How I Ended up Here
"Fuck this goddamn tie!" I ripped it from around my neck, balled it up and threw it on the ground. No matter how many ways I tried to tie it the damn thing hung off my neck like a noose gone wrong.
My bunkmate Kenny laughed his ass off from the bed next to me. "Man that necktie had you beat ten minutes ago, about time you accepted it. Your lawyer wears a monkey suit to work every day, he'll get you straightened out before you see the judge."
I reluctantly crouched to pick up the tie and plopped down on my bed. My eyes drifted around the barren concrete box with the hot August sun narrowly beaming in through the slit windows. If all went to plan, these moments would be my last in the Chamberlain Hills Juvenile Correctional Facility. After ten months, three weeks and four days of keeping my nose clean and adhering to the Chamberlain credo of reflection, repentance and rehabilitation, I had earned an appearance before the judge to petition for early release.
I was about 8 the first time someone told me I would end up in Chamberlain one day. We'd had a substitute teacher in class and everyone had been fooling around all morning. We didn't know at the time, but the pretty young substitute was the principal's niece. Poor thing didn't have much of a thick skin and was bawling in her uncle's office by lunchtime. I remember watching him march out into the playground during recess, his eyes fixated on me. He picked me up by the scruff of my neck and demanded I apologize. I remember the girl mumbling about how I wasn't one of the bad ones but it sure didn't stop ol' Mr. Leighton from shoving his fat finger in my face, spitting about how I was a rotten apple bound for juvie.
Part of me wanted to throw Tony Raymond right under the bus, tell Mr. Leighton that he was the one who launched the spitball with such supreme accuracy that it landed centimeters from the teacher's hand as she wrote on the chalkboard. Or say it was Amy Thomas who lied and said we never have spelling tests two weeks in a row and that it must be a mistake in the lesson plan as everyone snickered, hoping she'd be successful in pulling the wool over her eyes and delaying our quiz. But it wouldn't have mattered. Mr. Leighton had been at the school for a long time, long enough to know my brother James and my father Jake, who seemed to leave deep, shit-filled footsteps for me to follow in wherever I went. I was a Merrill, blonde hair, blue eyes, bad attitude and a penchant for trouble. Leighton knew where I came from and he, like most other adults in my life, never ventured further to question how far the apple fell from the tree.
Needless to say, it came as a great surprise to many that I made it almost sixteen and a half years without catching a charge. When you start fighting your reputation at 8, you get pretty good at thinking on your feet to avoid getting caught. Cops all over the county had my car and license plate memorized, but they never managed to pin anything on me. Liquor store in Durham gets knocked over? Someone thought they saw a black Ford fleeing the scene? Sorry officer, my pals and I were up in Bangor seeing a battle of the bands show that night. Here's my ticket stub and ten people who saw me there. A Cadillac gets boosted from the Purity Supreme parking lot? What a tragedy, I was camping in Scarborough that night but I'll keep my eyes open for any ruffians. A fight breaks out at a drag race outside Lewiston and someone gets stabbed? Well officer, the stabbing victim was trying to sell me cocaine all night and I bet if you look in the trunk of his car you'll find the evidence...you know those drug dealers, only a matter of time before they get their comeuppance. I had an answer for everything and there was never enough probable cause to bring me down.
Maybe I got cocky. Maybe it was just my time. I've played it out in my mind over and over again. There ain't much to do in this place and it's hard to not over analyze what bad decisions brought you here. I remember thinking that it would be a big fuck you if the Cobras and I were the heroes that found that dead kid's body. We didn't have much else going on that day so figured we'd take a ride to check it out. If we'd left an hour earlier we wouldn't have run into Eyeball's brother and his little girlfriends. We would have made it out of there without any trouble. Instead, I got sloppy. And I paid for it.
Eyeball was always the first one to tell you his brother was a bad seed. The Chambers' house wasn't exactly gumdrops and sunshine, but Eyeball learned how to adapt to survive. Chris refused to, and that made things worse on everyone. When his old man would pass out on the couch after a long night of drinking, Eyeball has the sense to tiptoe around and make sure not to disturb him. Chris decides to make a ruckus to wake him up, like it's on him to teach his pops a lesson about how drinking is a sin or some bullshit. What happens? Both Eyeball and Chris get their asses whooped. I always thought he was a conceited little fuck, the way he'd squint up at you and talk to you like you're some kind of lowlife for busting his balls a little bit. The kid always had something smart to say but could never take his licks. Nothing worse than a little punk who can dish it out but can't take it.
I told my court appointed therapist that I don't feel as hot when I think about that day anymore. I told that head shrink a lot of bullshit that wasn't true but that's easily the biggest lie of them all. That little fuck sneering up at me, calling me a piece of shit while his buddy pulls a gun on me? I'll be a gray old man and still feel the anger I had in that moment as strong as it was staring down at those kids. They had me by the balls. It was retreat or die, and I retreated.
I'm not insane. I don't have a death wish. You don't fuck with anyone pointing a loaded gun at your head. I don't regret not sticking around to see if LaChance was bluffing.
What I do regret is how the next 24 hours unfolded.
After a nearly two hour drive in silence, everyone dispersed quickly when I pulled into town. I had smoked nearly a whole pack on the drive so I pulled into the gas station to grab more cigarettes. Earlier that summer, my brother's best friend Tommy had bought the old service station on the corner of Durham and Castle View Road. He'd worked for the Riordans, the previous owners before joining the Army and when they were ready to retire they asked him if he was interested in buying it. I don't think anyone expected Tommy to come back to Castle Rock, but the offer was too good to refuse.
"Johnny, you better keep your head on a swivel. Your old man is on a tear, just stumbled in here lit up like a Christmas tree. Be smart if you're heading home, will ya?" Tommy slid the pack of cigarettes across the counter.
Tommy knew all too well the charms of the Merrill family. He and James had been best friends since first grade and it didn't come as a surprise to anyone that Pop was wound up.
I was hoping that I could make a break for the house and just crash for a few hours. Mudgett and I had plans to work with his Uncle Dave the next morning and I knew that those days started ungodly early.
"Did you give any thought to what I ran by you?" Tommy pulled a rag out of his coverall pockets and wiped off his hands.
Tommy had started giving me some shifts helping out around the station to make some extra cash. A few nights a week pumping gas, cleaning up, working the register, that kind of stuff. I think having me around made being back home easier, made it seem like old times with my brother or some shit, I don't know. When I showed up a couple of weeks ago with a shiner courtesy of my old man, Tommy offered up the spare bedroom in the house on the property.
"Listen, Riordan let me crash in that back room plenty of nights back in the day. You keep your nose clean, work a few shifts a week for me, maybe pick up some of the oil changes, tire rotations and stuff...I'm just saying think about it, that's all. You're good with cars and it'd be smarter for you if you fixed them on the up and up rather than boosting them out in Freeport."
It was the "keep your nose clean" part of the equation I struggled with. I knew that if I stuck it out at home with Pop I might catch a beating every so often, but I wouldn't have anyone up my ass making sure I was on the straight and narrow, asking where I've been and what I'm up to. As long as I stay out of his liquor, don't piss him off and throw in my share for bills and rent, he and I manage to coexist just fine. Working with Tommy could be a good move, but it pissed me off the way he talked about the stuff we did on the side to make a few bucks. Tommy and James used to do a hell of alot worse back in the day, and even today Tommy had a nice little side gig going selling overpriced grass and acid to the country club crowd. He was a no-good hood like the rest of us and I questioned if I needed the headache of having some pseudo-big brother mentor type keeping an eye on me.
"Listen Tommy, I appreciate it but I've had a fucking rotten day and I can't make a major life decision right now. Can we talk later?" I mumbled through some excuses and he backed off. I felt like an asshole. I knew his heart was in the right place and I knew he was probably offering me a good deal. I didn't want to explain to him that I felt like dogshit after having a gun pulled on me by a 12 year old and just wanted to fucking sleep.
My father's truck was parked outside the house and I heard the TV blaring from the driveway. I walked to the back of the house to slide in through the kitchen door. Pop must have been on the downswing when he stopped by Tommy's because he was passed out cold on the couch, much to my relief. I cracked open the fridge and saw enough beers in it that Pop wouldn't notice one missing. I grabbed one and headed down the hall to my room and shut the door.
I drank the beer in one gulp and dissolved into my bed in the dimly lit room. I hoped my mind would go blank, but my thoughts shifted back and forth between Lachance's face as he stared up at me, gun in hand to Tommy's earnest face and kind offer. I kicked my shoes off and tried to push both images out of my head and begged for sleep.
I knew Mudgett was picking me up early for the landscaping job, but when my door furiously swung open it still seemed pitch black out. Disoriented and blinded by the unexpected light, I wasn't prepared when a hand reached down and grabbed me by my shirt and threw me to the floor.
"Your fucking freckle face girlfriend is outside moaning and groaning...and here you are, sleeping like a goddamn cherub. It's okay for her hooting and hollering to wake me up but god forbid Prince Johnny gets disturbed. Go fucking handle it!" He spat, angrily slurring his words at me before spinning out of the room and slamming the door.
Freckle-faced girlfriend only meant one thing. Amanda hadn't spoken a word to me in over two weeks and to be honest I'd forgotten what I did this time to piss her off. The petite brunette was a good looking dame, but was rarely worth the trouble she brought into my life.
I pulled myself off the floor and threw on a long sleeve shirt and my boots. I tossed my pack of cigarettes and lighter in my pocket and exited my room. Pop glared at me from the couch as I walked by. "You better keep it down out there, I'll shut her up myself if you don't!" His words followed me out the front door.
Amanda leaned against her friend Marie Reynolds' black Dodge as it idled in the driveway. Her long dark hair was pulled back from her face with a handkerchief and a pissed off expression painted her face. Marie passed a bottle of wine through the window and Amanda grabbed the bottle and took a drink before passing it to someone in the backseat. These girls thought they were hot shit, but they were standard run of the mill broads you'd meet at a party or a concert. They seem fun at first, down to pound some drinks and fool around, but they wear out their welcome real quick.
I guess she was the closest thing I'd had to a steady girl over the past couple of years. We'd get along and hang out for a week or two until inevitably I didn't show her enough attention or she got drunk and started trouble. She'd bait me into a huge screaming fight, we'd ignore each other for a few days but once the next party came around we'd usually hook up again. A real fucking romance for the ages.
I raised my arms as if to say "What the fuck do you want?" and pulled a cigarette from my pack.
"Heard you almost got shot today, wanted to make sure you survived." Her tone was snarky and a smarmy smile grew across her face.
"I almost just got my ass kicked by my old man cause some broad was screaming out here, know anything about that?" I tried to change the subject and started to scan my brain to figure out how she might have heard.
She smirked again. "Marie lives next door to that psycho Teddy Duchamp. He and the fat little Tessio kid were yelling about how they pulled a gun on Ace Merrill. I told the little pricks to stop talking shit but they swore it was true. We thought we might see you guys down at the drag race at Oxford but when you didn't show we wanted to check on you, you know, make sure a 12 year old didn't off ya or anything." She erupted into a fit of giggles that was echoed by her friends in the car.
Fuck me. I was grateful it was a moonless night and that Amanda couldn't see my face turn red, which I'm certain it was doing as I felt a heat creep up my neck.
"Looks like I'm still breathing. Appreciate the concern."
"You didn't say it didn't happen. Is it true? Did a bunch of dumb shit kids take a shot at you?" There was just enough light to see an amused smile grow on her face.
"Aren't you mad at me for something? I don't hear a peep from you for weeks and you show up here, piss off my old man and bust my balls? Have a nice night." I turned back toward the house.
"If it weren't true you'd be pissed at me for talking shit right now. Damn, a bunch of kindergarteners getting the best of Ace Merrill. It's a sad day in Castle Rock." She started laughing again and the chorus of girls inside the car followed suit. As I walked closer to the house, I heard my father get up and make his way toward the door.
"Johnny if you don't shut those girls up and get them off my property right now I'll get my fucking shotgun!" He swung the front door open as I approached it. I heard Amanda scream for Marie to floor it out of there and before I knew it my father had grabbed me by the front of the shirt and dragged me into the house. He slammed me into the wall and backhanded me across the face which sent my head slamming back into the kitchen door frame. "You keep that loud little bitch off this property, do you hear me?" He screamed in my face as I winced, moving my hand up to where my skull hit the doorframe. He stomped into his bedroom and slammed the door and I was left in the hallway, sore and disoriented.
Amanda's words rang in my ear and my stomach was filled with dread that the bullshit on the Back Harlow Road was about to become public knowledge. Anyone with a brain would understand why I didn't fuck with a kid with a gun, even if that kid was nerdy little Lachance, but now there was an expectation of retribution. I was going to have to make sure those kids got what was coming before news traveled too far. I trudged down the hallway and gingerly collapsed on my bed, knowing that 6:00 AM would be here all too soon.
It seemed like only moments later when I heard Mudge tap on the glass of my bedroom window. Unlike Amanda, he had the sense to creep onto the property to avoid waking up my old man. Mudgett's Uncle ran a big landscaping company and called us in when he needed extra hands for the day. He paid us decent cash and always was down to pound a few beers when the day was done. Mudgett had come prepared and a freshly rolled joint awaited me when I jumped into his pickup. I had woken up sore and in a foul mood, so the wake and bake was a welcome start to the day.
I told Mudgett that Duchamp had mouthed off about the day before and about Amanda's little visit. "You'd think the kid would have the sense to keep his mouth shut, but apparently he just runs down the street showing everyone he was next to someone who stepped to Ace Merrill. All he did was mouth off and make fun of Billy and Charlie." I shook my head.
"That girl sucks, man, always causing you trouble. There are finer broads to be had and you let her get under your skin." Mudgett accepted the joint I passed to him from the passenger's seat.
"And I wouldn't worry about the kids. Tessio went straight home to give his little brother a beating for how he acted yesterday and once you kick the other three's asses it'll be over. No one aside from Amanda Gardner is gonna be talking about this like it's any big thing."
Mudge's Uncle was clearing out a patch of land on the west side of town to build a new cul de sac. We spent the day ripping out old decayed bushes and trees and dumping what we could in the wood chipper. I immediately regretted not popping a couple aspirin before leaving the house, as my head and ribs still throbbed from my run in with Pop a few hours prior. By 10AM, a couple of the other regulars who worked with Dave showed up with sandwiches and a cooler full of Budweiser, which Mudge and I happily dug into. It was a laid back crew and as long as we weren't assholes around the heavy machinery no one minded if you had a couple of brews to get through the day.
By 1:30, most of the work had been done and the few of us that were left sat around finishing the last of the beers. One of the guys pulled a bottle of Jack out of his car and circled it around, along with another joint Mudge had brought along. We decided to bring the party down to Irby's and shoot a couple rounds of pool and wait for Dave to swing by with our pay for the day. I grabbed a cooler from the beer for the road and jumped into Mudge's car for the ride into town.
The junior high had just released and we moved slowly down Parker Street as bunches of kids dispersed from the school. Mudgett banged a right on Oak Street to zip around the crowds. I couldn't imagine my luck when I saw Duchamp walking up the street alongside some scrawny kid I didn't recognize. I looked down to the half drank Miller can in my hand and rolled down my window. I motioned to Mudge who slowed down so I could lean out the window and toss the can right at Duchamp's face. It splattered on his face with perfect accuracy and he stumbled to the ground. The kid walking next to Duchamp bolted away the second the can made impact and I took my chance to jump out of the car.
He tried to scramble to his feet, but I rushed over and kicked him in the ribs to knock him back down. I leaned down to him and held his neck into the pavement. "Listen to me, you four eyed piece of shit. You want to run your mouth and tell people you stepped to me? Not so tough without Lachance and his little handgun, huh? You keep your fucking mouth shut and stay out of my way or this happens every time I see you." I slammed his face into the ground and jogged back to the car, where Mudgett was laughing his ass off. I vaguely heard Duchamp yelling something behind me, but Mudge peeled off towards Irby's.
"That kid just about shit his pants when he realized it was you who chucked the can. I hope you broke his stupid glasses." Mudgett laughed.
"I hope he tells his little friends they're next." I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The beers, Jack Daniels and adrenaline were a strong combination and I could feel my heart pumping fast. We pulled into Irby's and saw a few of the guys from the job had arrived. We headed inside and the foreman had ordered up pitchers of beer, to which we helped ourselves. Irby and his crew turned a blind eye to us drinking there as long as we didn't cause trouble. He was running a business in a small town and would take a dollar however he could get it.
Mudge's uncle came in and handed out cash to everyone there then treated the crew to a round of shots. Dave Mudgett worked hard and played hard. He knew if he did right by his guys they'd work their asses off for him. I wasn't going to turn away a free shot or two so hung around the bar for the next couple hours and was good and hammered by about 4:00 when Fuzzy Bracowitz and Vince showed up. Fuzz couldn't stay long, but had given Vince a lift to Tommy's to get his brakes fixed and told him he'd drop him by the bar after. Knowing I should probably start to wind down, I convinced Fuzzy to give me a ride home. I was supposed to work at Tommy's the next day and I didn't want to show up a hungover mess. After the night before with Pop, Tom's offer was starting to sound better and better and I didn't want to fuck that up.
Better judgment went out the window shortly after I got in Fuzzy's car. We were barely on Pine Street when I saw them walking side by side. Billy had taken care of Vern, I had gotten Duchamp earlier and now was the time to give Chambers and Lachance the payback they deserved. It was too easy, it was like the universe had dropped them in my lap and was saying, "Hey Ace, here's your chance to make sure no one else hears the story about the gun." I told Fuzzy to slow down and I realized they were headed for their little treehouse and were going to cut through the back lot behind the pharmacy to get there. I told Fuzzy to bang a u-turn and to loop behind Glenwood Park so I could cut them off before they got there. The plan worked like a charm and just as I was hopping out of Fuzz's car, Lachance and Chambers emerged from behind the dumpsters.
"Hope you're still packing today, Lachance." I smiled as I stepped toward them.
"Fuck off, Ace. Leave us alone." Chambers protectively put his arm up in front of Lachance. I laughed.
"You know, you really should have thought of this before you pulled that shit yesterday. You knew you were going to pay for it." I kept smiling and stepping closer.
"It's two on one, Ace. You don't stand a chance." Chambers puffed up his chest a little.
I nodded. "You're right, Chambers. I guess that's a chance I'm going to have to take." I faked to step to Chris who started to lunge at me but I spun last second and took a swing at Lachance. Clocked him clean in the nose and he went down fast. Chambers tried to jump on me but I elbowed him in the ribs as soon as I felt him come at me from behind. Lachance rolled on the ground, blood spewing out of his nose. I tossed a few swift kicks to his stomach and ribs while he was down before I turned back to Chambers.
He was hunched over a little bit, I think the shot to the ribs got him pretty good. But the little fucker was defiant. He took one more decent run at me that sent me back a couple of steps, but once I regained my balance, one solid hook to his jaw was all it took. He went down and I gave him the rib kick special I'd laid on Lachance and Duchamp. I crouched down next to him, intending to say something witty, but the sound of Fuzz's horn distracted me. Someone had come out of the pharmacy and was about to walk upon the two bloody boys behind the dumpster so I dove into his car and we sped away before we were seen.
"Good work Ace, way to shut those little fuckers up." Fuzzy laughed as I lit a cigarette.
"I told them they'd pay. They're lucky I got it over with fast and didn't have them walking on pins and needles for a month." I inhaled deeply and blew smoke out the open window.
As we drove along, a familiar blue ford pickup cut us off coming off Durham Boulevard. Looked like Pop was heading home too. "Fuck. Can you just bring me back to Irby's? I don't want to deal with him right now."
"Jesus man, you're high maintenance. Take me home, stop so I can beat on these kids, take me back to the bar." Fuzzy laughed as he turned down Pleasant Street to reverse course.
I was way too shitfaced and my adrenaline was way too high to be around my father right now, Irby's was a better bet. He pulled up in front and I jumped out and he sped away.
Vince and Jack were outside smoking a cigarette when I showed up. Jack's eyes went wide when he saw me. "Why the fuck are you covered in blood?"
I looked down at my shirt, not realizing that some combination of Lachance and Chambers' injuries were painted across my shirt. "Ask Chambers and Lachance before they need to wire their jaws shut."
"Damn man, you managed to get all three? Billy told me earlier that he beat the living shit out of Vern, so it looks like all 4 of those little pussies had what was coming to them." Vince laughed.
"Celebration shots on me. Glad I was able to show those disrespectful little fuckers who's boss." We turned and walked back into the bar and the drinks started flowing again.
I had taken a hundred beatings in my day. Plenty from my old man, some from older guys when I was a young buck trying to prove myself...never once did you hear me snitching on anyone who did it. I'd had broken ribs, black eyes...teachers would ask questions and I'd tell them that I fell down the stairs. I kept my fucking mouth shut. These kids did not. One minute I'm shooting a round of pool at Irby's, next minute cops are shoving my face into the table, sneering that they finally got me as they slapped the cuffs around my wrists. Duchamp's grandmother had called the cops when he came home with busted glasses and a broken rib. It wasn't long after that they found Lachance and Chambers bleeding behind the pharmacy. By 8:00 PM my drunk ass was in cuffs and puking in a holding cell in the police station.
I didn't get a phone call. Officer Mitchell took the liberty of calling my father, who told them to let me rot in a cell, which Mitchell happily obliged. I spent the night in a cage, awaiting a meeting with a public defender and a court appearance the following day.
The lawyer they assigned me was fresh out of law school. He had also tried to call my father, who promptly told him to fuck off and that I was old enough to figure out my own problems. "So, it will play better if you have the support of family or community members in the courtroom. Since your father is off the table, is your mother available?"
"Haven't seen her in ten years. She didn't exactly leave a forwarding address." My head was pounding from the hangover, my back killed from sleeping on the floor of the cell, and now my stomach hurt at the thought of my mother. She left for work one day and never came home after being on the wrong side of a particularly beating, courtesy of my old man.
"Okay, that's good, we can use that." The lawyer started jotting down notes. I narrowed my eyes at him and he looked up. "Listen kid, you really fucked up here. One of those minors you assaulted is in the ICU for internal bleeding right now, this could easily get kicked up to an attempted murder charge. Anything you can do to help me make you look sympathetic would really help right now...unless you think you'd like to be in the State Pen until you're 30."
Attempted murder, Jesus Christ. I didn't realize I had fucked him up that bad and I certainly didn't think that this would completely destroy the next decade of my life. The worry must have been written all over my face, because the lawyer chimed in. "So are you gonna work with me here? Help me paint a sob story, convince me this wasn't your fault and that you're a victim of circumstances. You aren't avoiding time at this point, you're going to Chamberlain or another Juvie facility whether you like it or not. The issue is you're 16, which is close to 18, which means the potential to serve time in an adult facility if they think you deserve longer than 2 years. Help me show this judge that you're a kid that messed up, not a hardened criminal they caught early."
It felt cheap and dirty. It was the opposite of what someone like my brother James would have done. He would have kept his mouth shut and taken his licks and served his time. But if I had a shot at a way out, sure as hell I was going to take it. I told him about how the poor ICU patient had pulled the gun at Back Harlow Road...I told him how my father beat the shit out of me every chance he got...Ma too before she bolted off to god knows where...I told him that my brother died after catching a knife in a bar fight when I was 12...he wanted a picture? I could paint him a picture.
The lawyer called Tommy, who wasn't exactly thrilled I had ended up in this situation, but had agreed to help and petition for guardianship. Tommy carried a lot of baggage about the way James died...the two had argued the night before James got stabbed in the bar fight and you could tell that he was convinced if he had been there James would still be alive. I think helping me was his way of easing his conscience all these years later.
I appeared before a judge that Thursday. Tommy came and sat in court, Pop of course was nowhere to be found. The states' attorney painted a brutal picture of me, but my lack of official priors coupled with the golden sob story my lawyer had woven together came through. I was going away - 12 month sentence at Chamberlain with the potential for early release for good behavior. If i managed to get through that without fucking it up, I'd get sent home to Castle Rock to complete my senior year of high school. If I graduated high school and had no additional arrests by my 18th birthday, that my juvenile record would be sealed and I'd head into adulthood without any bullshit. If I fucked up at any point along the way, I'd stay at Chamberlain until my 18th birthday and then get transferred to the State Pen at Warren for an additional 18 month minimum. Left without much of a choice, I took the deal and I headed off to Chamberlain.
The first couple of weeks were rough. I might have a mean streak but Jesus this place is filled with genuine psychos. My first cellmate was a manic depressive named Dean who was in for a year for killing a bunch of his neighbors pets, real fucking weirdo. Don't think I slept for more than ten minutes at a time those first few weeks.
They forced us into some low budget school and vocational training classes 10 hours a day to keep us busy and to "facilitate our re-entry to society." Half the kids who were in my classes could barely read much less sit still in a classroom for an hour at a time. It was chaos, fucking chaos. At least I got to work in the auto shop, which wasn't the worst way to pass the time.
At the end of the third week I got jumped by a bunch of French Canadian kids from Bangor and ended up in the infirmary with a concussion and a few cracked ribs. As miserable as that was, it got me a week out of class and out of the cell with that nutjob. I found out getting beaten also gets you some sympathy points from the guards and social workers hanging around. My lawyer told me before I went in that whenever I had one on one time with anyone who seemed important to act real sorry and talk about turning my life around. Every chance I got I talked off the nurse and guards ears about how bad I wanted to change and how excited I was to go back and be a good citizen and all that bullshit. When it was time for me to go back to my cell, I had buttered up the guards enough to convince them to switch my cell to get me away from the puppy killer.
As luck would have it, I ended up here, with Kenny Sanders from Scarborough. He was in for 18 months for grand larceny. The kid had a system where he had about six girlfriends who all had babysitting gigs. He'd convince them to let him come over when the kids went to bed and he'd get with the girl and slowly rob the house blind. Unfortunately, all the girls found out about each other and it wasn't long before all of the burglaries came back on old Ken. He might not have been the brightest, but he wasn't killing any puppies. He had become a friend over the last several months.
"I'm jealous as all hell, man. I got another 6 months minimum. Part of me hopes you fuck it up in court and they kick your ass back. You're a hell of a lot better roommate than most of the psychos in this place." Kenny lay back on his bed as I got up and started to pace around the room. "Hey, I only survived Chamberlain. I still gotta head back home and be a fucking boy scout for a year. With my luck, I wouldn't count out seeing me again sooner than you'd think."
"You've had decent luck so far dude...you could have gone straight to Warren and you managed to dodge it and come here instead. You got the shit kicked out of you early on and got a few guards and nurses in your pocket. You lost the puppy killer and got to live with me the last few months. You got your brother's friend to let you crash with him so you don't have to go home. I think if you keep rolling with the luck you got you'll make it to 18 just fine."
Tommy came up to visit whenever he could and called me once a week to make sure I was surviving. I never had anyone step up like that for me, I tried not to feel too much about it, but it gave me a sense of relief that I'd never experienced before. He even brought Eyeball up once to visit. Eye was a true pal. Most guys would probably get pissed at you for putting their younger brother in the hospital, but Eyeball understood and didn't make a big deal of it. Tommy even went so far as to give Eyeball a job at the service station to help keep him out of trouble while I was gone. I think he thought if my friends were trying the straight and narrow it would make it easier for me when I got out.
One of the usual morning guards walked by the door, peeked in through the window and smirked. He rapped on the door before opening it. "Look at you Merrill, all spic and span in your little suit. You know what they say about a hood in a suit, either headed to court or a funeral...which is it for you?"
"Court. Think I'm getting sprung. You'll have to find someone new to torture." I tried to answer coolly, but could feel my heart rate rise as the possibility that it were true was becoming more and more real by the second.
"Did you figure out your tie yet?" The guard sneered down at me as his eyes went to the balled up tie on the floor.
I bent down and picked it up and wrapped it around my head like a bandana. "Will this do?" Kenny snorted from his bed as the guard's eyes narrowed. "Get your digs in while you can Merrill, hopefully you're right and this will be the last we see of you. " He turned and slammed the door.
Kenny snorted. "Jesus, imagine you walk into court with that thing on your head, you'd be back here in no time. Shit buddy, I'm gonna miss your lousy attitude around here, weird to think next time you walk out this cell door might be your last." He stood up and held out his hand. I took the tie off my head and reached out my hand to shake.
"I hope to god it is, you've made this suck less than it could have but I'm ready to get this over with."
"I can tell, you've been pacing for a few minutes. Gotta calm down with that nervous energy, don't want the judge to think you're hopped up on speed." Kenny laughed.
A figure appeared in the window at our door. My lawyer had arrived and quickly cringed as the door opened.. "I probably should have given you a lesson on how to do the tie…" He hurriedly rushed over and grabbed the balled up tie out of my hand and skillfully twisted the knot around my neck.
"See I told you the lawyer would do it, good technique buddy!" Kenny grinned and gave me the thumbs up.
The public defender rolled his eyes. "You ready?" I nodded. His eyes narrowed. "Use your words Mr. Merrill, if you want out you're going to need to turn on the charm a little more than that."
"Yes sir, of course sir, I apologize for the lapse in judgment, sir." I smirked as the lawyer rolled his eyes again. The guard reopened the door and I walked out of the cell for what hopefully would be the last time. Time to get myself back to Castle Rock.