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Tori
The last place I expected to spend my eighteenth birthday was prison.
I’ve seen prison on TV. Visiting rooms to meet friends and family change depending on the severity of the crime and what type of prison you’re sent to. This one is maximum security. No picnic tables or the ability to touch your loved ones. Just an uncomfortable chair, a thick plexiglass window that doesn’t look like it’s ever been cleaned, and a phone to talk through.
I sit, waiting impatiently, although on the outside, no one can see my nerves. Over the last two and a half years, I’ve learned to hide everything that I’m feeling.
It’s safer that way.
Eventually, a buzzer sounds, and a door on the other side of the screen opens. A prison officer walks in, followed by my brother.
Just over two years have passed since I last saw Cole. It’s a few months until his twenty-second birthday, but today, he looks older. Time inside hasn’t been kind. He’s got a beard now, and his eyes look dead inside.
That being said, they brighten when he sees me, if only momentarily. As soon as he sits down, they’re a dull gray again.
Although I’ve already got the phone against my ear, he hesitates before reaching for his. “What are you doing here, Vee?”
No one but Cole calls me Vee anymore. The name died when he was arrested.
“I would have come sooner, but Mom refused.”
Fun fact: anyone under the age of eighteen can’t visit a family member in prison without a family member or approved sponsor—but my mom flat-out refused to let anyone else bring me.
Without lowering the phone, Cole drops his gaze and lets out a heavy sigh.
“Don’t do that,” I tell him. “I haven’t seen you in years. At least fake being happy to see me.”
Cole sucks in a deep breath and finally brings his gaze back to meet mine. “You look different.”
Iamdifferent.
The girl I was when he was sentenced died that same day. Back then, my blonde hair had always been styled, and I wore way more makeup. Head to toe, I had been covered in designer brands, and I’d spent every cent of my allowance—and more—on making sure I was having a good time.
But all that maintenance and partying relies on money. And as soon as your son is a convicted felon, work dries up and money stops flowing. My parents are broke.
Now, my hair is in its natural state. Time is one of the luxuries I used to have, being able to spend time in a salon before important events. Now, I either use my hot irons to straighten or curl my hair myself. A few of the designer clothes I have left are seasons out of date now, and the rest were bought in thrift shops. And the makeup all but disappeared when I stopped partying.
Although it wasn’t lack of money that stopped me from partying. It was the new goal I had.
“I graduated top of my class,” I tell him, proudly.
Cole’s reaction is exactly what I expect, lips parting and his eyes going wide. “You?”
With all that partying, I wasn’t exactly caring about my grades, much to my parents’ dismay. But after Cole was incarcerated, I turned my consistent Ds into As, even getting into a bunch of AP classes my senior year.
To be fair though, graduating top of the class is a lot easier when you transfer out of a private school and get forced to attend a New Jersey public school with a number instead of a name. There’s not exactly a lot of competition for that top spot.
But I had fought to get a 4.0 GPA andmaintainit.
Turning to the guard who’s sitting in the corner of the room, I point to my pocket, and he nods. I’ve of course gone through a thorough security check before being allowed into the prison. My bag was put in a locker and almost everything taken from my pockets, except for the piece of folded paper.
I pull that paper from my pocket and place it in front of me, keeping it folded.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” I tell my brother.
With a sigh, Cole looks away. “Prison is where you go when you kill someone, Vee.”
