Incarceration

Chapter Seventeen

In the dining room, I spot Iker's blond hair sticking out among a sea of blacks and browns and immediately follow it. Sure enough, the bobbing head leads me to all three—Iker, Royce, and Amara. They wave after spotting me and usher me into an empty seat.

"What happened to you?" Royce asks immediately. "What, did you do to get in trouble?"

"Nothing!" I say. "It was just a temporary job."

"Why do you have a temp job?" Iker asks with his mouth so stuffed with food he is almost impossible to understand.

"It's just until I'm fit to play the game again," I explain. "Until I heal."

"Until you heal?" Amara interjects. "What happened?"

I quickly explain about being hurt by a bear, but I skip over the pay to play and the Wyatt business. I feel as though that information is better left unsaid. Better left between Wyatt and me.

"That sucks!" Iker says after I finish.

I shrug. "I guess," I say, anxious to change the subject. But before I can get out another word, Iker asks more.

"So what's your temp job?"

"I have to watch the other prisoners play on a small monitor," I say, still disgusted. I immediately lose my appetite and set my fork down.

"Watch them get tortured? Is that part of your punishment—psychological punishment?" Amara asks, sharing in my repulsion.

"Wow!" Iker exclaims, his eyes going wide. "You're really working with computers?"

Royce turns to him almost at once but restrains her remark at a knowing glance from Amara. Slowly, I nod, amazed at Iker's ability to focus on the wrong things.

"What kind of computer?" he asks enthusiastically.

I shrug again.

"It's just like a small monitor," I say. Then curious now, "Iker, do you know a lot about computers?"

"Yeah! They're great!"

"You obviously don't know why this idiot is in here," Royce laughs.

I turn to her, awaiting an explanation, but she's so overcome in giggles, nothing comes. I turn to Amara and find her also grinning.

"He hacked into a . . . a . . ."

Now Amara is overcome with laughter, and I have to wait in complete confusion.

Royce blurts out, "He hacked into a vending machine!"

I began to laugh, too—it's exactly what I'd expect of Iker.

Iker sits with his arms crossed, looking embarrassed. His face grows redder, but then slowly he begins to grin and join in with our laughter.

Emma's already in our cell when I come back from dinner.

"Hey," she says as I walk in.

"Hi." I walk over to my bed and collapse back onto it, exhausted.

"There was a note for you in the flap." Emma's voice comes from across the cell.

Immediately interested, I sit straight up.

"I didn't look at it. I just—" She doesn't finish her sentence but holds out a slip of paper to me instead. "Here."

"Thanks." I take the note from her and slip it open.

Use the code. 4435982, it reads.

Use the code? I repeat in my head. For what? 4435982?

I must have been staring at the note, lost in thought for a long time because Emma's concerned voice breaks the silence.

"Is everything okay?"

I look up. "Yeah," I say. "It's just . . . a weird thing."

"If you need someone to talk to—"

"Thanks," I say quickly. "I'll let you know."

The room falls quiet and after a couple minutes, dark. Code. Code. Code. 4435982? 4435982. My mind is a mess of confusion.