The Story of Tinkerbell

Little Tink in the Big House

September, 1999

Monica, Kasey and I trudged round and round the perimeter of the fenced yard, the mid-September sun warming our skin. We'd spent all day in a series of windowless classrooms having every aspect of our beings analyzed by psychological, academic, and I.Q. testing. This would supposedly help the DOC determine whether to put us in maximum, medium, or minimum security (or the psych wing); our placement in classes and jobs; and eligibility for programs such as the boot camp.

I was running on no sleep and my head felt like it was full of cement. I'd probably failed the tests so badly that they'd stuff me in the high-security ward for cracked-out insane mental defectives. At the moment, though, I was outside in the sun with my new friends. The last haze of the Pacific Northwest summer lingered on the horizon, and the balmy air was scented with pine and sweet, drying grass. My dopesickness was fading, and I felt great; at least during the day. I still dreaded the nights with a vengeance, when I would lie on my lumpy cot, my brain buzzing like a jackhammer while the blasts from my roomie's freakish nose reverberated off the concrete walls.

"When I'm walking I strut my stuff, and I'm so strung out," Monica sang. "I'm high as a kite, I just might stop to check you out." Her footsteps halted and she gave me a significant look.

"Let me go on," I sang with her, dancing and twirling, "like I blister in the sun. Let me go o-ooon. Big hands I know you're the one."

We giggled while Kasey stared at her feet. I doubt she'd ever heard of the Violent Femmes.

"Ladies!"

We turned. The guard we called Chichis stood at the corner of the yard with her knuckles on her wide hips. Beside her was the slight, dark-haired woman who had given the I.Q. test. She was staring straight at me with a furrow in her brow, and I felt a pang of embarrassment; maybe the test really had somehow revealed my dangerously freakish nature and they were about to shove me in a boxcar and ship me off to the zoo.

"Those of you who want to know your I.Q. test results, line up," Chichis bellowed.

Most of the new arrivals swarmed over, Monica skipping off to join them, but I hesitated. The dark-haired woman was frowning at me even more intently now. I decided whatever it was that made her look at me like that, I didn't want to know. I turned away and started walking the perimeter again.

"You're not going?" Kasey asked, trotting up beside me.

"Naw. You?"

"Naw, I don't give a shit. Those tests don't mean anything, anyway."

We trudged across the pitted blacktop. I was enough of a nerd that I did give a shit, and I didn't think my heart could handle finding out I was actually of average intelligence, or worse.

Kasey startled me out of my thoughts. "A lot of girls have girlfriends in here." I followed her gaze to two women sitting in a corner of the fence sharing a cigarette, their knees touching.

"Yeah."

Kasey looked at me sidelong. "What do you think about that?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. I like girls, actually, it's just that most of them scare me." I'd given up identifying as bisexual in college when the scene had gotten too political and militant. Dudes were easier to figure out emotionally, and you didn't have to work so hard to get them off.

Kasey grinned, her bare gums glistening in the sunlight. "Yeah, I don't think there's anything wrong with it, either. If people love each other, they love each other." She watched me closely. "If you had to choose a girlfriend in here, who would it be?"