Calmly, Carefully, Completely(22)

Phil whistles. “Better be careful. I’ve seen him take down boys a lot bigger than you.”

I snort. I can’t see that happening.

“You remind me of him when he was younger. He was a big, scary kid with a whole lot of attitude.”

“You’ve known him that long?”

“Twenty-five years ago, he was you.” He nods when I look at him.

“Me?”

“Straight out of prison, full of piss and vinegar, and ready for a fight. He had an attitude bigger than anybody’s I ever met.” He laughs. “I was his parole officer.”

“Wow,” I say. “What did he do to end up in prison?”

He shrugs. “Stupid mistake, just like yours.”

“And I don’t have an attitude,” I correct. I’ve behaved myself pretty well. My brothers will kick my ass if I’m disrespectful. Particularly Paul.

“You have a real talent with kids. Particularly special needs kids. You ever consider social work? You could help a lot of people.”

I’ve never really given it any thought. I’ve been afraid to plan a future for fear that something or someone would step in my path before I could start walking. “I don’t know,” I hedge.

“Think about it. You have time.” He pauses for moment, but it’s not uncomfortable. “What are your plans after this?” he asks.

I shrug. “Maybe college. I don’t know.” I got my GED behind bars, but college is expensive and we don’t have much money. “I work with my brothers at the tattoo shop.” I look up at the big house. A light just came on in an upstairs window. I wonder if it’s Reagan’s room. Phil smiles when he sees the direction of my gaze. “What’s going on with Reagan?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Yet.

“You like her?” He’s like a dog with a bone. Going to gnaw that bitch into submission.

I shrug.

“Be careful with her, okay?” he asks.

“Why? What’s wrong with her?” Does everyone know what happened to her?

“She’s wary of men.”

“Then she’s in the perfect f*cking place to stay away from them.” A camp full of men and boys. That’s smart.

“She’s here for the kids.”

“I’m here for the kids, too,” I remind him.

He nods. “Just be careful.”

I plan to.

He stands up and stretches.

“It feels odd, being out here,” I say quietly. For two years, I’ve been locked in a cell. “I don’t quite know what to do with myself.” I look around. “Particularly with all this wide-open space.”

For two years, I had no choices. I ate when people told me to eat and showered when people told me to shower. This place is the opposite of confinement, and I’m feeling a little out of sorts about it.

Phil sits back down. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“You going to pretend to be Dr. Phil now?” I bite back a snort. Something about the seriousness of his face stops my next comment.

“How are your relationships with your brothers?” he asks. I’d rather talk about the f*cking feelings.

“Fine,” I bite out.

“You have four, right?”

I nod. “Three older—Paul, Matt and Logan. And one my age—Sam. My twin. Except he’s in college right now on a scholarship to play football, and I’m here.”

“Why don’t you sound bitter about that?” he asks.