This was how he had pictured jail. The room was long and narrow and furnished by a slab with a thin mattress to sleep on. A toilet and sink were attached to the wall. Only a narrow slit near the ceiling allowed natural daylight in, too high to see out of. No matter what name they called it, this was solitary confinement.
Connor sat on the edge of the bed and thought. Leonard must have set him up. Like a good little inmate, Connor ignored the continued theft of his snacks, but now Leonard had upped the game. All because Connor had taken the upper bunk.
Connor clenched his jaw in anger and punched the mattress a few times. Then he paced the length of the room over and over. When he tired of this, he sat on the bed and waited.
* * * * *
Time always dragged in jail, but now it seemed a hundred times slower. Connor had no diversions, except for meals, which were delivered through a slit in the door. During the second day of his solitary confinement, Connor asked for a book. His request was ignored. He was left with only his imagination for company. At first his thoughts were preoccupied with revenge against Leonard. Most of the plans he envisioned were so violent they would earn him more time behind bars.
Then he tried to convince himself that he was better off here. He had his own room, giving him privacy at last. No Desert Rat, no smells from his roommates at night. But he was bored. He wanted to talk to Wade, lose hours in a book, or call someone in the real world.
And then he thought of David, tempted to give into despair, to once again worry about being left behind—trapped here forever while David moved on to someone with more potential. Connor resisted this melancholy, instead taking comfort in the memories they had made together. He worked backwards, mentally travelling into the past to relive every moment. When he reached their dance on the beach, Connor stopped and lingered there. In the silence, he could hear the waves, the song from the restaurant telling him not to dream it was over.
Connor sang the lyrics he could remember. His voice was no better than a rusty hinge, but in the small secluded world he inhabited, no one else could hear. He danced with David on that beach a dozen times before he let himself go further back to the freedom of their road trip. Even further into the past and he found himself in a moment of perfection.
Graduation day. David had laughed at Connor’s silly joke of wearing nothing beneath his graduation gown. Then David had grown serious, and when they lay together, he had let Connor do whatever he wanted. He lost himself in the memory, reaching into his jumpsuit and touching himself, pretending it was David’s hand he felt, but this pleasure paled in comparison to the words David had whispered to him that night. I love you.
And he did. Before David had ever uttered those words, Connor asked him to promise never to leave him. Head resting on Connor’s chest, David had said he never would, no matter what happened. The time for fear was over. David had made his promises, and Connor was ready to trust in them blindly. The failed calls, the unanswered letters—those meant nothing. Connor knew David would wait for him, would always love him. Eventually, he would be free and they would be together. And then Connor would never let anything come between them again.
Chapter Twenty-one
Routine. Group meetings in the morning and the afternoon, evenings spent hanging out with other “troubled teens.” Three battles of wits with Dr. Wolf every week, and one pill hidden in his cheek every day to be spit into the toilet. More than routine, there was a comfort to all of this. David had no pressure from parents or school, no real threat from bullies. He was more social than ever before, since everyone at Gulfwood got along, more or less. The occasional argument between patients or shouting match with the staff broke out, but for the most part, life here was calmer than the outside world.
David found all of this useful. Someone should establish spas for teenagers where they could get away from their controlling parents or dysfunctional school life for a while. If they would ditch the ridiculous group meetings, drop the mind-warping medications, and—most of all—lose the therapists, then the hospital really would be helpful. Now he could understand why people joined cults, how a microcosm of acceptance in a huge confusing world could be such an irresistible comfort.
But David had no intention of growing complacent here. The more time that went by, the more desperate he was to contact Connor, to let him know what had happened and that he hadn’t been abandoned. David had to be careful, though. Anything outside of the norm had to be cleared by Dr. Wolf. Already David had tested the waters regarding writing letters to people on the outside, feeling this might be the best way of getting news to Connor, and Dr. Wolf had agreed. All David had to do was give the letters to Dr. Wolf, and he would oh-so helpfully mail them off.
Fat chance.
“Looks like we’ve got a new recruit,” Michelle said as she drifted by the chair where David was curled up.
It was evening. They were free to watch TV, read, or just hang out. David often stared at the TV screen while lost in thought. The hospital only had so many movies here—on glorious video cassette!—and he’d already watched most of them multiple times. David turned around and looked toward the entrance. Now that Elijah was gone, he might get a new roommate, but a girl walked through the door.
He started to turn back toward the TV, then did a double take. The girl’s face was swollen from crying. David had already seen a few new arrivals. Crying or being pale and confused were the standards, so her tears weren’t surprising, but she looked familiar. An elderly woman—probably her psychologist—said a few words to her before gesturing to the main room while speaking further with the staff. No EP for her, apparently.
Sabrina. That was her name. David recognized her from school. Back in freshman year, they’d been assigned to work together on a report for biology. David had biked over to her house and spent the evening making a cheesy video about mitosis. He remembered laughing a lot, but nothing came of their brief association.
Sabrina, clutching her overnight bag to her stomach, hesitantly walked into the lounge. David wondered if he had looked this scared on his first night here. Feeling sympathy for another newbie, he stood and gave her a little wave. Sabrina glanced in his direction before her face registered recognition. She practically ran to David, tossing the bag onto the couch.
“David! You’re here too! Oh my gosh!” She held her hands in front her, as if she wasn’t sure if she should hug him or not, so David extended one of his own. She took it and held onto it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me,” he said with a grin.
“Are you kidding? I still have that video we made. Double your luck with mitosis!”
David laughed. “That’s right! We did that corny commercial, like you could buy mitosis at the store or something. So lame!”
“Very.” Sabrina beamed at him. “I watch that video sometimes when I’m drunk.”
“Weird!”
They both laughed awkwardly. This was the extent of their history together, leaving them in uncharted territory.
“Well,” David said, “let’s sit, and you can tell me why you’re here.”
He led the way to a table and chairs on one side of the room. By the time they sat, Sabrina was on the verge of tears again. She was pretty, in her own way, and kind of a big girl. Not fat, but voluptuous. She had wavy blonde hair that belonged in a shampoo commercial, and her manner seemed elegant, like she came from money.
“Shawn Patterson,” she said. “Do you know him?”
David racked his brain. “Really tall black guy?”
“Yes! He’s my boyfriend.”
“That’s cool.”
“I wish my parents felt that way.”
David shook his head. “You’re here because they don’t like your boyfriend?”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “I’m here ‘because my grades dropped off.’ I nearly failed last year, but I still passed. I used to be straight A’s, so of course my parents flipped. But they didn’t bring me here until they caught me and Shawn ha
ving sex in their bed.”
“What?”
“They were supposed to be out of town,” Sabrina said without a trace of shame. “They told me they were coming back a day later than they actually were. If they didn’t want to see me getting it on, they shouldn’t have lied. What about you?”
David shook his head. “I didn’t have sex in your parents’ bed.”
Sabrina’s laugh was a lady-like titter that ended in a snort. That alone was enough to make him fond of her. “No, I mean what are you doing here?”
“Ah. Well, similar reasons to your own, kind of, except the name of mine is Connor Williams.”
“Connor?” Sabrina said with disbelief. “Like, scary eyes and scar Connor? You’re dating him?”
David nodded.
“Oh my god! He is so fine!”
All right. David’s feelings for Sabrina went from fondness to love. He spent the next few minutes telling her his story. She didn’t bat one beautiful eyelash at him being gay, but did become disgusted at the injustice of Connor’s arrest.
“Let me tell you something about Chuck,” she said. “Carol Metzger dated him sophomore year, partly because she’s completely clueless, and she said he’s not even as big as this.” Sabrina held up her pinky finger. “Couldn’t keep it up either, so that might explain why he’s so angry.”
“Doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” David said coolly, although he was secretly delighted at this news.
“So what about the other people here? Any mass murderers, or do all parents try to keep their kids from dating?”
“Oh, there’s all sorts here. See the hot guy over there?” He pointed to Elijah’s foosball-playing friend. “Obsessive-compulsive. Takes five showers a day and changes his clothes each time. Michelle over there is struggling with anorexia and hasn’t put on a pound in the six weeks she’s been here. Tyler tried killing himself after his girlfriend posted nude pictures of him online. Um, the nearly comatose guy on the couch is a junkie, the girl next to him wrote a love letter to her math teacher, and the guy with the acne is here because he’s insecure.”
“Insecure,” Sabrina said in deadpan tones. “His parents put him in here because he’s insecure.”
“Yup. Welcome to Gulfwood!”
* * * * *
“Hit me. That’s all. In the eye, hard enough to bruise.”
Wade was unfazed, calmly considering Connor from behind lightly shaded lenses. Then he looked down at his hands, glanced over at the dayroom full of inmates, and back at Connor who was leaning against their bunk.
“Williams, you’re crazy.”
Connor nodded and grinned. “You get it though, right? Think it will work?”
“What I think is that the guards are going to see a black man punching a white boy, and that I’ll be thrown in the hole you just got out of.”
“Fair enough.” Connor chewed his lip for a moment. “Tonight, then. After lights out when no one will see.”
Wade dropped the smirk. “You’re asking more of me than you know.”
Connor wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sometimes he thought Wade was in here for something he was ashamed to admit, like maybe he had touched somebody who was too young. He didn’t seem the sort. He was smart and had an integrity that Connor admired, but then again, those people never seemed the type. If they did, no one would tolerate them being around kids. Now he wondered if Wade wasn’t in here for reasons similar to his own.
“I’m going to ask you again,” Connor said. “Tonight. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be in here, but you have to admit that it would improve the atmosphere.”
Wade looked over at Leonard’s empty bed and shook his head ruefully. “Just don’t drag me into this.”
“I won’t, I swear. Past this one thing, at least.”
Wade left the cell, and Connor waited a few minutes before following and heading over to the pay phones. One was free. He called David’s number, no longer expecting him to pick up. Once he had his fix, he called home and asked to talk to Tommy. He wouldn’t know where the call was coming from, and hearing how his kid brother was idling away his summer made Connor feel like he was out there with him.
Once they were locked down for the night, Connor sat in bed and stared at a book, rereading the same lines over and over. He could feel Leonard’s gaze on him and overheard more than one snide remark, but he ignored him as he had done since getting out of solitary confinement.
When the lights shut off, Connor remained as still as possible, listening to his cellmates breathing until he was sure all were sleeping—all except for Wade, he hoped. Connor stayed on his mattress but lowered his head and shoulders over the edge.
“Hey,” he whispered.
There was silence, then a sigh, before long fingers touched his cheek, feeling his face like a blind person and stopping near his eye. An index finger remained just below his right eye, marking the point.
“Last chance,” Wade whispered.
“Do it.”
Connor closed his eyes just before a fist slammed into one. Wade packed a mean punch! It took all of Connor’s will not to cry out. He held his breath, tears leaking from both eyes before he got himself under control.
“Thanks,” he whispered before pulling himself up the rest of the way.
He was sure he heard Wade mutter “Crazy white boy” before the room returned to heavy breathing, snoring, and the occasional flatulence.
* * * * *
The next morning Connor awoke facing the wall. His cellmates stirred and drifted off to breakfast before he rolled over. Wade waited by the door. He took one look at Connor, his calm eyes growing wide before he shook his head and left.
The cell had a sort of mirror made from the same polished steel as the toilet and sink. Previous inmates had scratched it to hell, but Connor could still see that his eye was black and puffy. He was glad Wade had made him wait. The bruise was much more impressive now after eight hours sleep.
The next part of the plan required subtlety. Connor wouldn’t run crying to the guards; that would be too obvious. Instead he kept his head down as if he were ashamed and went for breakfast. None of the food servers took more than passing notice, but as he was carrying his tray to the table, one of the female deputies stopped him. He was in luck. Her name was Deputy Houston, and very little escaped her notice.
“What happened to you, Williams?” she said.
“Nothing.” He turned his head so she couldn’t see.
“Have you reported this?”
He shook his head, knowing he was waving the bruise back and forth. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Eat your breakfast,” she said, moving toward the control station. She wasn’t the sort to let this go unreported.
Connor sat down across from Wade, risked a smile, and enjoyed his breakfast for the first time since coming here.
Nothing happened for the next couple of hours. Connor was beginning to worry that nothing would. When the next lockdown came and they were crammed back into their dorms, Leonard took particular delight in Connor’s black eye.
“What happened? Tried sharing a shower with someone bigger and straighter than you?”
Connor kept quiet, which was good because the cell door buzzed open. Deputy Houston was there with one of her colleagues. They handcuffed Connor and led him out into the hallway. His heart sank when they took him to the inmate welfare room again.
The room was empty, but a door to the right led to a small office. The same waspish woman who had sent him to solitary confinement sat behind a desk. She nodded at him as the handcuffs were removed and he was allowed to sit, this time without being cuffed to the chair.
“Would you like to tell me about that black eye?”
Connor showed reluctance, and for once it wasn’t an act. Then he sighed and looked at his hands in his lap. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
“Between you and whom?”
He hes
itated a moment longer. Then he said, almost too quiet to hear, “Leonard. A guy in my cell.”
“And why would he hit you?”
Connor had a few stories prepared, but they suddenly seemed too hokey or transparent. Instead he kept it simple. “I don’t know. He just hit me.”
“When did this happen?”
“Yesterday. After dinner.”
The woman scribbled across a pad of yellow paper. “And is there anyone who can substantiate your claim?”
“Sorry?”
The woman sighed impatiently. “Anyone else who saw this happen. If you don’t report these things when they occur, you can’t expect us to do much about it. Attacking another inmate is a serious offense that can result in an extended sentence. I can’t just charge anyone you point at without corroborative evidence.”
Connor’s palms were sweating. He had promised not to get Wade involved, but the ante had just been upped. Getting Leonard in trouble had been his goal, but Connor never thought Desert Rat would get more time. He’d hit revenge jackpot! But only if he had a witness.
“Wade,” he blurted.
Ten minutes later Wade was brought into the room. He didn’t look happy.
“Mr. Williams says that he was attacked, and that you saw what happened.”
Wade shrugged, and Connor feared he would say that he hadn’t. “I was reading at the time. Didn’t see or hear much, really. Just noticed when Leonard punched him.”
“Do you have any idea why Leonard would do such a thing?”
Wade was quiet for a moment. “I think he hates the Irish.”
Connor almost laughed. It wasn’t a bad explanation, really—just crazy enough to be true.
After a few more dead-end questions, they were both taken back to the dayroom. The guards didn’t lead them to their dorm. Instead they were led to the side. They watched as their dorm was opened by two other deputies and Leonard was brought out in cuffs. He didn’t notice them until he was almost to the halls. His eyes locked with Connor’s and burned with rage. Unfortunately for Leonard, Deputy Houston was also watching him. As corroborative evidence went, nothing was better than a guard’s observations.