Day 1

My name is Ahusaka; it means "wings" in Winnebago. I don't think they know I have this diary. I am 13 years old, and this is my first day at this awful place. I've never missed anyone more than I miss my family, and it's only been one night. I think they took my brother here too; I don't know, though, because they make sure we have nothing to do with family members and keep us far apart in this school. They stripped me down like some rag doll, like I wasn't even a human being, like I was some doll they found on the ground. They forced me to put on these ugly, stinky prison clothes on, then dragged me into this bathroom, sat me down, and cut my beautiful, long, healthy hair. I cried a little, making sure they didn't see.

Day 2

I woke up frantically, not knowing where I was, but then it clicked: this ugly, stinky, mean place that cut my hair. I woke up seconds before this tiny figure started screaming at the other girls to wake up. I think her name was Lisa. Ew, Lisa—such a basic, boring name. We all walked in a line to the kitchen like we were in the army or something, and we had to sit in seating plans. They poured some "delightful" platter of porridge onto my plate. I've never seen anything more disgusting. I forced it down my throat. After breakfast, we had free time. There wasn't much to do—hockey, but you would get judged because that's a "guy" thing. I think I heard something about a tag game going on.

Day 3

Once I find out where I am and where this place is, I'm going to run away. I think that's what every kid says, but I gotta have some belief in myself. I look across the street and notice a church. I've been to that church; I know where I am. It's only maybe a two-hour walk from my home if I remember my way.

Day 4

I'm getting out of here, I say as I change into my day clothes. I run to the gate early enough that none of the workers are awake. Luckily, I'm skinny enough to slide right through the gate. I run down the road, hoping one of my elders or uncles or someone will drive by and notice me, but no luck. I keep running and running until, hours later, I make it home. I slam the door open, running to my mom; she's crying in shock. I look towards the fireplace and realize they didn't take my brother. I run to him in happiness, hugging him. I've never missed them so much.