Under Lock and Key

11: All American Boys

Chapter 11: All American Boys

Lee Clarke, July 4th, 1946, Modoc County

Mr. Price was on duty this morning for breakfast. Which meant we had to be quieter and more careful. He was someone who might give out yellow cards for the littlest things, like putting your cup down too hard, or calling someone a name, even if you were teasing.

Davey passed me some undercooked bacon from his own plate. Which was nice of him, because it's his favorite. So I ate it, even though it wasn't my favorite. I was used to how bad the food was, now that I'd been here for two months.

Two months.

I wonder what my family thought about me. If they thought about me. I'm sure they did. But I guess we're not allowed letters for some reason. I had no idea what they were doing, or if they were even alive.

Dumbass. That's stupid. They're alive.

My dad's working. My mom's raising the girls. Michael's working out in the woods and spending time with Rose. They weren't planning on getting married until December this year. I wonder if they'll do it, even without me.

I hope they do.

I hope they don't wait for me. I want them to be happy.

I hope Richard is bored and lonely and desperately sorry for what he did to me. I hope everyone at his school hates him.

They won't. He's fun to be around. He makes everyday things feel like the most important event in your life. He has a way of laughing that makes people feel like something fun is going to happen. His blue eyes sparkle....

God, he makes me crazy. I hadn't seen him in two months. Asshole. Asshole. Asshole. Fucking asshole. I missed him so fucking much.

Davey took my left hand and brought it under the table, holding it in his.

"You okay?"

I squeezed his hand, and let it go, hating that he could tell I was upset, but also so glad he could tell I was upset.

Donny leaned against my other side, face pinched, worried.

Even Little Bobby, sitting across from me, next to Glen, noticed I was off this morning.

"Leeeeee. Leeeee eat your toooooasst. Eaaaat your eggs. Chomp them with your teeeth. Liiiiike thiiiiis," he said, putting scrambled eggs into his mouth and opening and closing it mechanically, some food falling out. We were working on helping him eat, but it was still something he didn't quite have a knack for yet.

"Close your mouth and swallow, Little Bobby," Glen chided. Little Bobby tried, but choked. Glen was there with a cup of water, hoping that would help. But that made it worse and Little Bobby almost threw up before he managed to swallow one mouthful of food .

Everyone at our table stopped and stared, wondering if they were about to watch the untimely end of our roommate. But after a second or so, Little Bobby was chewing eggs again, grinning at me somehow at the same time. Glen turned a little away, deciding that ignoring Little Bobby might be the better course of action.

Well, at least I wasn't thinking about Richard any more.

"Drink your milk, Donny. You need strong bones."

"Sure, Lee. Okay, Lee." He drank half down in one gulp. Everyone followed Glen's lead, letting Little Bobby do his own thing. Still chomping eggs visibly, he began ripping apart his toast and putting the crumbs carefully in patterns around the edge of the plate.