TODAY

Bad girl
A teenager struggles to stay human in the clutches of a system that despises her

Are today's mental health hospitals destroying children's lives? Join the discussion on "Mental Hell" in the Mothers section of Table Talk.

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Mamafesto
Why it's time
for Mothers Who Think

ILLUSTRATION BY DAVID SCOTT SINCALIR

A teenager struggles to stay human in the clutches of a system that despises her.

[ BY NELL BERNSTEIN ]

The phone rings late, after 10.

"Is it OK to call at this hour?" asks a young, female voice I've never heard before. It's a counselor from the group home where L. has been for the past two weeks. She's calling to let me know that L. is "AWOL," the term used by group home staff to describe a resident who leaves without permission.

I've known L. for two years, since she was 14, when she wandered into the youth newspaper I edit and sat down at a computer. Abandoned by her mother, L. had lived with her great-grandmother until she was 11, when the state took charge of her care. After more than 20 foster and group-home placements in three years, L. had, by the time I met her, decided she was better off on her own, and was staying with one friend after another -- part of the uncounted, indoor homeless. When an argument with her stepfather -- back in town briefly along with her mother -- turned violent, L. found herself swept back into the system, sent to juvenile hall and then to this group home.

Though she'd promised to try to stick it out until Sunday, when I'd be allowed a visit, I'm not surprised to hear she's gone already. That afternoon I'd gotten a call from the supervisor, his voice strained. L. has been threatening to leave, doesn't need him or anyone else, can make it on her own. But when he puts L. on the phone she's quiet, almost squeaky, resigned. Two of the other girls have been after her since the day she arrived. They can't tell if she's black or white, think she acts like she's "all that," don't like the gap between her teeth. They corner her in the hallways and challenge her to fight, later, in the basement, with no staff around to get in the way.

She has no interest in fighting them, no interest in any of the petty power struggles that determine dominion in this tiny, self-referential universe. That disengagement is as central to her unpopularity as her caramel-colored skin or her fancy vocabulary: There's nothing more infuriating than a new kid who refuses to play by the rules. So the other girls keep poking at her, which is hard to take, she reminds me, because she "has a lot of anger" -- the loose, swirling kind that barely remembers its source, that simply hovers, until it finds a trigger or a target.