“Okay, so I have some time to join the guys in the rec room. I’ve learned that we have some of our best group therapy sessions when we’re shooting hoops.”
“Glad to see you’re getting your guys to open up. How has it been, coming back after maternity leave?”
A sharp stab of guilt shot through my conscience. “Fine. Everything has been just fine,” I lied.
No, really. I’m fine. Really, I tried to convince myself. Never mind the fact that Alexis screamed in the backseat all the way to daycare this morning, and my nerves were shot before I’d even finished my first cup of coffee.
Val smiled, completely fooled. “Great! Glad to hear it. Okay, well I’ll see you at intake a little after lunch then.”
“Sounds good. See you then.” As I stepped out of her office, the door clicked behind me. I leaned against the cold, beige wall, out of her sight.
Taking a few deep breaths, tears formed in my eyes. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Nothing is wrong. I just need to get back to the boys. They’re expecting me.
I walked to my office and dropped the folder on my desk. Stepping out of my heels, I slipped into my sneakers. Time for a little mindless activity. Get your head in the game, Salem. Literally and figuratively.
I waited for the guards to slide open the big metal door to the rec room. It was a lot like a high school gymnasium, but without bleachers. Just a big open room with basketball hoops.
“She’s here!” I heard Malik shout as the door buzzed, indicating that it had been unlocked.
Officer Harris slid the door open. “Here you go, Mrs. Honeycutt.”
“Thanks,” I said, stepping into the room. The echoes of the basketballs bouncing off the walls and the squeaking shoes against the newly polished floor rang in my ears.
“Think fast!” Malik said as he tossed the ball in my direction.
I caught it and tossed it back immediately. “Think faster,” I joked.
Malik laughed and dribbled off toward the basket, shooting a layup. I rebounded the ball and shot one myself.
“Nice shot!” DeAndre congratulated me from across the room. He ran toward us and tried to steal the ball from Malik.
“No way.” Malik darted away from him, passing the ball to me.
I took a shot. “Whooo! Nothing but net!” I shouted the instant the ball swooshed through the hoop.
“Wow, Mrs. H!” Malik sounded impressed. “You got skills.”
Before long, a little game of three-on-three started.
We were all playing, laughing, sweating, and having a blast. Thank goodness I’d worn my slacks instead of the skirt that I’d been considering that morning or I wouldn’t have been able to join them. I loved hearing the boys cut up; it was such a refreshing feeling. Given their situation, watching them let loose and really enjoy themselves was such a pleasure.
I sank another three-pointer over Toombs’s guarding hands.
DeAndre pointed at him and covered his mouth, feigning shock. “Oh shit!” he teased, doubling over in laughter. “Toombs just got schooled by a girl!”
Toombs grimaced, taking two long strides across the floor toward DeAndre. “What the hell did you just say, punk?” Clenching his fists by his side, his stony expression exuded bottled rage.
Toombs was a big guy—a kid that no one dared to cross. Toombs was actually his last name. His first name was Shaun, but no one ever called him that. Toombs seemed to fit his personality better anyway—quiet and somber. He wasn’t the shy kind of quiet, but the dangerous kind. He even kinda freaked me out sometimes.
“Hey, Toombs,” I said gently, trying to diffuse the ticking time bomb, “it’s okay. No big deal. He was just teasing. Right, DeAndre?” I looked at DeAndre pointedly, hoping he’d follow my lead.
Fully aware of the consequences, but having learned early not to let guys bully him around, DeAndre ignored me and stood his ground against Toombs. “That’s right, asshole. I said you just got schooled by a girl.”
Other boys began surrounding us. They knew a fight was about to break out, and a lot like the adult prison environment, certain boys created certain alliances. They protected each other like tight-knit gangs.
“Come on, guys.” I tried another approach. “You don’t want segregation, do you?” Segregation was the worst kind of punishment in juvie. It was a ward where disorderly inmates were kept. They spent twenty-three hours a day, alone, in a small cell, with no interaction. It was maddening, and most guys who spent time in segregation vowed never to do anything that would send them back there again.
But, Toombs’s anger had already passed the point of no return. His twitching jaw and flared nostrils were an indication that things were about to get ugly. I put my hand on his shoulder in an effort to calm him down.