"Yo, Kade." Jake shuffles over, one of the newer fish who figured out real quick that aligning with us meant not getting his skull caved in during yard time. Kid's the same age as me, but skinny as fuck, with nervous energy that reminds me of a chihuahua on meth. "Got that thing you wanted."
He slips me a small baggie, and I pocket it without looking. The guards here are about as observant as Jinx's mom after a bender, but there's no point in being sloppy. Business is business, and business has been booming lately.
Tank's eyes narrow at me. I know that look. It's hisyou're being a fucking idiotlook, which he perfected around age eleven and has been using on me ever since.
"What?" I lean back, spreading my arms across the fence like I own the place. Which I absolutely fucking do. "Don't give me that look."
He signs something that roughly translates to,You're going to get more time.
"Please. Officer Casto practically handed me his supplier's number. These assholes are more corrupt than we are." I pull out a crumpled twenty from another pocket, courtesy of Jimmy Two-Teeth, who needed protection from the Southside crew. "Besides, I'm just the middleman. Supply and demand, brother."
Tank's disapproval is as glaring as a neon sign. For a guy who can't talk, he's loud as fuck when he wants to be.
And judgmental.
"Look," I say, pocketing the cash, "I buy from the guards at wholesale, mark it up twenty percent, everybody's happy. It's called capitalism. American pie and all that jazz."
He signsbullshitwith enough force I'm surprised his fingers don't snap off.
"Oh, come on. Don't be such a fucking boy scout." I grin at him. "Think of it this way—with your cut, you can buy Ellie something pretty when we get out next month. You know how she loves sparkly shit."
Tank goes still, then looks away and folds his arms over his chest. That's his version of slamming a door in my face, the passive-aggressive giant.
The truth is, I think about Ellie constantly too. Four months without seeing her feels like four years. Getting a month off our sentences was practically a miracle, but it's nowhere near enough.
I wonder if she's opened those birthday presents yet, or if she meant what she said in her letters about waiting until we're back. Knowing her stubborn ass, they're probably still sitting on her desk in that obnoxiously pink room of hers, collecting dust while she counts down the days like some tragic heroine in those old movies she makes us watch when it's her turn to pick. Jinx actually likes that shit. And Tank doesn't ever fall asleep or try to sneak on his phone like me and Cy, but it's hard to tell if that's because he gives a shit about the movie or just because he knows she likes it.
It's pathetic how the four of us orbit around her like she's the fucking sun. I knew the moment Tank brought her home, she'd change the dynamics of the group forever.
Just didn't realize I'd be jockeying with him for the role of biggest simp.
"You think she's opened them yet?" I ask Tank, even though I know he won't answer when he's in a mood. "The presents?"
He shrugs, still not looking at me.
"Bet you five commissary pudding cups she hasn't. Girl's more stubborn than both of us combined, and that's saying something considering you once went three days without eating because Uncle Dickhead forgot to buy groceries while me and Aunt Cathy were gone and you didn't want to ask."
That gets me a look. Not a good one, but at least he's engaging again.
Here's the thing that's been eating at me, the thought that keeps me up at night in my shitty bunk while listening to my roommate snore like a fucking chainsaw.
What if Ellie's moved on?
She's pretty. Always has been, but now? Now she's the kind of pretty that has me splitting lips when guys at school look too long. A few teachers, too, which means I've gotta get more creative with my arson threats. The fact that I'm in here, where I can't shield her from all the male attention she's completely fucking oblivious to and have to rely on that flimsy nerd and a guy who's practically a girl if you squint, drives me out of my skull on a daily basis.
"What if she finds some rich asshole?" The words tumble out before I can stop them. "What if while we're locked up in here playing gangster, she meets some trust-fund dickhead who can actually take her places that aren't the fucking creek?"
Tank's hands move sharp and fast as he signs the same line.Bullshit.
"Be realistic," I snap back. "Even if she didn't find anyone over the summer—and let's face it, Cy and Jinx are too chickenshit to properly beat the vultures away from her—she's gonna get more attention every year. Best case scenario?" I laugh, the sound bitter. "She picks one of us and we go full Beatles. Splitsville. Worst case scenario? She ends up with some polo-wearing fuckboy who can give her everything she deserves."
Tank's whole body goes rigid, and I can practically feel the rage in his veins. His hands clench into fists, and for a second I think he might actually hit me.
"My thoughts exactly," I mutter, kicking at a loose piece of concrete. "Makes you want to burn the whole fucking world down, doesn't it?"
His hands move again, slower this time.Ellie isn't like that.
"Yeah, for now." The words taste like shit. "But you think she's gonna be content playing trailer park princess forever? Living in that shithole, hanging out in our rusty RV, swimming in a creek that's probably sixty percent sewage runoff?"
