Free A Deeper Love Inside by Sister Souljah Page B

jumping in during a breakout brawl. But the threat of the festival cancelation held everyone spellbound. No one wanted to be mistakenly included in anything that could be cited as wrong behavior. Besides, when the guards start grabbing on any one of us, if we didn’t settle, and surrender, it was the stick or the shock of the taser.
    We all knew that the first punishment for the brawlers would come from the warden. If the festival got canceled because of them, the second but worse punishment would come from within. The enraged girls on lockdown would hit like bullets being fired from all directions—on the yard, or in the slop house, or in the gym, places where we all gathered in groups, gangs, and cliques, where payback was a bitch, revenge was the truth and our unspoken law.
    The three brawling girls were on their asses in front of the warden, their jumpers crooked and one of em ripped opened.
    “Does this have anything to do with my missing utensils, or is it that you three just wanted to make sure I canceled the festival?”
    “They’re going to the bottom,” I said casually to Riot.
    “Cause they’re stupid,” Riot agreed.
    “The warden said only the one who took the fork and knife would be punished,” Tiny said.
    “Did you believe her? Look how the warden caused them to fight, and watch what she does next,” Riot said quietly.
    The whistle blew. We froze in place.
    “Hands out,” one guard commanded.
    We all spaced ourselves.
    “No more talk,” the guard barked.
    The warden took one step forward. “Sit,” the warden said, and we all sat down in perfectly spaced neat rows. We were all silent, nothing moving but our eyes. I could hear their hearts beating furiously. I could feel it, too.
    My heart was racing for different reasons. Me and Riot, Tiny, and a whole group of us of all ages and different gangs and cliques were all “state property.” We were the ones who nobody showed up for—in court, at medical offices, or interviews and hearings and, even worser, for visitations. Riot’s and Tiny’s parents were murdered. My parents and family were considered dead because they were all a no-show. My body began to tremble beneath my jumper. The thought of having been abandoned and forgotten was too violent. I perspired as I watched the warden. The idea that, according to them, she was my legal mother made me feel nauseous. Now I was sick and tense like the rest of them, not because of the fucking family festival where no one from my family would show. Not because of four hours and fifteen minutes of freedom, or the “best meal we having for the whole year.” It was something more deeper than that going wrong inside of me.
    Walkie-talkies blared at a high volume suddenly. “The A-dorm is all clear,” a male voice reported into the warden.
    “Move officers to the B-dorm,” she ordered. We could tell her anger was mounting. She wasn’t the only one.
    A whistle sounded.
    “Get on all fours,” the warden commanded. We all looked around with questions printed on our faces. There were three hundred eyeballs moving.
    “Do whatever she says,” Riot whispered to me.
    In a split second the gym was packed with girls on their hands and knees, including the three brawlers.
    “You want to act like animals?” the warden asked. “Whatever you’re going to do in life, do it well. Now crawl,” she ordered.
    There was a long pause and most girls began crawling on hands and knees. Riot shot me a look. She was already crawling. I saw the warden maneuvering between the rows of crawling females. I thought about Lina. She wasn’t in the gym. Was she somewhere crawling on her hands and knees? She taught me to think for all of the Diamond Needles and not only of myself. I knew they all wanted to attend the festival for business, friends, or fun. I knew Lina wanted to go and that she planned on seeing someone special to her. I had the dancing girls who I was training and who I knew were gonna win if they