Dirt Road Home (2 page)

“You thought about who you’re gonna join up with?”

I looked at him, swallowed, and chased it with red juice. “What are you talkin’ about?”

“Death Row Ministers or the Hell Hounds. They say you gotta claim.”

“Who says?”

“Some boy told me.”

I shook my head. “I ain’t into that.” I picked up the meat patty with my hand and took a bite.

“I’ve only been here three days,” he said. “Both of ’em been talkin’ to me.”

I didn’t answer him.

“They say you don’t wanna be alone around here.”

“I’m just stayin’ out of trouble. They can do what they want.”

He was finished eating. I scooped up some macaroni and cheese and shoved it in my mouth.

“I’m Leroy,” he said. “From Gadsden.”

I kept chewing and looking at my plate.

“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” he continued. “You’re gonna make enemies whether you choose sides or not.”

“That’s up to them.”

Suddenly a buzzer went off. It was so loud you could feel it in your teeth.

“Time to go outside,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

I shoveled some greens into my mouth. Leroy got up and headed toward the tray return. I clamped the rest of my meat patty in my teeth, got my tray, and followed him.

A guard was waiting outside the mess room to lead me through orientation while the rest of the kids went out into the yard. He introduced himself as Mr. Pratt, head of security. He looked ex-military and wore his clothes tight and his hair crew cut. He was all business and no smile.

Mr. Pratt led me a few feet down the hall and shoved open a door to our right. “Washroom, commodes,” he said. I attempted to peer inside, but the door swung shut and he was already moving ahead. A little farther and we crossed the hall and went into the bunk room. It was nearly two hundred feet long with bunks on two walls and an aisle
between. All of the boys stayed in the same room, he said. Leaning against one of the beds was another guard. He was pig-faced and heavyset and sleepy-looking.

“Sergeant Guval, the floorwalker,” Mr. Pratt said. The floorwalker cocked his eyes at me and took inventory.

I followed down the aisle until Mr. Pratt stopped about halfway. “Rack thirty-eight, top,” he said. “You’ll have your schoolbooks, clothes, and supplies put in the locker next to it. Top rack, top locker. Questions?”

I looked to my left and saw bunk #38. I shook my head. He kept walking.

“Each week you will be issued a new bar of soap and a roll of toilet paper. Lose it or use it before the week is up, that’s your problem. Understand?”

“Yessir.”

We came to the end of the bunk room. He pointed into another large room that had no doors. “Shower room, commodes,” he said. Then we exited another door into the hall again. The building was quiet now with the boys gone. I heard the faint sound of them playing and yelling outside.

We crossed and entered the rec room. It was even bigger than the bunk room. It had pool tables and television and Ping-Pong and smelled like carpet shampoo and new paint. Once we were inside, Mr. Pratt turned to me. “You know what this is?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.”

He led me into the hall again. Not far ahead was a door that led outside. Before we came to the door we passed another hall to the right. At the end of this hall were black
steel double doors, riveted with hex nuts like an old vault. But the guard kept walking and didn’t explain them.

We went outside and I heard the noise of the boys to my left. I turned and saw them playing basketball in a dirt yard. “Play yard,” he said. “When it’s time to be outside, nobody goes inside. When it’s time to be inside, nobody goes outside. Except on weekends. You can roam on weekends. Questions?”

“Nossir.”

Directly in front of us was another building a short distance across a cement walk. Mr. Pratt pointed to it. “Classrooms,” he said. “Monday through Friday, seven-thirty sharp.” Then he turned to me. “Questions?”

I shook my head.

“Let’s go. The superintendent wants to see you.”

Mr. Fraley was a short, overweight man, bald except for a strip of hair just over his ears. He had a drooping face that pulled away all expression. The rest of his body sagged like not much got him out of his chair. One entire wall of his office was covered with bookshelves. He was standing before these bookshelves with his back to me when the guard ushered me into his office.

“Behind the line,” the guard said.

I toed the red tape in the middle of the room and heard the guard shut the door behind me. I waited while Mr. Fraley pulled his finger down the spines of the books. There were no chairs in the room except the one behind his desk. The rest of the office was neat and clean, with little sunlight coming through gaps in the mostly closed blinds.

Finally he seemed to find the book he was looking for and pulled it out and walked to his desk with it. He sat and studied the cover. I saw my jacket from Pinson on his desk, the folder containing everything about me since I’d been in juve.

“Have you ever heard of William Golding?” he asked.

“Nossir.”

He set the book on the desk, sat back in his chair, and looked at me for the first time. “Well, you should have. He wrote
Lord of the Flies.
It’s required reading in most schools.”

I didn’t answer him.

“That’s the core of the problem you’ve gotten yourself into, young man. You see, they tell me to educate the boys. To reform them. But this is just political talk to our fine citizens. Feel-good talk, if you will. In reality this place is a sort of human landfill that you hide on the outskirts of town. It’s nothing more than a kennel for dogs that have no hope of being claimed. This may sound harsh, but it is simply a reality that you must learn to face. The sooner, the better.”

He studied me like I would have something to say. But I didn’t. For years I’d heard about this place from the boys at Pinson. I was prepared and I stood there ready to soak it up and deal with it.

“That is not to say you cannot adjust,” he continued. “We have all kinds of dogs here. We have mutts and bulldogs and golden retrievers. But the reformation, the education—simply feel-good talk. What do you teach to a classroom of mutts and golden retrievers?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you try to teach them how to fetch and return a stick, the mutt will learn nothing. If you simply teach them how to come when called, the retriever will learn nothing he does not already know. And there are few teachers and only so much time. So you know what they learn?”

I shook my head.

“The dogs learn nothing. There is nothing we can do.”

I didn’t say anything.

“A young boy’s mind wants to learn whether he desires it to or not. And since he cannot learn from us, he will learn from the other dogs. He will become something between the retriever and the bulldog. He will become a mutt. Do you plan to become a mutt?”

“I plan to stay out of trouble.”

“From what I’ve seen of your record at Pinson, I don’t think it is possible for you to learn new tricks.”

“You just tell me the rules. I’ll do whatever I need to do.”

He studied me for a moment, then reached for a sheet of paper on his desk. “Yes, yes,” he said. “So you will.” He held up the document and set it down again. “This is a progress report,” he said. “About to go into your jacket. You know what the first question is?”

I shook my head.

“ ‘Has the resident instigated any violent activity?’ ”

“I don’t wanna get in any fights,” I said.

“Another problem. Not only will you not learn anything here, you will be asked to choose your friends. Choosing friends in here makes instant enemies. Refusing their
friendship makes instant enemies. How will you deal with these enemies?”

“I won’t.”

“What will you do about the things the dogs teach you?”

“I won’t listen.”

Mr. Fraley shook his head doubtfully. “Very well, Henry Mitchell.” He made a mark on the sheet and placed it in my jacket. “You may have visitors on Saturday between eight and two and Thursday between three and six. Canteen is every Monday morning if you want to buy anything. Money must be received by noon on Friday so that it can be posted to your deposit account. Understand?”

“Yessir.”

“Then consider yourself oriented. You’re dismissed,” he said, waving me out with his hand.

After the meeting with Mr. Fraley I was escorted back to my bunk and started going through the supplies kept in my locker. An extra jumpsuit, socks and underwear, a stationery kit, toothbrush. The floorwalker stood watch at the door.

It wasn’t long before another guard came in and said something to the floorwalker. The floorwalker came down the rows of beds and told me I had a visitor.

I met my lawyer, Mr. Wellington, in the visitors’ room. We were the only ones there. Mr. Wellington was retired for the most part and I was his only client since he’d gotten a friend of mine out of trouble. He didn’t even wear a suit, but dressed in blue jeans and boots. He set his briefcase on the table and sat across from me. It was good to see him.

“It’s not as bad as you thought, is it, Hal?”

“I don’t know yet. I just got here.”

“Well, you do the best you can,” he said.

“How long?”

“I’m still working that out with the court.”

“How’s Daddy doin’?”

“Not very well. But it’s been two days since he’s had a drink. There’s a lot to be said for that.”

“He goin’ to those AA meetin’s?”

Mr. Wellington nodded. “He’s doing everything he can. Now we just need to make sure you keep it steady in here.”

“I’m gonna do whatever I gotta do.”

“Your father’s held a job for close to three years now and that’s what the court likes to see. If he stays sober and you don’t get into any trouble while you’re here, I might be able to get you home again.”

“Okay.”

“I just wanted to stop by and let you know that things were in motion. Remind you that your daddy and I are doing what we can. You’re not alone in all this.”

“I know.”

He reached into his top shirt pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and handed it to me. “Your daddy thought you might want this,” he said.

I looked at the paper. It had my girlfriend, Carla’s, address on it. How did he know I’d forgotten to get it from her? I felt my face get a little warm as I tucked it away. I stood and shook his hand. “Thanks for helpin’ me and Daddy.”

“You can thank me when you walk out that front gate.”

I nodded.

“Stay out of trouble, Hal. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

It was time for the boys to come inside and go to the rec room. I went back to my bunk and lay down. The guard didn’t say anything, so I figured it was allowed. I didn’t want to be around the others unless I had to. That was just asking for trouble. I’d keep to myself as much as possible. I
didn’t care what anybody thought about me. I didn’t need friends. I didn’t want them.

That evening I stood in the supper line holding my tray. The boy in front of me had a cross-shaped scar on the back of his neck. I looked over the mess room. The boys fanned out to the right or left and filled up the outside tables. Leroy and the big kid were back in the middle at their same spots.

Somebody bumped me from behind. I turned and faced Preston.

“Watch out,” he said.

At first I thought he was joking. “What’s up, Preston?”

“Not the big man anymore, are you, Hal?”

Then I knew he wasn’t joking. “What’s got you all bowed up?” I said.

“I don’t need to bow up to you.”

I smirked and turned around and faced ahead.

“Don’t turn around when I’m talkin’ to you,” he said over my shoulder.

I didn’t answer him. He knocked me hard in the back and my tray went clattering to the floor. I felt my temper flare, but I set my jaw against it. I bent down and began picking everything up.

“You better get some friends quick,” he said.

I stood with my tray and stepped up to the food counter.

“I’m gonna come talk to you later,” he said.

“Fine, Preston,” I said.

The serving woman put a plate of food on my tray and I grabbed a cup of ice water. I took my supper and turned
and walked toward the middle tables. Leroy was watching me. The big kid ate and stared at his food. I walked past them both and sat alone at the end. I kept my eyes to myself and began eating.

After a few minutes Leroy got up and brought his tray to sit across from me. I didn’t look at him.

“Looks like the Ministers are comin’ after you,” he said.

I didn’t answer him.

“That’s them behind me with the crosses on the back of their necks. The Hounds are on the other side. They have the scar around their wrists. They use a red-hot nail.”

“I told you I don’t get into that.”

Leroy studied me for a moment, then took a bite of food.

I motioned with my chin toward the big kid. “What about him?”

Leroy swallowed. “They call him Caboose. They say he’s on his own.”

“Well, maybe I’ll hang out with Caboose.”

“He won’t talk to you.”

“That’s even better,” I said.

“What’s your name?”

“Hal.”

“They won’t leave you alone until you pick a side, Hal.”

“Look,” I said, “I don’t want any friends in here. I don’t wanna owe nobody nothin’. I wanna do my time quiet and short. Why don’t you go back where you came from and let me eat my food.”

Leroy looked hurt. He took his tray and moved away.

The Hounds stayed at one end of the bunk room and the Ministers at the other. In the middle it was just Leroy and me with Caboose across the aisle. I lay on my top bunk that evening, listening to the boys talking. The floorwalker stood silently at the door, his eyes scanning the room.

I pulled out my stationery and began writing to Carla. She’d only been my girlfriend a little over a week.

I’d met her at the Laundromat back home, and then she went on a date with me to the dirt track races one night. We spent some afternoons hanging out after that. I told her about my problems and where I was going and she had seemed to understand in a way that stayed with me. But then I had to go before I got to the point where I could tell her I liked her. Which I figured was the best thing for both of us. Now I wasn’t so sure.