Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75193 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Bemused, Ridley picked up a Christmas tree snack cake and stared at it.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to get any of these this year,” he said. “Thank you.”
I smiled at him.
“I saw them at the convenience store on the way over here,” I explained. “Normally, they’re smaller in those boxes, you know?” I said. “But these were twice the size. I figured you’d enjoy them if they let me go through with them.”
“They’re not supposed to,” he pointed out.
I blinked. “Not supposed to, what?”
He opened the package and took a large bite, taking off the top of one tree, as well as nearly all the middle before he replied. “Let you have any food. They think you’ll sneak in razor blades or something.”
I blinked.
“How would you get razor blades into something that’s sealed?” I asked.
He looked at me like my naivety amused him.
“I watched a YouTube video the other day about how to make a blow dart out of shit and toilet paper,” he said. “If someone can make something that’ll kill someone in here, I’m pretty sure someone from the outside world with access to damn near anything can figure out how to open a package and seal it back up without making it look like it’d been opened.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Who would want to make something out of poop and toilet paper?” I asked him.
“The guards were telling me something about a guard getting hurt a few years back by an inmate making a blow dart out of those two materials. Used three toilet paper rolls for the tube of the blow dart. Shot the guy right through the eye with it as he was walking past his cell,” he said. “Then another time…”
I held my hand up for him to stop.
“That’s okay,” I said. “I don’t really want to hear about it.”
He grinned at me.
“That’s what you say about all my stories,” he teased, sounding hurt.
I laughed at him, suddenly a lot more at ease.
“I like you, Ridley,” I said softly.
He grinned and opened up another package, eating this one in three bites as well.
“I like you, too, Fuc,” he said.
My mouth dropped open.
“That was told to you out of confidence!” I hissed at him, picking up the milk I’d bought for him and chunking it at him.
He snorted, catching it with hilarious ease, then twisted the top off it and took a sip.
“I would’ve never thought a name like that would get past the teachers,” he said after a while. “None of mine would’ve ever allowed it.”
I grimaced.
“One of my teachers was the one that gave it to me,” I explained.
Ridley frowned at me.
“A teacher?” he asked, sounding stunned. “What the fuck?”
I shrugged.
“I wasn’t the most liked kid in class. I was quiet,” I sighed. “And I liked to read. I hated answering questions because it made me stand out more than I wanted to stand out. And, to top it off, I was smarter than most of my teachers. It didn’t go over well with them, and they found ways to make me realize their displeasure.”
“By calling you Fuc in front of the whole class,” he growled. “Do you ever stand up for yourself?”
I grimaced.
“I…” I shook my head. “It’s easier not to.”
“How?” he asked. “Wouldn’t think it’s easier to take all that shit rather than just say something.”
I laughed.
“Have you ever been bullied before?” I asked him.
He leaned back, stretching his long legs out in front of him.
“No, can’t say that I have. That was also because they knew better, though,” he admitted.
I nodded.
“Imagine that geeky kid that always got stuffed into a locker…” I said to him.
He nodded, visualizing I was sure.
“Now, when there are other bullies surrounding him, what do you think would’ve happened had he tried to stand up for himself? DO you think they would’ve left him alone, or amped it up?” I asked.
His mouth opened to deny what I was getting at, but then he shut it just as fast.
I nodded and smiled.
“That nerdy kid that got shoved into lockers was me,” I informed him. “The only person I was able to stand up against was Mr. Craddock, and he almost ran over my dog because I’d done it the time before when I’d seen him checking on one of his rent houses. My dog stuck up more for me than anyone, and look where that almost got me. Had you not been there, I would’ve had a dead dog. That’s the way it goes for us individuals that aren’t blessed to have friends or personalities like yours.”
“So you’re telling me, when you stand up for yourself, it ends up being worse in the long run rather than the initial beating?” he guessed.
I nodded.
“Did your brother know about you getting beat up in high school?” he continued.
Those words caused me a pang of sadness as I thought about all that my brother had done.