A Witch Like No Other by Makala Thomas Page B

the
press, call the press!”
    “ We’ ve got a celebrity in
our town!!”
    Miriam was pleased to see the pained look on her
friend ’ s face as she said “I don ’ t want any publicity-
I ’ m on
vacation.”
    “ Vacation?”
said Pandora, hurt. “I thought you was here to stay,
Mum?”
    “ Darling,
I-”
    Dreamer wanted to say she was staying, but she
couldn ’ t.
    “ Mum?” said
Pandora anxiously. “Aren’ t you
staying?”
Dreamer chose her words very carefully.
    “ I will stay,
Pandora, after I do one more thing.”
    “ What’ s that?”
    “ Never mind for
now,” she said, Miriam scowling at her. She knew that look on
Dreamer’ s face: she was up to
no good.
    “ And they
needn’ t know
I ’ m
staying either,” Dreamer said under the babble of excited people
looking her way. “Ok sweetie?”
    “ Ok.”

 
* * *
     
    “ Yo Stile,
it’ s lunchtime.”
    “ I’ m not hungry,” Damon
answered, making the officer laugh.
    “ What, so you
gone starve up in here?”
    “ That’ s right.”
    “ My Mama always
say who don’ t eat, dead. Who
dead, bury.”
Damon glared at him. “Get lost,
Dwayne.”
    “ Hey, come eat.
You still gone be a murderer after some turkey ham, and your woman
still gone be dust. Come have some.”
    “ I should knock
you out, you spangled little-”
    “ Knock me out
if you will, just don’ t prick
me with a knife now.”
    “ You-!!”
Dwayne slammed the cell door shut just in
time, locking it back.
    “ Darn it,
Stile! I lost ma stud again. When you gone stop attacking me like
this, man? Am a black dude trying to help y’ all survive up in here, and this is the thanks I get?
Fine fool, starve. No turkey ham your way.”
    “ I
don’ t eat turkey anyway,”
Damon replied. “I ’ m a vegan.”
    “ Now shut yo
trap, Stile. You in prison now. You aint
getting ’ no menus up in here, you feel me? I bin
telling ’ you dis for three years an ’ you still aint
listenin ’ . When you gone understand you got another…” Dwayne
chuckled. “Another what, Stile? Ha, another what ’ s the name now… lemme
see. It ’ s comin ’ to me like dogs an ’ meat- just like these prisoners wid
their turkey ham!”
    “ Get lost,
Dwayne!”
    “ Don’ t worry man, I got it
now. Another twenty
two years, right? Oh darn it
Stile, why didn ’ t you tell me? Why didn ’ t you lemme
know?”
    “ GO
AWAY!!”
    “ Easy Stile!”
said another voice, a pair of blue eyes peering at him through the
tiny cell window. “What’ s
going on?”
    “ P.C. Jones
wont leave me alone!”
    “ Sarge, am
jus’ tryin ’ to get some food up in
his bony butt, and he yellin ’ at me like I ’ m his woman.” Dwayne
snapped his fingers to add effect. “Am jus ’ doin ’ ma job. What happen to
his woman again?”
    Damon slammed his fist against the cell door furiously,
imagining it to be Dwayne ’ s face. It felt good, so
he repeatedly threw punches at the metal door: “Take that, you son
of a-”
    “ Oh help us
all,” said Dwayne amusedly. “He finally cracked, Sarge!”
    “ Stile, stop
that or I’ ll have you
sedated,” the other officer said firmly, but Damon
didn ’ t. Now he imagined the door was Ted Stone, his former best
friend. A punch for stealing his girl. A punch for having Marlon so
he couldn ’ t get her back. A punch for being the reason why Dreamer
got rid of his firstborn. A punch for everything.
Only when he saw blood on the door did he
stop, surprised.
    “ I’ m bleeding!”
    “ Oh, for
Heavens sake- P.C. Jones , go and consult the nurse.”
    “ How
‘ bout you get the nurse
and I ’ ll stay here?”
    “ Now,
Jones!”
    “ Yes
Sarge.”
     
* * *
     
    “ What happened
to you?” said George, the cell door slamming shut behind
him. Damon shrugged, nursing his bandaged hand.
    “ That idiot
Dwayne made me lose my temper.”
George grinned: he liked P.C. Jones. “What
did he say?”
    “ He got to me
about Dreamer.”
    “ Oh,” said
George, smile fading.