The Escape

PROLOGUE

Teenagers… we aren’t that bad are we? I mean it’s not like we go around calling grownups annoying and selfish and rude. And maybe we rebel, but that doesn’t always mean that we run away, change our hair, and pierce everything in sight. It’s not like we all talk back to our parents, and even when we do, is it really always something so terrible? Do all of our words offend?

We’ve been told that it’s in our nature. That it happens all the time. They say we can’t be helped. So they’ve given up on us. But what I think is unfair is the fact that they were all teenagers once. They all rebelled. They’ve all been through that stage. So they should know what we are going through.

But of course they don’t! They never understand! So they turned against us! They locked us away like we are animals. But we aren’t! When they were our age, they would have hated to be locked away until eighteen. They would have hated their own freaking rule.

About ten years ago, the government was trying to find a solution to all the gangs and the fighting and killing. They were sick and tired of it. They were tired of being blamed and tired of getting letters begging for help. So they began to do research. They somehow came up with the idea that teenagers were a big cause in the gang fights. The information was mostly fed to them from a source that was unknown to us. But what they didn’t realize was that adults had a big part in this too.

So they built large buildings all around the country. Once a teenager reached thirteen they would be taken away and locked up in the building with thousands of other teenagers. The buildings were called Teenager Confinement Buildings. People called them T.C. for short.

They wrote down which building they would be kept in so the parents would know. But it was not guaranteed that siblings would be put in the same building. There was never any guaranty.

In T.C. girls could not cut their hair. Boys could only shave every few days or so. You had to wear this stupid uniform. It was black pants and a white shirt. In the left corner of the shirt it had two letters: T.C. During the summer the pants would become shorts and the long sleeves would turn to short sleeves. You were all given a book every year and expected to learn from it. It had math, history, English, science, and language in it for the age that you were. Every year it was kind of like moving up a grade.

Once you reached eighteen you had to become a guard in the building. Guards kept all of the teens under control in case any fights broke out, or in case someone went crazy, or tried to escape. Then there were the main guards. They were the ones who originally started this whole horrible idea. Some times after being a guard at eighteen, if they enjoyed the job, some people would apply to be a main guard. The main guards had more of a… ‘final say’.

I once heard of story of a kid who snuck away and climbed the barbed wire fence. He was cut up and bleeding and unfortunately caught. He was beaten so badly he died. Nobody dared to try that again.

At eighteen you had to guard for three months before leaving. All the guards were lucky enough to actually get their own rooms and no longer have to sleep on a mat on the floor. They no longer have to read those giant books.

Every night you had to sleep on a stupid mat. When you woke up in the morning you had to roll the mat up and put it in the bag with your book so you could carry them around all day. They were called mat-packs. Girls slept in one room and boys slept in another.

We also had jobs to do during the day. Sometimes it would be cleaning. Other times it would be something like cooking, filling up cups, etc.

It was the simplest things, like brushing your teeth that you appreciated the most. When brushing your teeth you used throw away toothbrushes and toothpaste that came out of a dispenser.

Living these crazy lives was a nightmare. And the words that everyone always cried were, I want to go home!

CHAPTER ONE

The loud ringing clatter echoed through the big room and I awoke immediately, feeling dazed and disoriented. Everything was spinning and my eyes felt heavy and blurry.

I had hardly gotten any sleep the night before. I had cried half the night, thinking of my family. I wanted to see Mom and Dad. I wanted to see my little brother, Jamie. Jamie was twelve now. He would have to be loaded up and brought to these buildings soon enough.

I rubbed my eyes and counted in my head how many hours I had actually slept. I had watched the large clock that hung from the wall half the night with tears running down my face. The last time I remember seeing on the clock was four in the morning. It was seven now. Three hours of sleep. That’s not too good. Mom always used to say that eight hours or more was a good way to keep healthy. She said that I should always try to get at least eight hours of sleep every night. But I barely ever slept anymore.

Get up and get a move on it! I heard a woman’s angry voice. You don’t have all freakin’ day!

There were a few groans in the room as I slowly pushed myself off of the little blue mat. I began to roll it up like many others had already done. People were already beginning to make their way to the dining hall.

I grabbed the blanket that I had used the night before and folded it before putting it into the mat-pack, along with the mat and my annoying learning book.

I turned to the mat next to me where my best friend, Peace had slept.

Peace was… different. She was obsessed with style which is why she hated the uniforms. She loved doing hair which is why she hated that she couldn’t cut hers. She had a bunch of piercings in her ears, which is why she hated that she couldn’t wear earrings. She always wore her hair in a messy ponytail because she hated how it hung in her face instead of just to her shoulders, the way she liked it.

Peace once explained her strange name to me. Apparently before she was handed off to her first foster home, her parents liked to be different. They wanted their daughter to have something unique about her (before they realized they couldn’t afford her and passed her off to the foster parents). So they took her mom’s great aunt’s name—Cella and her dad’s grandmother’s name—Penny, and mixed it. They got Pecella. But Peace hated her name. So she just went by Peace.

When I was thirteen and was first brought to this horrid place, I met Peace and we just always hung out together. It felt safer to have a friend than nobody. It felt like there was somebody there for you. Peace and I always did everything together. We were inseparable.

Let’s go you idiots! the woman shouted again. You’ll have to do this job one day and you aren’t going to like it when your lazy, annoying teenagers won’t get their asses off of the ground!

Peace pulled the blanket over her head, unconsciously. Peace! I hissed, kicking her in the side. She always slept very deeply, and she talked in her sleep too. Get up, I told her, kicking her again.

Peace gasped and rolled over onto the hard floor, knocking into one of the hundreds of people who slept in this room. Hey! the girl warned.

Peace jumped up quickly, immediately towering over me. I was only five foot 3 inches. I had always been on the shorter side. I wasn’t overly skinny either. But I wasn’t fat. I was just… normal. But Peace was tall and skinny. She was half African American, and half White. Her skin was darker, very tan looking. Her light brown hair was extremely curly. My dark brown hair was just straight. My eyes were a murky looking green. I wasn’t very exciting.

Hurry up! the annoying guard called again.

Peace scrunched up her nose and mouthed ‘hurry up’ making a face at the same time. She was making fun of the guard. I tapped my foot, wearily, nervous that the guard was going to get angry soon.

Come on Peace, I hissed in a whisper. Let’s go!

Peace sighed, loading up her mat-pack and pulling the drawstring on it until it was closed. She then slung it over her shoulder and started to head for the door. Crowds of people were heading out the door and we quickly tried to catch up to them. There were still people on the floor and the loud bell sounded again while the guard continued to scream at the rest of us. We walked to the bathroom down the hall and brushed our teeth.

Once we got back into the hallway I was overwhelmed by the smell of the food cooking just at the end of the hall in the huge dining hall. I sighed a small sigh and my stomach grumbled. Peace just groaned in annoyance.

What? I questioned.

Eggs! They are cooking eggs! And I freaking hate eggs! she growled.

So don’t eat them, I shrugged. Of course you’ll be hungry later. But you don’t have to eat.

What about the people that are allergic to eggs? What do they do? she demanded.

Toast and butter, I reminded her. We’ve been through this before. And you ate the eggs last time.

And I felt sick, she told me.

You had the flu! Half of the T.C. did, I reminded her. Now stop crushing my mood. I feel like I haven’t had eggs in forever.

"I feel like I haven’t had sleep in forever, she mimicked the way I said it. You kept me up all night, tossing and turning."

I was thinking about Jamie, I explained. And my mom and dad.

Oh, Peace’s expression softened. Well think about it this way; only three more years until you get out.

Yeah, I muttered. Three years.

We were silent as we stepped into the line for breakfast. Peace pretended to look sick when the smell of eggs became stronger. Oh suck it up, I told her. We barely ever get a hot breakfast. You should feel lucky.

Ooh! I’m ecstatic, Peace said sarcastically.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. What happened to Ms. Optimistic?

She was told she wasn’t allowed to shave her legs, Peace grumbled. Believe me, I miss her too.

Go get her back. I need some cheering up, I said, sounding depressed.

Abracadabra, Peace said sarcastically. Woo! Now you’re happy.

Thanks, I said in the same sarcastic tone, rolling my eyes. I feel much better now.

Don’t be a baby, Peace said. Suck it up a bit. We all have to go through this.

But Jamie will have to, I whined. In like a year he will have to go through this. Sweet, innocent little Jamie will be crushed.

I gotta meet this kid one day, Peace told me as we walked up toward the front of the line. We grabbed a tray and slid them toward the guard who was on lunch hall duty. He placed a plate on her tray that had eggs on it, a banana, and a small cup of water. Peace shook her head. No thanks, she said.

Excuse me? The guard stepped forward. He was big and buff and had dirty blond hair and crystal blue eyes. His face was one of annoyance. What’s the problem?

I don’t want any eggs, Peace insisted, handing the plate back. No thanks.

Peace, I hissed under my breath.

Do you want to starve? the guard growled. "Do you want to feel dizzy or worse all day? Eggs are all you are getting. You could pass out. So why don’t you just suck it up and take them!"

My eyes widened and I was shaking slightly. Peace kept her eyes on his face while she slowly reached forward and took the eggs again. She placed them on her tray and looked at the ground, turning quickly to walk away. The guard chuckled to himself and I narrowed my eyes at him. He reached forward and placed the eggs, banana and water on my tray.

Thank you, I whispered.

He nodded at me, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment, before he moved to hand the eggs to the next person. I turned quickly and rushed over to Peace, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to the nearest table.

Are you trying to get yourself killed? I snarled in a whisper.

He wasn’t hurting anybody. He just couldn’t mind his own business.

He looked really angry, I mumbled.

Don’t be such a coward. He wasn’t going to hit me. I didn’t really do anything wrong.

You can’t be picky in this kind of place, I sighed. Now hurry up and eat. We only have thirty minutes and you took too long to get up. We have like… ten minutes left.

Peace shrugged and forced some eggs into her mouth, chewing and swallowing before she had time to really taste it. She made a face and stuffed more of the eggs into her mouth. I stabbed the eggs with my fork and placed them in my mouth, enjoying the flavor that I hadn’t had in so long. They brought back a memory.

Breakfast! Mom called from downstairs. I opened my eyes and inhaled, smelling the eggs. They smelled so good.

They were always my favorite thing to eat for breakfast. Mom made eggs for me every Saturday and French toast for Jamie. It was a little tradition of ours. We got our favorite breakfast on Saturdays. They always gave me energy and left me feeling good for the rest of the morning.

I pushed myself out of bed, standing up to quickly. My head spun as I staggered for the door. I opened the door and stepped on the familiar squeaky floorboard in the hallway.

Come and get it before it gets cold! Mom called.

I walked down the steps, noticing Jamie as he passed by me. Jamie had serious bed head. His brown hair was always a bit wavy, but now it stuck straight up. I giggled.

What? Jamie demanded.

Your hair, I laughed.

Jamie ran his fingers through his hair and shook it out so it was slightly more decent looking.

When we walked into the kitchen, I saw Dad sitting there reading the paper and eating a bagel. Mom sat across from him with her weird breakfast smoothie. Jamie pointed to it and then stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his face, signaling how gross it looked. I laughed silently and we walked to the table and joined them.

Morning Wendy. Morning Jamie, Mom said in her soft yet comforting voice. How’d you sleep?

Fine, I murmured.

That’s because you can’t hear yourself snore, Jamie chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. I don’t snore, I muttered.

Hello! Peace called, waving violently in my face. Earth to Wendy!

What? I asked her.

You space out a lot. What are you thinking about? Peace grumbled.

How good these eggs are, I lied.

No way! These are disgusting. Peace shook her head and made a face but proceeded to eat them anyway.

I ate quickly, swallowing but not really tasting. I finished everything, knowing that this was all we had until lunch and we would need our energy. When the loud whistle finally sounded through the cafeteria we stood up and moved our trays to the washing station.

As we left we checked the paper that hung outside the doorway, saying where we would be working for the day. I searched for my last name—Austin—on the list. I felt the disappointment spread through me when I realized that I would not be working in Peace’s group anymore. They switched the groups every now and then. I had met Peace two years ago when we were in the same group. We were friends immediately. Even when the groups switched again we made meeting places so we could find each other after our chores were over. We always met by the girl’s bathroom and then stayed together for the rest of the day. We would read our lesson books together and eat together and keep our mats next to each other during the night. We were inseparable, basically sisters.

Eventually when they put us in the same group again we were ecstatic. But now I was stuck washing dishes for the next week and Peace was painting one of the walls in the new room that they were constructing. So we were both in different groups for the next few months.

Oh joy, Peace muttered, sarcastically. "This is just dandy."

It’s just painting, I reminded her. "You’ll be fine. I have to wash dishes."

But painting? Really? Ugh! she groaned, shuttering dramatically.

Oh put up with it. It’s just paint. You can let me know how the new room is coming along, I told her. Make it look nice and don’t get yourself in trouble.

Same meeting place? Peace questioned.

Yeah, I sighed. Same meeting place.

I turned around and saw the guard with the dirty blond hair leaving the cafeteria. I looked away quickly, careful not to give him any reason to talk to me. The less conversation with the guards, the