Page 7 of The Care of Broken Things
He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d just realized the smallness of the space they were occupying, and the total privacy it offered. This early there weren’t many people roaming around, and even fewer came down this hallway. It was time to leave.
He hefted his shower caddy and shoved past Eli, bumping his shoulder roughly to clear the space. A mistake. He felt theheat of the man through his clothes. The man was like padded Sheetrock. What kind of doctor had a body like a pro-wrestler?
It was a question that would haunt him all through the morning, even after he’d cloistered himself in the library. He chose to skip breakfast, nabbing some power bars from commissary to tide him over until lunch. He was definitely avoiding Eli now. Zero contact all the way. He kept feeling the imprint of the man’s muscle on his body. His shove had been hard, but the man had barely moved.Dangerous, his mind reminded him.
At five minutes to noon, Rat tapped the door frame. The door of the “library” had been removed, on account of how prisoners apparently couldn’t be trusted to read in privacy. “Is it three days yet?”
"No.”
“So kick my ass. It’s lunchtime.”
He kept his fingers on the keys of his typewriter. “You’re bothering me.”
“And you’re hungry.” There was a pregnant pause. “Though probably not as hungry as your boyfriend.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly how it sounds. He’s not eating.”
“Watching his girlish figure?”
He had firsthand experience with that body now. No way was it maintained on the standard 2000 calorie diet.
“Dunno. I saw him talking to Norm last night, and there was another consult this morning, but Norm shook his head at him.”
That was strange. He’d heard of new prisoners being squeamish about the food, but usually they at least picked it over first. “Must be confused since there’s no room service here.”
“Shame we can’t eat out in the yard,” Rat said as they waited in line.
“Animals eat in cages.”
“I keep forgetting I’m sub-human.”
“That’s because your little prisoner brain doesn’t work real good.”
Rat laughed. Samuel was starting to feel better with someone at his side. Maybe that was the key to his plan. If he kept Rat close, he couldn’t have any more private meetings with Eli.
Or so he thought. Because the next moment, Arnold was handing him a tray and Rat was asking, “Hey Arty. You mind telling us why our new boy isn’t eating?”
Arnold’s real name was Thomas, but Big Tom didn’t like for anyone in the prison to share the same name as him, so Thomas had been involuntarily baptized.
Arnold shook his head. He didn’t talk much. It was the reason Samuel liked him better than 95% of the other prisoners.
“Now, now, Arty. Don’t be shy. You know you can trust Fuller and I.”
But trust had nothing to do with it. Someone behind them shoved at Rat’s shoulder, a not-so-polite reminder to keep the line moving. Samuel grabbed their trays, but then he paused without setting them down on a table.
“What’s wrong? Place not clean enough for you?”
Seriously, jokes about basic hygiene weren’t funny.
He turned and pushed the trays into Rat’s hands. “Don’t eat my Jello.”
“But where are you going?”
He went back to the barracks, but they were basicallyempty. He continued the search elsewhere, walking the halls, opening closets, and even peeking through the gate near the office.
He stopped in the library after he’d already given up, so of course that had to be the one place Eli was standing.
