Community Service On Planet Weirdo

By Patricia Carney

Jennifer Shaw is not having a good start to her freshman year in high school. Her dad walked out and her mom is struggling to make ends meet. Jennifer’s stuck taking care of her little brother, which she doesn’t mind, but she can’t seem to get along with her mom. She’s normally a good student, but after skipping school, she’s badly behind and now failing algebra. To make matters even worse, she let her friend Sammy talk her into helping him steal from an old lady, and now she’s the one who got caught and is on her way to court.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781684706716

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Carney

Copyright © 2019 Patricia Carney.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of the author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0672-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6847-0671-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019908451

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 06/28/2019

Acknowledgments

The author acknowledges Siobhan Drummond of Drummond Books, copy editor, LeAnna Wilcox, proofreader, and Marsha Berenson, Kate Krueger and Leigh Bertrand, beta readers. Author also thanks Ms. Tina Mitchell, teacher of digital arts at Cudahy High School, and her student, Margaret Vesey, 12th Grade, National Honor Society Student.

To the underpaid, unsung superheroes of our local

communities—the nurses, the social workers,

and especially the teachers.

And for our children.

1

SAMMY NODDED TO JENNIFER, who was hiding in the alley behind a rusty garbage can next to a garage with asphalt siding. The old woman they had been watching for the last several days was stepping off the sidewalk into the alley after getting off the city bus. Jennifer remembered Sammy saying that this would be easy. The old woman was stooped over and appeared frail, and no one else was around to see them. Jennifer thought the old woman must be from another country. No one wears dresses anymore except these old immigrant women. The long, heavy coat and paisley babushka pulled low over her forehead were probably the same clothing she’d worn for thirty years.

The old woman walked slowly, choosing her steps carefully, fearing a fall on the cracked concrete of the deteriorating alley. She carried a worn handbag over her arm just below the elbow, not gripping the strap. Jennifer remembered Sammy’s instructions: her job was to cause a distraction, then Sammy grabs the purse and they run fast in opposite directions. Jennifer kept her arguments against this idea shoved firmly to the back of her mind. Let Sammy do the planning, she thought.

Looking over at Sammy, Jennifer saw him nod, a sign that she was to walk toward the old woman. As she did this, the woman saw Jennifer and altered her steps to give the young woman room to pass, but Jennifer altered her steps to match.

Jennifer began, Excuse me, do you know where this address is?

She pushed a slip of paper under the old woman’s lowered head as Sammy had instructed. The old woman stopped, read the address printed on the torn slip but said nothing. Jennifer looked over to Sammy. Pulling the hood of his grey sweatshirt over his head, Sammy darted out from across the alley. He focused on the purse strap and ran toward the old woman, lunging for the bag. As Sammy touched the strap, Jennifer bumped into the old woman just enough so that she would be off-balance but not hard enough to make her fall. The old woman reacted with surprising quickness, grabbing her purse strap. Sammy yanked on it, and the woman screamed.

Jennifer yelled at Sammy not to make her fall, but as he pulled harder, the strap snapped, causing the old woman to be thrown backward onto the cracked concrete. Now she screamed even louder with pain in her voice. Sammy darted down the alley.

The shrill screams had alerted a neighbor who bolted from his back stoop into the alley in time to witness Sammy swiping the purse from the woman’s grip. As Jennifer broke away in the opposite direction, she ran directly into the neighbor’s open arms. He tackled her as she tried to run past him, and she ended up sprawled in the alley along with the old woman. The heavy man pinned her to the ground, grabbing her arms and pulling them behind her back so that she could not struggle without great pain. Jennifer began to swear fiercely at the man who told her to shut her filthy mouth.

The neighbor’s wife had already called 9-1-1. After a very short wait while the man held Jennifer down, the police arrived on the scene and put Jennifer in handcuffs. The wife helped the old woman up. She was shaken and bruised but not seriously hurt. Jennifer was dumped into the back of the black and white squad car and transported to the local police station. As they pulled away, Jennifer searched for Sammy—it looked like he had gotten away cleanly.

——

After sitting in a holding cell for several hours, staring at the battleship-gray bars, an officer took Jennifer to a small room with a single long table bolted to the floor and several scuffed chairs. There was one large window in the wall opposite the door. Jennifer knew it was for viewing into the room—the dark glass reflected her image rather than allowing her to see out. Her wide-set hazel eyes were underlined by dark hollows, and her long brown hair fell in disarray over her shoulders. The reflection stared back at her, as if trying to find herself; it was an odd sensation, like she was outside herself, someone else—maybe a lost person, searching.

A detective entered the room. Well, you’re pretty tough, aren’t you! That old lady must have seemed like a real threat to you. And just the two of you to take such a chance; imagine that.

The detective’s sarcasm grated on Jennifer’s nerves. He quickly informed her of what he called her rights by reading off a script he pulled from his shirt pocket. The recitation was so rote that Jennifer wondered for a moment whether he was directing the words to her.

Reading concluded, he continued on in his prior tone. She must have had all of twenty bucks in that old purse—just an old woman living on her Social Security, and you kids can’t leave her alone. No respect. Push her down and grab her purse. I have a grandmother that age, and I don’t like what you did. Just nasty. Only scum would attack an old woman. What were you going to do when you got her money?

Jennifer refused to respond, slumping further into the chair, crossing her arms, and burying her chin in the top of her black sweater, determined not to look at the detective.

I figured as much—you won’t talk to me. I’m grateful, I can’t stand talking with scum. You are going downtown. We have eyewitnesses, but I want to know who your partner was. Want to name him?

Jennifer shook her head, not saying a word.

No? Fine, the district attorney will deal with you. He can decide if this is a minor juvenile offense. I’m not going to give you any breaks, not with pushing and stealing from an old lady.

Jennifer was led back to the holding cell. She wondered if she should have talked to the detective. At fourteen, she would be treated as a juvenile, not charged as an adult, no matter what the detective insinuated. She wondered where Sammy was. It made her angry to think about him pocketing the cash while she got arrested. This had been his plan from the start, and now she was the one in trouble. Sammy would owe her big time if she ever got out of this mess.

It was late in the day when Jennifer was finally driven to the Milson detention center for juveniles and put through a check-in procedure. Milson was a large enough city to have a separate juvenile justice courthouse. Jennifer continued to refuse to talk, mostly because she was more afraid now and in an even stranger place. She was so alone, it seemed like the whole world was against her. A search of her backpack turned up her student ID; a call was placed to her school and her parental information was obtained, followed by a call to her mother.

Jennifer was truly sorry her mother was going to be brought into this; she loved her mother even though lately they were not getting along well. Her mother had been working harder than ever, ever since her dad split six months ago. She always seemed tired and never smiled anymore. Jennifer’s younger brother, Jimmy, was left alone too much now, and it had become Jennifer’s responsibility to make sure he was home safe after school. Jimmy was only seven.

Jennifer had not checked on Jimmy because of her arrest, and she knew her mother would be angry just because of that, never mind all this other trouble. Jennifer had been skipping school quite a bit lately and sometimes she lost track of the time and forgot about Jimmy. When that happened, she threatened him into silence. But now her mother would soon know everything.

It was dark by the time her mother finally walked into Milson’s detention center, Jimmy submissively tagging along behind her. Jennifer was waiting in a social worker’s office, more like a closet than a room. As her mother entered, Jennifer looked at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact. Jennifer expected her mother to be angry; but when she dared look up, she saw instead that her mother looked frightened. She wished her mother would have been angry, she expected an angry glare. It would be easy for her to react with the same hostile attitude, and they could begin arguing again. But when she saw fear, she too grew more frightened. For the first time, Jennifer thought about the old woman; she had seen fear in her eyes, too. It struck Jennifer that she had caused that old woman to endure more than just the loss of some money.

The juvenile social worker began talking. Jennifer heard little of what she said. In the end, her mother was told to take Jennifer home but to have her in court the next morning for a hearing on the charges that were being filed by the district attorney. The social worker said she would again see them tomorrow as the case processed through the system, as she put it. In addition, a public defender, an attorney, would be appointed to represent Jennifer, and Jennifer along with her mother would be informed of whatever options might be available.

The social worker was very firm as she tried to impress on Mrs. Shaw the importance of having her daughter show-up for court the next day. Jennifer was not to leave home at any time except to return to court, and Mrs. Shaw would be responsible for the custody of her daughter. Jennifer’s mother was asked to sign release papers and further instructions were dictated.

As they left the detention center, Jennifer glanced at her mother and thought she looked older. She was only in her thirties, had always been physically fit and outgoing, but these last few months were taking a toll on her. Jennifer’s father had lost his job nearly a year ago and then walked out because of the constant arguing, and her mother had stopped smiling.

Jennifer’s mother was a nurse, and grateful to be working the day shift. She came home evenings after hours spent on her feet, cooked meals, washed, cleaned the house, and helped Jimmy with his homework. The next day, she’d be up at dawn to start all over again. They never seemed to have fun anymore. Jennifer hated the situation, felt stifled by the grim atmosphere, and started staying away from home as much as possible. This resulted in more arguing with her mother. But Jennifer was not a kid anymore, and she resented being lumped in with Jimmy as her mother whisked around struggling to cope with all the duties of being a single parent.

Jennifer knew her mom felt like she was losing control. She also knew her conduct lately was reinforcing this fear, but Jennifer also felt angry and partly blamed her mom for her dad leaving. She started hanging out with Sammy, who she knew from school even though he often skipped, and so she started skipping too. Sammy too lived with his mother, no father in the picture, and Jennifer felt like she could talk to him about her problems. Sammy was someone who could relate. They were nearly the same age. But as they left the social worker’s office, Jennifer felt that she had never intended to take her ongoing argument with her mother this far.

As they walked down the hall in silence, it was Jimmy who finally spoke. How come you pushed an old lady down, Jenny?

When Jennifer didn’t answer, Jimmy persisted like a typical seven-year-old, repeating the embarrassing question only louder. Jennifer glared at her brother and responded angrily. Shut it!

Jennifer’s mother finally stopped and looked directly at her daughter. You know we don’t speak like that in our family. I don’t know what you were thinking today, but you will not verbally assault your brother the way you actually assaulted some poor old woman. I just don’t know what is happening to you lately!

Jennifer was secretly relieved to be getting a lecture—she had finally broken her mother’s silence. And she always had a ready reply.

What family? We’re not a family anymore!

But this time her words had an impact she wasn’t expecting. Her mother broke down and began to cry. She watched as her mother turned, took Jimmy’s hand, and began to walk away. Jennifer followed a safe distance behind, wishing she had not spoken those last words.

The next day, Jennifer and her mom returned to the detention center. Milson had once been a manufacturing powerhouse, but in the new digital world, its vibrant centers had deteriorated, and the city suffered high unemployment, poverty, and delinquency. The detention center was handling an ever greater case load, and the overcrowding meant long waits before being called before a judge.

After a morning filled with meetings with the social worker, the attorney appointed for Jennifer, the police officer, and district attorney, Jane Shaw was already exhausted. She’d had to take off work, but she thought ruefully that going to her hospital job would have been easier. She had not seen Jennifer since early morning when they arrived together. It was irritating to be told that, because her daughter was fourteen, state law gave her the right to talk with her attorney alone. This seemed irrational. Jennifer was a child, and here she was, being advised of rights and having the charges explained to her, all without her parent being present.

She would be reunited with her daughter before the preliminary hearing in court. The social worker had given Mrs. Shaw some hope. Jennifer had no prior record, and because her mother was cooperative, there might be some way to work this out with something called an informal disposition which would avoid giving Jennifer a criminal record. Jane was holding on to those words. But as she sat on one of the molded plastic orange chairs in the outer lobby, she kept wondering how Jennifer had slipped so far. She knew what her daughter had done was awful and needed punishment.

Jennifer—her beautiful little girl, her first child had always been full of life, a child who enjoyed new experiences and met challenges with vigor and zest for the untried. Jane had always thought that Jennifer would be a success in any venture she might choose. She was athletic, bright, and had always done well in school. She was well liked by teachers and other students. She was growing into a pretty young woman with large eyes that accented her oval face and gave her a look of intelligence. This was not the daughter who would get into trouble like this. When had Jennifer changed? She’d become so rebellious lately and now they barely spoke. If they did, it was usually to argue. Jane tried to hold the tears back. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed by this entire day.

The social worker had talked about an early intervention program—for first-time juvenile offenders—to get teens back on the right path if they had somehow gotten into trouble. The social worker outlined the program for her: it would involve counseling for Jennifer and her family. Jane wondered when she’d have the time but kept that thought to herself. Jennifer would be required to have good school attendance—something else that she’d learned. Jennifer had been skipping school. Her attendance would have to be checked regularly along with whether she was doing her homework and keeping up her grades. And she would be required to do community service. If she could manage all of this and not get into further trouble, her case would be dismissed after approximately six months. She would not have a criminal record. It could mean that she’d still be eligible for college or could get a decent job after graduation.

Jennifer finally walked back into the waiting area. Jane watched, seeing now how her beautiful little girl was becoming a young woman. She was accompanied by a young man dressed in a suit that didn’t quite seem to fit. The collar of his shirt was too big for his neck, and the tie was too long. Jane thought this must be Jennifer’s attorney, but she wondered how he could possibly have a law degree. He didn’t look that much older than Jennifer.

I’m Attorney Marcus Jones. I will be representing Jennifer in court.

Jane tried to be polite, but she had difficulty hiding her irritation at this presumptuous man claiming to represent her daughter. She knew Jennifer better than anyone else in the world. Jones directed Jennifer to a chair and sat down between them. All of them would wait in this area for Jennifer’s pretrial hearing.

I’ve been advising your daughter of her legal rights. Unfortunately, there was an eye witness to this incident, and Jennifer does not have a strong case for trial. Furthermore …

Jennifer’s mother boiled over.

Gee isn’t that too bad, next time I should teach Jennifer that when she pushes an old, frail woman down to steal money, she should do it without anyone watching!

Mom! Don’t—you’re embarrassing me! Jennifer shouted.

Really, and pushing down an old lady doesn’t embarrass you?

Marcus Jones stood up. He held his hands out to stop the erupting argument and changed his approach.

I don’t represent you, Mrs. Shaw, I represent only your daughter. This is the law. I was trying to explain my approach in advising Jennifer, but I don’t need to talk to you or explain why I gave Jennifer the advice that I did.

Addressing Jennifer, he added, "I’m going to talk