Bad Luck Katie

Culture Shock

Katie tightened her grip on her duffel bag as the vehicle entered the paved parking lot of her new home, The Refuge Center.

She snorted at the irony of the hand-painted sign welcoming all who were lost to find peace and comfort from the storms of life. One could only hope.

Slumping on the passenger seat, Katie didn't share Lacy's enthusiasm as her caseworker shut off the engine. "We're here," Lacy said in a cheerful voice.

"Ready to go inside?" the woman asked.

Katie forced a plastic grin on her face and responded, "Ready," while clenching her teeth.

"Just wanted to give you a heads up that this is a Christian-based facility, but they won't force their beliefs on you."

Katie rolled her eyes. Christians are the worst kind of people. The Branson family were said to be upstanding Christians. Look how that turned out.

She swung open the door and stepped outside.

After walking briskly to catch up with her, the caseworker straightened her dress jacket as she pressed the button to enter the secured building. With a click, the door unlocked.

As the door handle popped, the caseworker quickly opened the door and gestured for Katie to come inside.

Upon entering the lobby, Katie noticed a metal detector on her left, as well as a couch and artificial potted plants. She took a step back, ready to flee.

An African-American woman greeted the caseworker, her shoes squeaking on the marble floor. "How may I help you?"

The caseworker reached inside her handbag and showed the woman her credentials." I'm Lacy Spiegel. I called to arrange for my client," she pointed over her shoulder at Katie, "to stay here."

Scrutinizing the business card, the woman eyed the petite teen girl. " I have to check your belongings and put them in the hot box. "

"Hot box?" Katie repeated.

"Yeah," the woman replied in a gruff tone. "To check for bed bugs."

Katie pursed her lips.

The woman gestured for her to hand over her duffel bag.

Katie reluctantly handed it over.

Putting on a pair of disposable gloves, the woman rummaged through the bag. She pulled out a wooden back scrubber. "You can't keep this," she said.

"Why not?" Katie asked.

"Because it can be used as a weapon," the woman replied.

"How am I going to wash my back?" Katie said, raising her voice.

"We'll provide you with a loofah cloth," the woman said, not looking up, her eyes focused on her inspection. Checking every compartment, the woman set the bag down with a thump.

Katie blinked back the tears, feeling violated at how callously the woman went through her possessions-things that mattered to her.

She looked over at her caseworker, who said nothing throughout the humiliating search. She pinned her with her eyes, disillusioned.

"Once you've filled out the paperwork, I'll show your client where she'll be sleeping," the woman said, interrupting the tense moment. She walked over to a small office. " Follow me, please."

There was a small round table and two chairs in the tiny room. The woman waited by the door while they sat down. The caseworker examined the documents. Katie barely glanced at it.

"This being a Christian establishment, there are rules you must abide by," the woman asserted, her voice vibrating off the thin walls.

"You can not smoke in the building. It's an immediate exit. No profanity. There are impressionable small children around. No guests are allowed on the property. This is a safe environment, and we want to keep it that way.