Chapter 10. Liam
Saturday marks my first weekend at the facility, and I'm buzzing with excitement over not having to work for the first time since arriving here.
At breakfast, Griff comes up to me. I’m always shocked by how much Griff works; he seems to be around all the time.
Jack tells me he works mornings, and evenings for the MMA practice, but he often comes to check what’s going on outside of his hours.
Insane. Jack says he’s a control freak workaholic, and I realize how much this sounds like Ethan too.
That’s why people call Ethan Griff’s pet.
"You're off the hook from detention. I liked your performance this week; stayed out of trouble and seemed more settled in. Good job," he says.
“Thank you, sir!" I exclaim, my voice ridiculously excited as I nearly bounce up and down. I can feel an absurd grin spreading across my face.
"I always ask for feedback, and the kitchen crew spoke highly of you. They said you were funny, polite, and did things right. I'm proud of you," he adds, nodding at me, then turning to Ethan. "And you too, Ethan. Good job for keeping him in line for a week," he says.
You can’t say stuff like ‘I’m proud of you’ and expect me to act normal. Not when I’m the neediest person alive.
We’re all eating together at the table. Ethan flashes a rare genuine smile. He cares a lot about his record.
Griff doesn’t say anything else; he only gives me a look that’s all ‘proud dad’. Then he moves on, and I let myself collapse back into my oatmeal with a little exhale.
"Jesus, Liam, you want to shine his shoes too?" Harry says. Harry doesn’t hang out with us very often, but Jack thinks he’s determined to make me his client while he can.
"Liam's a teacher's pet now. Who'd have thought?" Jack teases. “Ethan’s a good influence on you.”
Harry rolls his eyes and scoffs at that. Ethan pretends he didn’t hear anything.
"Never, I'm just glad to not need to scrub dishes anymore," I say, stabbing my oatmeal with my fork, but I can't make my face go back to normal.
I feel so stupidly proud, all warm and floaty.
Ethan leans back, crosses his arms, and fixes me with a mellow look.
Not his usual ‘are you about to screw up’ stare, but something different, and it all feels good for a second.
When breakfast is over, Jack elbows me in the ribs and jerks his head toward the far doors. “Let’s get out to the court before the jocks take it all,” he says.
“I’m in,” says Harry, stretching so hard his back cracks. “If I don’t get to run around soon, I’ll die of boredom before lunch.”
Finally, I'll get some fun, after being good for so long.
“Are you joining us?” Jack asks Ethan. Harry doesn’t look so happy that Jack has asked Ethan, maybe he wants to have a moment alone with me to offer me drugs again, but I’m glad.
Ethan looks like he wants to object, of course he does, Mr. Fun Police, but then grimaces, grabs his tray, and stands. “Half an hour,” he says, “I have admin work.”
“Sure, boss,” says Jack. I laugh, but Ethan only shrugs, like he knows nobody will respect that deadline.
Miles is still on dish duty, so it’s just the four of us.
On the way out, the sky’s a hard, faded blue, and the wind is being an asshole with my hair.
Every time I feel the wind on my face, my heart rushes and I feel so, so alive.
This has happened ever since I was a little kid, and the same thing when I feel rain falling on my face or the sun warming up my hair.
I don't even mind that I'm locked up; I'm so excited.
The basketball courts are inside an old gym. Two orange rectangles with sad nets in pieces around them. The only ball is this ancient orange thing, half-deflated and tattooed with Sharpie penises. Jack grabs it, spins it on his index finger, and grins at me.
“You play?” he asks.
“You bet,” I say, knowing well I’m trying to sound cocky, but my blood sugar’s already crashing from the carb bomb of a breakfast, and I know I'm not the best player, but I’m not enough of a fucking loser to admit it. Fake it till you make it, that’s what I always do.
“Teams?” Harry offers.
I look at Ethan, expecting him to pick Jack, but instead he jerks his chin at me.
“You’re with me, rookie,” he says. We never talk about what happened, the spankings, the way we almost kissed.
We pretend nothing happened, but it's so fucking clear that's not the case, it's almost comical.
When he picks me, my stomach drops like the first second of a roller coaster.
I have to stop myself from saying something too stupid.
We square off. Jack is fast and Harry’s arms are too long, but I’m not too bad, and Ethan is a stone wall on defense. He barely even jumps for the ball; just blocks with his shoulders and that cold green stare.
After a few minutes, my lungs are burning, but the competitiveness in me ramps up to the max. I manage a lucky three-pointer, and I raise my arms, jumping in place. “Eat that!” I yell. Ethan actually laughs. He high-fives me, rough, and I stupidly want to feel his hands again all over me.
We play for what feels like hours. My knuckles get scraped, and Harry hits me in the face with his elbow at one point, but I don’t care. I haven’t had this much fun since… since before. Just before.
By the time we’re done, Jack’s shirt is glued to his body with sweat, his hair wet too, and he looks really good.
Harry is panting, doubled over, his glasses sliding from his nose.
Ethan looks barely tired, even though he’s covered in sweat.
I wonder what his cock tastes like, and even I’m grossed out by this thought. I'm such a fucking pervert.
He glances at his watch, then at us.
“You fucking pricks, I told you I could only stay for thirty minutes,” he says, but he doesn’t look mad that we’ve played for almost two hours.
We walk back together, and I keep sneaking looks at Ethan, the way the muscles in his arms flex, how he squints into the wind. I’m not subtle, I know, but I can’t help it. It’s not just how he looks. It’s the way he moves, like he’s always in control of every part of himself.
I almost drool. I’m fucked.
“I've got work to do, see you guys later. Don't get into trouble now that you've got some free time," Ethan tells me in that scolding tone that I love, and then it's just Jack and Harry left.
We grab a bench under a tree in the patio. My muscles are sore, and the wind is drying the sweat on my skin. It feels good.
"What does he mean he's got work?" I ask Jack, who’s also just sitting and admiring the view of the leaves against the blue of the sky.
"He does some admin tasks around here, as a leader. Being a goody-two-shoes is a full-time job, apparently. I wouldn’t want it, despite the perks," Jack says and stretches his legs out in front of him, enjoying the sun. “It’s basically being a free staff member, getting paid in having the right to walk down the hallway without anyone on your back. Not worth it.”
“That’s why he has an office,” I say. Jack nods. Honestly, I think I'd like an office to fuck around in whenever I want. "What about Miles? Why can’t he ever be with us?”
Jack flicks a dead leaf off the bench. "He's got detention today, too. Poor bastard's probably scrubbing toilets or something."
"When's he getting out of it?" I ask. Jack looks at me kind of pitifully, and that throws me off.
"What?" I press, leaning forward on the bench. They’re both still covered in sweat. Harry is facing forward, elbows resting on his thighs, not saying anything. Jack sighs and rubs the back of his neck.
"It's just that... Miles never gets out of detention.
He's got like, permanent detention. His sentence is different from ours.
No rec time, no weekends off, nothing. Every single day for him is just work and punishment.
I've been here three years, and I've never once seen him get a break.
Not even on Christmas. That's just how it is for him. "
"Why? That sounds like fucking hell," I say, stunned. Harry and Jack exchange looks.
"Jack's here 'cause he liked to party too hard, and got into drugs, and I tried to hack a bank, it didn’t work out," Harry says.
I raise my eyebrows at him; he always talks about cryptos and stuff I can hardly follow.
"You're here for some minor screw-up, too, I'm guessing. No one’s here because they're hardcore criminals.
But Miles, he actually blinded a guy. He should be in prison, but they figured he's got mental issues, so they sent him here instead," Harry says and shrugs, like he's talking about the weather.
My eyebrows shoot up, my mouth hanging open. I'm not sure what to say next.
"But he's not a bad guy, Liam," Jack adds, probably noticing my shocked expression. "The other kid attacked him first. It’s just that he lost control. Ended up stabbing the guy in the eye with a knife. But you don’t need to be scared of him or anything. He's been here for years, almost as long as Ethan and me, and he’s never messed up. He’s a good friend. That other kid was older and his stepmom’s son.
Kept bullying him, beating him up, and even worse.
His dad and stepmom never did a thing. So, when the kid came at him.
.. well, you know the rest. They tried to label him as a psychopath, but he's not. Don’t be weird about it. "
"I won’t," I say, feeling kinda sorry for Miles. If he isn’t bothering me, I’m not one to judge.
“What about Ethan?” I ask, my voice lower now, the question tumbling out before I can stop it.
I want to sound casual, but even I can hear the curiosity in it.
I think that they might make fun of me for it, they probably know I have a crush on Ethan.
For a second, neither Jack nor Harry answers. Jack looks almost cautious, cautious the way a parent about to explain death to a kid would be. Harry just shrugs, as if to say, ‘your turn.’
“Ethan’s story is even more fucked up than Miles’,” Jack says. He rubs his hands together and looks at the ground. I can’t tell if he’s trying to build suspense or if he’s actually nervous to talk about it, like it might summon Ethan to scold us for gossiping.
Harry leans back, arms folded, mouth twisted in a little frown. “I’m not even a fan of the guy, but I feel bad for him,” he admits. “He didn’t do anything to deserve being here.”
I look between them, my heart rate picking up because I know what passes for ‘sad’ in this place is probably nuclear in the outside world. “What do you mean?” I press.
Jack chews on his lip, thinking, then sighs. “Ethan’s the only person I know who actually doesn’t belong here. He’s completely clean.”
Harry nods, but there’s something like frustration on his face, like he wishes Ethan were a little less clean. “He’d kick your ass for even talking about it, by the way,” he says, not joking.
“But why is he here? For real?” I ask, because I don’t get it. “If he’s so good, why did they send him?”
"His parents are terrible people. Drank a lot and fought all the time. His dad would try to hit his mom, but she once pulled a gun on both his dad and Ethan, threatening to kill them. And despite it all, they’d make up and continue their toxic cycle, even doing sexual stuff in front of Ethan.
They’re the ones who should be locked up.
But one day, Ethan tried to break up one of their fights and got in the middle of it.
His dad called the cops and claimed Ethan was trying to assault them both, and his mom backed up that story.
But it wasn’t true," Jack says. "So, they sent him here, to keep him out of actual jail. "
"Man, that's messed up," I say. The thought of losing your whole life, and it not even being your fault, hits hard. It makes sense why I don’t see Ethan as a criminal. He isn’t one. I feel really sorry for him.
Jack nods. “He never talks about it. But he told me before. Back when it was only him and me. Then, Miles came, and then Harry. Now you.”
I nod. We’re quiet for a long moment, just watching the sun and the leaves.
Finally, Jack says, “Just treat him like a normal person. Don’t baby him, don’t pity him. He’ll warm up to you if he wants to. Actually, both Miles and him will.”
"So, it makes sense why he's so into that career path he wants; he doesn’t want anyone else to go through what he did," I say. Jack nods again.
"He wants to prove that he can have a future out of here, despite what has been done to him. But, to be honest, if it were me, I wouldn't want to help anyone. I'd want revenge, at least," Harry says with a grin.
I don’t know what I’d do, but I for sure wouldn’t be as good as Ethan is.