Changeling

Chapter 3

A regretful look flashed across Marigold's face as she took in the scene in my cell. It was evident she knew Bunny Rabbit was up to no good. Food was scattered across the entire floor. I was seated in a tight ball in the rear corner next to the toilet, and Bunny Rabbit stood in the middle of it all adjusting his belt and straightening out his uniform. He bent down to retrieve one of the two trays from the floor.

"Babbit what are you doing?"

"Cleaning up this bitch's mess. What do you think I'm doing?"

"Stop Babbit. Get out of here. You don't need to do that. I'll call for an inmate crew to come handle this mess, and the mess in the cell next door." Marigold tilted her head to the left indicating Irma's cell. She wouldn't openly call out her partner for wrongdoing in the inmate house, but she did her best to get him out of my cell and I appreciated her for that.

As Marigold promised, the inmate crew arrived and cleaned up all signs of the morning's events. Events that resulted in the loss of both of my breakfasts, which meant I didn't have any food for Karen today. Which meant day room time was not going to be pleasant. The shower rotation began and those who had court went first, then the rest of us. Fortunately, I didn't have to deal with Karen in the showers. Her tier of cells went separately from mine. Thank God, because I needed the shower to wash off the stench of Bunny Rabbit's cheap cologne.

"Hey Callie, you okay? He didn't, you know...," questioned Irma from the shower stall beside me. Irma was the most unique person I had ever met, other than Ariton maybe, whom I wasn't entirely sure was actually a person. So maybe he didn't count. Irma was a red haired, green eyed black woman whose flawless light chocolate skin was dotted with freckles. At fifty, her beauty was as striking as it was unusual, inherited from her Scottish father and African mother. Her heritage I'd garnered from the many nights spent sharing stories through the walls of our cells. She was a lioness who ferociously protected her cubs and was in jail for doing just that. She surrendered herself to the authorities after purposely hitting her eldest daughter's boyfriend with her car. She didn't kill him, but he was hospitalized with a broken pelvis and concussion. Most said he deserved what he got; I couldn't disagree. He had beaten Irma's daughter to near death. Stories like these were commonplace here. I was glad Irma considered me one of her cubs.

"No, he didn't. I'm fine Irma. Thanks for getting Marigold to my cell."

"No problem child. You don't belong in this place." It was an odd statement and her words reminded me of Ariton. He said the very same thing to me this morning.

"Yeah I do. Just as much as any of the rest of you." Irma laughed at me.

"No, you don't," she said sternly.

When all the showers were done it was day room time. I considered staying in my cell but decided against it. With the doors open, Karen would only come find me and I'd have no back up in my cell, so I sucked it up and joined all the other fine ladies for our daily soiree.

When the cell doors popped, we lined up in our doorways and waited while a guard came through and performed a count, which was always done before day room time. I was thankful to see it wasn't Bunny Rabbit coming through but another male guard instead. He was new. I'd never seen him before, and Marigold was his partner for the effort. Strange, I wondered where Bunny Rabbit was, not that I missed him, but usually it was the same guards that worked the house the entire day.

Having a new guard in the house, especially a male one, was like having a substitute teacher in a sixth-grade classroom. Everyone was on their worst behavior. Whoops and whistles and a pretty impressive cat call rung the air. Marigold remained on the floor watching as New Guy walked the top tier of cells before coming to the bottom to complete the count. When he got to me, I kept my hands clasped in front of me and smiled awkwardly. I never really knew how I was supposed to behave. Should I look at the guard? Should I not look at the guard? Should I clasp my hands in front of me or maybe behind me? I didn't know. Though I'd been in juvey, it was short term, and didn't hold a candle to this place. I was a seasoned veteran of the foster system not the correctional system. The general method of dealing with checks in the foster system was to run away, or at the very least flip off the social worker and make her life as hellish as possible. That wouldn't fly here. New Guy stopped briefly and peeked over my shoulder into my cell, scanned it, and then me, with a scrutinizing stare.