Liam picks flames. Of course he does. A spiral of red and orange that wraps around his left wrist, curling toward his palm. Jack applies it with exaggerated care, narrating the process in a fake British accent for reasons known only to himself, and Liam laughs like a kid on Christmas morning, which is almost literally true.
"Your turn, boss," Jack says, turning to me with a sheet of geometric patterns.
I should say no. I'm a student leader. Instead, I look at the designs, find one that echoes the angular patterns on Liam'sneck, and hold out my forearm.
"This one."
Liam sees which design I've chosen. Our eyes meet, and he smiles so broadly it's ridiculous. "Matching tattoos? How cliché, Daddy."
"Shut up and hold the cloth."
He does. His fingers press against my forearm, and the temporary ink transfers in dark blue lines that mirror the permanent ones on his neck.
Then Griff shows up.
Everyone tenses. Recreation time contraband is a write-up for sure. Jack's hand moves instinctively to cover the tattoo sheets. I'm already formulating the explanation.
Griff stops at the edge of our group. His green eyes take in the scene: the sheets, the scissors, the damp cloth, the fresh designs on our arms. His jaw tightens. His expression is exactly the stern, military-precise mask I've studied for three years. I'm calculating the fallout when he does something I've never seen him do.
He rolls up his sleeve.
"Scorpion," he says. Points to the back of his hand. "Right there."
The silence lasts approximately two seconds before Jack loses his mind. "Sir, yes sir!" he practically shouts, already scrambling through the sheets for a scorpion. "Oh man, oh man, Ink Master Jack doesn't disappoint, Mr. Griff, I promise you that."
"Don't push it, Perry."
But Griff sits down. Actually sits on the picnic bench, among us, forearms resting on the table while Jack applies the scorpion to his hand with shaking fingers and a grin so wide it’s ridiculous. And Griff, stern, immovable, military-grade Chris Griff, looks at the finished product, this cheap temporaryscorpion on the back of his calloused hand beside his faded military tattoos, and he laughs.
Short. Gruff. But real. I don't show my reaction, but Liam does, his legs are bouncing up and down frantically.
"Merry Christmas," Griff says. He stands, rolls his sleeve back down, and walks away with the scorpion still on his hand. Doesn't confiscate anything. Doesn't write anyone up. Just leaves. And I think: that's the closest thing to a blessing we're ever going to get.
I look at this. All of it. Miles with his constellation and his almost-laughter. Jack with his temporary tattoos and his stories that never end. Liam, leaning into me like I'm the only solid thing in his world, flames around his wrist. Griff across the courtyard, talking to Mason and Reed and other kids. Even Harry, who's playing cards with Seth, who looks lighter these days, like some weight's been lifted, and Cedric and others.
This is my family. Not the one I was born into, not the one that failed me. This one. The one we built from scratch in a place that smells like bleach and cafeteria food, behind razor wire and security checkpoints, in a room with five bunks, a single window that doesn't open, and a basil plant called Happy.
Liam tilts his head up to look at me. "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I say, which is the most ridiculous lie I've ever told, because I'm thinking about everything. Every single thing that brought me to this bench, this moment, this boy whose hand fits in mine like it was designed for it.
All is well.
I know it won't last forever. Nothing does, especially not in a place like this, where the system grinds forward regardless. Liam will have bad days. He'll probably fight the urge to vomit again. I'll have bad days. Miles will retreat behind his walls, and Jack will get scared about the future, and Griff will be stern again tomorrow when the scorpion has washed off his hand.Harry will annoy me, Reed will punch me again, and other things will happen. The cell doors will keep locking at ten PM sharp.
But right now, with the people I love most in the world gathered around a picnic table with temporarytattoos, all is well.
EXTRA CHAPTER FROM MY FAMILY (BOOK 2 FROM ASPIRE ACADEMY)
Chapter 1. Liam
It's really fucking cold outside. It's very frequently really fucking cold here, but every time winter comes again, I get surprised. I always think it can't get worse than last year, and it always does. But I love the cold more than the heat, so I'm excited to have a snow day.
Snow has buried everything: the courtyard, the soccer pitch, the razor wire, the tree, which now looks dead. The white is so bright it hurts to look at directly. For a second, I forget we're locked up.
"Holy shit, look at this!" Jack's already in the middle of the courtyard, plunging both hands into the nearest drift like a kid on Christmas morning. Snow flies in a glittering arc. His brown eyes are crinkled nearly shut with that grin. The Batman tattoo on his neck disappears beneath his collar as he hunches down, packing a snowball.
"We're building snowmen," he announces. "Giant snowmen!"
