of his eyes and focused on a target.
Eric, observing at a distance as always, waited for Sonny Boy to find his victim. Just as bullies could be found everywhere, so could the victims. Some were obvious, could have been wearing KICK ME signs on their backs. Eric could name any of a dozen guys who fit the requirement of victim. He was surprised at Sonny Boy’s choice: Sweet Lefty Stanton, an affable, carefree kid who was the star pitcher on the facility’s baseball team, easygoing, quick to laugh at a joke, relaxed at all times. The least likely victim in the place because he stood over six feet tall and registered 180 pounds when he stepped on the scale. He spoke in a slow, unhurried drawl.
Sonny Boy had evidently found a weakness, a vulnerable spot in Sweet Lefty’s character, because the slow-talking ballplayer submitted himself to Sonny Boy’s tricks and ruses.
Still affable and easygoing, Sweet Lefty continued to win ball games as the team’s top pitcher and smiled modestly at the applause and approbation. But Eric observed a shadow crossing his face when Sonny Boy approached, saw his meek acceptance of Sonny Boy’s jokes and jibes. “You sound stupid when you open your mouth to speak, small brain.” He ran errands for Sonny Boy, returned his soiled dishes and utensils to the counter at mealtimes. Remained silent when Sonny Boy ordered, “Shut up.”
Everyone accepted the situation without comment or intervention. You did not interfere with the actions of others, no matter how cruel or vindictive. Keep your distance. Don’t fight anyone else’s battles. Don’t even be curious about other prisoners, what they do and why they do it.
His dislike of Sonny Boy tempted him to intervene, to use his reputation as a killer to intimidate the bully. But time ruled out any action. The calendar in his room had shown that less than a month remained before his freedom arrived. It would be stupid to become involved in someone else’s problem at this particular moment.
Then: enter the Señorita. Who awakened all his desires and made him ache with his old longings.
The facility was a coed institution, but males and females were not allowed contact with each other. According to the rules, that is. They shared the same cafeteria and gymnasium and athletic field, but never simultaneously. They caught swift glimpses of each other on occasion, and the males were quick to call out to the girls, yelling obscenities or variations on what they would like to do to their female counterparts, in language that made Eric turn away in disgust. The raw language of the facility offended him. He did not use such words himself. Harvey, as bad as he was, had never sworn, and his mother had blessed herself whenever she heard anyone using swear words, especially that word beginning with
F
. The
F
word was as commonly used in the facility as salt and pepper on the dinner table. Eric had never used the
F
word.
Prisoners at the facility learned to eat quickly, because mealtime sessions were only forty-five minutes long. Males first, females second. A fifteen-minute interval between the two sessions allowed the cafeteria to be cleaned up and prepared for the arrival of the girls. Eric supervised the prisoners who cleared the tables, wiped them clean, and swept the floor.
Eric saw the Señorita for the first time at theend of the cleanup detail. He was about to leave after a final check of the job when the door to the female side opened unexpectedly and a girl walked in. She was tall and slender, long black hair cascading to her shoulders. Their eyes met and held.
Until the guard’s voice intervened: “Hey you, out.”
She blushed furiously, which deepened the beauty of her dusky skin.
“My first day here,” she apologized, a gentle accent softening her words.
As the guard waved her away, her eyes sought Eric once more. A pang tore at his heart, longing overwhelmed him. Did he see longing in her eyes as well? He found Sonny Boy at his
Eric, observing at a distance as always, waited for Sonny Boy to find his victim. Just as bullies could be found everywhere, so could the victims. Some were obvious, could have been wearing KICK ME signs on their backs. Eric could name any of a dozen guys who fit the requirement of victim. He was surprised at Sonny Boy’s choice: Sweet Lefty Stanton, an affable, carefree kid who was the star pitcher on the facility’s baseball team, easygoing, quick to laugh at a joke, relaxed at all times. The least likely victim in the place because he stood over six feet tall and registered 180 pounds when he stepped on the scale. He spoke in a slow, unhurried drawl.
Sonny Boy had evidently found a weakness, a vulnerable spot in Sweet Lefty’s character, because the slow-talking ballplayer submitted himself to Sonny Boy’s tricks and ruses.
Still affable and easygoing, Sweet Lefty continued to win ball games as the team’s top pitcher and smiled modestly at the applause and approbation. But Eric observed a shadow crossing his face when Sonny Boy approached, saw his meek acceptance of Sonny Boy’s jokes and jibes. “You sound stupid when you open your mouth to speak, small brain.” He ran errands for Sonny Boy, returned his soiled dishes and utensils to the counter at mealtimes. Remained silent when Sonny Boy ordered, “Shut up.”
Everyone accepted the situation without comment or intervention. You did not interfere with the actions of others, no matter how cruel or vindictive. Keep your distance. Don’t fight anyone else’s battles. Don’t even be curious about other prisoners, what they do and why they do it.
His dislike of Sonny Boy tempted him to intervene, to use his reputation as a killer to intimidate the bully. But time ruled out any action. The calendar in his room had shown that less than a month remained before his freedom arrived. It would be stupid to become involved in someone else’s problem at this particular moment.
Then: enter the Señorita. Who awakened all his desires and made him ache with his old longings.
The facility was a coed institution, but males and females were not allowed contact with each other. According to the rules, that is. They shared the same cafeteria and gymnasium and athletic field, but never simultaneously. They caught swift glimpses of each other on occasion, and the males were quick to call out to the girls, yelling obscenities or variations on what they would like to do to their female counterparts, in language that made Eric turn away in disgust. The raw language of the facility offended him. He did not use such words himself. Harvey, as bad as he was, had never sworn, and his mother had blessed herself whenever she heard anyone using swear words, especially that word beginning with
F
. The
F
word was as commonly used in the facility as salt and pepper on the dinner table. Eric had never used the
F
word.
Prisoners at the facility learned to eat quickly, because mealtime sessions were only forty-five minutes long. Males first, females second. A fifteen-minute interval between the two sessions allowed the cafeteria to be cleaned up and prepared for the arrival of the girls. Eric supervised the prisoners who cleared the tables, wiped them clean, and swept the floor.
Eric saw the Señorita for the first time at theend of the cleanup detail. He was about to leave after a final check of the job when the door to the female side opened unexpectedly and a girl walked in. She was tall and slender, long black hair cascading to her shoulders. Their eyes met and held.
Until the guard’s voice intervened: “Hey you, out.”
She blushed furiously, which deepened the beauty of her dusky skin.
“My first day here,” she apologized, a gentle accent softening her words.
As the guard waved her away, her eyes sought Eric once more. A pang tore at his heart, longing overwhelmed him. Did he see longing in her eyes as well? He found Sonny Boy at his
Similar Books
