Calmly, Carefully, Completely(8)

I look at Dad and smile. “Yes, I’m happy now. Did you get to ask him about coming to the farm?” I ask it very shyly because my dad reads me like I’m a book.

He nods.

“And?” My insides are flipping around, and my heart is racing.

“He’s coming.”

I lay a hand on my chest and force myself to take a deep breath.

“What do you hope to get out of seeing this boy?” Dad asks.

“I just want to thank him, Dad.”

Dad grins and rolls his eyes. “I was thinking you might want to have his babies.”

I snort. “Not yet.”

I’ll see Pete tomorrow. I can’t wait.

“Hey, kid,” he says softly. “He’s been in jail two years. He may be a little harder than that boy you met that night so long ago.”

Dad talks about it like it happened years ago. But it happens again and again in my head, every single night.

“He still saved me, Dad,” I say quietly.





Pete



I don’t want to be back here. I didn’t miss jail at all last night. Not for a minute. And I don’t plan to be on the wrong side the bars again. Ever. But here I am, back where I never wanted to be. I’m outside the prison but still… I’m wearing jeans, sneakers, a T-shirt, and a tracking bracelet on my ankle. The boys standing in line are still in prison garb. They haven’t been officially released from the youth program yet, but this volunteer program is their first step toward that.

Doors open in front of me, and I step onto the bus, sliding into the front seat, pushing myself close to the window. I put my backpack with my meager belongings in it on the seat next to me, hoping the bus isn’t so crowded that someone has to sit with me.

A young man behind me sits forward in his seat. “You going to the farm, too?” he asks. His breath smells like he’s been eating the ass end out of a mule.

“Dude, sit back,” I grumble. I admit it. I’m a little hungover.

He leans back, and I lay the back of my head against the window and stretch my legs along the length of the seat. But then his nose pops up near the crack between the seat and the window, right by my face. “You’re going to the farm, right?” He breathes heavily right by my ear. And it was two mules. Not just one ass that he ate. Good God, somebody better get him a Tic Tac. I reach into my backpack and pull out a roll of breath mints and pass him one. He pops it into his mouth and smiles.

“Yeah, I’m going to the farm,” I say quietly.

“Me, too. Cool, isn’t it?” He grins. He’s even younger than me. I’d guess he’s eighteen, compared to my twenty-one.

“Yeah, cool,” I mutter.

“What were you in for?”

They know I was in prison? For some reason, I thought I was coming as a mentor of sorts. Not as an ex-con.

“Lie back and get some sleep,” I say, closing my eyes.

I really want to know what the kid was in for, but I would never ask. That would just be rude.

“I killed somebody,” he says. I open my eyes and see that he’s smiling. His eyes are a little maniacal, and they bounce from one place to another.

“Sure you did,” I mutter, but f*ck it all… Now I’m intrigued.

“No, really,” he says. He’s suddenly excited, and he rubs his hands together. “Deader than a doornail.” He holds up his finger like it’s a gun and points it, then makes a pfewww sound with his mouth.

“Mmm hmm,” I hum, closing my eyes again.