Under Lock and Key

10: Daily Grind

Chapter Ten: Daily Grind

Lee Clarke, June 5th, 1946, Modoc County

7:10 am

"Come on, Lee. It's time to get up."

I felt someone's hand on my shoulder.

"Leave me alone, Richard. I'm exhausted. Go away."

"Richard, huh? In...ter...est..ing."

I opened my eyes. That was definitely not my best friend's voice. Richard always sounded sleepy in the morning, or wheedling, trying to get me to cuddle. Which I sometimes did, sometimes didn't. Depending on however the day before went. If he was a jerk or pulled some shit that was embarrassing or cruel, I kept to myself. If he was sweet, well...I was...sweet back to him.

But this wasn't him, and like every morning since I came here, almost a month ago, it took me a few seconds to remember where I was and why the ceiling was bare wood boards. Not Richard's beautifully white ceiling far above his bed. Or my own more modest one, in my own room, in my comfortable house.

"Let's go, Lee. We have inspection in a few minutes. Almost everyone else is ready. You have to shower and get dressed quickly. I'll do your bed for you. Hustle, Mr. Clarke."

I sat up, reluctant. Sleep was something I always found hard to achieve. I lay awake almost every night, wishing I could sleep, but needing to almost be exhausted after hours in bed before it happened. Richard, of course, fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

I think about him way too much. Especially since I'm here because of him. But...it's almost worse to think about what he did with Denny. When he was....with...me. Maybe that's stupid, thinking two guys should be faithful to each other, but I didn't know what else to think about it. I thought...I thought....we were....

Richard's not here. He's in Scotland far away. I can't even try to talk to him about it, although I basically know what he'd say. He'd tease and poke me, and twist everything around until I was confused and felt like it was my fault. He really was a jerk.

My blood brother. My best friend. My....whatever.

My cake.

Asshole.

"Get your ass in motion or we're all going to get in trouble," Carl snarled, passing by toweling his short black hair.

He was an asshole too.

But he was right. If one person was late getting ready, before Mr. Townsend came to check that we were all here, our beds made, clothes in the laundry or folded nicely in our dressers, if one person was asleep or still showering or if their stuff was a mess, we all got extra chores during the scheduled leisure time.

So I hustled, letting Donny hug me tight, his own stuff ready, his hair damp, before shuffling like a sleepwalker into the bathroom.

I pissed for what felt like an hour, feeling that unreal sense of satisfaction after holding it in all night, then took off my boxer pajamas and white tank top tshirt, putting them on the bench against the wall.

I stepped into the shower, and realized at least I wasn't the only one late this morning.

Davey was down at the far shower, rinsing the soap off of him. It ran in sudsy rivers down his back. His long wavy hair, now wet and slicked back off his forehead.

Not like I was looking. I definitely wasn't.

I wouldn't do that.

That's...I'm not....