“We was just having a little fun,” the larger of the two says, snarling. “We was just going to scare her a little . . . you ugly cow,” he adds under his breath.
Brenna just laughs. “You think I care what you say, you stupid monkey? You’re not worth my time, not now and not the ten seconds it takes me to kick your ass in the Arena.” She glares at them until they back off.
“Come on,” she says to me. I move away until we’re safely around the corner. She puts her hand in mine.
“You’re fine,” Brenna says. “You would’ve had ’em.”
“Maybe.”
“Listen, I heard you and Jacks fighting. The whole damned place did. Not that smart, you know.”
“What?” I look at her, hurt. “I thought you of all people would understand that I hate the concept of being ‘owned.’”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re not really into playing the game. I’m not either.” She pauses. “But if you wanted to win, you could.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve heard you’re looking for some dude. Pam told me. Someone we’ve never heard of. Well, you ain’t gonna find him by being a pain in the ass to the only guy here who really cares about you.”
“But Jacks—”
“Has a crush on you? Who cares? We all do what we can to get by in this place.”
I can feel my face go crimson.
“Anyway. Let’s go back. I gotta rest up for the fight tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Brenna,” I say as we approach Jacks’s cell. “Seriously. For everything.”
“Forget it,” she says before we’re within earshot of Jacks. “Just remember: If you’re gonna break his heart, make sure it’s worth it.”
“I don’t plan on doing that,” I say carefully. “But I do have to see this through. I won’t be here forever, Brenna.”
“All the more reason to play the game and be careful,” she tells me. “It won’t help anyone if you’re dead.”
I nod and make my way back to the cell. Jacks looks up, and I offer a small smile. “Sorry I ran off. Again.”
He smiles back. “Sorry I said those things. It’s hard to have hope, especially in here.”
“My sister is alive. And I’m going to save her,” I say with a certainty I don’t feel.
His eyes meet mine, and he nods. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but it’s a start.
Chapter Seventeen
After two days filled with long stretches of silences and awkwardly trying to avoid each other in our tiny cell, I decide to win Jacks over by requesting a tattoo of my own. I pick one of his sketches: a small golden sun, round and bright. I like the idea of having the sun with me always, even in the dark. Next to it is a small moon with BABY written in silver flowing letters. Baby will like it when she sees it.
He looks up from the sketch he’s working on and catches me staring at it again in the mirror, my synth-suit pulled off my shoulder, my head craning to look.
He grins. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Fine.” I shrug. I don’t want him to think that I’m weak, but it still hurts. “Maybe next time I’ll get a full sleeve, like yours.”
He holds out his arms to look at them, flexing them slightly. “I don’t know, Amy, that’s pretty hardcore. You sure you don’t want a cute little butterfly on your ankle or something first?”
I shake my head. Maybe at one point, if the world had stayed normal. If I had gone to college and gotten a tattoo to be a rebel. “Do I look like a butterfly kind of girl? I want a unicorn . . . or maybe those Chinese letters that people think mean serenity or peace, but really say sweet and sour chicken.”
Jacks laughs at that, deep and unexpected. “It used to happen a lot. People would come into my tattoo shop with letters in a different language, and I always tried to talk them out of it but . . .” He pauses, lost in thought. “Layla wanted a butterfly tattoo. She was that kind of girl. Until we got here.” He goes back to working on his sketch.
There seems to be more noise than usual coming from outside, so I walk to the window and look out. The Yard looks deserted.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Just the fights,” Jacks says. “I’m not interested in watching.”
A voice booms across the cell, making me jump. “Well, you’d better get interested real quick.” I turn to find the Warden staring at us, his presence making my skin crawl.
“What do you want?” Jacks asks, his voice cold.
The Warden stares him down. “I’ve got all of Fort Black at the fights. How do you think it will look if you and your girl aren’t there?”
Jacks takes a deep breath. “I’ve seen enough blood. . . .”
“It ain’t about the blood,” the Warden says loudly, talking over him. “It’s about the release. It’s about people getting a little entertainment.”
“It’s about you keeping them distracted so they don’t see how shitty their lives are,” Jacks shoots back.
The Warden just chuckles. “A little. Come on now. I need you there.”
Jacks looks to me, and the Warden whistles. “Sorry, didn’t know you needed permission from the missus.”