Wayward Boys (BoyxBoy)

III

Dinner landed on Nolan's plate with an unpleasant slop. Just looking down at the brown-grey mix of slimy meat dotted with the occasional mushy carrot was enough to make him feel ill, but the other boys just seemed complacent as they were served by a guard in a hair net.

God, he already missed Rosalie's cooking.

Now more than ever, standing in the line with the rest of his table, he was very aware that he was being sized up by the other boys in the dining room. Some of them surreptitiously glanced his way in intervals, others blatantly stared, but with each set of eyes he grew more anxious, and with each murmur he felt his shoulders rise in order to more convincely conceal his scar.

The large, ugly mark that trailed down the left side of his neck, across his shoulder and to his collarbone would not let him forget about the fire. Each time he looked in the mirror and saw the angry burn he was reminded of the guilt he felt, the pain that plagued him, and the photo of Daniel they chose for the funeral. Daniel. Oh, god, Daniel. What was worse, anybody that met him and saw the scar instantly knew he was different: that there was something gnarled and broken inside of him. Nolan knew they were right. He was all twisted and shattered inside.

The line shuffled along, and he was presented with a dollop of overcooked, starchy peas, a stale bread roll and a glass of lukewarm orange juice. Then it was time to return to his seat beside Ellis and attempt to stomach the meal.

"You weren't kidding when you said the food was bad." He muttered to Ellis, spooning peas into his mouth. They were grainy and tasted slightly of fish.

"I don't ever kid about food, Pritchard." Ellis chuckled. He seemed immune to the awful slop, shovelling a mouthful of the stew with a shrug. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it soon enough."

"I don't think so." Nolan grimaced, deciding to make an attempt on the bread roll, which was as hard as a rock. Whilst he chewed, thoughts of getting information out of his talkative roommate crept into his mind. If there was anyone who was going to answer his questions about this place, it would be Callahan.

"Do you mind if I ask how long you've been here?" Nolan asked timidly, anxiously holding his breath.

"Six years now. I got here when I was thirteen." Ellis explained through a mouthful of peas. "And you should be careful, Pritchard. You can ask me stuff, 'cause you're fresh meat and I'm your roommate. But I wouldn't go around poking into anyone else's business, alright kid?"

"Right, yeah." Nolan nodded firmly. If Ellis was telling the truth, which Nolan believed wholeheartedly, that made him nineteen. Surely he was too old to be in his last year? Nolan thought, but he didn't ask. For now Ellis was his ally, and Nolan intended to keep it that way by not pushing too hard for personal information.

It was safer that way, because then maybe Ellis wouldn't ask any personal questions in return.

"Anything else I should know?" Nolan leaned in and asked his roommate quietly. Ellis laughed a little under his breath and looked around the room in thought.

"Well, now you know that Worm and Scissors are bad news, so there's that." Ellis said in a hushed voice. Nolan took the liberty of looking between the two boys, who were by all means opposites: Worm with his pale hair and smug face, Scissors with his dark buzz cut and rage filled eyes. Even now they were passing malicious glances back and forth. There was something dark and nasty brewing between them, and Nolan could feel it from across the room.

Yep, they were bad news, especially together.

"Ace, the guy we saw in the hall earlier, he's tough shit. He's a quiet bastard but Christ knows he rules this hellhole, so stay out of his way.." Ellis continued curtly.