Section 16

By Sneha Nadella

"He didn't look like he had any bad intentions, but then again, neither did most of the adults I'd come across in my life... and look what happened."

Estelle is an introverted 16-year-old girl leading a less-than-stellar, but ultimately quiet home life in New York City. Her stepfather might hate her and her onc

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Sep 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637305423

Book preview

Section 16

Section 16

Sneha Nadella

New Degree Press

Copyright © 2021 Sneha Nadella

All rights reserved.

Section 16

ISBN

978-1-63730-442-6 Paperback

978-1-63730-541-6 Kindle Ebook

978-1-63730-542-3 Ebook

Never again will a single story be told as though it’s the only one.

—John Berger

Contents

Existing

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

I Know I Have It in Me, but Where?

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

The Past Never Felt So Safe

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Acknowledgments

To all those who feel like they’re waiting for the right time but there will never be one. What feels like the wrong thing in the moment could really be the right thing in the future.

Dear Readers,

Thank you for reading Section 16! I feel like I’ve been inside Estelle’s head for quite a while now. As a seventeen—year—old myself, I had a good idea of where sixteen—year—old Estelle’s emotions were coming from, but because of her I learned quite a bit about all the emotional turmoil a human trafficking victim can go through. For that I am both grateful and humbled.

I initially came up with the idea for this book three years ago, when my mom and I signed up to volunteer at a gala hosted by a human trafficking prevention organization. At first, I didn’t know much about what human trafficking was, but after that night I went home with a totally changed mindset. During the event, I met the founder of the organization, who was a survivor of trafficking. That night I heard her story, as well as many other strong women who had been victimized.

I remember going home that night and searching up stats for human trafficking, noticing it’s a billion-dollar crime industry. But what confused me was that I had never heard about it prior to that day, even though it is such an immensely widespread crime. The more I went around my circle of friends to share what I had learned, the more I realized they also had no clue that such modern-day slavery was even present.

That’s when I realized trafficking was not talked about across the board, especially with Gen Z. Since then, I’ve started an informational podcast and interviewed many survivors to amplify my voice in the fight against human trafficking.

Something especially eye-opening that I have heard from survivors I interview is that a majority of them regret that our world obtains horrible misconceptions about human trafficking—misconceptions that lessen the severity of what survivors underwent in their experiences.

For example, a common misconception is that only/mostly people who live in more rural and underprivileged areas get lured in by traffickers, but the hard truth is that trafficking often happens in suburbs and cities. For all you know, your waiter at a restaurant could be a victim. All it takes is for one person to exploit another. And how do these traffickers choose who to exploit? Well, that’s where the aspect of vulnerabilities comes into the picture, and it’s also something I centered Section 16 around.

Human trafficking upholds itself in a network and a constantly growing web of people who encourage its spread through deceit and lies (oftentimes intentionally, but also unintentionally).

My goal for you after reading this book is that you take away something about how targeting trafficking can be, and I hope you turn the last page with a sense of motivation to join me in the fight to change our world for the better.

Gen Z is an outspoken generation that often determines what’s trending, what’s stylish, and what’s innovative, but most powerfully, we are the generation that cultivates change. Let’s make good use of our short time on this planet so we can leave it with more love, hope, and peace than it had when we arrived.

I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.

—Mother Teresa

Sincerely,

Sneha Nadella

Part 1

Existing

Chapter 1

Who knew my day would be ruined by an envelope?

Strange?

Agreed.

Let me rewind.

Since my sister Hazel was a year younger than me, her schedule in school was usually different than mine, which means we had lunch at different times in the day. It was definitely something I had to get used to, but once I met some people it wasn’t too bad. We always walked to and from school together because our school was basically right around the corner. Before we headed out that morning, my stepfather, Mark, asked Hazel to drop off an envelope during lunch in the post office drop box that was quite literally next to our school. But Hazel’s science class had plans to go to the American Museum of Natural History as a field trip and she would be eating lunch there, so she said she wouldn’t be able to do that during lunch.

My first red flag about this situation was that he looked so panicked. I didn’t know what the heck was in the envelope, nor did I know who he was trying to send it to. Mark was the perfect guy to everyone outside of the house, but he never really did the whole emailing and sending letters business.

Mark waited for Hazel and me to finish our breakfast—our all-time favorite, Lucky Charms—watching us intently from the other side of the table. As we were about to head out, he pulled me aside. He looked me straight in the eye, and I could tell he was carefully considering his words. Mark’s unusual behavior confused and scared me a little; he never really wanted to engage in conversation with just me, at least, unless mom was around. He wanted her to think he had the heart to take care of Hazel and me. He gave it a few seconds and then gave me the same envelope he was asking Hazel to drop off.

Careful not to lose this, Estelle. I don’t want to hear that you forgot again. Have I made myself clear?

Uhm, yes… I will. Don’t worry, I said, taking the envelope from his hand and giving him a slight eyebrow raise for the unnecessary comment.

He hesitantly handed the envelope over to me as Hazel opened the back door and began putting her shoes on. I slightly smiled at Mark and turned the other way to walk to Hazel.

At lunch! he hollered.

I rolled my eyes before pivoting and giving him a jolly thumbs up.

I just wished he understood these small things about me, like what was the need to be so confident in asking Hazel to do that same task he was so hesitant to ask me to do? I think it came down to one thing. He thought I couldn’t do it. Period.

By the time we got to school, we were pretty late. Hazel’s teacher was easy on the tardies, but Ms. Sparks, my homeroom teacher, rumored to be the mean one, wasn’t so fun and games about it. She did this thing where anytime a student arrived after the bell, they were forced to stand at the front of the class next to her hermit crabs and apologize to the class for wasting class time. I had done it once at the beginning of the year when Mark dropped me off extra late because of the pouring rain, but today was round two.

Something about speaking in front of other people was not my thing. Speaking to anybody besides Hazel and my friends Marisa and John was already hard enough. And the entire class of, like, thirty kids with a solid five of them being football jocks who loved to toss around jokes behind my back during class? Hell no, I did not enjoy doing this one bit.

After a few deep breaths and a mini pep talk in my head, I somehow managed to mumble out a coherent sentence. Thankfully after that, the class went along, as usual.

Amidst all the chaos that took place in class, Mark’s envelope maintained a constant place in the back of my mind. Asking me to do something for him was so rare—in fact, had never happened—so the damn paper sleeve was bearing down as a huge responsibility for me. I will say though, he was right about me forgetting things, so keeping myself from forgetting about this was tugging at my mind constantly, annoying at some points.

Eventually lunch came around and my plan was to drop off the envelope right at the beginning so that I wouldn’t forget, run out of time, or possibly anything else because I just wanted that envelope out of my hand at that point. As soon as the bell that dismissed the fourth period rang, I packed up and left to head straight over to the post office. My friend Marisa sat at my table and we usually walked to lunch together, but I told her during class that I would leave by myself.

I made it about halfway down the hallway, just to stop in my tracks when I remembered a crucial piece of information:

Crap! I have to ask Ms. Sparks for permission to go off campus during lunch.

Groaning at the thought of navigating my way through the maze of people trying to get to the cafeteria, I reluctantly turned around and dogged my way through. Luckily, her room was unlocked. I was about three feet from her door when I heard her talking on the phone with someone.

No biggie, I’ll just go in and wait for her to be done… then I can talk to her.

I could tell from the tone of her voice that she was in no mood to speak to anyone, nonetheless a kid asking for something.

"Gosh, today was so much, Carol. I’ll tell ya, these kids are just eating my brain today," Ms. Sparks complained.

I heard some mumbling that I couldn’t quite make out from Carol.

Yeah, exactly, Ms. Sparks agreed. It’s just all of their questions! And I know I signed up for this, but I just don’t think it’s what I want to do anymore. You know?

You’ve seriously gotta be kidding me. I wasn’t about to go ask her this when she was pissed about being asked stuff. My heart started racing. If I couldn’t ask Ms. Sparks to go off campus, nobody else would be able to give me permission, and that meant that I wouldn’t be able to drop the envelope off now.

DAMN.

…

OR.

I could go talk to her and, worst-case scenario, she’d just get really mad and say no and hate me for the rest of the year. That couldn’t hurt too bad. Right? No, that’s not right. Ugh I hated these types of situations…

***

Soooo, I didn’t end up doing it. I didn’t talk to Ms. Sparks.

I know, I know! I was screwed.

I dawdled outside her room for ninety percent of lunch, hoping she would come out at some point, but I gave up when I saw some kids walking back from lunch to their classrooms. I looked like a fool holding an envelope and sitting on the floor outside a classroom, so I called it a day. I figured maybe I could still go drop it off after school. But big maybe. I had no clue if they were going to be open or if lunch was strictly the only time I could give it to the post office.

It continued to eat at me during social studies right after lunch, as students finished up their group presentations. We were supposed to be taking notes on the president that each group chose, but my pencil hovered over my chart through all of them.

I snapped out of it when Marisa waved her hand up and down in front of my face.

Earth to Estelle. She laughed stapling her charts together.

I looked up at her like a deer in the headlights. It was a second before we both burst out laughing.

Is that the first time I’m seeing her without a resting bitch face? Josh, one of the jock kids I was talking about, remarked to Marisa as he walked to the front of the room to submit his… oh wait…

Marisa, the chart is due? I asked grabbing her hand in panic.

Yeah it goes in with our peer eval form for forty percent of the project grade.

Too late, I guess, I said irritably. I sat back in my chair and gestured to my chart with a smirk.

Marisa tried to help me out and urged me to get at least two things down for each president, but I was over it. I turned that thing in blank. No remorse.

A shitty day only got shittier. Right?

***

When Hazel and I met up at our designated spot in front of the school’s water fountain, the first thing she asked me was if I dropped off the envelope. I shook my head and her mouth dropped.

It’s okay. I’m gonna go now. There’s still cars in the parking lot. See? I said pointing to the left. They’re still open

She questioned me about why I didn’t go during lunch again and again… but honestly, I was embarrassed to answer her. How can I was scared to talk to the teacher come off positively in any way, shape or form when I’m sixteen years old? It can’t.

From the way she cut off her questions after a bit, I could tell she knew what had happened. Hazel knows me too well. Is it embarrassing that she’s only a freshman and has more emotional stability than me? A little.

The woman at the front desk of the post office ended up telling us that the truck had already left for today’s shipments but I could still give her the envelope and it would go out for delivery tomorrow. I opted out… it was better for me to accept the consequences than loop myself into something new.

***

I’m so sorry, Mark. I really did plan on delivering it, I said with my head down and face burning.

He paced from the stairs to the back door, arms crossed, with a scowl on his face. Mark had been pissed the moment I walked through the front door and handed him back the envelope.

You know what? it’s my fault for thinking you would be able to do what I asked.

Mark… you know what actually happened was… uh… I tried to get myself to do—

Before I could continue, he cut me off. Don’t try to say whatever you’re about to say! I already know about your social anxiety. It’s the reason why Hazel has friends and you just trail behind her.

That was pretty much the last straw, and my emotions just couldn’t take any more of it. I sat down on the couch with my head completely down and my eyes scrunched tightly so I wouldn’t have to see Mark’s fuming face, which only ever made me feel ashamed of myself.

Hazel sat in the kitchen. I glanced up at her as Mark paced toward the stairs. Her eyes were close to hopeless. I tilted my head slightly to the right and shed a tear, hoping she would say something. She placed her hand on her forehead for a moment but then got up and walked to the sofa in front of me.

"Mark, please. I know that her intentions weren’t to make you look bad. Maybe you can give her a chance to explain what happened?

Mark brushed her off and told her it had nothing to do with her. He walked her over to the garage door and told her to wait for him to go on a bike ride. I clenched my fists and squeezed my eyes shut, expecting to hear the garage door close and Mark approach me. When I didn’t hear anything for a minute, I looked up. Hazel stood at the door watching me.

Just go. It’s okay, I mouthed and turned my head toward the stairs.

I don’t think I can go on a bike ride actually, Mark. I just have so much homework to do tonight.

My heart instantly relaxed. She was the only one of us who could actually say no to Mark without him getting upset. That word slipping my mouth would cause such a train wreck in the house, unless Mom was around. Then he’d usually put his anger for me on the backburner until she was gone again. Hazel stayed in the kitchen while Mark continued to shout. It was less about the situation and more about my character… as usual. I don’t think he ever understood that the things he hated about me were the things I hated about myself too. I would kill to have the confidence and independence Hazel had, but… I just had to take the hard way to get there I suppose.

I was done defending myself at that point. It wasn’t like it was helping the situation at all.

I glanced over to Hazel while fighting back the flow of tears. I could tell that she too had no clue what else to say.

With a face covered in shame, I picked up Teddy, my stuffed bear, and left the living room with my head looking down. Mark shouted a few last things before I closed my bedroom door. I went to my reading nook next to my vanity, sat down and let all the tears flow. I could feel the emotions leaving me: the anger, irritation, heartbrokenness, sadness. It all left with my tears. But it’s not like any of this was a first-time occurrence; this kind of argument happened almost every other day.

I was in my room for the next hour or so crying my eyes out. This type of argument had been happening for so many years now that I was just honestly beginning to get really sick of it. I mean, today, you could say it was my fault; but for Mark to never want to hear me out… that hurt every time.

Chapter 2

For the next few days, I spent a lot of time with Mom—quite surprising because she was usually busy with her job as a cashier… Most days, she didn’t leave work to come home until about 8:30 p.m. It felt like I didn’t see her that much because she would fix Hazel and me lunch, then be out the door before I even woke up, so I really only got to talk to her between 9 and 11 p.m. most days