When Piper first stepped into prison, the other girls just kept staring at her. They thought she was that famous singer. But she continued walking along the corridor, holding her new striped pillow tight to her chest and a toothbrush and a toothpaste hidden in her fist.
The other girls, hand put on one side of their mouths, whispered and shh-shoued to the inmates standing right next to them. Then they laughed and sent Piper a look that was even more cruel and evil, if possible.
"I know you, right?" a girl with copper-colored curly hair not just bumped into her, but grabbed Piper's shoulders and forced her to turn around. She wasn't wearing orange, like Piper, but that cachi-colored uniform they all wore. That uniform had the same faded look the face of the inmate standing in front of her had. Her mouth and eyes were circled by some strange lines which made her look tired and gave her a savage grin. Maybe she was just funny, you could think when you first met inmate Nichols. Or maybe she was high or she was a badass of a smoker.
"Mmh. Nope" whispered Piper. "I don't think so".
I'm not shaking, come on, put yourself together girl, she isn't gonna hurt me, she's just an inmate like me, she isn't gonna hurt me, right? thought Piper.
"Pretty little angel face you got there," she said. "I bet my ass I've already seen you around. What are you, kind of a pop star?"
"Hell no," said Piper, but she realized she had turned her head away while saying that and she was speaking damn fast, her eyes were twitching as they always did when she was nervous.
The inmate in front of her slightly tilted her head on one side, like a curious dog asking you to repeat that last word one more time.
"Look" Piper burst out, "I've already been told that, but I'm gonna have to repeat it to you. I'm not Lindsay Lohan, ok?"
"Oh, I wasn't thinking about that crack ass blonde haired girl. Someone more like… what was the name? Adele… you know?"
Piper's face turned pale. She turned her back to that strange-as-fuck inmate and walked away to the bunk she was assigned to.
Shut up, she said nothing, you heard nothing, sang a tiny voice in Piper's head.
"By the way, my name's Nicky!" yelled the copper-haired girl behind her, but Piper ignored her.
Litchfield is a women's prison, Piper repeated to herself while stepping into her block. No place for men in here, right?
But her new bunk mate, with that grimace on her dark skin and her military hair cut, looked like a stocky, scary man. Miss Claudette was her name, Piper was told. Her lips almost lid up on her teeth when she saw Piper coming in. She put down the black cup she was holding in her hands and looked at Piper as if she was a bug's useless shit.
"Don't you dare come in here with your shoes on."
Piper stepped into the block. She let her pillow, her toothbrush and toothpaste fall down from her arms on the empty-folded green mattress she was assigned to. She put her chin up, as granny always told her to do when facing the enemy. Her devilish look was underlined by the deep dark circles that the last two hours of prison drew beneath her eyes.
"You listen to me. I am no Adele nor Lindsay Lohan. I'm getting my shoes and my feet and my criminal ass walking on this floor and in this block. And yes, I'm gonna need some of your air to breath, and some space for my shit, for as long as we'll be forced to share this fucking hole. Cause you're in here, absolving your criminal shit, and I'm in here, paying for my criminal shit too."
Silence. There was a long pause, hanging in the air on an invisible string, stretched and sharp like the tip of a knife.
Litchfield was a women's prison with no place for men nor smiles, but for a moment Piper thought she had just seen one: a smile curved Miss Claudette's lips high up and disappeared right away like a ghost.
"Ok" said that smile, but Miss Claudette's mouth said no word. She turned around and grabbed her smoking black cup of tea.
"Oh, and" Piper added "can I have one of those hooks down there?"
That night she cried, her eyes wide opened, staring at the lamps on the ceiling. She realized she wanted to sing. No, that was inaccurate: she craved to let her voice come out of her lungs, through her throat, scratching the air through her teeth and tongue and lips. But she couldn't. She had made a promise, she remembered to herself, as she always did, every single day and every single night.