Seventh Grade. Why am I writing this crap? I guess because I don’t know what else to do. No one talks to me anymore, or will believe me when I say I’m not doing bad stuff. I just realized today that everyone thinks I’m a slut. I think they think that I’m a prostitute. I’d heard that before, but didn’t know what it meant until recently. Where did they get that crap from, anyway? I tried to say I wasn’t, but as usual, no one believes me. Of course, they won’t even give me a chance to tell them I’m not. So, I guess I’m now a slut and a prostitute, besides being a druggie. As if I’m that stupid!
As with her first and third home, her fourth home didn’t buy her any clothes. All they gave her was a roof over her head and food. The food wasn’t great, either, but it did fill her up.
Being almost a year since she’d gotten any clothes, what she had was getting too small, not to mention a bit ratty. Her tee shirts didn’t even go all the way down her belly anymore. But the worst was that her underwear were getting in bad shape. In her desperation, she went to the closest super grocery store, not even paying attention to which one it was.
She wandered around, randomly looking at stuff she couldn’t afford. Finally, she looked at the multi packs of underwear and pulled one off the hook. She then found several other things, picked a number of them up. Over a little time, she put most back, slipping the underwear into her jacket, before putting the rest back.
As she walked out, two men grabbed her by the arms and walked her back into the store, and to a room inside the ‘Employee Only’ area. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she knew she’d been caught.
“What’s your name?” one of the men asked. She was on the verge of tears, scared of what was coming. She remembered that judge from before, too well.
“Priscilla,” she said.
“What’s your last name?” he asked.
“Pimlott,” she replied.
“What’s your home phone number, so we can get in touch with your parents?” he asked.
“I don’t have any parents,” she told him.
“Are you a foster kid?” he asked, and she nodded.
“You have foster parents, then,” he replied.
“I just moved to my new home. I don’t know the number yet,” she told him.
“So, you’re not going to cooperate,” he said, nodding.
“I promise. I don’t know it,” she said, unable to hold the tears back any longer. He looked at her, without saying anything else. Before anyone else could say anything, a woman police officer walked in.
“Alright, you have a choice, Priscilla. Officer Stilman can search you, and find what you took, or you can give it over on your own,” the man said. Lilly didn’t need the threat. Without any further prompting, she pulled the pack of underwear out and put it on the table.
“I’m sorry,” she said. The woman police officer had an odd look on her face, but didn’t say anything.
“Is there anything else?” the man asked.
“No, sir,” she replied.
“We’re going to process her, and get her before a judge for her arraignment,” the woman said.
“She’s all yours,” the man said.
The police woman escorted Lilly out, putting her in the back of a police car parked right outside. They went to a very large building, where Lilly was led into a room with an old man and a number of other police officers.
“Your honor,” Officer Stilman said, as she was led before the judge.
“Officer,” he acknowledged.
“Priscilla Pimlott, shoplifting,” she said.
“What was the item, and value?” he asked.
“Girls underwear, valued at $4.99,” she said. He looked up for a moment, first at the officer then at Lilly, who tried to shrink under his gaze.
“Why did you try to steal underwear?” he asked.
“Because mine are worn out and I don’t have any money to buy new ones,” she said. Before he could say anything else, she blurted out, “I’m sorry, your honor. I’ll work to pay for them, if you’ll let me. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t stop the tears that started leaking from her eyes, then.
“Forgive my intrusion, your honor, but I’m Iris Perkins, Priscilla Pimlott’s caseworker,” Mrs. Perkins said, a little out of breath as she walked up. She gave Lilly a stare that indicated she wasn’t very pleased.
“Mrs. Perkins, why is it that this child had to steal underwear?” he asked. Mrs. Perkins had no answer, the question betraying her failure to properly monitor a child in her care.
Before she could answer, a bailiff walked up with a piece of paper, handing it to the judge. The judge read it for a minute, looked up, then read it again.
“Young lady, don’t let me see you in here again. Do you understand me?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” she promised.
“Mrs. Perkins, I’d advise investigating the conditions of the home you’ve placed this child in. I don’t think she’s being properly provided for. I will also be sending a court request to DFCS to have your cases looked into for further instances of negligence of duty,” he then said to Mrs. Perkins.
“Yes, your honor,” she agreed, looking very contrite.
“Case dismissed,” he said, and a bailiff quickly ushered them out.
I got caught shoplifting today. I really thought I was going to jail, and I’m only in seventh grade!! I really needed some new underwear, and don’t have any money to get any. I’m so glad I didn’t go before that judge I met two years ago. I promised to work to pay for what I took, but the judge wouldn’t let me. A little after that, he got a letter and said the case was dismissed, and I think Mrs. Perkins got in trouble, but I’m not sure. Really weird.
She was removed from that home, having only been there a few weeks. The next one was no better, though. In fact, it was a little worse, as they hit her once in a while. She never knew why. Their very large dog was the only reason it wasn’t worse.
That didn’t last very long, and yet again, she was sent to a new home. She was on her fourth home in one year, pretty sure it was a record for the foster people.
During the rest of her time in middle school, she moved some more, but not as often as between sixth and seventh grades, where she’d ended up moving five times. She was also arrested two more times for shoplifting, the next for underwear again and the last for socks. Of course, there were other times she stole and wasn’t caught. She was getting better with practice.
It was December of eighth grade. She was sitting in a park, reading a book. It was a beautiful day, warmer than usual, almost hot.
“Oh my gosh, look at what we have here,” a boy said, dropping down beside her.
She tried to ignore him, hoping he’d just go away. However, his arm slipped around her waist, landing low on her hip. That was something she’d experienced before, and didn’t like.
“Please leave me alone,” she said, and tried to get up.
“Baby, I’m just wanting to give you what you know you want,” he said. Finally closing her book, and looking up at him, she realized just how big he was. She figured she could fit three of her inside him.
“I’m leaving now,” she said, and again tried to get up. His hands were huge, and she was small. His hand wrapped all the way around onto the front of her hip. She couldn’t move.
She considered getting the ‘others’ to help, but she really didn’t want to. They scared her.
“I’m going to scream if you don’t let me go,” she threatened.
“So,” he replied.
“Help!” she screamed. He laughed, as no one turned to look, much less came to help. When he laughed, his hand came up and she took the opportunity. He laughed even more when she jumped up, as if she’d accomplished something.
“I know you’re totally awed because I decided I want you, but you know you want what I got. Give me a freebie, and I’ll make it worth your time,” he said. He leaned back, Lilly just staring at him a moment. After the moment passed, she turned and walked away.
Some jerk tried to get me to go out with him, or something, in the park today. I’m pretty sure it was more the something. He put his hand on me, on my butt and my front, the jerk. Why do people like him even exist? I was tempted to ask a bird to shit on him. I didn’t. I’m scared of the others. They sometimes do really bad things, and once I get them started, I don’t know if I can stop them.
That event happened quite a few more times, in different places, over the course of the school year. He was getting more aggressive with her each time, putting his hands on her legs, or on her butt. After the second time, he’d told her his name, and how important he was. Lilly, of course, didn’t care. It meant nothing to her. The third time was really bad, his hand going between her legs.
Layton Kirk thinks he can have me. Like hell!!! That asshole is about to really piss me off. He told me the first time that I should give him a freebie. I didn’t really understand what he was talking about, then. Now, I do, and…God, I can’t even think of what to say, even to myself. That jerk!! Even if I did charge to let guys do that, there’s no way in hell I’d let him, even for a million dollars!!
She managed to mostly avoid him during the summer, not sure how she’d gotten so lucky. Early August, Lilly was again sitting in the park, reading a book. It was a quiet day, unusually hot. The heat kept everyone inside, making it ideal for Lilly, since she didn’t want anyone around, generally not liking people.
“Oh baby! Look what we have here,” she heard. Apparently, not everyone was kept inside from the heat, much to her chagrin. She lowered her book, unable to stop the sigh that escaped. Before she knew what was happening, he picked her up, his hands cupping her butt and squeezing.
“Put me down!” she yelled, flailing in his arms.
“You need to go out with me, so we can have some fun,” he said.
“Leave me the hell alone before I cut your balls off and feed them to you,” she yelled.
Rather than do as she said, he spun her around in his arms, and moved his hands to her chest. He did put her feet back on the ground, though. For a second, she was too stunned to respond.
“You’re still small, just like I like ’em,” he said, his hands kneading her chest, and not very gently. He then slid one down, onto her stomach. Just before he moved his hand inside her sweatpants, she brought her foot back with all her strength. Although it hurt her, he let out a yelp, releasing her. He was going to have a bruise on his shin, although she was also going to limp for a while.
Instead of waiting for him to do anything else, she ran into the trees. Tears were streaming down her face, which made her vision blurry. As a result, she tripped several times, Layton laughing as she did. His laughs faded, as she ran. He made no attempt to go after her, which she was very thankful for. She knew she couldn’t outrun him, if he tried.
Lilly got back to her foster home, tears still streaming down her face. Layton had touched, or pawed her more than he’d ever done before. Her pathetic resistance had only brought her pain. She was scared of him. She also didn’t want the ‘others’ to fix it for her, like they had so many times before. She didn’t want yet another news article about her. Eventually, someone would figure it out.
Sitting on her bed, not remembering seeing her latest foster mother, or any of the other kids, she pulled out her journal. It was a little tattered, having been given to her by the principal after the incident in first grade. That was more than seven years ago.
Lilly remembered Mrs. Stiles very well. Like Mr. Jack, her first grade teacher, she’d loved Mrs. Stiles. Those days were like a warm blanket for her. She’d been happy...very happy. However, she’d been naive, and innocent. A typical little girl.
Of course, no part of her life, that she could remember, was anything close to normal, or absolutely good. There was always something bad to balance it all out, usually more to the bad side.
As she’d done many times in her past, usually when she’d had her worst moments, she started reading the journal. The journal, her best friend, let her see just how bad things could actually get. Seeing all of the newspaper articles about her, she knew neither her nor Mrs. Stiles ever thought there’d be as many as there were. There were nine different newspaper articles which talked about things she was involved in, even if they didn’t mention her.
Through middle school, and all of the homes she’d been in, she’d used animals to protect her. Along with the times in elementary school, there were occasionally newspaper articles about them. She always kept those articles, pasting them in her journal. It was probably stupid, since if anyone saw it, they’d start figuring out how much of a freak she was.
All of those incidents were due to bad homes, other than the first one. That included her first home, which was when her mother and Randy died. Oddly, the home she was in now was the best of the foster homes, other than Sherri and Leonard, which was the best home she’d ever had. The people in this home ignored her, but fed her. That’s all she could hope for, anymore. Sure, the foster monster was a fat slob, and had a bad attitude. They had no idea how to eat decent food, but there was food. At least, Lilly knew she was mostly in a decent place. She could really use some new clothes, though. Of course, she could always use new clothes.
As she thought over her past, and the times the ‘others’ had saved her, she knew she didn’t want them helping her with this latest problem. It was too risky. At some point, someone was going to figure it out. Then, they’d all know just how much of a freak she really was. What did they do with freaks that could get animals to do what they wanted?
Tired of her bad memories, and not willing to write a new entry in the journal, she pulled out the last book Sherri and Leonard had bought her. It was the one she’d been reading in the park, less than an hour ago, and it was definitely getting a bit rough. This book was Ender’s Game, which she was reading for the third, or fourth dozenth time.
Before she’d even opened the cover, a smile formed on her face. It was something that would’ve scared anyone that saw it, and knew her. Thankfully, no one was there to see, and no one really knew her anymore, other than Horace.
She had almost two weeks to put her plan together. Odds were very much against her succeeding, but there was a chance she might be able to do it. Considering the target, she was willing to take that chance.