Page 36 of The Reformatory

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Crabgrass whipped against Robert’s shins as he ran, sharp through his pants. On the Negro side of the campus, the grass grew taller and thicker between the stands of swamp pines. The walk to the Negro dorms on the west side of the campus had taken longer than he expected, or he’d have panicked at leaving the kitchen with only five minutes to spare. He, Blue, and Redbone had started running when the two-story brick building came into sight fifty yards ahead. This close to curfew, no one lingered outside of the dormitory door.

Robert had only seen the fuller grounds in frantic glimpses: a baseball field with bleachers, a church. And fences, fences, all around, a maze of them—the outer ones topped with barbed wire. Even in his hurry, Robert mapped the campus in his head: the main gate, the long driveway, the warden’s office, the ghost fire, the schoolhouse, the kitchen. The rest of the Negro side of the campus grew in the weeds, still a mystery in the shadows of waning daylight.

A far-off clock chimed, and they cussed and ran with all their might until they reached the brick path to the rectangular dormitory, which seemed as big as Gracetown Memorial Hospital. Robert flung himself up the stairs and past the columns to reach the double doors. The last toll of the bell sounded as their feet pattered the steps.

Boone waited at the top of the stairs, a clipboard in his hand. Behind him, the boys already inside hooted and laughed. Could laughter be waiting for him too, ten steps ahead?

“Somebody must want a whupping, huh?” Boone said.

“No, sir!” Robert, Blue, and Redbone said.

They all braced for what was next, until Boone said, “Ya’ll locked up that pantry?” and they all insisted they had, and they knew they had escaped punishment because Boone’s thoughts already had moved on past their tardiness.

“Sweeting, sir,” Blue said from the head of their line. Redbone followed next—“Montgomery, sir”—and Boone checked off his name on his clipboard. Then it was Robert’s turn, and he tried to imitate them: “Stephens, sir.” A squeak in his voice.

Boone scowled. “We got more’n one Stephens. First initial?”

“R.,” Robert said.

“That’s what you say every night: Stephens—R.—sir. And you raise your voice so I can hear over these fools.”

“Yessir.”

“Go stand over there.”

Two teenagers waited at the end of the foyer, also holding their ties. They did not meet Robert’s eyes, and he kept his eyes away from them. He might have been scared of them if they hadn’t looked so scared themselves, shifting their weight from foot to foot.

Redbone and Blue gave him small, secret waves as they vanished into the line of boys of all ages crowding the dormitory hallway. Robert felt sad and alone now; the dormitory might be the biggest building he’d ever set foot in, aside from the courthouse. Again the laughter of boys floated from the hall; easy, relaxed, even happy. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, then. Maybe the worst of the day was done.

“Y’all follow me,” Boone said. He sounded weary, no thunder left in his voice. He yawned behind his clipboard and led them behind the crowd of boys. “We got Lincoln wing and Washington wing. Lincoln this end, ages six to thirteen, Washington the other side, fourteen to twenty-one. Bunks, rec rooms, lockers, showers, all either Lincoln or Washington. Stick to yo’ own sides. Hear?”

“Yessir,” they all said.

The windows in the dormitory lobby had no bars. Mr. Loehmann had told him the Reformatory was a prison, but the windows were no different than the tall, sturdy windows he cranked open at Miz Lottie’s house. These windows had screens, but screens were easy to cut or take out. He’d climbed out of Miz Lottie’s window almost every night to play bid whist and sometimes craps in a shed with his cousins Walter and Priscilla. They had often played long past midnight, and neither Miz Lottie nor Gloria had heard him climb in or out.

“Stephens,” Boone said, his voice a bullet. “Which wing you in?”

Robert couldn’t keep his shoulders from jumping, and one of the teenagers snickered and mimicked Robert’s nervousness. Robert wanted to shove the stranger against the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. For a moment, he was afraid he might.

“Lincoln,” Robert answered Boone.

“That’s the only thing you need in yo’ head,” Boone said.

Could Boone know he’d been thinking about climbing out of a window? Robert made sure not to look at another window as long as Boone was with him. Instead, he gazed at the polished floors and emptying halls.

Boone pointed out the locker room, rows of metal doors closed tight, wooden benches askew in the narrow walkway. “Pick an empty one, write yo’ name in chalk—and that’s yo’ locker. You hang up yo’ school clothes and tie at night, fold up yo’ pajamas in the mornin’. But they don’t got locks, so yo’ stuff’s gonna get stole. You don’t want your stuff stole, don’t put nothin’ in there worth stealin’. You want peace, then don’t have nothin’ ev’rybody else ain’t got. You get caught stealing, you go to the Funhouse. I find anything in yo’ locker ain’t supposed to be there—cigarettes, gum, anything even looks like a weapon—you go to the Funhouse. Don’t tell me somebody else put it there, neither. If it’s got yo’ name on it, it’s yo’ whupping.”

The rules were so unfair! Maybe no one could avoid the Funhouse, Robert thought.

Maybe that was why the whole table had gone quiet at dinner.

Boone took them to the bathroom doorway next, and Robert felt weary at the sight of rows of open shower stalls that surely meant he must wash naked in front of other boys. It was bad enough he’d stripped in front of the warden. He hadn’t even liked Mama seeing him naked!

“You will shower ev’ry night—but grow eyes in the back of yo’ head. You go in, wait your turn, wash, come out. If I hear a ruckus in my showers, it don’t matter who started it. All o’ y’all gettin’ whipped. Trust in that. That’s straight from the warden. Y’all will learn. Any dumb animal can learn from pain, so you will too.”

“Yessir,” Robert whispered. And he would have to shower tonight! Robert’s stomach dragged against his ribs like a sack of stones.