Inconsolable » Squid [Holes]

2: Dinner is Served

The last thing Mickey wanted to do was deal with the reminders of her life back at home. Yet there Alan was. Rather, there Squid was, having to ruin it all. Why the hell he was named something as lame as Squid was beyond her. Of course it was better than Barf Bag. (She felt bad about that kid, despite not knowing who he was).

She knew seeing Alan again would be tough but this was worse than she ever imagined. How easy was it to come face-to-face with someone who used to be your best friend? Someone who was now a stranger? It sucked. Which made it easier to come to the solution that she would just pretend he didn't exist.

Instead she would focus on the piles of potatoes that she was assigned to prepare for dinner. She lost count of how many she peeled past fifteen. A few of them had gouge marks from her anger but those were salvageable. There were a handful of potatoes that were rotten beyond comprehension. She threw those away in disgust, only to be reprimanded by a guard for "wasting food".

If that was the 'food' they were supposed to eat the entire time they were incarcerated, Mickey wasn't so sure she wanted to eat.

The rhythm she had built up while peeling the potatoes wavered as she glanced up to see one of the boys staring at her. Her eyes immediately dropped back down as she pulled the sharpened blade across the vegetable. A strip of the skin landed on the pile that steadily grew in the trashcan sitting between her knees. Despite the tingly, itchy feeling she was getting from the stares she kept her focus on the task at hand. Then she could get a shower in while the boys were eating and not worry about them taking a peek at her. She thanked God that she had brought her bathing suit with her, despite the fact that the place had no lake. (Why name it after something that wasn't there? It continued to baffle her.) But then again it was a good thing that it was named in such a way that she had one less thing to worry about.

Now all she had to focus on was not to be murdered in her sleep. Or worse.

Mickey paused in her peeling and tugged at the collar of the ill-fitting jumpsuit. She was swimming in the fabric. It hung loose on her thin frame and bunched up in unflattering places. Not that she particularly cared about her appearance, especially not now. But she did wish she had a jumpsuit that was less bulky. But she wasn't going to complain about that. That would be foolish on her part. She didn't want to give any of them any reason to point her out better than they could now.

She was sentenced for a year and she didn't want to start off on the wrong foot.

Lifting the heavy sleeve of her jumpsuit, she rubbed it across her forehead. Her nose wrinkled at the scratchy, porous fabric and, once again, brushed the sleeve back only for it to fall over her small hands. Huffing as quietly as possible, she lifted the sleeve again so she could go back to peeling the seemingly never ending mountain of potatoes.

"Finally!" Mickey exclaimed as she put the last potato into the metal pan a little while later. She tossed down the peeler and wiped her hands off on a nearby towel. She flexed her fingers and smiled at the satisfying crack and the release of pressure at the joints. "Now I can get a shower and—"

"Where do you think you're going?" the guard asked, stopping her quick escape.

"T-to the showers?" Mickey replied, her statement coming out more like a question. The stern expression on the guard's face didn't face. "...Sir?" she added, her voice rising in pitch as her shoulders lifted up to her ears. Still, the man's face never changed. "No?"

"If you think you're getting out of here due to some sort of special treatment—"

"No! No, I'm not! I don't think I deserve any special treatment at all. No, in fact, I don't deserve any treatment at all. You-you can just leave me here to die I the sun. Wipe your hands of all of this. No one would be the wiser!" Mickey rattled off at the mouth. Her nervous energy made her speak quicker and her voice, if possible, get much higher than it was before. She only stopped talking when the guard cleared his throat and she clamped her lips together to keep the barrage of words from falling out.