“Where is here?” Nate asked bravely.
Ms. Strepp smiled again. “You just broke into prison. Welcome to death row.”
74
CASSIE
BECCA AND I CAME UP with the next steps in our plan, agreeing to keep it to just the two of us.
“What about Hot Tim?” I asked.
She made a rueful face. “Hot Tim will be merely decorative until I know him better. I mean, it seems like I can trust him, but—”
“Yeah,” I said.
The sound of the door lock opening made us jump apart and immediately put scowls on our faces.
“It’s about time!” Becca snapped as the guard stood aside to let us out. “How long were you gonna make me breathe the same air as her?”
“At least I shower sometimes!” I snarled, shoving her shoulder.
She wheeled on me, face contorted with amazingly convincing rage, and the guards pulled us apart.
“I see your time in the pen didn’t have the desired effect.” The Strepp’s voice was dry and brittle, like a tin can rolling down a street. “It looks like I’ll have to take further measures.” She gave the guards a crisp nod, and they hustled Becca and me down the hall.
I expected us to be separated into our usual rooms, but instead we were taken to a hall that was new to both of us. It was smaller than the others, lower ceilinged and darker, as if it never saw fresh air or light.
I tried not to look at Becca as the guards shoved us toward the end of the hall. As we approached, rats scattered with angry squeaks, and I felt a chill penetrate down to my bone marrow. I’d been beaten up, seen executions of innocent kids, been tested to within an inch of my life—and here I was, finding that Strepp had found an even lower level to sink us to.
Glancing around, I saw that most of these rooms were empty. The few kids that were here looked more neglected: skinnier, more ragged, their eyes more hopeless, if that was possible.
The guard had trouble sliding open the rusty barred door, but finally it was barely wide enough for us to get through, and we were pushed inside. This cell had no bunks and no open toilet—just a bare concrete floor and a plastic pail. I was shaking but trying not to show my fear. On the wall across from us, a rusted sign hung by one screw. I could barely make out the words ORDER + DISCIPLINE = A HAPPY, HEALTHY CELL.
With effort the guard closed our door and made a show of locking it. She sneered at us, showing cracked, yellowing teeth, and then marched down the hall. For a minute Becca and I stood silently, seeing the rats start to cautiously come closer.
“Shit,” Becca breathed, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I nodded in agreement. Shit, indeed.
The one bare bulb halfway down the hall flickered out, leaving us in almost total darkness. I reached out and felt for Becca’s hand. Her grubby fingers interlaced with mine.
We were facing something even worse than we’d had so far, but at least we were together again. Too scared to keep up the pretense of being enemies, we simply stood in the darkness and waited, listening to the scurrying rats and the slow drip of water somewhere.
Then a voice floated across the hallway to us: “Cassie? Becca?”
75
BECCA
CASSIE AND I IMMEDIATELY PRESSED our faces to the peeling, decrepit bars, peering into the darkness. Across the hallway a figure stepped closer to the bars of the opposite cell.
“Nate!” Cassie gasped.
“Nate?” I echoed in surprise.
“Who’re those chicks?” said a voice next to him, and then a smaller figure appeared. I couldn’t make out what he looked like, but he was just a kid, one of the youngest I’d seen in this hellhole.
“Nate, what are you doing here?” Cassie asked. I remembered her saying she’d wanted to make out with him.
Nate shrugged, though his face was tense. “Skipping out of a hybrid corn test.”
My sister smiled, her teeth almost luminous in the dimness.
“So what is this joint?” the little kid asked.
“The crazy house. It’s—” I started to answer him but was interrupted by the harsh buzzing of the alarm. Cassie and I knew what to expect, stepping back fast so our fingers wouldn’t get pinched by our door opening automatically. But Nate and the kid looked startled, snatching back their hands at the last second.
“What’s happening?” Nate asked.
All down the hallway, doors opened with grinding creaks. Cassie and I had to push against ours, but finally got out and filed down the dank hall with the other kids.
“Well…” Cassie began reluctantly.
“It’s… actually, it’s an execution,” I said quietly. “This is a prison just for kids. It’s death row for everyone. And… kids get executed pretty often.”
Nate looked horrified and the little kid’s pale, pinched face grew whiter, if possible.
“Whaddaya mean, executed?” the kid asked.
“I mean… killed,” I said. “Put to death. Usually for no reason at all.” No sense in prettying it up—they’d have to get used to the idea, and the sooner the better.
“Wait,” Nate said, shaking his head as we streamed upstairs and down another hall, heading to the ring. “What are you talking about?”
Cassie looked at him with pity. “It’s true,” she murmured, since we were now surrounded by guards. I was scouring the place for Tim, but stealthily.
“First you’ll get tested,” Cassie explained in a low voice. “Try to do your best. How well you do determines how long you last in here.”
Nathaniel looked a bit green.
“Okay, when you says, ‘killed,’” the kid said, “ya mean, like—”
“What’s your name, kid?” I asked.
He frowned and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Yeah what?”
“Yeah, that’s my name,” he said. “They call me the Kid.”
“Geez,” I said. “That’s original.”
“You there!” barked a familiar voice.
I narrowed my eyes and turned to see Tim in his guard suit, brandishing his billy club. “Shut up and keep moving!”
“Eff you,” the Kid began angrily, but I clapped my hand over his mouth and dragged him along.
There had been a glitter in Tim’s eyes. My face ached with wanting to smile, but of course I didn’t, just shuffled up into the bleachers with the others to await some fresh horror.
My life sucked more every day.
76
IT WAS MERRY.
Today’s victim was Merry.
My heart seized and I sucked in a shocked breath when I saw my roommate getting hauled onto the canvas floor of the ring. As usual, there was a gurney and two “nurses,” who were checking the equipment, filling syringes, getting ready to kill a kid.
Merry’s small face peered into the bleachers, but I knew she couldn’t see anyone past the lights. I wanted to shout out to her, which would be fine if I didn’t mind getting dragged out of the bleachers, beaten, and possibly tossed up on the stage next to her for a double feature.
All I could do was send her thoughts—pointless, I know. But it was all I had.