Chapter 10
When we headed up to the bunkroom that evening, the boys pretended –badly, in my opinion – to be going about their own business. Skittery shrugs behind me, somewhat used to the lack of privacy from the other boys, but I can also tell he's not used to being the center of attention.
I made eye contact with Mush, who is giving a very poor performance of very busily studying yesterday's headlines. I smile at him, and he his toothy beam replaces his serious expression. He in turn smacks the one-eyed blond and Italian next to him.
"Gig's up boys, we've been had," he laughs as the boy with the eye patch smacks him back.
"Thank Heavens!" The Italian removes his cigar from his mouth only long enough to say this loudly. "Who's ready for some Blackjack?"
Having apparently made the commitment to be friends with Skittery and Mush – combined with the fact that I had nowhere else to go – I decided to go all in.
"I am." I headed towards the middle of the room where the boys were gathering, Skittery following close behind. I could feel him rolling his eyes at the back of my head.
The boys stopped and looked at the boy who was arranging the game. He chewed his cigar for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not?" he responded. "I don't discriminate on whose money I'se takes."
His thick accent was hard not to laugh at as he said this, but seeing as I'd seemed to offend several people in the short time I'd been here so far, I bit my tongue.
Skittery piped up. "How about some introductions, first, eh? Maybe then we can all play nice." He shot a look at the Italian.
"Hey, I'm just the dealer, she's the one who wants in," he gave his own look back to his taller friend. "But I suppose that's fair. You can call me Racetrack."
"Seems fitting," I offered.
He shrugged as he shuffled the cards, and elbowed the boy to his right, who was apparently named Swifty. Each boy in the smaller group introduced himself – after Swifty was Blink and Mush, then on the other side of Skittery were Specs and Dutchy. I made an effort to memorize the boys' names and was grateful there weren't more players.
The games went on for an hour or two, and operation ice-breaker had worked. The guys were easy to talk to, and I very proudly held my own at gambling – coming in second only to Dutchy and Ractrack – who lived up to his name and took the majority of the winnings. Specs, Swifty, and Mush broke about even, with Skittery losing a bit and Blink down a whole dollar.
"For a kid who's got half his face covered, he still can't bluff for spit," laughed Race, as the boys gathered their coins and began to stand up.
"It's not half-covered" scowled Blink, who sulked off to his bunk, followed shortly by an energetic Mush.
The younger kids had long since fallen asleep, and the older boys who weren't in the game had slowly filtered into the room and were beginning to do the same. I glanced over at Skittery, who was doing some minor post-game pouting of his own.
"Shall we?" I asked, taking a tentative step towards his bunk, hopeful that his losing wasn't a precursor to another meltdown.
He surprised me by giving a small smile back and nodding as I lead the way to bed. As we climbed in, he made a point to avoid any physical contact. Aware of why he was doing this, I couldn't help but remember how he always seemed to tense up any time anyone touched him, regardless of the situation.
While my mind wandered, the bunkroom lights were turned out and Skittery's rhythmic breathing let me know he'd quickly fallen asleep.
It wasn't much longer before I felt his arm around my waist. I smiled and turned, expecting to see that lopsided grin of his, but he was out-cold. I pulled the covers tighter around us, content that at least sleeping-Skittery was capable of being the platonic big-spoon. It's a start, I thought as my own eyelids drifted closed.