The supervisor snapped a wet towel across my back. The iron fell from my hand, bumping off my shin, skinning flesh. “Dammit, are you daft, too, Lovett?” She whipped out the towel again, striking my leg. “That could’ve been me.”
I winced and gingerly touched my bloodied, burned shin. “I’ve never used one of these before. Only my sad iron that I’d heat atop our woodstove. No one in Troublesome had electricity and—”
“You’retroublesome, and I’ve had enough of yourtroublesomework. Look what you’ve done to the officer’s new shirt,” she hissed.
I swallowed hard and slid my palm over the cloth, hiding the deed. I’d ruined the expensive, store-bought garment.
A guard strolled over. “What’s going on over here, Estelle?” He looked to her and then over to me.
“Nothing, sir. Just one of the irons overheating again,” she grumbled and stabbed me with a hot glare.
Bored, the officer shrugged and moved on.
Estelle snatched my good arm and whispered angrily, “Getyour leg cleaned up ’fore you get blood on the fresh laundry and ruin more. Then start over there folding the sheets and prison dresses before I snitch and have your ugly ass thrown into the lockup myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I limped toward the lavatory.
“Dumb and daft,” Estelle said, her words sliding through tight-tucked teeth toward the other women, but just loud enough to make sure I heard.
I stiffened, squeezed a fist, but kept moving.
Inside the washroom, I cleaned the wound and splashed water on my face, feeling the exhaustion of my double duties.
I’d been sleeping only three hours a night, and the workload had taken its toll.
That evening when I prepared for bed, a young woman with cropped auburn curls snarled as she passed by. “Keep away,” she barked me back, clutching a stack of books.
“Over here, Regina,” someone called out to her.
The warden had assignedherthe librarian job.
Envy crawled across my hand, staining.
I sat on the side of my bed and watched the young woman hand out books and then pass right over me, though I held up my hand and motioned to her.
Waldeen returned from closing the kitchen. “Cussy, you best get some rest.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the tin can, stretched across her bed. “I need ya in the kitchen at three tomorrow morning to break down the freezers. We got us a big delivery coming in the afternoon. Did you go over the numbers like I asked?”
“They’re all good, and we’re on budget.”
She nodded, pleased.
I pulled back my cover and slipped into bed, continuing to study Regina while she delivered the reads. My eyes followed her as she chatted happily about the books she passed out. Then one inmate grabbed a book and ripped off the cover, tossing it onto the floor. Regina gasped, and her pale face reddened as shepicked up the torn read.
Suddenly, the librarian struck the woman across the face with a book. She screeched and rubbed her jaw.
A guard yelled, “You’ve been warned about this. One more time, Regina Miles, and I’ll write you up.”
Regina held up the damaged read, offended, a protest budding on her lips. “But it’s a book, dammit.Book.You can’t go treating ’em like that,” she said reverently, as if it were a Bible.
In that moment, I could see the rebellions of youth and how deeply she cared for her job, and I felt the whisper of a kindred spirit despite her cruelty.
“One more time,” the guard repeated.
I eased out of my cot, plucked the cover from the floor, and held it up to Regina. “I can bind this for you, and it’ll be as good as new.”
Regina looked torn for a second, like she might accept my offer. But just as quick, her eyes turned switchblade deadly. “Bind this, Grape Stain.” She raised the book and threw it at me.
I caught it in mid-air.
