unedited version Snapshots From Home last story

Future Earth

My name is Jenna and I go to Future Earth.... just a fancy name for a tech school for those of us kids who are labeled, “unrehabilatable,” For real my parents sent me here. And for real it bites. The whole staff acts like it's not a reform school because they teach computers, graphic art and web design. The student body is not quite so ignorant. We know we are the throw-aways. And me, probably more than most. That's because my own personal sin.... pregnancy.

I hate my parents right now and I hate this school. My last high school seemed so awesome. I used to attend East Way Middle. Before Seamus was born I never knew how shallow all of my party friends were. I'm standing in the hallway one day and they just snubbed me! I followed them and they informed me that their parents told them they couldn't hang out with me any more. When I asked them why Karyn said it's because I'm a bad influence! Can you even friggin' believe that? She set me up with Thomas! And how am I the bad influence when the whole school knew that she certainly wasn't complaining when she was under half the basket ball team!

I never understood how retarded my parents were either. They sent me here! They threw me away... because the one time I used my birth control pills for actual birth control instead of regulating my periods, they failed. For that... my parents sent me here. “To learn a trade,” they said. What kind of stupid excuse is that any way?

I guess they had no choice. The school wouldn't let me attend dances any more because they thought it was sending the wrong message. I couldn't try out for the cheer-leading squad... for very obvious reasons. And then there was Mr. Jones, my history teacher... he called me “easy” in front of the entire class. For real he did. Then he asked me to stay after... but he was looking at me in such a creepy way that I bolted as soon as the bell rang. For real it happened. Epic perv!

So I go to my first class which is group therapy. They don't call it that. They call it Future Counseling. And they actually think we are so stupid that we don't know the difference. I sit myself in the circle of chairs as far away from the gang-banger and meth head as I can get. I am shifting in the chair as the gang-banger makes dirty innuendos towards me in Spanish. I ignore him. I want to call home and see if Seamus is okay, but I can't because he isn't there. He's at the school daycare.

My parents informed me right away that they weren't raising another child. For real they told me that I got myself into it all alone and I can deal with it the same way. Can you even believe that they said that to me? So I had to put him in the school daycare, but I hate that too. I don't know those people. I don't know if they'll hurt my son. I can never know. And for real I am in tears at the thought.

So of course the idiot teacher calls on me. He wants to know what's on my mind. When I say “a pony tail,” the other kids laugh but his rule is that until I share nobody else can... and if that happens the whole class loses the day's credit. So I open my mouth,

“Before Seamus was born, I didn't have a clue. For real, I thought a prom dress would be a priority. I thought that going to parties and football games was the only thing on earth. Then one day I am listening to my friends asking me about the latest boy band or if their heels match their dress or something so random like that. I didn't fit. All I could think about was how to pay for the diapers and formula for the day. And I know that it's completely arrogant, but for real they seemed so meaningless... I actually felt that I was above them.” I shake my head as the tears come.

The serial-suicide-attempt that's sitting next to me playing with the scars on his wrist says, “No. You weren't above them. You were just real. If I was real, like really real I wouldn't have these scars.”

The gang-banger chimes in, “Hey berto, you plastic or somethin'?”

Suicide Attempt shuts his mouth until the teacher signals that now he must talk. I swear dude, I think this teacher gets a power high from controlling the conversation. When suicide-attempt opens his mouth he says:

Hey guys, I'm Sam and I hear what she's saying completely. See cuz I'm bipolar type 1.and this is a good day because I'm on a manic. When the depression hits.... well. (He shows his wrists) if I was real all the time.... you know like her... instead of in one mind and then the other this shit wouldn't happen. But I can't get right. My parent's church says I can't take medication. It's like some kind of sin. So I learned really early to just not trust God at all.

Any way so I get this like noisy thing in my head and I stop sleeping. I start throwing things because not sleeping really pisses me off. Then I get in a fight, hit somebody or something. Then a few days later I feel really guilty and start understanding that God doesn't trust me either. Then this happens.

“Yeah berto I feel ya!” the gang-banger shouts. “But I got my posse to trust in. My boys! My brothers! The Rojo Diablos we are! Thicker then a mother's love or a father's blood!”

Suddenly the stoner in the corner (because she refuses to sit in a circle) yells, “What the hell is so real about shooting people you don't even know? That ain't brave.”

Gang-banger is on his feet in a minute... “Whatcha know about it Punta?”

“I know I started drinking because of assholes like you. That's what I know! And if your idiot friends would give up anything for you, then how come they ain't in here with you? Looks like they left you... PUNTA!” stoner girl snaps.

Gang-banger tries to charge her and there is a lull in the class as security hauls him off to solitary again. He lives in the dorms here. I'm really glad I don't. Mr. Patterson restores order after a long while and he picks up exactly where we left off as if nothing happened. He points to stoner girl and he says, “Jane you're up. But tomorrow you'll sit in the circle or you can join Juan in isolation.”

Jane stomps in her weak, wobbly way into the circle and slams herself into the plastic chair. Says simply, “Can't talk. I'm jonesin' Can't...” she sniffs loudly and wipes her nose repeatedly.

“That's your choice, but I think the rest of the class might get upset if they don't receive credit today because you're having withdrawals,” Mr. Patterson snaps and a huge moan goes through the room.

“For real?” I snap, “I am six credits away from being outta here!” I am feeling rage now. The girl sniffs loudly and wipes her nose again.

“Jonesin'” she responds and I yell, “Well dammit! Why don't you try jonesin' and talkin at the same time?” A cheer resounds but I am not hearing it. I am ready to snap this hippee-wanna-be in half. I want Seamus out of here and in my arms. I can't think of anything else right now. For real, I am boiling mad!

“Jonesin,' she says and I see her hands shaking. “Yeah man, spiders all over me all the time and I can't get right. It's my fifth detox and I can't get right. In my head...”

Her voice trails off and I am tasting rage now, “What's not right in your head? Besides the fact that it's taken me a month longer to graduate because you won't talk?” She sniffs loudly and wipes her nose but then she says the saddest thing I ever heard. She says:

“I watched it. I saw them. These guys they just drove up and started shooting. And there's my baby brother.... he was two years old. Two... I couldn't do nothin man. Nothin. Tried to hold the blood in with my hands. He said the only word he knew. He said Mama. He died. I couldn't save him. I was supposed to protect him. And now I'm sittin here with you scum, just cuz I'm jonesin.” Her nose starts to bleed and everyone is quiet.

The teacher calls the nurse and we all just wait, nobody says anything. All we hear over and over is “Jonesin jonesin jonesin.” And then we suddenly watch her slump in the chair and fall to the floor. We wait as the ambulance is called. Suicide attempt whispers that she snorted some kind of powdered soap from the janitor's closet before class. We all just sit like stone as the ambulance pulls up outside. The wail of sirens makes it all feel too final.

After the gurney carries her out... the teacher tries to start the class again. He acts as if nothing happened. As if we didn't just watch a girl maybe die. For real he starts the class again just like it was nothing. I want so much to vomit on him. I shit you not!

I am gasping. I am shaking my head. I am screaming at the teacher, “I don't care okay? I don't care about this crap we say next. Some girl maybe just died. Isn't that important?”

Anorexia says, “Jesus said Come with me and let the dead bury their own dead! Let's face it. We are all just corpses. Future earth? What a damn joke! We ain't got no future! We're already dead. Right here,” she points to her heart.

“Horse shit! If you want to be dead then you be dead okay? I got a kid! I am so alive you wouldn't even know if I told you. My social life might be dead, but I got a kid to live for!” I scream. Anorexia replies,”What if you're not? I mean I ain't sayin it to be nasty to you. The world sees us as dead already. Tells us every day how we don't stand a snowball's chance in hell of having a normal life. Face it, we are all damaged goods! My mother tells me so every day!”

Suicide attempt says, “Okay maybe she is... but what if her kid isn't? Huh? What about that? What if the kid still has a chance. And what if we do? What if we still have a chance?”

Anorexia snaps, “The whole world thinks we are garbage! That's why we're in here dumb ass!”

Suicide Attempt smashes his hands across his jeans. He yells,” What if the world is wrong? The whole world thought the earth was flat. Church even said it was. They were wrong then. Why can't they be wrong now? And any way if you want to quote the Bible Gwen, it says in there Greater is He that is in me then he who is in the world! So stop with the Bible verses okay? I hear enough of that shit at home!”

Mr Patterson calls us to order and then he congratulates us on how productive we are today. I wonder how any of this is productive.

“If you know so much Gwen and you are oh so empowered then why the hell are you a skeleton with skin?” asks Suicide Attempt.

“You wish you were this thin!” Anorexia replies, “I'm not even trying to answer you because you're a jackass!”

“No!” I snap, “You wanted the spotlight and for real you got it so tell us Gwen. Tell us what the hell you want to look like that for?”

“You mean too fat?” Anorexia says in a shaky voice, she looks like she will cry, but she continues. I am trying hard to listen but she has said the word, “fat” I don't get it. She is like 70 pounds or something.

“I do it because of my period okay?. I do it because if I binge and purge I sometimes won't have my period. I don't want to. I don't want to grow-up when I'm already so fat. I have my good years as my Mom calls them. I get huge sometimes. Sometimes even over one hundred pounds. But then I hate myself. And when I have a bad year my Mom hates me. I want to be a model... in France and have my picture took on the Eiffel Tower. That's how it all started... beauty pageants. I wanted to enter them all but I would look in the mirror and see how obese I was. I couldn't handle it. So I went on the web and found this site with lots of great tips. And so I started losing weight.”

“When did you decide you never wanted to stop losing weight? Because you look really gross that thin,” says the boy on the opposite side of the circle. This guy has been so quiet I never noticed him before. I wonder if he's new and if he just materialized there.

“Matt, it's you're turn,” says Mr. Patterson and the whole class turns to this kid that for real appeared from nowhere.

“Yeah I'm Matt. I got nothin to say really. I'm just observing,” he smiles and shrinks back into his chair.

“Everybody welcome Matt, because if he doesn't tell his story... I will. Do you prefer that Matt?” asks Mr. Patterson, and I notice that for real he looks a lot older then he did when class started.

“Hi. I'm Matt and I'm a bonafied registered sex offender. Thanks Mr. Patterson. I feel much better,” Matt says as all the kids start trying to play musical chairs just to avoid him.

'You sick bastard!” proclaims Suicide Attempt. And everyone just stares at him. My skin is crawling now too, because gross images are flashing through my mind of Matt chasing little boys. For real I want to puke.

“Thanks Mr. Patterson. I feel much better I think I'm cured now! Do you see the way they're looking at me? Like I'm some sick freak?”

“Hello,” yells Anorexia, “You are!”

“I am not!” Matt is screaming. “I just sexted my girlfriend and since we're both underage that counts as child porn! Do you know my mother turned me in so I would have to go to counseling because she thinks I'm a deviant. Really? Just cuz I wanted to see some hottie's boobs!”

Suicide Attempt moves and sits next to him. He puts his arm around him and confides in us all, “Dude boobs are nice! I like them big. You?”

“No I like them in the middle.”

I am angry but the whole class is laughing. “We can't talk about boobs in here!” I instruct.

“Why not? It's more fun then all the crap we were talking about before!” Suicide Attempt says. As I nod all the kids laugh. Then God is very merciful to me and the bell rings.

As I walk to web design I pass the daycare. You aren't allowed to go in until your classes are done and each teacher signs your paper to prove it. For real they are that strict! The cool thing about the nursery is... the walls are glass. I can see Seamus is being given a bottle by the only lady in there that I trust. She reminds me of the mom I wish I had. I like her because she looks just like the lady on the pancake commercials... only dressed nice. She always wears a suit. I like the nursery lady but at the same time I hate her a little, because she gets to feed Seamus now and I don't. At least it's her doing it and not the one who reminds me of a meth head. I wave at my son but he is sleeping. I wish I was sleeping too. Ever since he was born... I just don't sleep.

He cries because he's hungry. He cries because he's wet. I have to go out at three in the morning sometimes to get him diapers IF there happens to be enough spare change in the couch. Otherwise, I just have to put a towel on him. Seems like I'm always tired, always hungry and always awake now. After school I work. That's the only time that my Mom will watch him. As much as she hates kids I can't even believe she had me. She says that all of this is tough love. For real I think that tough love is another word for abandonment.

In the end though I have him. Seamus is cool even if he cries too much. I think about that for a while.

I think of my last class too. I think of Matt and I know he has to live x-amount of miles from a school for the rest of his life. I think of Suicide Attempt and his bracelets of scars. I think that he is going to have to deal with that forever. I think of gang-banger so lonely and desperate that he would willingly become a killer... just to feel loved. I think of Stoner and I know some how that she won't make it through the night. And for real... at least I'm breathing. Then I think of Anorexia and wonder if she was right?

Is there no future for us? Are we all dead where we stand? And then I think... no. Because you know what? I feel for every one of them. For real I want to help them all out of their misery. I feel like by telling me what they went through they are trying to create their own Future Earth. And they are trying to help me too I think. Because they bothered to tell, because they bothered to remind me that they all feel disposable sometimes too.

So then I think, maybe everyone feels that way. Like maybe everyone goes through everything. I can tell I felt just as lost when I got pregnant as Suicide Attempt feels now. I felt just as unloved as gang-banger when my parents threw me out. I felt just as hopeless as they did... as they all did. I just felt it in a different situation. But for real I still felt it.

So then it just pops in my head... loneliness, isolation, hopelessness and feelings of being misunderstood, isn't just my problem. That's everyone's problem. Isn't it? And if that's true then every one of us has a fighting chance. I think that every single one of us does have a future, somewhere here on earth.