110 Degrees

Description

A man is screaming. As soon as he steps out of the SUV, he gives us the order to get inside, “Get in. Hurry up—NOW!” 

I’ve never seen them before in my life. I don’t know any of them. What is going on? 

As soon as I step inside the SUV, I feel the air conditioning hit my skin. It feels cold and nice inside the SUV. I am able to smell a mix of antifreeze, cologne and cigarettes. 

Everything has turned dark. I cannot see anything. My hearing becomes twice as acute. As I’m touching and feeling the texture of the fabric covering my face, the voice of a man is saying, “Don’t try to take it off. It is for your own protection.” 

They put hoods on our heads to avoid our seeing where we are or where we are going. I brush my arm against somebody else by my side. I know this person very well. I know the way she smells. I know every single thing about her. A relief invades my body. My heartbeat gets back to normal. I’m okay now, my sister still by my side. She is still with me. 

I don’t know what time it is. I can’t tell where we are. The only thing I know is I’m still inside the SUV and its engine keeps on going.

Author Bio

Esperanza Caminante

Esperanza Caminante (a pseudonym) wrote this story in Spanish while she was in Riverhead Jail. Published at the height of the Raise the Age Campaign by Herstory Writers Network, in partnership with the Correctional Association of NY’s Juvenile Justice Project, it provides readers young and old with a compelling look at the need for to reexamine our criminal justice system, shedding light on the historical background that has caused New York to remain one of only two states that prosecutes, sentences and incarcerates 16 and 17-year olds as adults.

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