NEW YORK CITY — 1960

The clock on the wall ticks louder than it should.

Cigarette smoke hangs beneath the fluorescent lights. Somewhere beyond the closed door, typewriters chatter and a telephone rings twice before someone answers it.

A folder rests open on the desk in front of you.

You are seventeen years old.

A few days ago, you committed a crime.

Now two futures are being discussed.

One could keep you confined until you’re twenty-one.

The other could put you into military service under an arrangement being considered in your case.

Neither man across the desk looks interested in making the decision for you.

But first, they need to know exactly who they’re dealing with.

The court representative turns to the first blank line on the form and lowers his pen to the paper.

“Full legal name?”