Page 109 of Freshman

Alfie didn’t know what he meant. The wait, his life, the world.

He wasn’t sure and bowed his head.

“I think she’ll be lenient. Considering your age and troubled childhood. You admitted fault as soon as Nate escaped.”

“I’ll still get time, though.”

Gareth made a noise of confirmation. “It could be as little as two years, and you might only have to serve half in prison.”

That still meant a year of being targeted by staff and prisoners. Alfie’s gut clenched, and he forced the thoughts from his mind.

Numb, he needed to stay numb, or he wouldn’t be able to cope.

He stood straight in the dock, lifted his chin, and stared fixedly at the stern woman wearing the wig.

The judge mentioned his young age, and his childhood in care, but she wanted his sentence to serve as a warning.

Three years.

By the time he was done, he wouldn’t be a freshman or a second-year but a graduate of stupidity.

A laugh bubbled in his throat.

It gained momentum and savageness. He tipped his head back and stared at the high ceiling.

“I hate you,” he said.

There was no reply, no voice telling him he didn’t. He scrunched his face, wrinkled his nose and bared his teeth. “I hate you!”

The judge said something and Gareth did too, but he ignored their voices.

He only wanted one to answer him.

The past months finally caught up with him, and the emotions he’d repressed to get by tore into him. His eyes burned and dropped fat tears onto his cheeks.

His nose ran, his lip quivered and his chest hitched.

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

His knees weakened, his chest hurt from yelling, and his throat grew hoarse. Two policemen manhandled him as he yelled at the ceiling, and his wrists were cuffed in front of him. He dug his heels into the floor as they dragged him down a narrow corridor that led under the court.

He spluttered and sobbed, and when they shoved him into a holding cell, he collapsed, emotions so raw he could only lie on his side like a stricken animal and whimper to be put out of his misery.

Stupid, stupid, stupid freshman.

25

They led Alfie out a few hours later.

Not through the front of the court, but the back, where a white van was waiting.

He shivered with sweat and nerves, and his face felt tight from dried tears.

He didn’t speak.

Even when the officers asked him questions, he kept his lips pressed in a line.

His rumpled shirt flapped in the wind. His tie and belt were quickly removed by one of the police officers so he couldn’t try to kill himself.

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