Every February, a bundle of new kids were transferred into the detention center. About ten or more guys, half as many girls. The boys and girls detention center was technically combined, but the boys and girls were so separated, it felt like two different buildings. They had different dorms, different bathrooms and showers, different gyms, and different counseling rooms. The only time that the boys got to see some of the girls was during lunch or out in the courtyard during rec. Jack had been living here for three months, a week, and three and a half days, as proclaimed on his wall in black marker like a prisoners. Well, he was a prisoner. Crappy food, crappy beds, crappy therapists, crappy classes, no girls, no smokes, no drinks. Jack's father visited him every other weekend just to ask him how he was doing (even though he didn't really care), tell him to keep his act up, and give him a deck or cards or a beat-up football.

Still, Jack supposed it wasn't much better than high school. The no cigs and no girls rule were by far the worst. Jack could look at the girls, but there wasn't much worth looking at. Most of them looked how you'd expect teenage girl delinquents to look, tattooed and dirty, lanky and flat, black fingernails and torn pants. Some of them were cute, sure, but not Jack's type. He missed the girls back home, the ones with crossed around their necks, the ones who wore dresses and pink and all that girly stuff. He would do anything to get a look up one of those girl's skirts now.

The new people moving in was a big event. Since there wasn't much to do, the boys would huddle outside to watch the fresh meat moving in. Last year, a boy had managed to punch a guard across the face. It was quite the spectacle. Jack watched with rapt attention as cars pulled up, disappointed parents and angry kids. The boys looked pretty average. A guy with a limp leg, a group of guys with cocky smiles, a scared boy that wouldn't last two seconds in there, and a few other average-looking teenage troublemakers.

Then the girls came out. This was by far the most exciting part. Jack and his friends perked up as they watched the batch of girls wander into the detention center. His eyes scanned over the group. At first, he was disappointed - a bunch of the usual girls, not ugly, but not anything to call home about. Girls with box-dyed black hair and slacks, a nasty expression on their faces. Jack turned his head away to motion for his friends to go back inside to see if they could catch the good showers, but then he froze. A girl caught his eye.

Jack turned his head back towards the girls, and gaped as a girl climbed out of a glossy red Mustang. A tall man in a sharp suit climbed out after her, gripping onto her elbow with a tight grip. But Jack wasn't focusing on that. He was focusing on the angel. She was a goddess amongst girls, her hair down in soft pigtails, her cheeks tinged pink. She wore a cream-colored short dress, effortlessly feminine and pretty. If he squinted hard enough, Jack could see the outline of a pink, cotton bra through her dress. Her small, dainty feet were clad in pink ballerina flats, and she couldn't have been more perfect.

Jack wondered what the hell she had done to end up here, amongst dirty girls who spat and swore. She looked like the kind of girl to have a purity ring, the kind of girl who turned her nose up at boys like Jack. And yet, here she was, effortlessly beautiful, soft and gentle like an angel sent down from the heavens. The other boys looked just as shocked, whispering about her as her father walked her towards the door.

The boys glanced at each other and then raced towards the other side of the entrance, desperate for another look at her. The doors creaked open as the girl walked inside with her dad, a guard referring to her as {{user}}.