The clacking noise of the plates and plastic forks and spoons rings in the air, accompanied by the loud hum of voices, as we enter the kitchen area.
Everyone lines up by the buffet where two women wearing white aprons and hats place the food on everyone’s trays with completely bored expressions on their faces.
Sara and Haley grab one, and I follow suit, doing my best not to wince when I see one of the cooks wiping away the sweat from her forehead before checking the chicken and dumplings with her ungloved fingers. The other one wipes her nose with an apron before mashing the potatoes one more time.
Clearly, sanitation has left the building here, and I should learn to deal with it all, my previous luxurious habits forgotten.
Still, I won’t be touching the chicken.
Turning away to avoid my further inspection of the cooks and their handling of the food, my gaze clashes with one of the women sitting by a table in the right corner.
She has black hair and eyes with pale skin that highlights several scars along with tattoos. She is so painfully skinny the uniform is extra baggy on her, but she digs her fork into the food while scanning me from head to toe as if assessing the enemy.
Or her next victim—depends on how one might look at it.
Several women at her table, a bit more muscular than her, follow her gaze and focus their stare on me too while they bite harshly into their food before whispering something to the dark-haired woman.
She dismisses whatever is said with the wave of her hand and tears her gaze away from me, but not before an unreadable emotion crosses her face.
Does she have a problem with all newcomers or just me?
But then again, who knows about the rules in this place anyway? I’ve heard hideous stories of what can be done to someone in prison. However, I prefer to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and maybe life here won’t be the constant need to survive among the wild beasts who can’t wait to savor your flesh.
“You better not challenge Lori,” Sara says right into my ear, and I flinch, rattling the tray a little while shifting my focus to her in front of me. “She is a mean motherfucker. Not to mention, she holds authority even among guards.” She leans closer, whispering the last words. “She’ll kill you and make it seem like an accident.”
Haley slaps Sara on the back, making her half turn to her, and grits through her teeth, “Stop gossiping, girl, before you get us all in trouble.” Then she glances at me, a warning shining brightly in her eyes. “And you stop staring at people. No one likes that. Mind your own business if you want to keep your pretty face intact.” With this, she puts her tray on the table as we reach the buffet and accepts everything the woman gives her. She even rubs her hands together giddily when she sees the potatoes, which must be her favorite. Sara also doesn’t refuse any food.
They are fed every day, right? Judging by how eager they are, I start to wonder if they were starved or something. This won’t go well in my current condition.
Once it’s my turn, the lady dips the ladle inside the soup and hastily pours it into the dish, spilling a little on the corner, and practically slams it on my tray so hard I barely keep it up. “Thank you,” I say.
But she only huffs, shouting, “Next.”
I move to the bread section and pick up a slice before the second lady places chicken and potatoes on another plate and gives it to me. Then it’s the drink selection, if choosing between water and orange juice can be called that, and taking my water, I trail after the girls only to stop abruptly when Sara looks over her shoulder.
She stares at me and hisses, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Clearing my throat, I point with my chin at the table they were going to, since it’s the only empty one in the entire dining room. “Following you to the table to have breakfast.”
They share a look once again and then burst out laughing. My brows furrow at this while uneasiness rushes through me. What’s so funny about what I said?
Finally, Sara gasps for breath and clicks her finger in the direction of the small table by the garbage bin near the kitchen’s backdoor, which means that all the smells probably float around there, not to mention how dirty the floor is, based on several stains. Then she informs me, “You’re a newbie with no fucking class here or friends, darling. That’s your place. Just because Kathy didn’t give enough shits to show you who the boss is doesn’t mean you are one of us.”
Several women glance in our direction, excitement creeping into their eyes, probably in anticipation of a fight… in case I refuse to listen. They must lack entertainment here, so why not enjoy the cat fight, right?
Except, I haven’t participated in those since foster care, where one of the girls destroyed my science project on purpose and I lost the hundred-dollar prize.
“Okay,” I reply, marching toward the table and ungracefully dropping onto the seat.
I exhale heavily, reining in the urge to touch my back and bring attention to my condition that I’ve kept a secret for these several months. Instead, I lightly pat my stomach, ready to give it some sustenance.
Maybe I’ll even have the chicken that almost floats in grease despite my earlier reservations. I won’t survive and get good nutrition eating only carbs. I dip my spoon in my soup, bring it to my mouth, and I’m ready to try it despite the disgusting smell when a shadow falls over me.
I look up to see a blonde woman smiling brightly at me, her white teeth flashing so much I wonder how I’m not blinded by it. She sits opposite me, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. “Hi!” she says with her sugary sweet voice that should ease the tension inside me but oddly only enhances it. The makeup on her face is flawless with the eyeliner lines so symmetrical one might get jealous of such skills, and her perfectly trimmed eyebrow rises. “You’re new here!”
Mustering a smile, I extend my hand to her even if everything inside me screams not to do that, but I ignore my gut. It hasn’t been good to me lately anyway, because didn’t it tell me to trust justice and the law to prove I’m innocent?
Boy, did the world prove me wrong.
Without waiting for me to answer that assessment, she leans closer. “My name is Veronica. I’m… let’s say a person who keeps all this—” She twirls her finger in the air. “—together. I assign jobs and stuff like that based on everyone’s skills.” Internally frowning at this, since it seems odd, all things considered, I finally take a spoonful of soup and almost choke on the rotten tomato taste in my mouth, with so much salt and pepper it’s a wonder it doesn’t burn my throat.
Working past my gag reflex, I swallow it and quickly wash it away with water while Veronica sighs heavily, nodding at me. “Yep, girl. Food here is awful. That’s why you should help me and be our go-to medical person. You’ll earn a lot of favors from the inmates and get some treats.”
I blink at this, not knowing what to say to that, because all of it is so… unusual.
Is this how life in a prison works? In order to survive, you have to work for someone, and they might give you something in exchange? Was it the class thing Sara and Haley spoke about?
“Well—” I start, only to get interrupted when I hear someone choking violently in the distance, and instantly my attention is on the woman by the doors, wrapping her hands around her throat while she struggles to breathe.