Page 75 of Fragments

Officer Chevelle has a tendency to look out for me now because I’ve fixed his laptop three times since I’ve been here.It’s usually always malware from sketchy porn sites.And his partner in crime, Joy Jameson, doesn’t believe in paying for movies, so she has me download them for free onto her tablet.

So, there you have it. I’ve made it almost a year without succumbing to the sexual pressures of Alabaster Pen by being the resident IT guy. There was one time I let Dirt watch me showering in exchange for a giant bottle of Old Spice body wash and a six-pack of Orange Crush…

But that’s all. I’ve yet to compromise myself, or my integrity, and I’m proud of that fact.

Sure, I know I could get more stuff,betterstuff, if I were willing to give up my morals. But it’s just not me. I can survive just fine on my own.

I don’t need to whore myself out.

A little while later, I’m back in my bunk, leafing through the bird book when I hear the door opening at the other end of the row. Catcalls immediately echo from the other cells, and my forehead lines.That’s more noise than usual…

Listening closely, I recognize the shouts and yelps as taunts; the kinds that are indicative of a new body on the roster.

“Fresh meat!” someone wails, followed by barking scolds from the guards.

“God help him,” Toby grumbles from the bottom bunk.

Lying back, I try to ignore it, focusing on my book. But now my mind is tied up.

A new inmate, huh? I wonder who he is… If he realizes what it means to be here.

Another hour or so passes, and it’s time for dinner. We mull about with our wrists cuffed as Joy and Jasper pluck inmates in our row from their respective cells. But when we reach Parker’s, an unfamiliar guy wanders out before him, face tilting all around as he takes in the drab scenery.

“That must be the new guy,” Toby whispers to me. “He looks young. Well, not as young as you, but still…”

Parker trots out of the cell behind the guy, and they stick close to one another while the guards herd us through the doorway. My eyes are following the new person, taking in his appearance and demeanor. Heisyoung, maybe only a few years older than me, which would still make us the youngest inmates here. He’s tall, maybe has a couple of inches on me, and visibly in shape, despite the baggy gray jumpsuit. Dark hair, though it’s been shaved; standard practice for newcomers.

I might be the only person who likes it.

As a kid, I kept my hair longer and shaggy, rocking the surfer look. But at fourteen, I chose to shave it all off rather than getting a haircut, and I ended up liking it. The look helped cement theLex Luthornickname. Although back then, people kept calling meSlim Shady. But I didn’t mind.

There are worse things to be called, after all.

I even went as Eminem to a Halloween party one year, and no word of a lie, had my first kiss with a girl dressed as Mariah Carey. Naturally, she was way out of my league, and like the alleged relationship between the two musicians, I suspect she only did it to throw me a bone.

Anyway, where I pull off the buzzed style, I think this new guy might look better with a full head of black hair. He’s very striking. Sharp jawline, full lips, high cheekbones.

Maybe he’s a model, or an actor or something.

I’m curious about the guy, and what he did to wind up here. I suppose I’m always curious about new inmates, but something about this person is intriguing me more than usual. Not just his appearance, but the way he’s striding up the dingy hallway with an uninhibited air about him—a hard thing to pull off in chains.

He doesn’t seem shocked or devastated… almost as if heexpectedto wind up in a terrible prison.

My muddled thoughts are cut short when someone bumps into me from behind, and I stumble, crashing right into the backside of the guy I’ve been internally scrutinizing.

“Shit, fuck,” I grunt, straightening as he peers over his shoulder, brows zipped in annoyance. “I’m sorry… Someone just…” But my stuttering fades when his forehead smooths out and his eyes widen.

He slows down, turning his body toward me as hestares, a vibrant blue gaze gliding over my face, down my neck, torso… The rest of me, before it pops back up and his long, dark lashes flutter.

Why is he looking at me like that?

The way his bright eyes areburningon my flesh is unsettling. Confused and oddly jittery, I whip my face around to see who bumped into me, and what they have to say for themselves.

It’s just Simmons. This scrawny idiot who’s known for being notoriously clumsy.

“My bad, Luth,” he grumbles, eyes on his feet. “These damn pants are too long—”

“Move it along, fuckheads!” Jasper barks at us, shoving Simmons to get him walking again. “It’s just walking, not rocket science.”