I'm driving to the nasty, thug-ridden decrepit Juvenile Hall, the one called "Metro." The undesirable Juvenile Hall. I'm driving to pick up J'Michael.
I'm driving three jurisdictions away because one of our star residents was upset over a perceived slight during his birthday party, snuck out in the middle of a rainy night and hasn't been heard from for the last three days. That is until now.
For most of these guys, birthdays and holidays are the worst times of the year. They remind the boys just how unreliable and unstable their families really are, constantly letting the kids down with empty promises of lavish gifts, parties and better days. Every year the kid struggles to resolve the tension between these promises and the reality of their family situation.
J'Michael's 13th birthday was a great chance for his special counselor, Toby to work on their relationship. If Toby could come through with a good party and gifts, he could take a step closer to earning J'Michael's trust, getting J'Michael to open up more to Toby, clearing the way for good communication.
See, in addition to being sexualized at a very early age, J'Michael is also a notorious kleptomaniac. For months now he has been getting caught with other kids' toys, books, toothbrushes, Gameboys, socks, food, the TV remote control, silverware - just about anything that can't be bolted down has been discovered either in J'Michael's room or stuffed in his clothes. He says he takes this stuff just because he can. I guess when you've never had anything, you steal stuff to what it feels like to own it, to control it. He says that even when he gets caught, which is often, it's still worth it.
So for this last week, Toby has been making preparations for the party. J'Michael has been making his desires very clear: Gameboy Advanced. Mind you, Gameboys and their game cartridges are like currency here, much like cigarettes are used for bartering in prison. We make the rules very clear to the boys: No Lending or Borrowing. If someone lends you something, that means they expect something in return, and you won't always think that "something" is nice. The things you can get when you barter in the Group Home depends on who you are. The fat kid barters for food. The sexualized kid barters for favors. Other items up for trade at any given time include hair gel, shoelaces, batteries, and candy.
When the big party finally came, we were all there. Counselors, therapists, program supervisors, and administrators. We all showed up for this kid's birthday party to help prop up the illusion that he has some semblance of a family. We were trying to create a sense of normalcy.
With balloons all a-flutter and the table decorated with our best, used Spiderman swag, J'Michael opened up what we all assumed would be a new Gameboy Advanced. When he opened it up, however, he discovered merely a brand new Gameboy Color. (Toby told me later that he didn't know there was a difference and frankly didn't care.) There was an audible gasp from everyone in the room. With this act of discovery, all of our illusions faded. Gone was the illusion of family. Gone was the illusion that Toby and J'Michael would become good buddies. Gone was J'Michael's illusion that he was going to get to barter for sex.
"What the fuck is this?" he demanded. I told this dumb-ass niggerachi that I wanted a fuckin' Gameboy Advanced, goddamit!"
It was clear that Toby really had his work cut out for him now. Later that night, J'Michael put on his black sweatsuit and slipped out into the pouring rain, in pursuit, no doubt, of his very own Gameboy Advanced.
The next two days were filled with the usual Sheriff's Runaway Report, a call to his family to see if he wound up there and even a search of the local community. This last bit culminated in a 2-hour search of Starbuck's over a couple of mochas and a newspaper.
Finally we got a call from "Metro." They had our boy and they told us that he was caught red-handed shoplifting from the downtown Toys R Us. There was no doubt in my mind what it was he was trying to steal. When I finally arrived at "Metro," I asked him about the Gameboy. He was filthy and looked like a wet, stray dog.
"Taking the Gameboy wasn't no problem," he said. It was when I got outside that I seen it didn't have no batteries was the problem. So I went back inside and they caught me stealing the batteries."
J'Michael was tired, dirty and sullen. The ride back was quiet except for my occasional chuckle at J'Michael's explanation.
When we got back to the group home, I told J'Michael to take a shower. He argued, "I don't need to. I just took one on Monday."
"That was three days ago and you stink," I said. Get in."
It was then that I discovered his real prize. He had stuffed a bright yellow Juvenile Hall jumpsuit into his pants and gotten away with it.
Imagine the infinite bartering possibilities with a trophy like that!
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