My heart hammered as I awaited Captain’s response. Certainly, I was asking for too much.
I was shocked when Captain finally answered, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Bandit. But you’d better deliver results. If you don’t, you won’t like what I decide to do with you. So figure out exactly what’s going on here. Otherwise… you’re mine.”
CHAPTERSIX
AVA-MARIE
Iscowled as I read the newest comments on my vlogging page, which had been posted only a few days ago. The quiet sounds of the prison library rattled in my ears as I scanned the computer screen, feeling worse with each word.
Where’d she go?
She ditched us again, I bet.
We want more songs!
I hadn’t made any new content on my vlog since we’d found Forevermore, and my fans had clearly noticed. I thought they’d give up and find someone else to follow, but apparently, they really liked my music and wanted to know what the hold-up was in making another video.
They weren’t the only ones.
“You need to get back to producing,” Ezekiel said, and he leaned closer to me. “Three months is a long time without something new.”
He’d dragged me down here and forced me to check my vlog, which I’d all but ignored in the past three months. I’d made a post in the spring telling everyone I’d be too busy this summer with my internship to post anything, but now it was the fall, and my fans were wondering where I was and why I hadn’t delivered any new songs.
“I’m not a fucking performing monkey. I can’t just spit out content because everyone’s tired of waiting for me,” I complained.
“But you can’t abandon your fans because you’re feeling depressed, either,” Ez insisted. “It’s bad for your brand, and you aren’t the kind of person that doesn’t keep promises to their subscribers. This could be an option for you after you graduate, Ava. Don’t throw it away because of Charlie.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I’m notdepressed, especially not because of that dick. I’m just not feelingcreatively inclined. And by the way, I’m very thankful that you punched Charlie for me, but not at the expense of possibly getting thrown into Cellblock 9.”
Overall, I thought the fight was pretty stupid once I’d heard about it, but I was still sad I hadn’t been there, because I bet it had been entertaining.
“Look, Charlie had it coming, and now everyone’s even. Now we can get back to being friends, right?”
Ez was pretty much begging me to come back and hang with the entire group again, like we used to. He didn’t get that wasn’t going to happen.
I opened my mouth to make up some excuse, but before I could, Ez unexpectedly lolled forward. He nearly toppled out of his chair, and I had to reach out to keep him upright.
“Whoa,” I said, pushing him back in his seat. He looked dizzy. Panic flooded through me as I realized that he was warm underneath my hands. “Ez, you’re burning up.”
“I don’t have a fever,” he said, somewhat out of it.
Because immunocompromised people can’t get them, I thought angrily.
Ez reached for a cup from Commissary he’d placed on the desk, and drank deeply from it. As he did, a sharp, sweet scent rose past my nose. I knew it, because I’d used the root quite a few times in my Alchemy class.
“That’s a magical drink,” I accused. I recognized the recipe. It was a smoothie with all kinds of magical ingredients that were supposed to help boost your immune system. Ez wasn’t fooling anybody.
“So? They don’t affect me like they do you,” Ez said before he took another drink. “They give me energy.”
“You’re trying to supplement what you don’t have. You can’t keep self-medicating. They’ll help in the short term, but overall they’re just going to make you sicker,” I insisted.
“Who said anything about self-medicating? I feel… better than ever.” He took a deep breath, as if it hurt to breathe.
“Getting in shape has nothing to do with how well your body actually functions,” I argued. “You can look fine on the outside and be wasting away on the inside.”
Ez scoffed. “I thought we were talking about you, not me.”
I sensed this conversation was quickly going to revert to me not eating, and I didn’t want to go there. I sighed and hefted my bag onto my shoulder. “I’ll make another video next week, I promise. You’ll be on guitar. I wrote a couple of songs over the summer. We’ll film something this Friday.”
