• "I'm leaving for school now."
    "Do you have all your books?"
    "I put them in my bag last night."
    "Do you have your schedule?"
    "Yes."
    "And your running shoes?"
    "Yeah."
    "Alright then dear, bye."

    The rusting old school bus rumbled across the dirt. I looked out the window to my right. I saw rubble and dirt. I looked to my left: There sat my dad, focusing his hardest to drive our passengers safely to the next camp. I looked forward and saw the looming sight of the camp. I closed my eyes.

    As soon as the thundering engine cut off I jumped outside so I could greet the coming officer. I dusted off my clothing and fixed my hair quickly. When he was three feet away I folded my hands in front of my body and bowed, "Hello Officer." The words were deep and fast; our native language.

    He replied in Japanese: "Brat." He took my chin in his hands and it was hard not to kick him in the groin. He inspected me as if I were a doll, then stroked my face with his gloved hand. I shivered a bit as he stepped away and into the bus.

    "Now!" His English was thick with accent, "All you step outside and in line march to the camp."

    He stepped off the bus to usher them out. The passengers were all like me, prisoners of war. About ten months ago, the United States was attacked by Japan. Their overseer's, China, claimed us as their own territory and the Japanese soldiers are here to take care of us now and keep us in line for the reconstruction of the US. One by one, people stepped out. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, they were all in the same boat as my father and I were. We were lucky though. Due to my mothers pure Japanese heritage, she got to work as a secretary, filing status reports about the camps and typing up budget statements. My brother was recruited as a soldier; he could be dead for all we know. I was going to be sent to work with my mother but I worked some favors to get to help my dad because of his asthma. So now we shuttle people from camp to camp.

    "Move it!" The man screamed, as an older woman was trying to keep up with the line. She was tripping and stumbling as the officer barked at her. In a rash decision I ran as fast as I could to her and pulled her arm over my shoulder. "Please let me help her!" I cried out, my face towards the dirt below me. The officer pulled my hair and I yelped. "Do as you wish." he spat, and let go with a push. I stumbled a bit and regained my composure as the woman and I hurried to catch up with the others. "Gracias chica," she whispered to me. Her voice was croaking, a thick Spanish accent. "De nada." I replied.

    We entered the gates where a younger girl was waiting for her. The old woman kissed my forehead and they left as I watched onward. I turned and saw my dad approaching me. "Jennifer!" He stopped in front of me to catch his breath, "There's no more shuttles for a while. We can stay here for a bit."

    We agreed to meet back at that spot in 45 minutes. I was anxious, worrying for him. What would he do if he had an asthma attack when I wasn't there? Each time he denounced me as a mother hen and I soon learned to stop.

    I walked along the metal halls as I drowned in the sounds of the conversations around me . Others like me thrown from our comfort zones and turned into slaves. I swallowed their sounds and choked on the noise of it all. In my daze I accidentally bumped up against another person, "S-sorry." I mumbled but the boy threw me against the hard metal wall with a thud. The sounds stopped.

    "Look at you, punk a** b***h! Think you're ******** high and mighty cause you're one of them aren't you? Well I got news for you, 'cause you ain't s**t." I grabbed his arm and yelled at him to let go when he gave me a hard slap across the face. I fell to the ground and heard whistles blasting at us. A guard grabbed him and shoved him away. I looked up slowly and saw others staring, looking at me in my shame. There was still no sound. I felt my face grow hot and I quickly got up and ran.

    I ran through the halls with the metal thunks of my steps in rapid succession. I found a dark hallway and floundered down to the ground and cried. I cried for the pain. I cried for the shame. I cried for my past. I curled up into a ball and hit my head lightly against the metal walls. Why me? Why must I suffer so much? Why wasn't I one of the few who died in the first attack, like my friend Genny? Why do I have to see this, I'm only a child! My sobs reverberated against the hollow walls. I quickly dried my eyes and stood up; It was probably about time to meet up with my dad. I walked as soft as I could back outside. I'd already had enough sound for today. There he was, okay as he always was when I met with him. "What did you do?" he asked innocently.

    "I went for a run."

    "Alright then, let's head on back."

    We shuffled into the old bus and he started up the noisy engine. I sat in the first seat on the right as I always did. Normally when you turn 18 you should be hanging out with your friends and boyfriend and being... free. I rested my bruising cheek against the glass and watched the camp shrink back away from my view. I closed my eyes and dreamed again.