Jet’s gaze didn’t stray from her reading material.
“For me?”
“Yes,” Jet slapped her book shut and swiveled around, dropping her feet to the floor. She stood and rested her elbows on the top bunk. “They’re your angel blues. All female trustees on details outside the gates wear them. The men wear black and white stripes. That way, the guards know who to shoot if anyone tries to make a run for it.” Her half chuckle didn’t strike a funny chord with Carrie.
“Have people tried to escape?”
“No one that I know of, but I’m sure some idiot has in the past.” She ducked back onto her bunk. “Actually, wearing a different color shows you’ve achieved a trusted status with the guards. It’s an honor.”
Carrie slid to the floor. “But I haven’t. How will I explain becoming a trustee so fast? There are so many others that have been here longer than I have.”
“No one will question you.” Jet flashed her trademark stare. “I’ll make sure of it. You just need to keep your end of the bargain when the time comes.”
“I will, I will.” Carrie mumbled her vow but doubts lingered in her mind. She’d noticed the blue uniforms on some, but asking about them never seemed important. Right now, Seth was her main focus and he’d better be worth the risk she was taking.
About to change clothes, her attention was drawn to the sound of someone keying open the food slot. The familiar sound of a tray sliding through meant chow time. Carrie turned to see Susanna, and a pang of sadness stabbed at her. “Hi, how’re you doing?”
Susanna’s normally full lips tensed into thinness, and she held her head at a haughty tilt. “I’m fine, thank you.” Her gaze locked on the blue suit Carrie held in her hand.
Carrie tossed the clothing aside, took the offered tray, and moved closer to the bars. “Are you okay? You seem upset.” She spoke in a whisper.
Susanna seemed about to answer when Jet nudged Carrie aside, snapping her fingers. “I’d like my tray today, if you don’t mind.” Her demanding demeanor only sent Susanna’s lips into an almost invisible line as she complied with the rude request.
Jet took her breakfast and perched on the edge of her bunk. “Don’t worry about your friend,” she called out. “Her panties are in a wad because you got blue and she didn’t. Ain’t that right, Susanna?”
Susanna ignored the remark and pushed the warming cart toward the next cell. She glanced back at Carrie. “I’ll see you at rec.”
* * * * *
Carrie stood at the back kitchen door, her palms damp and her heart fluttering. She waited with a similar-clad woman she’d never seen before. “Are you from the east wing?”
The woman stared down an angular nose and nodded, but quickly averted her gaze. Carrie understood. Strangers weren’t to be trusted, but did it hurt to at least smile?
A lump grew in the pit of her stomach. What had she bargained for? She wasn’t even sure Seth would be the guard in charge. She’d been delivered to the waiting area by yet another new matron, with no instructions on what to expect. The turnover in the place seemed constant, and Carrie dared not pursue a conversation with the unfriendly dark-haired inmate. Testing a new guard’s demeanor wasn’t a good idea.
Carrie gazed down at the tennis shoes she’d been given, glad to have her bared toes covered while she worked. Although she could’ve used a size smaller pants and shirt, she felt much prettier in her blue prison garb. Her mouth tasted of toothpaste, and she’d brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She hoped to make a good impression on him. Some lipstick would be nice, but those days were long gone. Au natural was the only look in the place. Being incarcerated had nothing to do with beauty or fashion.
Before long, two older women were escorted to the area and still everyone remained silent. Speak when spoken to, move when told; that seemed to be
“For me?”
“Yes,” Jet slapped her book shut and swiveled around, dropping her feet to the floor. She stood and rested her elbows on the top bunk. “They’re your angel blues. All female trustees on details outside the gates wear them. The men wear black and white stripes. That way, the guards know who to shoot if anyone tries to make a run for it.” Her half chuckle didn’t strike a funny chord with Carrie.
“Have people tried to escape?”
“No one that I know of, but I’m sure some idiot has in the past.” She ducked back onto her bunk. “Actually, wearing a different color shows you’ve achieved a trusted status with the guards. It’s an honor.”
Carrie slid to the floor. “But I haven’t. How will I explain becoming a trustee so fast? There are so many others that have been here longer than I have.”
“No one will question you.” Jet flashed her trademark stare. “I’ll make sure of it. You just need to keep your end of the bargain when the time comes.”
“I will, I will.” Carrie mumbled her vow but doubts lingered in her mind. She’d noticed the blue uniforms on some, but asking about them never seemed important. Right now, Seth was her main focus and he’d better be worth the risk she was taking.
About to change clothes, her attention was drawn to the sound of someone keying open the food slot. The familiar sound of a tray sliding through meant chow time. Carrie turned to see Susanna, and a pang of sadness stabbed at her. “Hi, how’re you doing?”
Susanna’s normally full lips tensed into thinness, and she held her head at a haughty tilt. “I’m fine, thank you.” Her gaze locked on the blue suit Carrie held in her hand.
Carrie tossed the clothing aside, took the offered tray, and moved closer to the bars. “Are you okay? You seem upset.” She spoke in a whisper.
Susanna seemed about to answer when Jet nudged Carrie aside, snapping her fingers. “I’d like my tray today, if you don’t mind.” Her demanding demeanor only sent Susanna’s lips into an almost invisible line as she complied with the rude request.
Jet took her breakfast and perched on the edge of her bunk. “Don’t worry about your friend,” she called out. “Her panties are in a wad because you got blue and she didn’t. Ain’t that right, Susanna?”
Susanna ignored the remark and pushed the warming cart toward the next cell. She glanced back at Carrie. “I’ll see you at rec.”
* * * * *
Carrie stood at the back kitchen door, her palms damp and her heart fluttering. She waited with a similar-clad woman she’d never seen before. “Are you from the east wing?”
The woman stared down an angular nose and nodded, but quickly averted her gaze. Carrie understood. Strangers weren’t to be trusted, but did it hurt to at least smile?
A lump grew in the pit of her stomach. What had she bargained for? She wasn’t even sure Seth would be the guard in charge. She’d been delivered to the waiting area by yet another new matron, with no instructions on what to expect. The turnover in the place seemed constant, and Carrie dared not pursue a conversation with the unfriendly dark-haired inmate. Testing a new guard’s demeanor wasn’t a good idea.
Carrie gazed down at the tennis shoes she’d been given, glad to have her bared toes covered while she worked. Although she could’ve used a size smaller pants and shirt, she felt much prettier in her blue prison garb. Her mouth tasted of toothpaste, and she’d brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. She hoped to make a good impression on him. Some lipstick would be nice, but those days were long gone. Au natural was the only look in the place. Being incarcerated had nothing to do with beauty or fashion.
Before long, two older women were escorted to the area and still everyone remained silent. Speak when spoken to, move when told; that seemed to be
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