"Everything in there is exactly what happened?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The door opened and Instructors Gage and Donaldson entered, setting a dinner tray on top of the file cabinet. "Grace, the statement you just wrote is a true and accurate representation of what happened today, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And that entire statement is in your handwriting, is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Has anyone helped or told you what to write other than my original instructions?"

"No, ma'am."

Carey looked at her watch. "It's 1745. Waters, write down the date and time, sign your full legal name, then hand it to Instructor Gage."

"Yes, ma'am."

Carey handed the observation forms to her blonde coworker. "She's going to eat first, then take her in the back and do a visual."

"Do you want a picture?"

Before Carey could answer, she saw Gage nodding. "It's a good idea," she said, opening the top drawer and removing the key to the supply locker where the camera was kept. She wanted to ask how the test went, how Grace felt, but that was impossible at the moment. "Grace, other than your back, are you injured anywhere else?"

"I don't think so, ma'am."

"All right. Go ahead and eat," Carey said, taking Grace's signed statement from Donaldson. As she read it over, her headache worsened. As much as she believed what Grace said had happened, she knew it would come down to the teen's word against a corrections officer. Marking her initials in the lower left hand corner of each handwritten page, Carey made a notation in her incident report referencing the statement, then finished filling in the various parts of the form. When Grace finished eating, Carey had her escorted to another room to strip and have the mark on her back photographed. Then it was more paperwork as the nurse arrived with forms of her own both before and after examining Grace. When the evening ended, Carey had a stack of papers, a headache that refused to go away, and the promise that the next day would be just as bad when the corrections officer's report was turned in.

It was almost lights out by the time Grace was allowed to leave the infirmary and return to the cabin. The illumination from inside told her that Instructor Carey was already there. Please don't want to talk about it, she thought as she climbed the steps. I just want to go to sleep and forget about the whole damn day. Stepping inside, she found the dark-haired woman sitting in the recliner. "Hello, ma'am."

"Come sit down," Carey said, gesturing at the couch. "Are you still hungry?"

"No," Grace said as she sat down. "I'm fine."

Carey leaned forward, putting the footrest down and resting her elbows on her knees. "Grace, talk to me."

"I've already told you what happened," Grace said.

"Not about that," Carey said. "The test. I remember how stressful it was for me to take the SAT."

"I've never taken a test that hard," Grace said. "I thought I'd never finish it."

"How do you think you did?"

“I don’t know. I think I did okay. On the math part anyway." She shook her head. "The verbal was really hard. I um…I didn't finish the last section," she admitted. "He called time and I still had five questions to go."

Carey smiled and leaned back in her chair. "Only five? You never saw someone fill circles in so fast when I took the test. I think I had twenty."

"You guessed at the last ones too?"

"Yes, they say not to but I panicked when the proctor called time," Carey said.

"Me too." Grace smiled, feeling a little better.

Carey steepled her fingers. "The investigation precludes me from talking to you about what happened with Officer Baker, but I will tell you that I'm proud of the way you restrained your mouth. At least when you returned. I could tell you were angry."

Grace nodded. "I was, but I knew you'd be upset if I lost it."

"I would have," Carey said. "You're showing real progress, Grace. The last time you were dropped off by a correctional officer you had to have your mouth gagged. I'm not saying that to embarrass you. I'm reminding you of where you've been and how far you've come." She snapped her fingers, making Grace look at her and not the coffee table. "You realize it's been over a week since you've made me drop you?"

"Six days," Grace corrected. "Remember, I caught my toe on the corner of the couch."

"You're right," Carey said. "I've been around sailors with much cleaner language than you use." Resting her elbows on the armrest, she laced her fingers together. "There was a time when I doubted you could go six hours, much less six days."

"Me too," Grace said. "It seemed like everything I did got you mad."

"Some things made me mad," Carey said. "The eye rolling for one."

"I've been real good about that," Grace said.

"You have," the instructor said. "I don't take joy in disciplining you, Grace. I do it because you need it, because you've broken a rule, or because you've been disrespectful either to yourself or to someone else."

"Instructor Carey? Thanks for not making me go in a jumpsuit." Instead of looking at the coffee table like she usually did, she met the brown eyes squarely. "I know you didn't have to do that and...well...I just wanted you to know I appreciated it."

"You're welcome," Carey said, giving the teen an approving smile. "I never thought I'd hear that from you." She pushed the footrest down and stood up. "You want a soda?"

"Oh yeah, that'd be great," Grace said.

"Come on," Carey said. "Talk to me nicely and there might be a pint of cherry vanilla in the freezer that we can share."

"So does that mean you're going to college?" Latisha asked.

Grace stabbed at the green beans. "Where am I supposed to get money for college? Rob a bank?"

"What about loans and all those things they give to us poor unfortunates?" Jan asked. "My cousin got to go to cosmetology school and they even gave her money for the bus and lunch each day. Maybe you could do something like that."

"Are you kidding?" Rosetti said. "You remember her hair when she came in here? She looked like a mad troll."

"Fuck you, Rosetti," Grace said. "I only had three or four colors in it. Besides, I'm not into playing hairdresser."

"So there's got to be other ways," Jan said.

"Yeah, maybe I’ll win the lottery. Of course you have to be eighteen to buy a ticket, so that's out." She snapped her fingers. "I know, I'll win a scholarship for wayward girls who get expelled from school. Forget it, Jan. College isn't for me."

"But you're the smartest one here," Jan said. "If anyone can get to college, it's you."

"Why would I want to spend four more years in school?" Grace asked, jabbing a piece of meat and popping it into her mouth. "I couldn't wait to get out of high school. You know, even the ones who get scholarships still have to work. Why not just work full time and get the money?"

"Have a kid," Lopez said. "They paid for my sister's apartment, she gets the Medicaid, and they pay for her to go to college," Lopez said. "Even paid for her day care."

"That's because she has a kid and is on welfare," Grace said.

"Well there you go," Jan said. "Go screw around, have a kid, then let the state pay for you to go to-uh-oh."

"And I couldn't figure out what we were going to talk about in SR today," Instructor Carey said from behind Grace's chair. "Thanks, ladies."

Grace remained quiet until she was sure the instructor was out of earshot. "Damn. How does she do that?"

"I don't know, but I bet she's got a dart board in her office with your picture on it," Jan said.

"Since you girls found the topic so interesting at lunch, let's talk about what it means to have children." Carey sat on her desk, her hands curled around the edge. "In this state, half of all families on welfare started with teenage pregnancy. Why?" Brown eyes scanned the room. "Rosetti."

"Because teen mothers can't afford it, ma'am."

"It." Carey shook her head. "You make a baby sound like a car. It's a baby. A living, breathing, extremely expensive and needy human being. There is not a single one of you who can afford to take care of yourselves much less a baby, and if you think Mr. Wonderful is going to step up to the plate and take financial responsibility, or any responsibility, think again. In cases when the mother's age is between sixteen and twenty, less than half of the fathers are identified on the birth certificates." She pushed off the desk and walked between the rows of desks. "Now if the cost isn't enough to convince you, think about the baby's health. Teens are twice as likely not to receive adequate prenatal care as women in their twenties, and almost three times less than women over the age of thirty. Waters, give me an example of what can happen without proper prenatal care."

"Um, birth defects, ma'am."

"Such as?"

"Being retarded, ma'am."

"Mental retardation is a good one. Campbell, name another."

"Physical defects, ma'am."

"Low birth weight and underdeveloped organs are also what teen mothers can look forward to," Carey said. "Children of teen parents are twice as likely to be victims of child abuse and neglect. Jones, is that what you want for your children?"

"No, ma'am."

"Rosetti, what about you?"

"No, ma'am."

"Having kids doesn't seem like a big joke now, does it?"

"No, ma'am," the group said.

"So let's talk about money, since Maribel seems to think having babies is the answer to financial problems. Think kids are cheap? Waters, you have an extra nine hundred dollars lying around?"