Children of the Uprising Collection Read online

  Chapter Nineteen

  Samara hadn’t tasted a blackberry in exactly seven years. On the last day of secondary school, the administrative staff had brought them in and passed them around to the students at the end of their last exam. She could still remember the bewildered look on her instructor’s face as the tiny purple cups circulated around the room. Everyone’s cup sat on their desks, and Samara studied it carefully, not moving her folded hands from the desk. Never before had she seen a fruit so small. Samara and her classmates had eaten apples, bananas, even a small orange once, but never a berry. The administration looked at the class, looking at their treats, before saying, “Begin!” Samara had hesitated, watching the teachers as her classmates began eating, making sure she was not out of bounds. Then she, like many students, took the entire remaining ten minutes to examine and savor every sour, juice-filled pocket.

  Seven years later, it was still a favorite memory to call upon in bitter moments. Samara opened her eyes when she heard the mechanical lock being unhitched, and the memory faded as the large red door creeped open.

  Before yesterday afternoon, Samara had been convinced there was no good reason to break a rule. She’d been trying to recall the last time she’d done it, but had yet to remember an instance in her life that she knew a rule and had deliberately broken it. That was the problem, they said, with people of the past; there was too much gray, not enough black and not enough white. Now everything was clear. There were hundreds of thousands of federal laws, so people knew that everything from intentionally splashing in a pool to chewing gum loudly in public was illegal. Everyone was taught and drilled on exactly what to say in response to most conversational phrases so no feelings were ever hurt. When she was a child and didn’t know all the laws yet, she innocently broke a few, but never had something like this ever happened. Never had a child ever asked her to smuggle powder out of a prison. She did not recall that particular law, but she knew it must be one of them.

  A guard was waiting for her on the other side of the door.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard said offhandedly as she called back to the boys. “Move it.”

  Samara stood aside until the boys passed. At the end of the row was Warden Paul. She did not follow the boys but looked at Samara. The corners of her mouth turned up, though her eyes did not change.

  “Miss Shepherd. Good morning.”

  “Good morning.”

  “I’d like to help you set up your classroom today.”

  She did not reach for either of Samara’s two bags, weighing heavily on both shoulders, but walked beside her toward the cafeteria. Halfway there, she stopped and addressed a boy Samara didn’t know—he must not have had school privileges—with a bathroom pass in his hands.

  “Looking forward to your hearing next week, James. You have a bright future ahead of you, young man,” Warden Paul said.

  James beamed and looked at the floor, but Paul didn’t notice. She was already barreling ahead, continuing toward the cafeteria.

  Once there, Samara hefted both her bags onto a table still littered with breakfast dishes. The warden began unpacking the independent work packets and placing them down on the table. Samara looked as Paul placed Timothy’s book on Marcus’s place, Marcus’s book on Jamari’s place, and so on.

  “Miss Shepherd, we haven’t yet discussed this, but you’re a smart girl. You must realize that the boys here are…troubled.”

  Samara wanted to ask her what she meant, but the warden was already going on.

  “Troubled in many ways. Many will have no chance at citizenship their entire lives, though they’re probably not aware of it. Studies show that hope can be a wonderful source of energy.”

  “Oh? I—”

  “Wonderful for productivity. But there’s another side to this, Miss Shepherd. And I tell you this to prepare you, not to frighten you.” The warden turned down her chin and lifted her brow. “The hope can sometimes make the boys do and say and think silly things. If they’ve committed any infractions inside our facility, for example, they can try to cover those up. And worse, convince the others to help them.” The warden stopped here and looked expectedly at Samara.

  “What kind of infractions, Warden?”

  “All sorts. Degrees of seriousness. We had one boy stuff wads of toilet paper down the pipes to make the toilets overflow. Then he convinced every inmate to confess to it. Every one. But we caught that one…in the end.”

  “How?”

  “I’m so glad you asked.” Her eyes glistened. “What’s your first guess? How did we catch him?”

  “Oh…I don’t know.”

  “Guess.”

  “The cameras?”

  “Wrong! This was before our renovations. The cameras were easily disarmed. Even now, they can’t catch everything. Guess again.”

  “I…don’t know.”

  “You give up too quickly. Guess.”

  “He turned himself in?”

  “In a way that’s exactly what happened.” The warden looked slightly disappointed. “In the end, he felt he could trust one of our guards here and told her exactly what had happened. But what really clinched it was when the other boys came forth with the same story. They had hope.”

  “Hope for what?”

  The warden said nothing, but grinned. “Miss Shepherd, surely you’ve noticed a common theme among the young women who work here. You yourself share this trait.”

  “I don’t understand, Warden.”

  “Don’t be modest. And maybe you’ve noticed you’re not as relaxed as you used to be?”

  Samara blinked. “My focus injections.”

  “Yes. Without them, you’re experiencing the full range of female hormone levels. Somehow the boys can tell. It was only a decade ago that we realized if we employed young women with objective attractiveness as guards and let them experience their natural methods of manipulation, it would add to the illusion of hope that makes it possible for us to have excellent control over our young charges. Take away their focus injections, and biology does the work for us. It’s very easy to modify behavior through hope. Doesn’t work on girls, though. Girls are calculating. They like to imagine the exact circumstances and then formulate a plan to see it through. Luckily for us, boys aren’t that sophisticated. They see a pretty girl, imagine an outcome, and then they leave themselves open.

  “Give them hope. Schedule their hearings, tell them about their great promise, and surround them with pretty women they feel they can trust. Doesn’t take much else for this place to run smoothly. So here’s what you really need to know, Miss Shepherd: they need to trust you. And you need to trust me.

  “I know what you’re thinking: what’s in it for me?” Warden Paul paused again and smiled. “I have an offer for you, Miss Shepherd. I don’t usually let the instructors in on it, but I believe you deserve it.”

  Samara only glanced up cautiously, knowing the warden wouldn’t let her speak even if she tried.

  “Our guards get a little bonus every time they alert me to a potential infraction. If it’s determined an infraction was definitely stopped by a guard, that bonus is not so small. You’ll have the same privileges from here on.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When this place runs smoothly, life is good for all of us. Staff, inmates, stakeholders.”

  “Stakeholders?”

  “The owners of our little operation. They’re Ones.” Her eyes shone with admiration. “Have a nice day, Miss Shepherd.” She turned to leave. Then she paused and looked over her shoulder. “Forgot. If it’s seen that you have, for some reason, kept an infraction to yourself, you will be punished.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Any questions?”

  “No.” It came out slightly quieter than she’d expected. “Yes, I mean yes, but it’s off topic.”

  “Please. I have about two more minutes.”

  “Where did those boys go? The ones in the line. I sometimes see a few boys get ready to leave, but then I do
n’t see them again.” Samara was no longer looking at the warden but at the wall behind her.

  “Happily, those boys were found innocent of their crimes and were set free.” She said it flippantly, with the same tone she’d used with James. “Can’t have too many occupants in a prison, can we? That would probably mean something wasn’t working correctly at the law-making level. It’s easier to let boys go than to change laws. Have a nice day.” And with that, she went through the wide doorway with no door, leaving Samara alone in the room, plates clattering while the silent kitchen staff continued cleaning up breakfast. Somehow the stench never left that room.

  Chapter Twenty

  It seemed to Jude that Kopecky had done the impossible. For months, the other boys had told him there was no way he could be free, no matter what Mr. Richards said. Warden Paul, on the other hand, talked of appeals and of shortened sentences—the stuff of hope—and today, it seemed she was the one he could believe.

  Kopecky had nearly wet himself with excitement when he told Jude his appeal had gone through. After all these years, he’d finally be free to join his mother and father outside the Fox County Detention Center’s walls. In a matter of months, Kopecky had become Jude’s only friend, so the news had stirred mixed emotions. Jude counted down the days leading to this one, doing his best to match Kopecky’s excitement while privately wondering what he was going to do here without him. Sure, Miss Shepherd was an ally, and Jude still couldn’t believe what she’d done for him, but Kopecky was the one he could really talk to. Kopecky had no way to know how terrible Jude was at kickball and algebra and flirting with girls, like the kids at Jude’s old school had. They all hated him for that, fearing, maybe, that befriending him would someday cause citizenship points to be subtracted from their own records. But Jude thought even if Kopecky did know, he wouldn’t have cared. And he liked that about prison—there was no score to worry about. Jude and Kopecky could be cross-tier friends. In the first light of morning, Jude was beginning to acknowledge his greatest fear: that his new life in prison had been better than his life outside, thanks in large part to his friend’s kindness and openness. Without him, his life would go back to being lonely, his days long, his mind restless.

  Kopecky’s head popped out from the top bunk. “Today’s the day!”

  Jude smiled in spite of himself. “You’re gonna set off the cameras!”

  “A couple more hours and they can’t touch me!” Kopecky whispered with a little more boldness before disappearing into his bed again.

  The anthem blared immediately, irreverently piercing the still morning, and the overhead lights followed with a flicker. Jude watched his friend land with both feet on the cold concrete floor, throw his stiff white blanket on the bed again, and start dressing for the day all in a matter of seconds. Jude had to stop himself from begrudging thoughts. He wouldn’t be missed. Of course not. What right did Jude have to be missed? He was, after all, associated with this terrible place. And Kopecky was headed for a life far from here, if not physically, then otherwise. Sure, he would be unregistered in his new life, but he had parents somewhere who would take care of him. He’d sleep in his own room, shower with hot water, and talk with people who loved him.

  Jude wanted to be in Kopecky’s new life with him, but there was no date set for him. Not yet, anyway. When he’d mentioned this to Kopecky, he said, “It’s like what Warden Paul always says—there’s always hope.”

  “Do you trust the warden?” Jude had asked, lowering his voice and his gaze.

  “Yeah. She’s a good lady. I heard she was a Five and got this job because she worked so hard. Don’t know what you got against her.”

  That last bit was really meant to be a question, Jude knew, but he was still having trouble putting the incident with the bag together in his mind, still waiting for everything to unravel. It had definitely seemed the warden had set him up, but he couldn’t prove anything, and things had been quiet in the weeks since. Still, even though Warden Paul seemed to be right about the eventual chance of freedom, something unseen told Jude she was not to be trusted. He wrestled with telling this to Kopecky, but he seemed so genuinely happy, and genuine happiness had become such a luxury that Jude couldn’t kill it.

  The boys finished getting ready and stood on their marks beside their bunks for inspection. The cool blonde guard waited patiently for the automated glass door to lower, and there was the daily collective inhale as the boys took in her perfume. Even Jude felt refreshed and ready at the first encounter of that warm, sweet scent. This morning, the unnamed guard locked eyes with Kopecky.

  “Good morning.”

  “G’morning, ma’am.”

  “Kopecky?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “I look forward to escorting you into the outside world today.”

  The boys had stopped breathing. The guard was unfazed, still looking into Kopecky’s stunned face. Usually guards had simple greetings and one-word commands for them, like Walk, Stop, and Eat, but this was the first time they’d ever heard a full sentence. It gratified Jude in a way he could not explain. As for Kopecky, he made a motion with his tongue that might have been “th,” but could not go any further. The guard smiled and continued her inspection lazily. “Good!” she confirmed before leaving their cell again.

  The boys looked toward the far left bunk incredulously.

  “How d’y’like that!” Kopecky’s smile was so radiant that no one could resist matching it.

  Kopecky was still there at lesson time, in his usual seat. They weren’t supposed to talk here, but it was only Miss Shepherd and no guards, so the hall was alive with the ambient buzz of conversations as she passed out books.

  “You’re still here!”

  His signature grin appeared. “Until noon, buddy boy.”

  “Lucky.”

  “Yeah. Well…” He scratched his head. “You know I been here since I was five. That’s a long time.”

  “Ten years.”

  “Yeah, genius, ten years.” The shape of a smirk lingered on his otherwise thoughtful face. “I don’t even really remember what it is to be outside, to tell the truth. And you know what I was thinking today? This morning? Y’ain’t never asked me what I done to get in here to start with.”

  It was true. Selfishly, Jude did not want to think of Kopecky as dangerous. What if he’d done something horrible, like injure or kill someone? But he didn’t want to know if he was innocent either. Knowing two innocent people locked up here—maybe more—would be too depressing to process. Months after meeting him, Jude still did not want to know. He shrugged.

  “I never told nobody the whole truth about this, but I’m gonna tell you.” He looked left and right and then back at Jude. “Nothing. Didn’t do a damn thing.”

  Jude’s stomach sank. So it was true. He was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like himself.

  “My parents did, though. They were in the Red Sea.”

  “The Red Sea?” Jude’s voice was too loud, and several boys turned their heads to look.

  “Shh! They don’t need no advertising!” He lowered his chin. “It’s a group that tried to change the way things are. Let everyone have a say in the way things are done. Let people do whatever they want—choose their jobs, their wife, where they live—just as long as they don’t hurt nobody, let ’em be. That’s what I heard, anyway. Like I said, I don’t remember much. They had meetings at our house every now and then where they talked about things. I remember my mom telling people they had to be brave and stand up for what they believed in, and I remember people waving their hands at her. It was a secret meeting and they were trying to be quiet. That’s what they did when they liked something, they waved their hands.”

  Kopecky was looking behind Jude’s face now, past cafeteria workers wiping up the last crumbs of breakfast.

  “Metrics came to take them on my fifth birthday. That I remember, ’cause we had a cake with chocolate icing, and I still had some on my mouth when they bu
sted down the door. My mom screamed and reached for me, and my dad just looked at me square in the face and said, ‘We’ll see you soon.’ And I cried and screamed too, all the way here. Tasted the salt from my tears mixed with that icing. I tell you, I’ve thought about that so many times, what my dad said. ‘See you soon.’ I never thought this day would come. The warden told me, though, that they’re coming to pick me up. So we all musta been let out on the same day.”

  Jude cleared his throat. “That’s really good to hear.”

  “Yeah. Have you heard the ‘A hundred come, three go’ rule?”

  He had. A rumor had circulated among the boys that when a hundredth inmate was added to the roster, that’s when three existing inmates were finally cleared. It did seem to make sense, though Jude would always forget to keep track exactly of how many boys were coming in, and he had no proof anyway in such a big place.

  Kopecky leaned in. “It’s bullshit.” He paused and relished the curse for a moment. “See, today’s my birthday. It’s been ten years. I never knew this, but that’s gotta be the sentence they made us all do. Exactly ten years. It all makes sense.”

  Without warning, a warmth came to Jude’s eyes. “Happy Birthday, buddy.”

  “You crying?” Kopecky delivered a good-natured punch on Jude’s arm. “Not me. I’m gonna eat real birthday cake today—no added salt!”

  Miss Shepherd had been trying to start the lesson for the past few minutes, and now seemed as good a time as any to help her. As their conversation quieted, many others followed suit. Miss Shepherd looked relieved that she could finally stop saying, “Class?” and teach them how to sound out four-letter words. Jude listened with a new energy, truly glad for Kopecky’s departure.