interlude: Madison

Madison didn’t feel like it was… her. She felt like a puppet, all strings. And right now, her memory came in flashes.

“All rise.” That had been one memory.

“What about her other activities?” A meeting with her lawyer, her mom wanting to bring up violin practice.

And the lawyer’s words. “Trust me, Mrs Clements, reminding the judge of all of the benefits your daughter enjoyed would be an extremely poor stretegy.”

“Do you plead guilty?” Another memory.

“Yes, si-Your Honor.”

“And there has been no threat or offer of payment in return for this plea?”

“No.”

“Mr. And Mrs. Clements, do you agree with your daughter’s decision to forgo her rights to a trial?”

The lawyer had explained that. Mom and Dad couldn’t make Madison plead guilty, but they could refuse to allow the court to accept her guilty plea.

But they didn’t.

“Very well, we’ll… return for sentencing and victim impact statements on Friday.”

Three days.

She went home, and they ate dinner, saying nothing. Then she went into her room full of dolls and stuffed toys, Mr. Suggles curled up on his pillow, the tabby’s tail flicking.

She hugged him.

And then, it seemed like no time passed, and she was back in court. And Taylor Hebert rose to give her victim impact statement.

“I am confident the court will come to a proper decision,” the girl she’d tormented said, then turned to the judge. “But I hope the court will keep in mind the fact that Madison’s religion would put her at risk in certain Bay institutions.”

Then she turned and went back and sat down with her father.

That was it?

But then it was time to be sentenced.

“Ms. Clements, this court sees many crimes. Some of them are of passion. Some of them are fueled by drugs, some of them by prejudice. Your crime was fueled by none of those. Not hatred, not fear, not even greed. It was fueled by sadism. The enjoyment of watching someone hurt, for not other reason than you can hurt them.”

Madison’s parents were in the audience. And they were saying nothing. Because the judge was right.

Please go out. Please don’t look at me. Please…

But Mom and Dad didn’t leave. Just listened as the Judge continued to speak.

“Text message, June 4th,” the judge’s voice rolled through the room. “Taylor spent so much time working on that project. Mad’s, you got the juice? I’ll distract her!” “March 7th. ‘She’s hiding! She’s eating her lunch in the bathroom. We gotta get someone to hold the door on her, so Mr. Quinlin will mark her tardy again. He never listens to her…’ And, of course, the final incident. ‘U got the stuff? It’s gross! Make certain to be there before her, gonna want pictures!’”

Madison felt pins and needles all over her skin, but she knew everyone was looking at her. Everyone was looking at the ugly, ugly girl, now that they wouldn’t be fooled by hair pins and makeup. Her parents, her friends…

But did you have any?  Ems was Crazy and Sophia had never bothered to call from where she went, and Julie and the rest had broken records in throwing Madison under the bus.

“If there are any mitigating circumstances, it is the fact that much of the faculty were flagrantly, inexcusablylax in their duties. The court-appointed psychologist agrees that this could have been shut down in the beginning. Had they acted, maybe things would not have gotten so bad—but there were many students at Winslow who faced an equally apathetic faculty, and none of them came close to your actions. For that reason, I cannot, in good faith, accept that fact as a mitigation in terms of your sentence. Ms. Clements, I hereby sentence you to one year of confinement at the Gregson Youth Detention Facility, subject to evaluation by the state Board of Parole Hearings. However, you will serve, at a minimum, eight months. After that, you will be placed under a probation agreement until your 18th birthday. Make no mistake, while you are under probation, you will be observed and your actions will be subject to a number of restrictions. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Her parents would be allowed to drive her to the prison. They barely talked. Mom was crying. She hadn’t stopped. She’d told her she loved her… and she was sorry for what she’d done wrong. That this was her fault.

Madison…

It felt like pins and needles.

Then she was in the lobby and they pulled her away from her parents. Mom had her hand out, but then the door closed, and Madison was alone.

“Spread your legs,” the woman said as she patted Madison down and ran a wand over her. “Go into the changing room. Underwear is provided. Any attempt to modify your clothing to signify gang affiliation is subject to disciplinary action. The clothing was baggy, the underwear scratchy, something they got out of the cheap stores, not the stuff Mom bought for her.

By the time she got out, none of it would fit her, and that… Madison walked out in her bright orange jumpsuit.

“Remain on the orange line when you are moving through the building. You will remain on the orange line, unless given permission to move off of it by a supervisor. Failure to follow orders will result in disciplinary action. Your class schedule will be provided.” The woman looked at her. “ Be aware that your progress, or lack of progress in academic matters, will be one of the factors the parole board will consider.”

She was given extra clothes. (destruction of clothes or bedding would result in disciplinary action) and then marched to her room. Madison walked in, and there was…

A big Mexican girl. Madison flinched back. It wasn’t that she was Mexican, but… what was she in here for?

“Jesus,” the girl said. “I ain’t Jack Slash.”

“I’m—I’m—“

“You’re locker girl, aren’t you, or one of ‘em,” The other girl flopped down on the bed on the other side of the room. “Maybe I should be worrying. You looking for a job with the Slaughterhouse?”

“No, I—“

“Nah, just kidding you.” The girl grinned. “They put the newbies in with me, since I’m gonna be here for a while.”

She looked to be Madison’s age, how…

“Stole a truck when I was thirteen,” she shook her head. “Stupid fucking bet, so I lost control of it and smacked into a lady and her baby. If old Armsmaster hadn’t been there with some of his gadgets, I’d be up for murder instead of well, all the other felonies. But I’m here until I’m 18, then they see if they wanna chuck me into adult prison.”

“But it was just…”

“Yeah, it turns out putting a two-year-old and his mom into ICU for a month means “I didn’t mean it” don’t cut it.” She shrugged. “Ain’t so bad. I don’t gotta worry about Mom’s boyfriends, and they send a teacher over for independent study. Figure I might get a AS degree before they decide to sling me into big-girl clink.” She rolled over and looked at Madison. “But okay, here’s the thing, everyone knows about you. You’re Jew and you’re here for the same reason I am— downtown is where they send ABB and E88 and that ain’t exactly a life-affirming place for people like us. So most of the people here, you know, you don’t get in their face, they don’t get in yours.”

“I—“

“And cute doesn’t cut it.”

I’m not cute, I’m ugly.

“I… they say I’ll be here for a year.” Madison cringed as the words came out of her mouth. The other girl—

“That ain’t terrible. Not good, not terrible.” She pointed a finger at Madison. “Get a note book and mark days off.”

“What?”

“So you know, okay, I survived today. One less until I’m out.”

“I…”

“And also, watch the Warden.”

“What do you mean?”

“If he thinks you’re fucking around at school, he’ll give you tutoring. Man used to be with the PRT before Iron Rain fucked him up, but you will learn, and you will not enjoy it.”

“How do you know?”

“First year here. I could barely read. So four hours a day until I was at grade level.”

How is it that prison is better than Winslow?

How is it that a girl who nearly killed someone is better than me?

Madison didn’t know.