My Name Is Venus Black(11)

I try to imagine some stranger trying to help Leo—and how Leo would scream if they touched him. I think of the time I was at the kitchen table, working on a school project that involved Popsicle sticks, when Leo joined me. He watched for a few minutes, and then he picked up two sticks and used the glue to make a cross. He must have made ten of them. I was so surprised and proud of him. But when it was time to clean up, every time I tried to pick up one of his crosses, he started to wail like it hurt him.

It took me a while to realize that to his mind they weren’t crosses; they were people. And in his mind, they were just like him and so they couldn’t bear to be touched. I had to wait to clear the table until he was in another room, and for some reason that made me want to cry. The memory stings now, reminds me how sensitive Leo is.

That afternoon, the police come to talk to me. At first I think it’s good news. But, no, they’re actually there to grill me. They even have the gall to suggest I was somehow involved. They say maybe I was so angry at Inez that I asked friends to steal Leo….

“But I didn’t know where he was staying!” I screech. “And I can’t talk to my friends because their parents won’t let them, which is probably because of you guys.”

It’s true that when I was finally allowed to call Jackie, Mrs. Newton sounded cold and weird on the phone. She acted like I was some stranger and told me Jackie wasn’t home. But I know she was—because I know her exact schedule, and I could hear The Brady Bunch in the background, which she watches after school.



* * *



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WITH LEO MISSING for more than two days, the hours feel like torture. It feels like time is going so slow that I might as well be living on the planet Venus, where it takes 243 Earth days for a single day to pass. That means you get up in the morning with the sun and it won’t set again for thousands of hours.



It’s weird to think how for regular people, time is just time. But if you’re locked up, time is your enemy. Maybe that’s why they call it “doing time.” They use time’s passing—and seemingly not passing—to punish you. You wouldn’t think it could hurt so much, but it does. And with Leo out there lost, it’s excruciating.

Leo would do great at being locked up, because he doesn’t really care about time. Sure, he knows that when the hands on his yellow plastic watch point to a certain number, he gets to eat lunch or watch Gilligan’s Island or whatever. But when Inez gives him a time-out in his room, he doesn’t care for how long, he just starts stacking blocks or spinning the wheels of a toy car.

And then there’s the loneliness. Leo doesn’t mind being alone for long stretches. And if he’s upset, he doesn’t need or want someone to hug him. If I’m not around to pat his back and count, he simply curls up on his bed and rocks himself until he feels better.

At Denney that night, when I can’t sleep and I feel like screaming, I turn on my side, wrap my arms around my knees, and decide to give Leo’s rocking thing a try. At first I’m embarrassed even in front of myself. But after a while it starts to feel good, like someone is actually comforting me, even if it’s just me.

It gives me hope that someday I really can become more like Leo—unafraid of time, unchanged by my punishment.





When I meet with Betty Tuesday morning, I can tell she’s worried for me or angry or something. I start out begging her to get me out so I can look for Leo. But her voice takes on a briskness that shuts me down. “I’m really sorry about Leo,” she tells me. “But we have to talk about your case. I haven’t wanted to push you, Venus. But it’s been more than a week now…” She pauses to take a breath, like she doesn’t like what she has to say. “And, unfortunately, the prosecutor is being pressured to move your case to adult court.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means you would be tried as an adult in front of a regular jury. Which is ridiculous. I don’t think it will happen. But if it does, you could get sentenced to a lot more time. At eighteen, you’d be transferred from Echo Glen to an adult facility to serve out the rest of your sentence.”

I’m confused. “What is Echo Glen?”

“I’m sorry. It’s a juvenile facility in Issaquah, where most Snohomish County teens end up serving their time. It’s kind of like a school, though. It’s really not a terrible place….”

Now she’s scaring me. I’d been picturing staying here at Denney. I figured I’d get privileges for being good, so I could get out early.



“I don’t want you to worry, Venus,” she assures me, as if she’s read my mind. “You’re way, way too young to be tried as an adult. You’re only thirteen!” She bangs her fist on her desk for emphasis, but it doesn’t even make me jump like on TV.

“Plus, you’re a good student,” she continues. “You have no prior arrests, and you’re unlikely to re-offend. And since Washington uses specific sentencing standards for juveniles, you’re already guaranteed an appropriate sentence.”

“So what is appropriate?” I ask. “I wouldn’t want to be inappropriate.” I know I’m joking to hide my fear.

“I can’t say for sure, Venus,” Betty admits. “Depending on your disposition—what you’re convicted of—at worst, you could be incarcerated anywhere from three and a half years up to when you reach the age of twenty-one, which for you would be more than seven years. If you got convicted in adult court,” she adds, “it would mean a longer sentence.”