“ There he goes bouncing out o f bed like a jack- in-the-box as soon as his name is called, bright and cheerful like he really enjoyed breaking 60 eggs into a bucket. Fuckin' brown-noser. ” was over my head ’cause that kept me from connecting. I made like 1 was only swinging to get the covers off and it was OK for awhile until after breakfast like I said. 1 mean little things in between, like calling my table for seconds just after they ran out of french toast. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it, but there was something in his voice when he said it. It just hung on my mind and when he told me to sweep the hallway again after I ’d already done it and somebody else dropped a cigarette wrapper on it, that was when I went off. One of the other kids held me back (a green tag, wouldn’t you know it), and I could of broke loose but I let him hold on; 1was yelling things at him I don’t remember, but it was pretty bad. That’s the way it is when I get really mad. Like getting drunk. I don’t remember and when somebody tells me about it or I read the incident report, it seems like it was somebody else. So anyway now when he comes around waking us up I get up and even smile if he looks at me. Who needs the hassle? There’s plenty to get upset about without getting out of control when you know how to avoid it. That’s what the counselor and Pastor Ed says, too, so I try to stay out of trouble as long as I’m here. Just watch the others; they can screw up all they want. I want to get out of here. So here he comes waking up the houseboys and laundry boy. Speak of the devil. No need for me to do anything yet, just stay under the covers with my eyes closed. Why anyone wants those jobs is beyond me. You have to get up early and there’s more to do than any of the other cottage jobs. Which means more ways to screw up. And the other kids hassling you all the time if they don’t get the food or the clothes they want, or sometimes just because they need to hassle someone and want you to go off. I guess I’d have to admit I’ve done that once or twice myself when staff wasn’t around. Like the head houseboy’s getting paroled tomorrow unless he gets in a real bad fight or something. I’d better leave him alone; I don’t want somebody hassling me when I’m ready to leave. Beside^, I’d get in trouble right along with him and it’s just not worth it. Like the counselor says. Except there he goes bouncing out of bed like a jack-in- the-box as soon as his name is called, all bright and cheerful like he really enjoyed breaking 60 eggs into a bucket. Fuckin’ brown-noser. Bugging staff already about getting his clothes checked out for tomorrow and he’s not supposed to be talking until he’s out of the dorm, just like the rest of us. Staff won’t do anything. What’s the point of writing comments when he won’t be around for grade review on Tuesday? Makes me sick. Go back to sleep if I can, maybe 20 minutes before the rest of us get up. All that noise from the kitchen. They don’t realize how loud it is when you’re trying to get a little sleep around here. Shut it out, just shut it out. It’s only the same stupid noises as every other morning. 6:30 AM OK, OK, I’m getting up. You don’t have to bug me about it. I’ve never yet been the last one ready. Close to, sometimes, but never the last. Start making my bed with my eyes closed. After a few weeks I bet I’ll be able to make the whole thing without waking up. Maybe go through the whole day. Ha ha. Find something to laugh about. Get out of here and never see your fuckin’ face around here again, asshole. Don’t say it, don’t say it. Lucky I don’t have a bunkbed like most of the others. It’s hard enough this early without some other asshole tryin’ to climb all over you doing his own bed. Nice, neat square corners, not a wrinkle. See? Before someone runs his hand across it on the way out of the dorm. It’s happened once already, I’m sure of it. If I find out who, 1’1 break his fuckin’ neck. Just kidding. A bad bed grade can make the difference between passing and failing your week, if there’s enough other things and you’re on the borderline. Some days they don’t even grade beds, and of course that’s when mine’s the best in the whole fuckin’ cottage. Leave it just once, though, and they’re sure to grade it. That’s the way it goes around here. No justice. A ll right! Your beds should be made; y o u ’ve had plenty o f time. East dorm, into the flats. West dorm follow. Come on, move it! Always the East dorm first. Almost always. Just because one or two aren’t ready; even if it’s riot me, the other dorm always goes first. See? Like I said, no justice. Goddamn stampede is all this is. Try to get in line at the laundry room before all the good clothes in your size are gone. I’d never be laundry boy. Not that shirt, asshole, the one with the stripes. No, it hasn’t got my name on it, but I’m the only one ever wears it. Ask anybody. The flats is sheer chaos. Everybody trying to get dressed in the same place in a few minutes. Grab my comb from a locker, make sure nobody’s ripped off my shampoo. Why do they call it a locker when it hasn’t got a door, much less a lock? Come to think of it, why do they call this room the flats? It’s just a bathroom, or more like a locker room at high school. Sinks, showers, toilets and urinals, lockers and benches. Kids everywhere. Somebody hops into me, bouncing on one foot trying to get his shorts on. I elbow him in the side; he goes bounding off into someone else. Staff yells out my name and his. Shit. “ Sorry sir I didn’t mean to 1 forgot. Only he bumped into me.” “ He hit me sir did you see?” The phone in the office rings so staff turns around to answer it and 1 flip him the bird. What else can you do? Same to the guy who bumped into me. Staff gets back before he gets close enough to start swinging at me. Somebody sitting on the toilet taking a crap grinning like a skeleton. At me or at who? Maybe just for the hell of it. Maybe he always does it that way; 1 never noticed. Sit down on my place on the bench before everybody else does. If you’re the last one, there’s never enough room and you’ve got to squeeze in. Make a face at the guy who bumped into me. He can’t do anything; staff’s watching. Tough shit, motherfucker, wanna make something of it? Staff must have looked the other way. Yeah, some kind of problem in the laundry room. What now? Just sit here like nothing’s happened. See if the other guy goes off first. I’m just sitting here where I’m supposed to. 6:45 AM OK, OK, let’s go. I’m ready. Sit down and shut up. So far I’ve been here about a month. 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