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“That wasn’t a good idea, Joey.”
Jaxon and I are walking back to my unit, side-by-side, when he says this. I want to care, I really do, but I can’t seem to muster up the energy to do so. Julie is gone, and she’s probably not coming back. Not that I can blame her. Next time I see my sister in cold blood, I won’t miss.
“Fuck her,” I mutter between clenched teeth. “You saw what she did. She was mocking me, knowing that I couldn’t do anything. And she’s not about to help me get out of here. You know that. If it was up to her, I’d never leave Ashgate again.”
“Hey,” Jaxon grabs my arm before I can lose him, pulling me back in a quiet corner against the wall. I look over my shoulder for Ronnie and her heathens before focusing my attention on him.
“What?”
“I have a bad feeling.” Jaxon’s voice is soft, quiet. I can barely hear him, so I hope nobody else can.
“About what?”
“About everything.” He clears his throat and straightens up as a couple prisoners pass us in the hallway.
They’re too absorbed in their animated discussion about the new makeup trends that they hardly notice us standing there. We wait until we’re clear before speaking again.
“You have to be more specific,” I tell him. “What are you worried about?”
Jaxon swallows, the vein in his neck bulging. I’ve noticed it does that when he’s angry, frightened, or wants to take someone out.
“I don’t trust Veronica,” he murmurs. “Or her posse.”
“So what? I’m not afraid of Ronnie.” I turn away from him to leave, but Jaxon grabs me, pulling me to a stop. I wheel around, surprised, ready to cuss him out, but when I see the look on his face, my words fail me.
“There’s nothing we can do to protect you if this goes south, Joey,” he says. “All it takes is three minutes of my back turned, and you could get jumped.”
“And?”
“What do you mean ‘and’?” Jaxon sounds annoyed, aggravated that I’m taking his warning so lightly.
“And so what?” I ask. “If I’m stuck in here for the next twenty-or-so years, do you really think I give a damn?”
“You won’t be here for twenty years, Joe.”
“I tried to kill my sister, Mr. Jaxon. It could be longer than that.”
Before Jaxon can answer, I turn on my heel and walk away, leaving him staring after me down the empty hallway.
Lace’s cell door is cracked, just a little bit, which surprises me, because I’m pretty sure she said she’d stay in the cafeteria and wait for me. When I poke my head in, however, Lace is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at something clasped firmly in her hands. I can’t read her expression, and I’m not sure I want to.
Without announcing myself, I step in and close the door behind me. Lace looks up, startled, and I can see she’s been crying. My heart jerks, aching for her, and all at once a million different scenarios jump through my head.
“What’s going on?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. Lace swallows and hands me something. I take it in my palm, holding it out to observe it. It’s tinfoil. A tightly wrapped square of tinfoil.
“I wasn’t going to use it, Joey.”
The tiny sliver of tin foil in my hand feels heavy, so very heavy, and I find myself wondering once again how something so small and compact can single handedly destroy a human being’s life.
“Did Ronnie give this to you?” I ask. Lace swallows and looks down at the floor, afraid to meet my gaze. For a minute I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she nods, just once.
“Yeah.”
“Did you ask her for it?”
“No.” Lace’s chin snaps up as she finally meets my gaze, shaking her head. “She caught me in the showers after dinner and slipped it into my robe pocket. When I tried to argue, she refused. Said I didn’t have to use it, but that it was a gift, anyway.”
