June was sitting alone on the outside of the sewing circle, head down, pretending not to notice my approach. “Howdy, celly,” I said as I plopped down.

  “We have got to stop meeting like this,” she said, eyes darting around. Not at me; at the threats surrounding us.

  “Well, until they assign me a different roommate, I think you’re kinda stuck with me.”

  She took a deep breath and sighed, hanging her head. “Everything was so peaceful here until you showed up. Sure, there was violence every now and again, but this …” She shook her head. “I mean, holy shit. Two fights in two days, no punishments, no depowerings handed out.” She looked to either side. “The lack of response from the warden is … well, it’s messing with the hierarchical structure of this place.”

  I looked around, taking the temperature of the room. Lots of hateful glares. “Hmm,” I said. “It would appear this particular prison is being turned up to a boil.”

  “It’s a pressure cooker and it’s going to blow,” June said under her breath. People were definitely listening in. “Clara’s back. So’s Gert. They’re vowing to kill you. Others are talking about joining them, since there don’t seem to be much in the way of administrative consequences. This next round …”

  “Where are Clara and Gert?” I asked. I stood, looked around. I hadn’t seen either on approach.

  “Gert’s over there, with the three harpies,” June said, nodding at a little cluster in the corner. Ah, yes. Three harpies was right. Gert was in the middle of them, speaking very seriously, her back to me. The other women weren’t casting me death looks, but I could see why June called them harpies—they looked like triplets, skinny like birds, hair dark and unkempt, as though they’d come straight out of a nest. Or built one in their hair.

  “And Clara?” I asked.

  “Went into her cell when she got back,” June said, nodding at a cell in the far corner, near the stairs. “Haven’t seen her since. Probably napping, or just lying low, plotting her revenge on you.”

  I stole another look at Gert and her friends. They were so absorbed that they hadn’t noticed me yet …

  And Clara was on her own, in a cell in the corner.

  “Okay,” I said, springing to my feet. “See ya.”

  “Wha—where are you going?” June asked as I headed like an arrow straight for my target, no hesitating. She sat up in her seat.

  “Shhh,” I put a finger over my mouth as I looked back at her, then smiled. I wasn’t heading for our cell.

  I was heading for Clara’s.

  Hooking around, I ducked between two pillars, catching a stray look from a couple guards. As far as I knew, going into other inmates’ cells was totes fine, and they seemed quite okay with it. I noticed the guards glance at me, but somebody made some noise back at the center of the room, and that drew all their attention. Maximum win.

  “What are you doing?” June whispered, only a few steps behind me. I hadn’t heard her coming.

  “Confronting my problems head on,” I whispered right back. I was three cells away, and I shushed her with the finger over the lips motion again.

  June looked at me in vague, wide-eyed horror, but she followed.

  Clara was not going to get any weaker than she was right now. Gert was across the room, gathering allies, which meant I had a very narrow window to confront my (current) biggest threat alone. Maybe Clara was sleeping, maybe not, but my choices were attempt to sucker punch/kill her now, or face her later with Gert and the three harpies. Or wait for something miraculous to save me.

  I’m Sienna Nealon. Miraculous things saving me was a nice cherry on top every now and again, but it wasn’t a plan. I always preferred a plan, even a bad and/or possibly suicidal one, to waiting for someone to come save me. As Reed once quoted from one of his video games, “Better dead than a damsel.”

  He said it made him think of me. For once in my life, I was touched beyond the capacity for words.

  Coming around the corner of Clara’s cell, I tried to keep it quiet. She had meta powers and supercharged senses, so the odds were already deep against me, and I didn’t feel like stacking more on in her favor. One of my fists was balled, the other was formed into a straight, knife-edged hand that I intended to jam as hard as I could into her throat in order to crush it. Even a meta would have a hard time fighting back if she couldn’t breathe. I could stand back for a second, watch her knees get weak, then go in and finish her hard.

  That was the plan.

  And it lasted until I came around the corner and saw into Clara’s cell.

  “Oh, shit,” I said, plan going right out the window.

  “What?” June was a step behind me. She’d caught up, following right on my heels for reasons unknown. “Oh.”

  Clara was in her cell.

  But she was no longer going to be a problem.

  “That is …” June just stared, mouth slightly agape. “… Uhm … that’s …”

  “Clara,” I said, because it was.

  “Really?” June asked.

  Yes. Really. It was Clara.

  But she’d been turned to glass … and shattered across the floor into a thousand crystals. All that remained of her that was recognizable was a five-inch section of her face, sparkling like an oversized diamond under the prison lights.

  28.

  “Holy shit, did you do this?” June asked as we both stared into Clara’s cell, at the remains of the prisoner in question.

  I gave her the “you moron” look she deserved. “I literally just got back from the infirmary after resting up from another near-fatal injury. When would I have found time to sneak into her cell, turn her into a glass statue with powers I don’t have, presently or ever, and then deliver the coup de grâce and turn her into the accessory for an Annie Lennox song?”

  “Honestly, I have no idea how you do half the shit you do,” June said, shaking her head at the sparkling mess. “This could easily fall into that category.” She started to turn her head, opening her mouth to call out to the guard.

  I landed a hand on her face and turned her back around. Her eyes widened. I shook my head. “Nuh uh,” I said, and stepped into Clara’s cell.

  June’s frown was the sort my mom used to warn me not to make for fear of it freezing like that. “What the hell are you doing? They’re going to think you did this!”

  “They’re going to think I did this anyway,” I said, putting a foot down at the extreme end of Clara’s pile and sweeping it into the cell. “I might as well get some mileage out of it.”

  “How?” June hovered at the entrance.

  “Is anyone watching?” I asked. “Try to look nonchalant.”

  Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “I’m standing outside a cell where a woman has been murdered via being turned to glass and busted up like a dropped chandelier … how do I pull off nonchalant?”

  “Pretend like we’re talking about the dinner menu,” I said, sweeping the remains of Clara toward the toilet hole. I stooped, dumping a few of the biggest pieces in, then hit the little button to flush her down to fish heaven. Most of her had been shattered to damned near dust, but there were a few choice pieces that remained good glass. I tried to get rid of these first, save for two, which I held close to my chest. “‘What are we having tonight’? ‘Oh, I don’t know, probably what we have every night. Fecal matter placed on a bed of more fecal matter, with a little crostini of poo.’ ‘Mmmm, sounds like shit.’”

  In spite of herself, June snorted a laugh, then coughed trying to cover it up. “That’s … not funny.”

  “It’s actually hilarious,” I said, scooping more of Clara into the toilet and flushing again. These were good sturdy pipes, and were accepting lots of Clara at a time.I was suddenly thankful that I’d gotten involved in the engineering process and thus knew the exact volume each flush could theoretically carry. I pushed those limits. “How are we looking out there? What’s Gert up to?”

  “Still talking to the harpies,” June said. “The guards are looking over here.”

  “Of course they are,” I said, sweeping a little more of Clara closer to the toilet. There was going to be a ton of glass dust left, but if I could get the big pieces out of here it’d really slow down their identifying of her corpse. “Shit.” Pricked my finger on a shard, and blood ran down onto my hand in a wet streak.

  “What? What is it?” June stuck her head around the cell door.

  “Clara’s revenge,” I said, holding up my pricked finger. “Oh, and evidence that ties me to the scene.” Little droplets of blood were falling out now, all over the floor. “Good thing I don’t need to worry about defending my reputation as an innocent person anymore. It’s really freeing me up to do the kind of mayhem I excel at.”

  “Gah, why?” June asked, slumping against the wall outside the door.

  “Why did they make us cellmates?” I asked, dumping another pile of Clara into the toilet, watching the crystals float for a second before I flushed them down and they warred with each other for which got to go down the hole first. “Isn’t it obvious? You almost killed me last time we crossed paths, and they must know it from Scott’s final report. They probably assumed you wanted to kill me.”

  June was quiet for a couple flushes. “But they didn’t know I … kinda walked out of that owing you?”

  “If they had, they wouldn’t have made you my cellmate,” I said, flushing again. “It’s becoming blatantly obvious I’m not supposed to come out of here alive, ever. I’m supposed to die—as a story, as a person. I bet they don’t even mention my death on the news for a little while. It’ll be a quiet item released on a Friday news dump night, six months from now.”

  “How do you know this?” June asked.

  “I’m starting to see the patterns,” I said. Two more good flushes would rid me of the majority of Clara, except for the useful parts I was going to hang onto—two improvised shivs made from … hell if I knew which parts of her they were made of. But they were sharp and they were long, and I could bury them in someone’s neck and end my feud with that person immediately.

  “What does that mean?” June asked.

  “I’ll explain it … probably never to you,” I said. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll suspect we’ll return you to your regularly scheduled prison sentence in the next few days, one way or another.”

  “The hell is that supposed to mean?” She was standing in the cell door now.

  “You said it yourself.” I flushed, watched crystal spiral down, cast a look over my shoulder at her. Her eyes were wild. “This is building to a head. This prison is going to go up like the proverbial powder keg, and one way or another, I’m going to be gone after it does. If I were you, I’d stand well clear of me, June. I mean, after I finish disposing of this body. Because I really need you for another thirty seconds or so to watch my back.”

  “It’s so nice to be needed,” she said, turning back to look out. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?” I hurriedly scooped the last bunch of big shards into the toilet and hit it. They rushed down, leaving me nothing but powder and smaller shards. I kicked some of that into the hole and let ’er rip again, the sound of flushing echoing through the cell once more.

  “Gert and the harpies are walking toward the tables,” June said. “It’s a matter of time now. You better hurry.”

  “Understood,” I said, and surveyed my handiwork. There was probably fifty percent of Clara’s body mass remaining, but unless June had a dustbuster secreted away somewhere I didn’t want to inquire about, it wasn’t going anywhere. I stood up, brushed myself off, and grabbed my two improvised weapons, slipping them up my sleeves and drawing my wrists tight so that I could hold them up there. I headed for the cell entrance, and June moved aside to let me out.

  “What now?” she asked, looking around a little too stiffly to be convincing. There were a lot of guards looking our way, and I had a feeling if I hadn’t emerged when I did, they’d have been coming over to check on us pretty quick. “Hunker down in the cell?” She licked her lips. “Wait for things to hit the fan?”

  “Nope,” I said, and started to meander toward the middle of the room. “I have two weapons right now, and the moment the guards realize that Clara’s gone—or dead—they’re gonna toss every cell.”

  June paled. “They’re going to find them, and we’re going to be in deep shit.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “So … I might as well go get in deep shit earlier and flush a few more turds out of the bowl in the process.”

  “Oh … oh f—” June said, but I stopped listening.

  I was headed for the middle, my eyes already on Gert and her new best friends.

  29.

  When you really want to do someone bodily harm and don’t want them to see you coming, it’s best to play things very cool. I did just that, ripping my eyes off Gert as I got close to the perimeter of the tables, kind of lazily surveying the people who were giving me the stink eye and giving it back twice as hard as I got it. I got a few growls, a few, “What’s up, Nealon?”, and some assorted unkindnesses thrown my way.

  But nobody got up to challenge me, which was both good and disappointing. Good in that I didn’t want to waste my shards killing them, and bad in that I was disappointed in the general level of catty chickenshittery in this prison.

  “Bunch of sorry bitches in here,” I said, loud enough that everybody heard me but nobody did a damned thing. They’d already watched me kill one of their number, while depowered, and damned near take out two more. No one was eager to rush in on me. I sat down at a perimeter table, reveling in my anti-feminist sentiment, because let’s face it—this was not a place where we were going to build each other up.

  This was a place where I was going to tear down everything that got in my way, and a fair number of these women were in my damned way. Some would move of their own accord, some would die. I was fuzzy on which were which in most cases, but I was very clear-eyed on a few.

  I looked at Gert and sent her my most evil of evil eyes.

  She caught it. It would be hard to miss.

  “Oh, man,” June said, finally catching up to me. “What the hell, Nealon.”

  “I like how that’s not even a question. You know what’s about to go down. You should walk away, June.”

  “I … can’t,” she said, almost grunting to get that out.

  “You can,” I said. “Furthermore, it would be wise. Your obligation to me is nil. I saved your life because that’s what I do—and maybe just a tiny smidge because your grandmother is scary. Neither of those is on you.” I looked up at her and caught motion from Gert. She and the harpies were heading my way, but slowly, savoring the walk, trying to look badass and brave.

  They weren’t going to be looking nearly so badass when bleeding out from the neck, but they’d figure that out in their own good time.

  “Just because you would have done it for anyone doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be grateful it was me,” June said, drawing a little closer to my shoulder.

  “I spared your life and now you get to sit in here for the rest of it,” I said. “Yeah, you should totally fall all over yourself thanking me for that. Why aren’t you my prison bitch yet?”

  “Because you missed shower day,” June said. “Also … just no. But seriously, this fight stuff—”

  “Okay, well, play it on the edge like you have the last couple times,” I said. “There’s no point in you getting depowered unless I get in way over my head.”

  “When are you not in way over your head?”

  I didn’t answer. Gert and company were ten paces away now.

  “What’s up, Nealon, you little bitch?” Gert asked, her flat face twisted in a rage-filled smile.

  “A gel-filled ceiling,” I said casually, leaning back a little, like her approach was no big deal. “That’s what’s up. Above that, some very bad guys. And eventually a sky, which you will never see again.”

  “Only one of us is dying in this prison, Nealon,” Gert said, eyes narrowing.

  “Spoiler alert: it’s you,” I said. “I’m going to go on and have a very eventful life post-prison. It’s inescapable fate.”

  Gert balled her fist and started to swell. Her new alt-swing trio, The Harpies, were just a couple steps behind her, and moved back to give her the space to achieve her full hugeness potential. “Fate’s coming atcha, all right. In the form of me.”

  “Fate could stand to lose some body fat percentage, then,” I said. “How do you maintain on the food in this place, I’m wondering? Because I’ve had like half a meal here, and I feel like I’m all set for a good long while, y’know … ?”

  She raised her fist—

  “ASSEMBLE IN THE CENTER,” came a voice over the loudspeaker. I felt like there were words missing, but I got the message. It repeated again a second later, in case I didn’t.

  “Warden’s here,” June said. Gert froze, her fist raised a dozen or so feet from me. She probably could cover the distance in a couple seconds, maybe less, but she hesitated.

  “So, Gert,” I said, my shard daggers ready to drop out of my sleeves, “are we doing this thing before or after the principal does the very special assembly where he cautions us against drugs and bullying and—I dunno, whatever other fundamentals you clearly ignored the hell out of in your life’s race to end up here. Dental hygiene, probably.”

  Gert stared me down, but suddenly she looked less dangerous than before. “We’re going to rumble after, Nealon,” she said, pointing at herself, then me. “After. Put it in your calendar.”

  “I’ll just be trembling in my slippers over here then, until after you’re done listening to the very important words of the authority figure you clearly have nothing but undying respect for,” I said. “You’re a real badass rebel, Gert. It’s just terrifying being opposed to you.”

 

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