Chapter 10

"Why do you look like you're going to tear someone's head off?" Eagle asked, studying Mickey's face as she entered the kitchen to prepare "breakfast" that morning. That only meant they were going to open a jar of peanut butter and put out limp celery sticks and raisins. Why she had to get up for that, she didn't know but she wasn't going to raise a fuss about it. She was tired of shouting into the void, to deaf ears. It only caused her pain.

She didn't want to hurt anymore.

"Because I'm stuck with a bunch of…jerks!" Mickey replied. A much stronger word was desired but she couldn't come up with anything appropriate at the time. Instead she grabbed a jar and slammed it down on a counter top.

"Okay…want to tell me what these jerks did?" Eagle prompted, digging a knife though another jar. He picked up a celery stick and dragged the peanut butter across the top of a celery stick. It was a little difficult due to the limpness of the vegetable. "Whoa!" he cried out, racing over to yank the knife she picked up out of her hand. "No knives for you. Bad Mickey, bad!" He set it down out of her reach. "The last thing you want is to get a murder charge while you're here."

"Well, it'd get me out of here so that wouldn't exactly be a bad thing," Mickey growled, shoving raisins into the prepared celery sticks so hard that she left finger marks in the peanut butter.

"What happened?" Eagle pressed. She huffed out a breath. "You can trust me, Micks." His words were so soft, so tender that it almost made her fall over in surprise. But added to those words were a certain weight that struck her just as hard. Micks. She couldn't help but remember that Squid used to call her that, back when things were good between them, back when hearing his name put a smile on her face, back when they were friends.

A lifetime ago.

So, with a heavy sigh, she relayed the happenings: finding 'Matthew' or whatever his name was in her tent, trying to explain what happened, having to fight against the boy's words, and culminating with her sleeping with one eye open just in case one of her tentmates tried anything while she slept. She didn't worry about Caveman or Zero but the others? She couldn't take that risk.

The ease of which the words came out of her surprised her, giving her a good one-two punch in a span of a few minutes. But then that surprise was short-lived. Frankly, Eagle's been the only one around the camp that tried to make her feel comfortable since the day she got there and, if she were being honest, she trusted him more than she trusted anyone else there.

Especially now. Even if he was there for a reason as well. Surely it couldn't be so bad. Someone as nice as him couldn't be, say, a murderer or a batterer or anything of the sort. What about Ted Bundy? a voice nearly shouted in her ear but she waved it away. They were juveniles. Anything particularly bad and they would have all been sent to an actual adult jail.

While she was trained on that notion, Eagle was trained on another one. In fact he was so stuck on it that his eyes had widened to nearly two times their normal size. "You squealed?" he repeated himself for the third time, the words bouncing against Mickey's bewildered stare.

"I explained a situation," she stated. "There's a difference."

"No, you squealed!" he insisted, setting the celery in his hand down. "That's rule number one here! ...Okay, maybe rule number three. Number one is don't bother the Warden."

"What's number two?"

"Don't fuck with Mr. Sir."

She nodded. Good rule. He looked as if he could strike faster than an angry rattlesnake. "I didn't squeal," she insisted.

"Yes you did!" A rapid head nod went along with his persistence. He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "We don't tell Pendanski or Bear or the other counselors or anyone about what's going on. They don't care and they won't do anything about it for one but then you're labeled a rat. And being a rat is worse than being a sissy around here. You've just put a target on your back."

Mickey's nostrils flared. Heat crept up her neck and she had to take in a deep breath to keep from snapping at him too. "I'm not just going to sit around let them do whatever they want with me when they feel like it." Not again.

"No, no, I understand that—"

"No you don't!" Mickey interrupted him. Her chest heaved and her jaw began to hurt by how much she clenched her teeth. Air that she sucked in between her teeth whistled and her head began to throb. "You don't understand because this is a place for you. Boys…it's easy for you to survive here. Not just here, out there too." She waved her hand to motion off in the distance, to the society they had left behind. "It isn't easy for me. You don't get it." She sighed. "You can't get it."

Silence passed through them as they went back to work. It didn't take long to get breakfast ready and by the time they brought it outside to "serve" it the boys had already began lining up at the "Library". Mickey kept her head down, dodging the leering stares and whispered comments on what they'd do to her given the opportunity.

It used to be white noise, something she could ignore as she went about her day due to her goal of getting straight to the next one. After all, the more days that passed the faster she would be out of there. Or the faster someone would rectify the mistake that sent her there in the first place. But now, after the rough night, the noise became as noticeable as cicadas on their first day emerging from a long sleep.

Their stares made her skin crawl and when it wasn't crawling it was burning, as if she was trapped in the narrow beam of a magnifying glass. Which she may as well be with the blistering sun beating down on her all day. The only relief they got was when the sun went down but that was when she really needed to be on her toes, it seemed.

Now that's an idea…

Mickey popped a celery stick into her mouth, grabbing one of the fresher ones as compared to the rest of the bunch, and carefully chewed as she thought. Being a "Lunch Lady" as they put it certainly had its perks. She could get her hands on just about any kitchen item she wanted. Now all she had to do was be a little creative with what she could do with them…

"What took you so long?" Alan asked.

Mickey's eyebrows crinkled as she approached her front door. He stood from the step and pulled a still-smoking cigarette from his mouth and dropped it on the ground. She watched as he crushed it with the heel of his shoe and stepped past it. She pursed her lips. Her mom would throw a fit if she saw it. But she lifted her eyes to his face and shrugged.

"I was at school," she replied, walking up to him. "You know, that place you left. Again."

"S'no point in bein' there," he grunted, following her up the front steps. The scent of cigarette smoke trailed behind him. Her mom wouldn't like that either.

"Maybe to get an education?" she suggested, flipping through her keys.

"S'no point," he repeated. "It's a waste of time. I have better things to do."

"Like smoke?" She gave him a look over her shoulder as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. She immediately kicked off her shoes and left them by the door. She waited for Alan to do the same and they carefully tiptoed across the carpeted living room to get into the kitchen. Her mother didn't like them wearing shoes in the house. Not that I mattered, Mickey preferred to be barefoot. "I really wish you'd stop doin' that. You stink."

"And you're short," Alan shot back. When she turned to admonish him she spotted the beaming grin on his face and she sighed. She could never resist that smile. Lately it's shown up rarely so whenever she saw it she relished in the moment.

"Seriously, what are you doing all day?" Mickey pumped the handle to the refrigerator and looked inside for something decent to have. Cartons of greek yogurt stared back at her, lined up in rows surrounded by milk, bread, eggs, assorted cheeses, some leftovers, and some fruit. She pulled a face.

"Just stuff," he replied. He took a seat at the table and immediately began to lean back in the chair. She made a face, fearing for scuffs on the floor, but then she let it drop. Scuffs happen.

"What kind of stuff?"

Alan paused. "What's with the interrogation?" he asked, his accent thickening. "Is my momma checkin' in on me or something?"

"No." Mickey shook her head. She closed the refrigerator and stood. "Nothing like that."

"Figures." Alan grunted. "She doesn't care about anything past figuring out how to get to the bar." His eyebrows furrowed. "Your momma askin'?" The steely tone attached to his words made her take pause. It was weird.

"No! Alan, I'm asking," she stressed. His eyebrow twitched but he remained quiet. "You've been skipping a lot lately. Or showing up late. Is…is there something going on? At home?"

"More than usual?" he asked darkly. Her skin prickled. He shook his head and a faraway look settled in his eyes. "No. Everything's the same."

But maybe that's the problem. Mickey kept her thought to herself and blew out a breath. She hated not being able to do anything to help him, being forced to sit back day by day and watch him walk along with his head hung low and a scowl across his face. No matter how many times she tried to bring it up to her parents, to offer some sort of peace for her friend, her dad would be open to listening but her mom would shut down the conversation on site.

She licked her lips. "But you'd tell me. Right?" She ventured, her words quiet. "If something was going on?"

He swung his dark eyes over to her and cracked a smile. It didn't reach his eyes but she didn't call him out on it. "Don't worry, Micks. I can handle it." He went back to rocking in the chair. "So, have anything to eat?"

She made a face. "No, sorry. It's just a bunch of boring junk. We need to go shopping again."

"Let me see." Alan got up and went over to the refrigerator. He glanced inside, clicked his tongue, and then started pulling out some yogurt and the fruit. "We just need to get a little creative. We can have smoothies."

Her mouth opened, ready for an explanation of how her mom didn't like her using appliances without supervision—which was ridiculous, she was thirteen for Pete's sake!—but she kept her mouth shut. It wasn't like she was alone, anyway. Alan was there with her. He was fifteen, nearly sixteen, that's enough supervision right?

Right.

Mickey squashed her worries and helped scoop yogurt and fruit into the machine that he had pulled out. He haphazardly poured in some milk and threw in some honey for good measure, which had her squealing in disgust but he assured her that it would taste good.

"I make it for my momma," he said, dumping some peaches into the blender. "It helps with her hangovers. She acts like a normal person after having some." The faraway look returned.

Mickey bit her lip. "You know if…if things get a little…crazy over there…you can always come here. If you want." She twisted her fingers together as Alan looked over at her. "Have a place to escape."

He pushed a sigh out of his nose. "Your momma wouldn't like it."

"So sneak in." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them and her cheeks reddened when his eyebrows jumped up. "You shouldn't have to…have to deal with that. So you can come over and get a break."

He seemed to contemplate it for a moment but then his nose wrinkled. "What about your parents?"

"They won't know. I can…I can hide you in my closet. Or under the bed. Until they go to sleep. And then you can leave before they wake up."

He picked up the lid to the blender and pressed it down until it created a tight seal. He kept a hand on the top of it and tapped his thumb against the buttons on the base. "You know, this is why your friend Alexis thinks we're sleeping together."

"What!?" Mickey squeaked, her face turning redder at the notion. Her and Alan…sleeping together? Like sleeping together!? How come Alexis never said anything? How come she hadn't heard anything? It…it simply wasn't true! Not at all. She didn't even see Alan like that and…and he'd never see her like that anyway. She brought her thumb up to her mouth and started biting on the nail. "I'm…I'm just trying to help. Alexis…Alexis is stupid, that's all." She scraped off a fleck of purple glitter nail polish and then spat it out.

"Relax, Mouse, it's not a big deal," he commented. His thumb was still poised over the button to turn it on. He paused. "Can I ask you something?"

Mickey nodded. "Sure."

"Have you ever had sex?"

She spluttered, suddenly finding it difficult to form any sort of coherent sentence. Why would he even…? He looked at her, his stare unblinking as he waiting for some sort of answer. Finally she got a grip and replied, "Of-of course not! No! I—no!"

"Okay, okay! Relax! I'm just asking." He chuckled a little. "Jesus, you're wound tighter than a ten day clock."

"Well, well, what about you?" she asked, indignant.

"What about me?"

"Have you ever had…had that?"

He blinked. "Had sex?"

"Yes, that!"

He didn't reply. Instead he smiled, shrugged, and pressed the ON button. The sound of whirring blades filled the kitchen, drowning out any other noise.

We just need to get a little creative…

# # #

Beads of sweat rolled down her cheeks as she bent over to scoop out another shovel full of dirt. With a grunt she tossed it aside, feeling the muscles in her back scream at being stretched again and again and again. She knew turning at the waist as a bad idea but it was the best way she could get the hole dug when it was at waist height. Throwing it over her shoulder was a bad idea; she learned that the hard way, when it took two days to wash the dirt from her hair completely. Plus, the less she bent over the better.

A few days had passed since the incident with Matthew and, since then, it wasn't unusual for other campers to come by and watch her dig. They would snicker and punch each other on the arm and whisper lewd comments to one another. She wasn't sure if they were that bad at whispering or wanted her to hear them. Either way, she did her best to ignore it. It was one thing to be talked about by other tents but it was another to hear it from her own.

Eagle had tried to warn her about "squealing" as he put it. She wasn't concerned; if she could walk the halls at her school with stupid rumors floating around and being propositioned between classes, she could handle a camp full of boys. But they were in a juvenile correction facility and they weren't just boys. They were criminals, felons, delinquents and every single one of them were there for a reason and she was thrust into their world and expected to play their game where the rules changed by the day.

They pushed her around, took her food, talked about her around her, poked her with the broken cue sticks and made her pick up things they dropped on "accident". She couldn't win.

But maybe winning wasn't the end goal. Maybe she was going about it all wrong. What was the point of winning when the prize would leave her beaten and bruised for all her trouble? No, there had to be a bigger prize at stake.

Survival.

The word flashed in her mind, poised on her dry, cracked lips. Her fingers clenched the shaft of her shovel a little tighter. Her eyes darted around, landing on each sweaty-faced boy near her in turn. She didn't dare look when they glanced over at her. The smarmy smile she was dished all morning as she gave them "breakfast" was enough to last her a lifetime. In fact, she was starting to prefer Squid's animosity. At least then she knew how he felt, he kept his cards on the table where she could see what he was playing. It was the others she needed to keep an eye on.

Not Caveman or Zero, those two boys were the least of her concerns. They kept to themselves and when she and Caveman did talk it was about their homes and their family and anything else that could keep them sane. Zero she just watched from afar, trying to figure him out; not that she got anywhere, he didn't seem to like interaction and every time she greeted him he'd only look at her with his large, brown eyes and then go back to what he was doing.

At least she got a feel for what they were like, the others…it was as if they wore masks that they cycled through when it felt convenient to them. X-Ray acted like a gentleman some moments but then she quickly caught on that it wasn't for her benefit but his. He didn't do anything without getting something out of it. Squid and Armpit were his lackeys, roughing people up so he couldn't get his prints on the crime scene. Magnet followed them around, one foot in the circle and one foot out. Close but not too close; that way he could blend like a chameleon whenever the need suited him. Zigzag was off in his own world, where fantasy and reality blurred and he dipped his fingers in the one that suited his fancy at the moment. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

But beneath the dirt, beneath the sun, beneath the jumpsuits they were all the same. They were boys and if there was one thing Mickey learned it was that she couldn't trust them anymore.

Except Eagle. She licked her lips. They stung at the added moisture. He was the only one who saw her and treated her like a person. He was the only one who sat and listened to her vent about her time at the camp and offered a funny story to try and lift her mood and made her feel normal, rather than some sub-species. The more they woke up to prepare breakfast, the more they laughed over cooking dinner, and the more they met up before lights out to make plans, the more relaxed she felt around him.

He was an exception to the rule. A welcomed exception. A friend, even.

She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Sweat smeared across her skin but she hardly noticed. Her mind was on her mother. Mickey wondered what she was doing. Was she fighting for her released? It's already been…two weeks? Maybe more? She sighed. Not having anything to base the passing days on was starting to mess with her mind. (But maybe that was a good thing? Zigzag wasn't clearly all there and he seemed to know what day it was should anyone ask.) Well, it was that and Pendanski constantly dangling hope in front of her face. "I'm sure today's the day. Everything will be sorted out and you can be on your merry way. Don't worry."

She couldn't help but wonder if her mom was thinking the same thing. Maybe finding a way to appeal her sentence and reducing it a little. Sure, it was assault but…she was a first timer. Surely they could've gone a little easy on her, considering the circumstances…

She frowned. Or maybe she was upset instead? Ashamed even. When it was revealed that Squid was sent to Camp Green Lake she shook her head and a disapproving smile was plastered to her face. In fact, Mickey almost swore she heard her mother mutter "good riddance" beneath her breath but she didn't press it. The news was a shock to their community—well, not entirely if she were to be honest. Their entire neighborhood knew who was behind the string of robberies but it was hard to pin the group down without physical evidence. Until that fateful day.

She remembered getting a call from him, from jail. It shocked her, that after everything he had still called her. That she was his "One Phone call". His voice sounded small on the line, not caked in that bravado he was used to slinging around the halls. He was blubbering about something, saying that his mother was going to kill him and that everything was a big mistake. She tried to get more out of him but he was cut off. And then when she tried to get her mom to take her down to the police station—her father was out of town for the week—she refused. And the next thing she knew he was shipped off to Camp Green Lake.

She didn't even get a chance to say goodbye.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He dug a few holes away from her. His jumpsuit had long been shed, his yellow t-shirt being the only thing that kept his upper-body from burning. His shovel strokes were one fluid movement, graceful even. His face contorted with every scoop, lift, and toss of his shovel and every now and then he'd pause, spit, and continue digging.

She gripped her shovel and stabbed at the dirt again. Maybe it was good she didn't say goodbye. It would only make the pain of treading over the broken pieces of their friendship hurt worse. The time that had passed toughened her soles.

# # #

"You're spilling some," Eagle said.

Mickey blew a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, it's kinda hard squeezing sugar into this little thing," she replied, her words curt. Eagle merely chuckled in return as he pulled apart another capsule. He carefully dumped the contents inside into a trashcan and handed the two empty halves over to her. As he opened a few more she poured a small amount of sugar into one half of the empty capsules and then closed it to set it aside.

They had been working on altering the painkillers ever since she got back from digging her hole that day. Once he was finished digging he had waited by her hole, as he always did once she divulged the news of her harassment. "Just in case" he said when she tried to protest; something about the gravity in his voice stopped her and made her accept his help. That didn't go over well with her tent, of course, but she did her best to ignore the comments about her "boyfriend".

"How many do we need?" he asked, breaking another one open.

Mickey peered over at the small pile they had created and hummed. "A few more. We don't want to change all of them. They're not going to notice a difference."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Eagle asked.

"Well, considering we're already in the middle of it…"

"I mean…you could get into more trouble if you're caught."

Mickey hummed. "The Warden gave me these to help with my time of month. Not to make things easier on me, like the others think. I may be giving them to X-Ray but he's the one supplying them to the other campers. If they get caught, well…they're not going to squeal, are they? They may go back to X-Ray but even then he won't say anything either. Because they trusted him but then he got his supply from someone else. X-Ray talks big; he's not going to admit that he's not behind this whole thing."

"But it's a big risk," Eagle pointed out.

Mickey paused briefly in her work but then she kept going. Of course she knew it was a big risk, but how else was she going to get them to leave her alone? Doing nothing wasn't doing her any good and she wasn't just going to lie on her back for them. Not anymore. Maybe it was a bit rash but she learned from the best.

"Oh well," she muttered with a light shrug, ignoring the knot that began to tie in her stomach.

The two went back to work in silence. Every now and then she'd check over her shoulder to be sure a guard wasn't coming in, or another camper. They did have a little bit of protection due to being assigned to work in the kitchens but if the wrong person came in at the wrong time… She gave her head a shake, forcing her nerves to calm. They were fine. This would work.

Once finished they put all their supplies back where they got it, Mickey shoved the container of pills into one of her large pockets, and they went back to preparing dinner for the day: mystery meat and not-too-expired beans. Thankfully the supply truck was coming soon, maybe even the next day. They'd only have to choke down one more unsavory meal before they could get something somewhat edible.

"Alright, I think that's everything," Eagle finally announced, tapping the large ladle against the side of the tall pot. "We can leave everything covered. Great, this gives us time to hit up the Wreck Room."

"I don't think I can hear the Backstreet Boys one more time," Mickey sighed, wiping excess food off her hands.

"They're not your cup of tea?" Eagle asked with a teasing grin.

"I'm an *NSYNC girl, for one," she said, throwing the dirty cloth at him. He caught it, balled it up, and tossed it into the nearby sink. "And I'm fine with them; it's just hearing the same song over and over again. It's enough to drive anyone batty."

"Yeah, well, Thlump likes it so…"

Mickey nodded. In B-Tent, Thlump was like X-Ray only bigger, taller, and more prone to solve his problems with his fists. Everyone in B-Tent answered to him. She constantly breathed a sigh of relief not to be stuck in a tent with him like she was supposed to be. Who knew what he'd do to her when her back was turned? Hell, who knew what he'd do to her in front of her face?

"Ready to go?"

"I can go to the Wreck Room myself," Mickey stated.

Eagle made a face and rocked back and forth on his heels. Mickey felt a chill roll down her spine. She didn't like that look on his face. "What?" she asked in apprehension.

"It's just…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "You didn't hear what they were saying. About you. B-Tent, I mean. I just…I don't think it's a good idea you going yourself."

She swallowed the lump (no pun intended) that formed in her throat and let out a shaky breath. "What were they saying?"

He shook his head. "Oh no, I'm not telling you."

"Eagle, c'mon."

"No! You don't need to hear it and I don't want to repeat it," he said firmly. "So let's just go, okay?"

Her mouth twisted to the side and she huffed only for her mind to scream at her to get a grip and be thankful that someone like him was there. He doesn't have to help you. He could leave you to the rest of the camp but he's not. Shut up and be grateful. He's the only one you can trust after all.

The Wreck Room was loud with chatter, smacking pool balls, and the stereo blasting in the corner. As the two made their way through the room Mickey kept her eyes to the floor and her jaw clenched. She jumped when she felt a pool stick smack her across the backside which was followed by a very insincere "Oops! My bad! I didn't see you!" A round of high fives then sounded by her ears. Her fingers curled into fists at the loud sound of laughter bursting from the boys around the pool table. A shrill whistle cut through all the noise.

Mickey felt her muscles tense and her stomach drop at the sound. She glanced over to the area that B-Tent commandeered and flinched beneath their leering eyes. Thlump's lip twitched in the corner but then his eyes shifted over to Eagle and he lifted his chin in one, sharp beckoning motion.

"Sorry, I have to—"

"I get it," Mickey interrupted him. "I'll see you later.

Eagle nodded and went off to join his tent. Mickey made a beeline for where Caveman was sitting on the couch, a box of stationary in his hands. She nodded at him and dropped down on the seat next to him, careful to avoid the spring that popped out of it. She had just drawn her knees up to her chest in an effort to become smaller when she heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing. She knew it was X-Ray just from the way goosebumps rose on her arms.

She lowered her legs and made to stand when the Wreck Room door flung open. All at once the campers straightened up and took on "natural" poses as Pendanski sauntered in through the door, a big smile on his face as always. He called out random names while holding pieces of mail above his head. He moved around the room, greeting campers along the way with pats on the arm and genial smiles. He stopped by the couch and handed Caveman a letter. Just when she thought he was going to move on he used his finger to flip through a few more envelopes and stopped on one.

"Well, well! Look who finally got some mail," he commented, holding it out to her. Her eyes widened. She recognized her mother's handwriting on the envelope, her name written in big, loopy letters. Mom! Her fingers barely brushed against the letter when Pendanski pulled it back. "Now…there's going to be no more complaints, right?" he asked; is sharp words squeezed out between the spaces of his frozen smile. "Right?"

She gaped at him. Did he really still think she was overreacting? That she had asked for him to come into their tent and hold her down? That she wanted him to invade her personal space. She opened her mouth, ready to retort but one look at his cold, hard eyes made them die on her tongue. She sighed. "R…right," Mickey replied, averting her gaze. She snatched the letter out of his hand and hastily dug her finger beneath the flap.

She grasped onto the folded paper and yanked it out, her fingers trembling at the rush of emotions that spread through her. But before she opened the letter a fluttering caught her eye. Lowering her arms, she leaned forward and saw another piece of paper on the dusty floor. She picked it up and felt her stomach give a painful lurch when she saw Alan written on the front of the folded paper in her mother's handwriting.

"What is it?" Caveman asked, peering at the side of her face. "Is…is everything okay?"

"Yeah." She leaned back against the cushion and stared at the second letter in her hand. "It's just…my mom. She wrote to Squid."

"Oh." The simple word held a weight that crushed her chest and made it difficult for her to breathe. "Are you going to give it to him?"

Her eyes flickered back and forth between the letter and Squid's face where he sat at a table, playing cards with X-Ray, Magnet, and Armpit. A smile burst onto his face as he dropped his cards and pulled the shower tokens in the middle of it towards him. He rolled a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other and stuck his tongue out at the others as he counted his coins.

She folded up his letter and stuck it in her pocket.