a definition of rights but didn't think it would help my case.

Tonight was Christmas Eve. Well one of my eyes is swollen shut but I guess it is morning now so it was last night. They are really strict about lights out and stuff here so I am writing in the near dark, just a touch of light from the window.

I was sitting in the "lounge" at a benched table we have for board games and such here. The "don't do extra chores" debacle was over so I was doing some reading for a school project. Apparently some of the kids think I am a "goody two shoes" now thanks to the rant of the staff member here. So one of them decided to throw a can of peas at my face to "teach me a lesson". I hate peas to start, dear reader! I will NEVER eat them again.

My eye waters pretty badly when I try to open it very much. So I am keeping it mostly closed. The headache is the worst part though.

They already gave us our Christmas presents. I got a brush and a dollar store version of a caboodles case. They are basic makeup cases if they don't have those in the future when you read this. I remember seeing all the donated toys for the organization that runs this place in piles and piles at the toy drives in the stores. I am not sure if seeing what some of these kids got makes me want to donate much better toys when I am an adult or found my own organization that treats kids with respect and trains it's staff better.

What would you do if you hit the lottery? I would get a house and car if I were a grown up. And then I would found a charity dedicated to making sure all these sob stories stop happening. That kids like all the ones I have met have a place to go. I think kids need a place to let off steam without the fear that grownups will interfere and make decisions for them. Somewhere they don't have to worry that the people hurting them will hear about it. I understand that people's conscience makes them want to help the poor innocent kids who cannot help themselves. Sometimes no adult can know better than the teenager who has lived their life for ten years in the same circumstances and somehow survived with their dignity intact and head held high.

I am starting to think everyone who acts out has a story. I have always scoffed at anyone not taking the time for homework or not making the grades or at least doing the extra credit if they need it. I am starting to understand that everyone has a story and they alone are the keeper. Just because you have a story doesn't mean it needs to be told.

I am going to tell you my story on behalf of all of those who cannot. Every kid and teenager I have met is smarter than the adults around them. They may not get good grades or have scholarships like I do but there is a lot I can learn from them.

I am finally feeling tired. I am going to grab some sleep. The wake up schedule is pretty strict here. Goodnight, dear reader!