Short Writings

A First

A First

        She told me to take off my shoes.

        My red and white striped shoes were given to me by my mother a few years back. I was twenty-one at the time, the Christmas season was almost at it’s peak. I was spending the holiday week with my family and I was one of the last girls up Christmas morning. The box had been wrapped in a mint green ribbon, the ends tied into a perfect, delicate bow.

        That’s how things were in my family: perfect. All the children dressed to impress while being the best in each of their own classes. My father was a big executive of a national bank and played golf every other weekend. My mother, being the ideal wife, had stayed home in our youth to raise us. A soon as we were of age, she’d let us go off to kindergarten. When the last of us had left, she took up work at our local church and old-folks-home.

        Everyone adored her.

        The woman in front of me cleared her throat, gaining my attention once more.

        “Shoes off,” she repeats.

        Sighing, I oblige, bending down to untie the worn laces. Slipping them off, I hand them over the counter to the lady. She slips them into a bin with my name labeling one of the sides: Juniper Sullivan.

        I never like it when people give me nicknames. I refuse to even answer to names such as "June" or "Sully".

        "Sullivan, get your head out of the clouds and follow him." The lady behind the counter points over to a tall man with a goatee. He's mostly bald, a few blonde patches surrounding his ears and neck. His hair is thick with either sweat or grease, I couldn't tell.

        I hold my things close against my chest as I take a few steps near the aging man. He opens the door for me and I step through, a wave of nausea coming over me. Looking around the hallway, I come face-to-face with a girl -someone I'd later call my closest friend- and I freeze.

        The girl wears an unsympathetic grin on her ruby red colored lips. Looking me up and down, she motions for me to pass with the man. I take a step forward and begin walking down the long stretch of a hallway.

        Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I see the girl still staring at me, a devious look in her hazel brown eyes. She pushes her platinum blonde, straight hair over her shoulder and turns swiftly into one of the other rooms.

        Other women walk the halls, smirks and glares forming on their faces, as the man I am following stops in his footsteps in front of a room. I poke my head in, my stomach becoming more squeamish by the second.

        "That's your side of the room," the man tells me, walking in and pointing to the bed and dresser. "Lunch is in about an hour, so be ready for that." His warm smile comforts me and I breathe in a sigh of relief. "Your roommate is at class right now, but you'll meet her eventually."

        I nod at him, walking over to the bed. I plop myself down onto the mattress, letting my things fall around me.

        "Have fun, June." The guy tells me, walking out of the room.

        I roll my eyes at the nickname and grumble under my breath. If I could just kindly explain to him my dislike to nicknames, I'd be happy. Well, as happy as any girl could be on her first day of Federal Prison.