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“I was humiliated by that violent display at the ball.” She tapped her long fingernails on the table, giving me the same admonishing look she gave me when I was young, when I’d unintentionally embarrass her in front of her friends by entering the sitting room all muddy after kicking a football with the local kids.
Frustrated by her evasiveness, I shook my head. My mother and Reynard Crisp were thick. That’s all I’d learnt these past few months. Had it not been for Theadora begging me to let it go, I would have brought in the lawyers.
“You should choose less crooked friends.” I rose.
“And you should stop seeing low-class girls.”
“She’s from wealth, Mother. You know that. I’m going.” I’d had enough.
I headed off to meet Carson at Reboot.
The camp was in full swing. Forty youth. Most of whom acted up the first week, but I’d heard that they were taking to the many activities, which provided them with bonus points. If they finished the training course and activities, they were promised video games, weekend pizza, and all those regular treats that they’d been denied in prison.
I entered the activities’ room—a large space with ceiling-to-floor windows that looked out to nothing but trees, rolling hills, and sky.
I remained at the entrance, watching on. There were around forty boys lost to their computers. One boy, the only one without his eyes on a screen, was drawing. He piqued my interest.
“They’ve had a big day,” Carson said from behind.
I turned and greeted him.
“After their workout, they went on a three-mile run.”
Impressed, I nodded. “Any trouble?”
“This week’s been better. I had to pull Billy into line. He’s an Irish lad.” He inclined his head towards a tall, red-haired boy pressing down furiously on his gaming pad.
“They’re playing games?” I asked.
“Some. Others are working on a project I’ve given them.”
My face lit up. “What’s that?”
“I’ve asked them to design a veggie garden.”
“You’re kidding. And they’re interested?” My day just got better.
“Some are interested.” He shrugged. “Look, there are a few troublemakers, but they’re good kids, I think.” He lifted his chin towards a muscular, dark-haired, tattooed boy who looked more like a man to me. “He’s the ringleader. They seem to follow him. Dylan Black.”
“How so?” I asked, watching him drawing.
“The first week he was pretty hard going, but he’s so fucking strong and seems to get off on the training. A natural in many ways, but fucking insubordinate. A talented troublemaker.” He smirked.
I watched the boy with his head bowed, lost in what he was doing. “He doesn’t strike me as unhinged.”
Carson scratched his eyebrow. “That’s the thing. Give him paper and pens and he’s off in his own world. A brilliant artist. Heavy shit, though. You know, blood and guts, guns, naked girls. All the exciting stuff.” He chuckled. “But it keeps him quiet. He’s had it tough. Like most of the boys here.” His eyes shone with sympathy. If anyone knew what that meant, it was Carson. “Grew up in a council estate. Single mother who drank. A ton of boyfriends.” His eyebrow rose, which suggested something pretty sinister.
“Abused?” I had to ask.
“Probably. Punched out the shrink. No one knows.”
I thought of Theadora and her own heavy upbringing, and my stomach tightened at how these arseholes ruined innocent lives with their filth.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that once the dust had settled, and with Theadora by my side, I would do what I could to make a difference to these boys’ lives.
Dressed in a fur-trimmed collared coat and wearing her dark glossy hair in a ponytail, Theadora radiated that rare blend of class and individuality that turned a pretty flower into a prized bloom.
“You look lovely.” I kissed her cheek touched by the crisp air.
