Chapter 1
Her first night in prison was, in more ways than one, the turning point in Noreen Casey's life.
No use trying to sleep. There was too much panic and fear and hate seething in her for that. She hadn't dreamed anything could be so bad! Not that she had ever thought much about it-about being in prison. It is not one of the things you worry about at twenty-one. When you are beautiful and have the sort of tall, long-legged body that men undress with their eyes on every street corner. When life is full of music and strange sensations and unfulfilled promises. When one small glass of wine sends you to Cloud Nine and the cupping of a boy's hand around your firm breast gives you the shivers.
No, not even if your folks are drunks and you live in a lousy neighborhood and there is never enough money. Even then you don't figure on ending up in a place like this.
Not that Sunny View Institute For Rehabilitation was a prison in the strictest sense. The social workers, juvenile authorities, and even the Judge had explained all that to Noreen. Sunny View was a privately owned and operated institution. The state sent you there and billed your parents. If the parents couldn't pay then the state had to.
Noreen shivered despite the fact that her whole body felt as though it was on fire. She raised herself on one elbow and gazed down the long narrow dormitory. Twenty white steel cots. A delinquent girl in each one.
Some of them, Noreen knew even on her first day, were really tough. Foul mouthed and dirty minded. Cursing wildly one moment and laughing just as wildly the next. Noreen grimaced in the dark. Though she never used foul language herself she came from a rough neighborhood, ahd from a dirt poor shanty-Irish family. She had thought she knew all the words. After tonight she knew differently.
Irene, the girl sleeping in the next cot, had been friendly. Maybe because they were both Irish. Irene had already taught her how to sneak a smoke by the ventilator in the John, and had even given Noreen one of her own small hoard of cigarettes.
Irene was a short dumpy girl with stringy hair and a bad complexion. Almost at the outset of their conversation she had cheerfully confessed that she was in Sunny View because the cops had caught her in the basement of a deserted house with a gang of the neighborhood boys.
"I was taking them all on," she giggled. "A buck a throw. Some fun. Nothing to it after the first two or three. You don't feel a thing. And it sure as hell beats working in a dime store."
Noreen had been careful not to let the' disgust show on her face. Irene, she could sense already, was not very bright. Still she needed a friend, or at least an informant, and Irene was the only one to show her any friendliness so far. So as they smoked the forbidden cigarettes she forced herself to ask many questions and to listen calmly to the answers. For Noreen, even in the immensity of her own turmoil and panic, was already fiercely nurturing the thought of escape. She had been a little fool and made a bad mistake. Now she had to get out of this stinking place just as soon as she could. She had no intention of serving the year the Judge had given her.
Irene, in spite of being a semi-moron, knew her way around the place. There were no walls and no bars. There was an "honor system" and was that a laugh!
"Does anybody ever escape?" Noreen asked casually.
The dumpy girl giggled and picked at her acne-pocked face. "A lot try it. They all get caught. Why you suppose they ain't got any walls or bars? Because this joint is a million miles out in the sticks, that's why! The closest town is twenty miles away and it's just a hick village. And you gotta get that far to find a main road. Nothing but back roads around here. So all the cops gotta do is watch the main road out of Crawfordsville and they got you. Of course if you got a boy friend waiting with a car you might have a chance." She laughed. "Only thing is-us girls in here ain't got many friends."
That was all 'too true, Noreen thought bitterly. Take her own case. Out of all the kids caught breaking into MacShane's Tavern that night she had been the only one to be sent away. Studsy Green, her boy friend and the ring leader and instigator of the raid, had gotten off with probation and a warning. Because his father was a well to do contractor and in with City Hall, Studsy had had a fine lawyer. And Lucy Vandiveer, her girl friend, had gotten off too. Her mother worked in the City Clerk's office.
But Noreen? One look at her background, an investigation of her drunken parents, and Noreen had been on her way to Sunny View for a year. For her own good.
Now, in the John listening to poor Irene bragging and babbling, Noreen felt again the scalding resentment and hate that had kept her, thus far, from shedding a single tear. She hated the world and she didn't care who knew it. And yet that was not quite true. Already she had learned that if you wanted anything from the world you had to be smart.
You had to cheat the world, society, everybody. And especially men. The concept had not yet clearly crystallized in Noreen's mind, but the germ was there. She had a lovely body, over-developed for her age. She was lithe and surprisingly strong and had a great deal of will power. So, amazing though it was, at twenty she was still a virgin. Noreen had valuable merchandise to sell and she wanted to keep it unflawed until the price was right.
"You're plenty lucky they didn't send you to the regular Woman's Farm," Irene was saying. Noreen brought her thoughts back to the present. What was done was done. Now she had to get out of here.
She nodded. "I know. But I'm only twenty. And my Dad. has got to pay for my keep here or the Judge said he would put him in jail! I wish they would. I hate him. He's nothing but a bum!"
Irene smiled in sympathy, showing some badly decayed teeth. "I know. I ain't got any folks now, but hey never was any good either. I lived with my aunt nearly all my life. She's paying for me here."
For some reason Irene went off into another cascade of giggles. "Gee, that judge that sent me here would flip if he knew how my aunt gets the dough to keep me here! She's a pro!"
They talked a few minutes longer, then a bell clanged brazenly in the corridor outside the John. Irene began fanning frantically at the smoke, wafting it into the ventilator.
"We got to get out of here," she hissed. "Ten minutes till lights out. Old Waffle Head will be sticking her head in here in a minute. There, I guess most of the smoke is gone. Let me leave first, Noreen, in case Waffle Head is in the hall. She's a suspicious old bat."
The door closed behind the girl. But before Noreen could follow she heard heavy footsteps approaching along the corridor. Waffle Head, she thought, and even on this terrible night she could not resist a giggle. She already knew that Waffle Head was Mrs. Ayers, the matron-at Sunny View they used the euphemism for guard-who was in charge of Section Four. A red-faced cow of a woman whose blue summer uniform was always wrinkled around her enormous fanny like the folds of an accordion.
She heard the door open behind her and turned. It was Waffle Head, all right. She was short and broad, her iron gray hair cut short. She had a moon face with small beady black eyes, a fleshy nose with prominent purple veins, and a pursy, suspicious looking mouth.
Waffle Head moved nearer to Noreen and sniffed at the air. Her beady eyes narrowed. "You been smoking, Casey!" It was a statement, not a question.
"No m'am," she said quietly. "I haven't."
"Don't lie to me," the big woman said. Her voice was strangely mild. Her button eyes roved over the girl's slim body, the beauty of which not even the rumpled seersucker dress could conceal. Noreen, for an instant, felt as though worms had touched her flesh. She stared back at the big woman, more afraid than ever now, but at the same time experiencing a strange fascination. There was a look in those dull eyes that held her-interest, contempt, and something else. Something Noreen could not name.
Waffle Head reached suddenly to take Noreen's chin in her meaty paw. Her arms were as strong and thick as a butcher's. She held the girl that way for a moment, staring into her eyes, and Noreen got the odd sensation of being caressed.
Then the woman let her go. "Never lie to me again, Casey! I know this is your first day. I know how green you are. You've got to learn who your friends are around here. And that Irene won't be one of them, let me tell you that. She's a bad one. Let her alone. Stay away from her. Don't listen to anything she has to say. You got any problems you bring them to me, eh? You know my name?"
Noreen said meekly, "Yes, ma'am. You're Mrs. Ayers. You're in charge of our section." You horrible fat cow, she added silently. Waffle Head!
Suddenly the woman smiled. "That's right. And we'll forget it this time because you're new." She reached out to pat Noreen's shoulder and in passing the chubby hand brushed lightly against the girl's firm breast. Noreen felt a tingle of sensation.
"Run along then," Waffle Head said. She stood aside for the girl to pass. "You only got a few minutes to get to bed. And I see by the chart that you're sleeping next to that Irene. I'll change that tomorrow. Now get."
Noreen, as she left the room, felt the woman's eyes boring into her back.
Now, as she lay sleepless in the narrow bed, she wondered if old Waffle Head was queer? A Lesbian. At twenty Noreen knew a great deal about Lesbians.
She had read the books and heard the talk. There had been an art teacher in her high school who had been kicked out in disgrace. Noreen knew that a lot of young girls kissed and caressed each other. That was nothing. Once, when she and Kathy Merton from next door had both been twelve she had stayed all night at Kathy's house.
Partly to escape the knowledge of where she was she let her thoughts drift back to that night. Kathy and she had been typical girls, giggling and wiggling in bed, eating candy, pouring over movie magazines.
Until suddenly Kathy had been kissing her. Noreen could still remember that candy smeared kiss. And Kathy had been whispering fiercely: "Pretend you're Clark Andrews, Noreen! I'm your wife! Come on, Noreen. Please! You get on top. I'm your wife!"
Both frightened and excited, Noreen had complied. She could still remember how Kathy had moved beneath her, sighing and groaning. Crying out, "I'm your wife! I love you, Clark! Oh, Clark, I love you! I-owwww-" And something had happened to Kathy that had not happened to Noreen. Almost immediately Kathy had dropped off to sleep, still with her arms around Noreen, with a strange smile of contentment and peace on her elfish face.
Later, as Kathy slept, Noreen had crept into the bathroom and stayed a long time. Examining her budding young breasts m the mirror, exploring her long thighs and taut buttocks.
But after that things were never the same between herself and Kathy. They never slept together again. When Kathy moved to a better neighborhood Noreen was not sorry to see her go. Her own experience she had repeated several times until, one day, she found that she had no more desire for it. By that time she had discovered boys and was busy fighting them away after she had teased enough-of them to fulfill her own desires.
Her train of memory was broken by the sound of a door opening softly at the end of the dorm. She turned her head, saw a masked flashlight coming slowly down the aisle, falling on each bed in turn. This, Noreen, knew, was late bedcheck. Irene had warned her of it.
Noreen closed her eyes and simulated slumber. The light brushed lightly over her face then down along her body. It was a hot night and she wore only a light cotton gown and had not pulled the thin blanket around her. Her hands were like damp sponges on over her. Through narrowed eyes she watched as that old cow, Waffle Head, picked up the blanket from the foot of the bed and dropped it over the girl.
But more than that. The big woman, her sour breath close to Noreen's face, tucked the blanket around Noreen's body. She lingered, her fingers brushing Noreen's breasts, sliding lightly as feathers along her nearly naked thighs. Resolutely Noreen did not move and kept her eyes closed.
When the woman had finished her tour of the dormitory and closed the door behind her Noreen heard a muffled giggle from Irene's bed.
"You get the treatment?" Irene whispered.
"What?"
Irene giggled again. "Some do, some don't. I guess she don't like me, 'cause I never had any trouble with her. She likes you though. Easy to see that. Maybe I should have warned you about Waffle Head. She's queer as a quince! You let her cop a few feels now and then and you can get anything you want."
At that moment Noreen made up her mind. Like a brief flash of lightning the idea popped into her mind. Maybe Waffle Head was the answer to her prayers, the key to getting out of this place.
"She didn't touch me," she told the other girl coldly. "She better not. I'd report her to the warden if she did."
"Okay-okay!" Irene sounded hurt. "Only don't go reporting anything to the warden. They won't believe you anyhow. You got a lot to learn. The matrons are always right. Don't nobody want any trouble around here."
"I don't want any trouble either," Noreen said. All I want is to be left alone." Already her quick mind was beginning to grapple with a plan, and one part of that plan was to disassociate herself from Irene as Waffle Head had advised.
Irene sniffed. "They ain't gonna leave you alone, neither. But I gotta admit the warden ain't so bad. If it was only her. But some of the screws are bitches, and that Waffle Head is one of the worst. Unless you let her fool around, like I say. And...."
A girl down the line raised up to hiss at them. "Will you two for Christ sake shut up. I wanna get some sleep!"
After that there was silence. Soon Irene was snoring in the next bed.
Sleep did not come that night to the "new fish." She lay staring at the ceiling, planning, stiffening her determination to get out of this place. Somehow. She would show them all. And when she did escape she would go so far away that they would never find her.
She would go to New York and lose herself in the teeming millions. She could dye her hair, either blonde or black would do, and change the way she dressed and walked and talked.
She could sing with a band, maybe, if only she could get started. Her voice was husky and deep, with a natural Irish sweetness about it. Her teacher in high school had once advised her to take singing lessons. At the thought Noreen smiled bitterly in the darkness. Singing lessons. They cost money. And whatever money the Casey family had had gone for whiskey to quench the insatiable thirst of her father, Big Tom Casey. Because big Tom liked to sing too. Probably, before the booze had ruined it, Big Tom had had a voice. And if he had bequeathed it to Noreen it was the only thing he left her.