The Swan

"Where were you last night in your slumbering? Were you snoring through an Opera in Italy in the year 1658, or like me, flying over the Ozarks on the back of a swan?" Her words came fast and excitedly as if she was afraid she would forget what she had planned on saying.

"What are you talking about?" I asked with a twisted expression on my face.

"Dreams!" She said. "Don't you have dreams? The Opera first started in Italy in the 1600's, haven't you ever dreamed of going to the Opera, and the Ozarks from way up high, wouldn't it be beautiful to see the mountains from up so high? Do you believe in God?"

"All I want to do is eat my cereal, do you mind." With that I got up and moved across the room. The blond haired girl was left sitting alone with a single staff member at the cafeteria table. She stared at her eggs as they rubberized before her big blue eyes.

"So who's your new girlfriend Jack?" Rocky cracked with a wry smile.

"She's not my girlfriend dufas, and quit calling me Jack." I replied angrily.

"Mr. Frost, remove yourself to the restriction table, instigating will not be tolerated." Mr. Drumard stated harshly.

"He started it." I protested.

"Now." was the cold reply.

"So long Jack." came another jab from Rocky. This last day was going to be a long one. Why were the staff always so hard on me? Rocky was the real trouble maker but his dad was made of money, according to Rocky, which made him exempt from certain rules. When I complained once the staff only said that "each person had individualized care plans and the treatment procedure of others was not a focus of discussion."

Rocky wasn’t the kid’s real name. The Staff called him Mr. Dunn because first names were never used, it was supposed to prevent unhealthy friendships from forming; protect confidentiality and all that crock. As if the kids were going to form an underground crime syndicate or commit mass suicide when they got out.

Rocky had got his name from a kid who was on his way out of the facility. Kids with seniority always chose the nicknames of new kids. He got it because of his impressions of Rocky Balboa. It wasn't even a good impression; he just punched some other kid in the nose. Then he raised both hands in the air making cheering crowd impressions till the staff tackled him.

People just assumed Rocky started calling me Jack because of my last name, Frost, but Rocky let it be known otherwise by following the term "Jack" with several various swear words out of staff hearing. This happened enough times that just saying "Jack" was enough to get the derogative point across. He would have been gone by now but got more time when he got out and stole a staff member’s car for a joy ride. His rich dad kept him out of jail, Rocky said this was his "country club" option.

"You can't keep yourself out of trouble for even a day, can you Mr. Frost?" Mr. Steward said while handing me an orange vest to put on.

Before I could finish my soggy cereal, breakfast was over. Normally I would have had 30 minutes to eat but now, on restriction I had only 15 and that time was wasted moving from table to table. My stomach growled.

"Times up, clear the table." Mr. Steward announced. Clean up was always the job of the restriction table.

"Since you'll be leaving us tomorrow Mr. Frost, I'll give you the choice, Wash, dry or put away?" Mr. Steward said with a friendly wink.

"I'll put away." I replied. I knew Mr. Steward was trying to cheer me up. He was the only staff member that had treated me half decent this past six months. I also knew that if I took my time the rest of the kids would be done washing the tables and the floors before I came out of the kitchen.

At the 30 minute bell all the other kids in the cafeteria lined up in their assigned groups for out door exercise. I looked over the kitchen serving counter to the blond haired girl staring at the moving crowd with her big blue eyes. She looked like she wanted to fly away. Yeah, she looked like a startled bird. Maybe a swan.

I saw her again at lunch time from across the room. She still sat alone with one staff member at her table. I was sitting, still adorned in an orange plastic vest, at the restriction table. One stupid infraction earned a day of restriction, but "each day starts off with a clean slate." was the coined phrase of the facility. "Big deal," I thought. I was out tomorrow anyway. Lunch time was allotted 30 minutes but I never understood why. All three meals were the same if you were on restriction, plain oat meal, no sugar, no salt, just white globs of gruel and usually cold. Before lunch I had been excused from my anger management group to go to discharge planning. I had been assigned a new home, a new school in a new town and was introduced to my new foster parents. The old man was a farmer who promised to build my character with honest work. All I had to do was keep my grades in school above a D and I could get a job in the fields in the summer and after graduation. Maybe someday I could even be field supervisor. I imagined the stocky woman in the farm house kitchen cooking chicken and mashed potatoes with carrots, peas and apple pie. With that in mind I lost my appetite for lumpy oatmeal. I spent the last 20 minutes staring at the blond haired girl with blue eyes. Suddenly she stared back.

"Times up, clear the table. Mr. Frost, you'll be washing the dishes this after noon." Mr. Drumard growled.

"Great," I thought. "Nothing like scraping burnt lasagna off baking pans and runny pudding out of bowls to develop moral fiber." I kept glancing up at the sink hoping to catch a glimpse of the new girl when she brought her tray to the counter. Every time I strained my neck the staff member who was righting down the meal percentages gave me a sour look. Just as the meal bell rang 30 minutes later the blond haired girl came to the window with her tray.

"A swan's egg for you." I teased when the staff noted that the plate was full.

"Mind your own task." The staff member warned. The girl quickly averted her big blue eyes, turning abruptly away as she was lead to her assigned group by her orientation staff.

"That was a stupid thing to say." I thought. I planned on apologizing when I saw her at supper. I spent the afternoon packing my scant possessions, three faded blue jeans, two tee shirts and a bible my grandfather had given me. The cover was torn off by some kid who tried to rip it apart when I first arrived. The kid said he was a Satanist and sharing a room with a bible thumper was against his religious freedom. I had never even read it but it was the only thing I owned. The staff had put the bible in storage for safe keeping these past months. Now it fit nicely at the bottom of a paper bag with the rest of my stuff.

I looked for the blond haired girl at supper but didn't see her. I had decided to give her the nickname swan. I just couldn't get her words out of my head from breakfast. "Well, tomorrow I'll be off restriction and I'll sit at her table." I thought. Sometimes new kids missed meals, especially if they had to be put into isolation. I had been their a few times for fighting with Rocky. It was a room a little bigger than a closet with padding on the walls and a slot in the door so you could be stared at.

The new girls thoughts kept coming back to me. I have dreams, I would love to see an Opera, go to Italy, learn what it was like in the 1600's, and the Ozarks, to see the mountains from way up high. I don't know about God. Maybe I'll read my grandfathers bible… I couldn't eat a thing for supper, especially not oatmeal that I knew they cooked at breakfast. I spent the rest of the night planning what I would say when I saw the girl tomorrow.

"Where were you last night in your slumbering? Were you snoring through an Opera in Italy in the year 1658, or like me, flying over the Ozarks on the back of a swan? Have you ever read the bible? My grandfather gave me one..."

The next morning I was up early. My case worker would be in to pick me up after breakfast. I walked into the cafeteria and looked around. I didn't see the blond haired girl with blue eyes anywhere. I didn't feel like eating anything, Maypo was to much like oatmeal anyway, so I walked around until I recognized someone from the girls group.

"Where's Swan?" I asked a girl with brown curls, "The new girl with blond hair?" Before she could answer Rocky butted in as he walked past,

"Swan? You mean dead duck, that new girl she did herself yesterday, from her wrist to elbow. They should have done a strip search when they let her in. Boy that girl knew her stuff."

"Mr. Frost. Your case worker is here." Mr. Steward said. I followed him out of the cafeteria to the front desk. I picked up my paper bag and walked toward the locked doors. Just as the door opened the bag ripped and my grandfather’s bible fell to the floor.

Mr. Steward picked it up and handed it to me. "Your free flying kid, head for the sky." He said. I managed half a smile with my grandfather’s bible in my hand as the doors closed and locked behind me.