Savage Drift

^{CHAPTER EIGHT} JOSIE

Sometimes we get a moment of reprieve and this afternoon, in the courtyard, it’s a blue-sky Indian summer kind of day and someone lends Freddy a Frisbee.

We all play, even me.

Heather’s shouting, “Throw me the Frithhhbee!”

Aidan, who’s the youngest—just 8—is somehow really, really good at it and can place the Frisbee wherever he wants.

Freddy is hyper, like always, but in the sun, on an unusually warm day, it’s okay. Everything is okay.

Inmates are watching us play now. I don’t like the way some of them look at Lori and me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Then Venger comes into the courtyard and I can feel him watching us.

Somehow I know to tone it down, to make it seem like I’m not having fun.

And then my instincts tell me, nope, he’s watching me too closely. I’d better stop.

“I’m out,” I tell them. “I’m just going to watch.”

And I sit down next to Mario, on the cement bench.

I’m breathing hard. My adrenaline is up and suddenly I have the feeling that if I could exercise this way every day, maybe I could get rid of some of the rage.

I feel a little jab of hope in my heart. Maybe I could get rid of some of the rage.

“You’re looking good out there,” Mario tells me.

I roll my eyes, and I smile. He can usually get a smile out of me.

Then I see that Aidan is holding his crotch a little between throws. He’s doing that shifty little thing with his legs that boys do when they need to pee.

I nudge Mario and point.

“Aidan needs to go.”

“Aidan,” Mario shouts. “Go take a leak.”

“In a minute,” he calls back.

I don’t blame Aidan. It’s the best moment we’ve had. Who wants to leave and go into the cesspit of a bathroom, to fend off God knows what perverts are lurking in the stalls?

“Lori okay?” Mario asks me.

“I don’t know,” I tell him.

“Don’t like her?”

“It’s not that.”

“Must be something. That girl would do sorcery if she thought she could get you to like her. Throw a friendy spell on you.”

I sigh.

The sun feels so good on my face. I don’t want to talk.

“Hmmm?” Mario prods.

“I don’t want to be responsible to anyone, Mario. I am not…”

“Not what?”

“Not safe,” I answer. My stupid voice cracks.

“I want you to remember something, Josie Miller. What you did, it was to protect your friends. You saved those kids when you attacked that soldier.”

“Killed him.”

“What?”

“I didn’t just attack him. I killed him,” I say.

“Yeah, okay, you killed him.”

“The other guy, too. The dad.”

“No-good Tad Mandry. He deserved what he got, trapping a bunch of kids the way he did. I think when you get to Niko’s farm, you’re gonna let go of all that junk. Move on. We just gotta get you outta here.”

I have the note from Niko about the farm in my pocket. He had given it to Mario, in case Mario somehow found me. The note is on a small scrap of graph paper. The paper is soft and degrading at the folds and edges. Sometimes I would just put my fingers on it, just touch it to remind myself it’s here.

In Niko’s square print, it reads:

No matter what you do.

You do are the unwritten words.

Also unwritten: no matter who you kill.

I keep my eyes on my EZ-on mules. No way am I going to let myself feel anything, out in the courtyard. Venger standing at the fence watching us.

“You saved your friends. That’s what counts. You gotta let the rest go.”

I look at my feet so I won’t see the compassion in Mario’s eyes.

Sometimes it makes me want to break things.

Venger drifts off around the side of Excellence and I decide I can play again.

Courtyard period is almost over and the sun is starting to go down when Aidan suddenly begs Freddy to come to the john with him. And Freddy, of course, refuses, and Aidan starts to race for the building and wets himself.

He stops running, aghast. His chinos are turning dark brown and there’s a puddle underfoot on the cement tile deck.

“Scietto!” Venger’s voice booms out across the courtyard. “Look what your boy did!”

And Mario’s already up, crossing to Aidan as fast as he can hobble. Which is not fast. He’s old.

I get there first. “It’s okay,” I say to Aidan.

Venger is on us.

“How old are you, boy?” he sneers.

Aidan sniffles. “Eight,” through his tears.

“Eight years old and messing yourself like a toddler, aren’t you ashamed?”

My pulse is banging in my neck now.

“All right,” Mario says, drawing near, taking short, gaspy breaths. “Little accident. We’ll fix it.”

Mario puts out a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.

“Can the boy go inside and get cleaned up?”

“Courtyard period’s almost over,” Venger snaps. “He can wait out here with everyone else. It will teach him a lesson.”

A little sob/sigh catches in Aidan’s throat. His face is twisted in misery.

Venger’s a sadistic a-hole and I wish, I wish, I wish I could teach him a lesson.

“But this mess can’t stay on my courtyard,” Venger says.

“I’ll clean it up,” Mario says.

“Darn right you will,” Venger growls. “You’re his sponsor.”

“No problemo,” Mario says. “Say, can I send the girl for a rag?”

“I’d recommend it,” Venger says. “This puddle better be gone by dinner bell or you’re all docked.”

None of the kids can stand to lose a meal. We’re all stick-skinny as it is.

Dinner’s in maybe ten minutes so I run.

My feet slide on the linoleum in my stupid house shoes. Not the first time I’ve cursed these things.

I nearly crash into a fat man in stained overalls who’s gazing listlessly out of a frosted window.

“Watch it!” he yells.

I skid away, not bothering with an apology.

When I return to the courtyard, with one of our two towels, it’s maybe three minutes to the bell.

Mario and the kids are standing there. Aidan’s shivering and crying. Heather’s crying now, too.

I drop to my knees and begin to wipe up the puddle.

Then, bam, there’s a foot pushing me over.

“I said SCIETTO was supposed to clean it up!” Venger says.

“She’s sorry, she’s sorry!” Mario sputters.

For his sake, I speak. “I’m sorry,” I say.

The dinner bell rings.

“Yeah, you’re sorry,” Venger spits. “Seeing as you’re so eager to clean, I guess you can stay out here and clean it good.”

Venger pushes Aidan and Heather toward Plaza 900.

“Say, Mr. Venger,” Mario stammers. “I’ve been meaning to apologize about that mess at the fence a few days ago—”

“Go on,” Venger says. “Scietto, take your brats and feed them!”

“Josie wanted to apologize, too, didn’t cha, hun?”

Mario is telling me to beg.

He knows Venger’s been waiting for some way to pay me back for my defiance at the gate.

I am not going to beg.

I drop to my hands and knees and start to scrub.

“No, she’s too proud to apologize,” Venger says. “It’s okay, Scietto. I’ll take care of your girl. Go on, now, go have your supper.”

Mario says nothing in reply, and for that I am glad.

He gets the kids out of there, before Venger changes his mind.