he teenage girl slouched in her baggy orange detention uniform for yet another court hearing in her prostitution case.
From the bench, Commissioner Catherine Pratt called out a sunny “hello,” trying to create a human bond for a girl who has few of them.
“You’re beginning to look pregnant,” Pratt said. “Before, I didn’t even notice.”
The girl told the commissioner that she felt trapped at juvenile hall, worrying by day that she would give birth behind bars, dreaming at night of Nutella and hot Cheetos.
“They don’t even give me any sugar,” she said. “It ain’t right.”
Pratt told the girl that if she would stop running back to the streets, Pratt would place her in a group home where she could eat what she wants, keep her child out of foster care and hold the baby shower she fantasizes about.