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“Thanks.” The two of them shuffled over to the beat-up desk in the corner to talk quietly.
I hopped back in my bunk and pulled out one of Juliet’s letters.
“You got a girl, Roman?” Eraser asked.
I held up the paper in my hand. “Yeah. Juliet.”
“Roman and Juliet?” he snickered. “You serious?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh shit. I just got that.” Griff giggled like a little fuckin’ kid. “That’s precious.”
“I wouldn’t announce it took you that long, Griff. Makes you sound like an illiterate fuck.” Eraser gave his buddy a quick shove.
“Fuck both of you,” I grumbled.
“She pretty?” Eraser asked.
“Who?”
“Your girl.”
My mouth curved up. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Aww!” they shouted.
Eraser hopped up on my bunk, swinging his legs over the side.
“Don’t get comfortable,” I warned him. “I’m not trading.” We’d shared a room for a couple months when we were kids, and I liked the guy well enough. This reunion was fun and all, but I wasn’t going to let him push me around. Didn’t give a fuck what his new nickname was.
“Ease up.” He lifted his chin toward Griff’s side of the room. “I’ll take the bottom bunk on his side.”
“Damn right,” Griff muttered. “Your big ass ain’t sleeping over my head.”
“Dude, do you even fit on that mattress?” Eraser waved his hand at the bed. “Your mega clown feet probably hang over the edge.”
“Keep it up and I’ll shove one of my clown feet up your ass.” Griff lifted one sneakered foot in the air.
They cracked up and continued trading insults.
“Hey, let’s go down to the gym and teach Roman a few skills,” Griff suggested.
Was he serious? Now? “I’m plenty skilled.”
“In here, the fights are different from anything you’ve seen on the outside.” Griff’s grave tone got under my skin. “It’s not the same as defending yourself when you know a teacher or counselor will break it up any minute.”
“You’ve clearly never spent time in any group homes,” I said.
“No, he’s right, Roman,” Eraser chimed in. “Guards place bets. They want a good show.”
“I’ve noticed.” I wasn’t getting out of this. One way or another I’d probably get tossed in the ring at some point. If these two were that good, I’d be stupid not to let them train me.
I stashed Juliet’s letter away and sat up. “All right. Let’s go.”
Griff glanced at the clock over the door. “We got time before dinner.”
Eraser changed into his blue sweats. We looked like deranged triplets in our matching outfits and Velcro sneakers.
The gray corridor was dark and highlighted by a stripe of orange paint for us to line up on in the mornings. The guys took a left. I’d been down to the gym once or twice. Each time, a fight had broken out. I preferred to do some bodyweight exercises—push-ups, planks, pull-ups—in the comfort of my cell, without worrying about someone dropping a stack of weights on my back.
We passed a guard who remained expressionless. Griff and Eraser ignored him, so I did the same.
“Royal, pull your pants up,” he barked when we were a few feet away. “You’re not on the street. That gang look doesn’t fly in here.”
“Fucker.” Griff yanked up his loose pants and fiddled with the drawstring. “Food is so shitty. I’ve dropped like ten pounds since I got here.”
“Don’t even,” Eraser grumbled. “They legit fed me an apple and a bottle of water every day down in solitary. Nothin’ else.”
“Jesus Christ, how is this place still open?” Griff jumped up and tapped one of the signs hanging from the ceiling. “State shoulda shut it down by now.”
“Maybe you can lead that crusade when you get out.” Eraser slapped his friend’s shoulder. “No one gives a fuck about us delinquents.”
“True that.” Griff slapped another sign.
This time, the gym wasn’t crowded. The few who were working out were already chiseled like stone statues. Hard, expressionless faces. Dead eyes following our every move. I recognized two from fights I’d witnessed in the cafeteria. They glared at us but no one uttered a word. Griff and Eraser glared right back, then headed straight for the dumbbells and a bench in the corner without exchanging words.
Griff didn’t grab weights right away. He picked up a medicine ball and chucked it at me. “You know how to do mountain climbers?”
I caught the ball and held it against my side. “Yeah, I can do them.”
“Try ’em with that. It’ll ratchet up your balancing skills and work your core.” He slapped his stomach.
“Uh, okay.” I glanced at the ball and then the floor. Did he mean right now?
“Once you get in that ring, it’s a few blows shy of kill or be killed,” Griff said. His expression remained smooth and serious.
“The more scars you get, the better fighter you’ll be,” Eraser added.
“Let’s try not to collect any scars.” Griff scowled at his buddy. “But Eraser’s got a point. The more opponents you spar with, the better you’ll get over time.”
