“What thing?”
“Let them play outside with no fence, and they’ll stay near you. Put up a fence, and they’re smashed up against it, trying to get out.”
“Hmm. Maybe it’s just human nature to be defiant,” I offered. “We don’t wanna be hemmed in by rules. We want to make our own decisions.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. Rebellious spirits,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just the smart ones who have rebellious spirits.”
“Well, I think I’m smart, and I don’t have a rebellious spirit,” I argued.
“Bullshit. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here,” Avery pointed out.
“I’m not rebellious. I’m desperate.”
Avery sighed. “Me. Too.”
I sat down on her bed. “You’re going to a lot of trouble to get some extra time with Gavin.”
“I know,” she said.
“A whole weekend doing manual labor,” I went on.
“I know.”
“Is he worth it?”
“Is your ice cream cone worth it?”
I gave her a level look. She giggled.
“The next ones won’t actually be real, you know,” she said. “Service projects, that is.”
I nodded.
“You have some place to go when we’re off on a weekend-long ‘project’?”
I didn’t think about that, and automatically shook my head.
Avery huffed. “We so need to get you a boyfriend.”
***
I made Avery promise that I wouldn’t have to clean bathrooms. I didn’t mind anything else, but my ten months in juvenile hall scarred me for life when it came to bathrooms. It was difficult enough just cleaning my own.
“Cadence, I’ll take care of you, okay?” she said, running her eyes over her clipboard. We were standing on the corner of Barry Street waiting for the others to arrive. Most were already here, including Gracie and her mother, who pretended I didn’t exist. I had a sudden urge to run up to them and scream in their faces. It was a very weird, very strong impulse, and I bugged Avery with questions to avoid acting on it.
“So what am I doing then?” I asked, fingering the hole in my ratty Crestview High T-shirt. I paired it with equally ratty jeans and old running shoes. I know.
“There are never enough women volunteers for these things,” Avery muttered.
“Are you listening to me?”
Avery looked up from her roster. “You’re like an irritating fly. Go away.”
“Avery!”
She headed for a group of grown men. Mr. Connelly was among them. I didn’t notice when he arrived, but now that he was here, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He wore a pair of blue Dickies with a gray long-sleeve T-shirt. It hugged his body snuggly, highlighting toned arms and a tight chest. His typical Converse All Stars were replaced by a pair of old Timberlands. He rocked major bed-head, and suddenly a new impulse surfaced to replace the one I had about screaming in Gracie’s face: I wanted to run up to Mr. Connelly and put my fingers in his hair. I wanted to grab his hair, pull his face down to mine, and force him to kiss me.
“Oh, Lord,” I breathed.
“Everyone! Over here!” Avery called, and I walked over to the group, standing as far away from Mr. Connelly as I could. “Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m pairing up the teens with adults. The easiest, most efficient way to get all this done today is to work as teams. Teens, you’ll take direction from the adults you’re paired with. Adults, you’ll take direction from me.”
A few chuckles. I had to admit that Avery was really good at organizing and leading. If I had to address this crowd of thirty people, I’d be nothing but sweaty armpits and stuttering sentences.
“Okay. I’ve already handed out the “to do” lists to all the adults. It’s super important that you get all the items on your list checked off before the sun goes down. We’ve got six houses, people. We can totally do this,” Avery said. “Now listen for your teams. Team 1: Mr. Sunder, Dean, and Gracie. Team 2: Mr. Wallace, Adrian, and Lizzie. Team 3: Mr. and Mrs. Rollings, Seth, and Abbey. Team 4: Mr. Clemish and Mrs. Grayson, Toby, and Amber . . .”
I listened patiently for my name, happy to have avoided being paired with Gracie and her mom, but growing increasingly nervous about the names not yet called.
“. . . Team 7: Mr. Connelly, Tate, and Cadence . . .”
I didn’t know if I’d faint or squeal. I knew I shouldn’t do either and turned my head when a car drove by. Good distraction. Exactly what I needed to get my emotions under control. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about my flushed face. Tate sidled up to me and plopped his arm over my shoulder.
“Cadence Miller. Prettiest ex-con in all of Atlanta,” he said.
“Gross. Get off me,” I replied, pushing his arm away.
Tate was a sleazebag, but he thought he was a smooth operator. He never made fun of me for my juvie stint, but he liked to constantly remind me that I was attractive, and all the more so because of the time I spent behind bars. Apparently, he liked the bad girls. He asked me questions every now and again about my time in jail, but I wouldn’t engage him in conversation. I didn’t want to tell him anything, fearing the information would do nothing but turn him on and make him even more obnoxious.
“So, what’s the food like in juvie?” he asked.
I ignored him.
“Do you have, like, recess or playtime? Or what is it called? Yard time?”
Still ignoring.
“Do you girls shower together? Do you help each other wash?”
“Tate, shut up.”
“Hey guys,” Mr. Connelly said, walking up to us.
“Hey,” we said in unison, and I rolled my eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Crestview, Tate,” Mr. Connelly said.
“I don’t go there. I go to South Hampton,” Tate replied.
“The preparatory school always talked about in the papers?” Mr. Connelly asked.