Beyoncé
After showers and breakfast, chores (laundry, lunch cooks swapping with breakfast cooks, sweeping, mopping, etc, etc,), we're left to our block. It's two floors, and a main floor with our dining hall. We're allowed to hang out with our cell doors open, congregate, walk around, etc, etc. My block is relatively chill no it' rare to have rules strictly enforced unless the state or county comes to inspect. We have to close cell doors and hunker down at around 8 after dinner.
While I hate it here, this place is comfortable somehow. It's nothing to do with the fact that I've lived here for almost a decade, but it feels more comfortable than my bedroom in my penthouse. I'm under so much patrol here of cameras and perverted officers, but it's nothing compared to what my father was. Can't tell if it's sad or relieving.
When I least suspect a thing, there's a soft knock at my door, then a bag gets slammed into the room and I see the girl from the bathroom scatter in. She swiftly gets up though. I keep my eyes either up or all the way down.
The officers like to do this anytime a new cell mate is assigned. It adds to my rep of being "mean", it dramatizes things and gives them the hint to not interact. Some just take advantage to bully the newbies.
"Knowles, this is Pete." He forces the girl to look at me.
She's been crying for a while for sure. Her eyes meet mine, my jaw tenses and my breath hitches. There's no way I'd allow myself to lose my morals.
Officer Higgins removes her handcuffs and makes his way out the cell.
"Have fun," he slaps his hands on his legs and leaves.
I sulk back on my bed and bring my book up to cover my face. At least that's what I pretend to do. She fixes her bed and her things and stands at the door way. While I know she's pissed, she moves gently. If she came from b-block I know she's heard things.
To make it fair I've heard of her. Nothing horrible. Honestly, I'm impressed. Doing what she gotta do to stay afloat in this place.
(I mean the trying to stand her ground, the trying to make friends with people who turn out to be out of your expectations, etc.)
I made similar moves when I got here too. Took me about a year to loosen up and establish my mean girl persona.
After a while she turns and looks at me. The red on her face is gone and she pauses, not really knowing what to do. She offers a small smile. It hits me with warmth. I'll take it.
"What's yo name?" I finally speak up.
I barely bring the book down from my face and make eye contact with her every other second.
"Megan." She looks back at me. "You?"
Her voice is thick and assertive, yet so soft. Feels like a free pass to danger.
I hate what I feel right now.
"Beyoncé."
