Tick. Tick. Tick, the clock in the waiting room was getting louder and louder. I had been waiting for a half an hour for the Judge to get back so we could go in and talk. I was waiting like a grade school kid would on the last day of school. I was watching the little second hand on the clock go one second at a time, at one point I swear it went backwards for a second. I was here to see if I would go back to the halfway house I was at. I really did do anything wrong to get here in the first place, we were playing flag-football and I had put my arm out to stop a guy from getting my flag and he got upset and pushed me. The staff that was working said I hit him but that wasn’t true and I knew it and so did the kid. I was in the holding cell and sweating like a pro basketball player after he had played a hard game. I probably smelled like it too. I had spent the night in J.D.H. a juvenile hall place.
While I was there I had met the nicest person in the world, he was a staff his name was Art. He took me in and motivated me like a coach does to his team of skilled football players. He said I had reminded him of his son and that his son had gotten into trouble too and so he wanted to help. He taught me the skill of friendliness and to
be friends with everyone instead of enemies. He was like a giant teddy bear, he was big and round and had the appearance of being a tough guy but once he talked he had a soft voice like a kindergarten teacher does on the first day of school when a little kid is crying because he misses him mommy.
The whole room warmed up and the cold from the cuffs was gone and the pain that I felt before in my chest was gone and replaced by a feeling of acceptance and care. With all of these changes I quickly changed my looks and attitude, I sat up look at the judge responded with a clear open voice like I cared what was going on, and I truly did. The whole thing went great after I changed the way I acted, things were more understanding rather that all bad and it was better. The officer took off the cuffs and allowed me to hug my grandma and dad, even though I was going back to detention for a little while I was okay and accepting of that.
Three years after that day I was back in front of the judge, not because I was in trouble but for a review. I walked in and it was a different judge and he had an awful look on his face and his body was ridged and tense. I felt that pain in my chest again even though I wasn’t in trouble. I sat at the table and thought for a second and remembe
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