Three
____________
A New Crib
The sun’s sharp rays glared
through the small desert view window of Renie’s and Billy’s cell much earlier
than either boy desired.
Renie had not slept well; his
pillow was too thin and foreign feeling, his plastic covered light green
mattress made noise every time he moved, and the cell’s lights were dim but
never completely off, they gleamed against the little two-man room’s white
walls. Someone had banged rapidly against their cell door throughout the night
while another let out screeching sounds followed by laughter. Renie had tried
to sleep, but each time he plunged into those darkened depths of silence the
flashlight of the graveyard shift correctional officer woke him. Official
counts, informal counts, half hour checks... disturbances.
“No sleep?” questioned Renie’s
celly.
Answering with a groggy voice,
Renie replied, “Maybe some.”
“This side of the prison gets
the mornin’ sun and we get it in here direct and early,” affirmed Billy.
Renie turned toward the wall in
a feeble attempt to gain some precious minutes more of shuteye. He soon
abandoned his quest and asked Billy a question, “How many times you been in
prison?”
“This is my second time. When I
was twelve I was charged with malicious mischief and sent to a juvenile holding
jail, everybody calls it juvie. I accidently burned down an old barn I was
playin’ in with my toy soldiers. I was usin’ my mom’s hairspray, lightin’ it
with a lighter like a flamethrower. The hay went up like Fourth of July
fireworks.”
“And they put you in jail for
that?”
“Yeah, probably just to scare
me, I don’t know.”
Renie looked around the cell.
Plain, basic, simple, empty, were all words that entered his mind. “What do we
do today?”
Billy answered the best he
could, “Survive, I guess.”
“Maybe we get to move to our
permanent cells,” Renie hoped, though he did not know why he felt that way.
“A new crib, imagine that. Hey,”
Billy continued, “I sort of hope we can bunk together. You seem like a straight
up kinda guy, at least for in here anyway.”
Renie peered out through the
cell door window observing the floor area. He hadn’t noticed it the evening
before, but the Control Officer had a panoramic view of the entire unit.
Nothing remained hidden from the view of Control except the inside of most
cells.
“I think we had two inmate
counts last night. Is that right?” curiously questioned Renie.
“Yep, that’s it. Another one
will be up at seven, then ten, then one, or thirteen-hundred as the officers
say, and another one comes at sixteen-hundred, then a long break until eight at
night.”
“The other two at night are?”
“I’m pretty sure its two and
five in the morning, but I ain’t bettin’ on my accuracy though.”
“I guess we’ll get used to it.”
Billy shook his head in
agreement. The two made up their beds, brushed their teeth and washed up. They
took turns hiding their heads under their pillows while the other used the
stainless steel seat-free toilet.
The morning seven o’clock count
came and went without any problems. Billy informed Renie that after breakfast
they had cell ins and outs every ninety minutes. Ten minutes to either go in or
out of their cell. “Once the ten minutes are up, that’s it for another ninety
minutes.”
“So much....” Renie stopped
abruptly.
“It’s pretty structured in here,
much more than out on the streets, at least for kids like us,” Billy stated.
Thinking back over the previous
evening’s events, Renie asked his celly if anyone had ever really escaped from
this new prison. Billy didn’t know for sure, but heard that one kid had a back
door parole a few months earlier.
“Back door parole?”
Billy let his new friend know
that when one is paroled out through the back door, “You go out face covered
over with a sheet on a stretcher or in a coffin. That’s the only way anybody
has left so far, at least I think it is.”
With breakfast finished and once
the silverware count cleared, the two walked around the floor area discussing
the prospect of being in their new home until they turned twenty-five. That
could be the worst of their worries if they were not paroled and went on to
serve the rest of their sentences in an adult prison.
“I’m only fifteen,” lamented
Renie.
“I know what you mean, buddy.”
An older youth covered with
tattoos stood leaning against the south wall. As the two walked past, he
commanded, “Get me some smokes or it will cost you big time.”
“Smokes?”
“You heard me, smokes.”
Renie felt a bit uneasy, but
Billy assured him that as long as they stuck together, “… that tattoo freak
can’t touch us.”
Renie was not so sure.
The two walked on.
“There’s no dorms in this place,
only cells,” Billy attempted to encourage the newbie to prison life. “We don’t
have to worry about any of them there night crawlers.”
“What?”
“Booty Bandits, you know,
pervs.”
Feeling his heart sink faster
than a ship attacked by pirates, Renie moaned, “Oh.”
“They built it this way for our
safety. But I think it’s ‘cause of what it costs to treat all the diseases
associated with--”
Renie interrupted, “I get it,
thanks.”
“Ten minute unlock!” the
speakers blared.
“Finally, should we go in or
stay out?” inquired Renie. “You choose.”
“Out. I want to try somethin’.”
“What’s that?”
“I call it effective
manipulation. The guy with the tattoos, well...?”
“I’m game.”
“C’mon.”
The two youths approached the
tattooed youth abruptly. Not wishing to appear startled, the kid barked, “What
do you two losers want?”
Billy talked, “I was thinkin’, I
got an older step-brother by the name of Jorge Rodriguez, he’s in the state
pen, but if I was to write him a letter he may have some fellow sophisticates
in here from his neighborhood and maybe they can get us all some cigs. What do
you think?”
The nervous tattooed teen stood
silent for a moment before answering, “Never mind, I was thinkin’ of quittin’
smokes anyway, too much trouble to get a hold of and too much trouble to get
caught with in a place like this. Thanks anyway, now beat it.”
Walking away was as easy as
exiting a classroom at school on the last day of the year after the final bell
chimed.
Renie whispered, “Who’s
Rodriguez? Is he really your step-brother?”
“Sort of. When I was about four
years old his dad and my mom hung out a lot. He was five years older, but he
always played with me. Maybe he just liked my toys. I think it was probably the
only time in his life that he had a sort of family thing goin’. His dad got
busted and Jorge ended up in foster homes. I think his mom was a junkie or
somethin’. Anyway, he’s a lieutenant, or maybe higher by now, for his gang in
prison. Last time I saw him he was really friendly to me. For that I’m
thankful.”
“Hey,” the trio heard a shout,
“Wait up.” The tattooed teen rushed to join them. Walking with the swing of a
wanna-be gangster, he smiled and introduced himself as Joey DeLanne.
The trio conversed as they made
their way around the floor area, avoiding the television spot of the unit due
to about twenty youths watching some show. An announcement resounded over the
speakers naming the youths scheduled for transfer to the green side, including
both Billy and Renie; Joey DeLanne’s name was not called.
“That’s tight,” Billy commented.
“Joey’s been here since before me.”
Renie asked Joey, “How come you
ain’t movin’ out?”
“Not sure. Maybe my counselor
thinks I need to chill out for a spell.”
“Counselor?”
Joey explained, “Normally you
see them when you cross over to the green side, but mine already talked to me.
I’ll see you guys soon over there. Take care.”
“That was a good thing you did
Billy, with Joey and all,” commented Renie.
“We’ll see,” responded Billy.
Renie and Billy hurried off to pack what little
possessions they had before lining up in front of the unit to wait for their
transfer. The Control Officer announced over the intercom that the escorting
C/O, short for Correctional Officer, was on his way. The insecurity of
moving to another place inside this enormous prison rattled Renie’s nerves, but
he put on a hard shell look despite how he felt. He was adjusting well to
prison life’s most important attribute... never appear weak.
Next Chapter...
Chapter
Four: Programs Anyone?
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