Page 67 of Freshman

“No, you don’t. Pepperoni your favourite?”

“Prefer Meat Feast, and garlic bread, and cola to wash it down.”

Nate laughed. “I’ll remember for next time, but it’ll be your turn to pay. You can deliver it to my cell, serve it through the hatch.”

“Not happening.”

“Open the hatch, Freshman.”

Alfie smiled, then pushed off from the door and walked back to the lobby, shaking his head.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t kicked off more,” Henry mumbled.

“Who?” Alfie asked.

“Nate. You punched him in the face a few weeks back. I thought he’d at least yell some, kick his cell, and get the others to start mouthing off, but nothing.”

Alfie shrugged. “I barely made a mark.”

“You split his lip,” Henry said, and Alfie winced.

“I’m sure he’s had worse in here. That’s what the other guys said.”

Henry shook his head.

“No, he hasn’t. They were just trying to make you feel better, but I’m not going to lie to you. Nate’s top dog on that wing. Surely, you’ve realised that? No one dares to cross him. It’s suicide. No officer, no prisoner. Then you come along and wallop him one. A fish, fresh out of the water. He’s planning something, mark my words. Never find yourself alone with him, and if you do, there’s no point praying for mercy.”

Henry marked the end of their conversation by shoving his glasses on and flopping into his chair.

Alfie stared out of the office at the dark corner of the prison.

He wondered whether Henry was right and Nate was reeling him in for revenge. He had said himself he lured young men in and broke their necks. Alfie had assumed Nate was toying with him, coaxing him into reading the file, but it could’ve been the truth. Nate could be dragging it out for entertainment, for fun, and he was allowing it because he couldn’t handle the thought of hating him, of not being wanted.

Alfie awoke to a persistent buzzing. He slapped the mattress beside him, and on the fourth swipe, he connected with his phone. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and he thought about ignoring it, then sighed and pressed his thumb down and sank back into the pillow with the phone held to his ear. There was every chance Tia had got a new one.

“Yep?” he mumbled.

“Freshman…”

Alfie sat bolt upright with a gasp. “What the hell. Nate?”

“I hope no one else calls you Freshman. That’s my name for you.”

Alfie shook his head. “You can’t call me!”

“I can, and I am.”

“How did you even get my number?”

Nate sighed like the question bored him. “Queenie, remember? He got your address and your number.”

Alfie ran his free hand through his hair and clutched the strands at the back. “You can’t call me. Are you on the prison phones?”

“Course not, I won’t risk anyone else overhearing us.”

“So you have got a phone?”

Nate hummed. “Looks that way.”

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