Cards of Love: Knight of Swords

I hated these two. Roman never talked about them much, but it didn’t take a genius to know there was friction among the three of them. Sam Squire had bully written all over his aggressive posture. If I knew Roman, he stood up for the kids Sam probably enjoyed picking on.

“Where is he?” I asked, pushing into Sam’s space.

“Back off, bitch.” He lowered his filthy face until it was inches from mine. “He’s gone.”

My stomach churned. Gone where?

“What did you do?”

“Who me?” Sam pretended to be offended. “Nothing, darlin’.” He slung his arm around Janet’s shoulders and the two of them strolled inside.

A cry of pure fury burst out of me.

“They took him Friday night,” Pip said in a quiet voice.

I glanced down at him and wanted to cry. Misery was written all over his pale face. In the dark circles under his eyes and the tension lines around his mouth. Losing Roman had hit him hard.

“Who took him? What happened?”

He gestured toward a bench away from the other kids and we moved over to it for privacy.

“Sam’s been gunning for him for a while. First, Evie and him tried to set Roman up. Janet’s been pissed since Evie got sent away. She stole some stuff from school and the two of them planted the stuff and some drugs under Roman’s bed. Our room had a “surprise” search and that was it.”

“Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell us stuff like that.”

Thirty-Eight

Roman

There was nothing regal about the Castle Correctional Center. The Gladiator-like environment had a different set of rules than the Pine Bluff home.

This was more like a prison. To prepare us for where most of us would end up once we were released from the state’s “care.”

In fact, we weren’t far from the county jail. When kids acted up—pretty much every day—and the counselors didn’t want to deal with it, they dialed 911 and let the cops cart us away.

I was isolated from the rest of the inmates—I mean kids, for the first week. That was fun. First I’m kidnapped from “home.” Everything normal in my life stripped away. Then I’m shoved in a room by myself for my “safety.”

Every nerve in my body was on edge. What was Juliet doing? Thinking? She must be so worried about me. Would she go to the house? Ask what happened to me? God, I hoped not. I couldn’t stand the thought of someone telling her I was a damn thief.

She’d know it was all lies. She knew me.

After five days, I finally wrangled a pen, envelope, stamp, and piece of paper from one of the counselors.

Thirty-Nine

Dear Juliet,

I can’t imagine what you’re thinking right now. But know this—I was set up. Probably by Janet and Squire. I never would’ve purposely done anything that would’ve taken me away from you.

You can write me here, just know someone will read your letters before I see them.

Please look out for Pip if you can.

Love,

Roman

* * *

I sobbed with relief when I opened the mailbox and spotted Roman’s familiar, blocky handwriting.

The envelope shredded under my eager fingers and I carefully tucked the pieces back together so I didn’t lose the return address.

He was okay.

I ran up to my room and quickly wrote my own letter. If I hurried I could run to the post office and mail it before they closed for the day.

Forty

Dear Roman,

I’m so happy to finally hear from you! Pip explained what happened. I’m so sorry and angry.

Don’t be embarrassed, but I spoke to Mrs. Shields. I don’t want to give you false hope, because I’m not sure how things will turn out, but she talked to her lawyer. They are working on getting her approved as a foster parent, so you can live with her. Wouldn’t that be amazing? You could come back to school. And we’d see each other every day.

I’ll be here waiting for you.

All my love,

Juliet

* * *

The sad thing was, Juliet’s letter gave me no hope. Sure, I got choked up thinking of Mrs. Shields going through the trouble on my behalf. Did I think it would work out? Nope. Nothing in my life had ever gone in my favor. Why should my luck change now?

“Letter from your girl?” my new roommate asked. Griff was around my age and seemed to have the same fuck-off-and-let-me-do-my-time-in-peace attitude I’d developed. He wasn’t an orphan, but from the sounds of it, he might as well have been.

“Yeah.”

“Nice.” He held up his own small stack of mail. “At least someone gives a shit.”

A fight broke out in the common area and I groaned. Every damn day with this shit. Except here, the counselors didn’t try to break it up. Hell, half the time they instigated the fights and placed bets.

“Christ,” Griff grumbled, closing our door. “I got two weeks left. Don’t need to be getting dragged into any bullshit.”

“I hear you.”

I had an appointment with Ms. Simpson this afternoon. Unless she was coming to tell me I’d been found innocent and was leaving this hellhole, I didn’t want to see her.

School here was a joke. No one learned or did anything useful. The “teachers” barely paid attention. There was a GED program, so I enrolled in that. From the practice tests they gave me, it didn’t seem too difficult.

That was my new plan. Get my GED, turn eighteen, and get the fuck out of here. I was pretty sure they couldn’t hold me hostage after my birthday. Legally, I’d be an adult. A few phone calls to the attorney who once represented me yielded no information.

One of the counselors popped into our room. “Griff, you wanna fight tonight?”

“Fuck no, Ollie. You know I’m outta here in two weeks.”

“Long as you win, I got your back.”

Meaning he wouldn’t write Griff up or call the cops, which would add time to his sentence.

Griff’s struggle made me uncomfortable. Over the last few weeks, I’d watched the counselors pressure and set up several fights between the kids. If you said no, they’d set you up for something else. If you answered yes, you had to either get the shit beaten out of you or pummel someone bloody.

Even with the rage brewing inside me, both seemed like shitty options.

Ollie turned his greedy eyes on me. “What about you, pretty boy?”

“No thanks.”

“Can’t fight?”

“Nope.”

“Big guy like you, I don’t believe that.”

“You trying to date him or get him in the ring?” Griff asked. “I’ll do it. Who you got?”

“Griff, don’t—”

He held up his hand. “It’s cool, Roman.”

The PA system crackled to life. “Roman Hawkins to the front office.”

I groaned and sat up.

“Your caseworker?” Griff asked.

“Hope so.”

I dragged myself to the locked front doors and waited to be buzzed into the office. Ms. Simpson stood when she saw me.

“How are you, Roman?”

“Fine.”

“Let’s talk.”

I followed her without answering. There was nothing to say. She was just another in a long line of people who’d betrayed me in my lifetime.

“No one’s pressing charges for the stolen items,” she informed me after closing the door.

“Am I supposed to say thanks? You know damn well I didn’t do it.”

“I found another facility for you. I’m working on the transfer papers now. It’s in a different school district…?

?

“Of course it is.”

She sighed and shuffled through some papers in her briefcase. “Do you know a Mrs. Emma Shields?”

Finally, a spark of hope lit in my chest, but I answered with caution. “Yeah, why?”

“Her attorney has contacted the agency and inquired about fostering you. What’s your connection to her?”

“She’s my girlfriend’s neighbor.” I shrugged. “Juliet and I helped her out from time to time.”

“Well, she’s been very persistent.”

The weight of the hope building inside me stole my breath.

“Really?” I choked out.

“Yes. So, you can either wait here to see if her application is accepted and she passes the home inspection. Or I can get you transferred to the new facility and if things work out, then you’d move in with her.”

This was probably the first time I’d been given a choice over anything concerning my life. Stay in this hellhole or move into the unknown?

Both options sucked.

“How long will it take?”

“I’ve asked them to fast-track her application, but it could still be a few more weeks.”

“Whatever. I’ll stay here.”

We both knew my answer didn’t matter. I was just killing time until I turned eighteen.

Juliet

Pip didn’t seem to be doing well without Roman.

Every day he said less and less. Roman said he could be talkative, but I never saw that side of him.

“Is everything okay at the home?”

He shrugged.

“Can I see your notebook?”

In one of Roman’s letters, he’d asked me to make sure Pip had a plain notebook to draw in every day.

He passed over the notebook in silence.

I flipped through pages of pretty scenes. Girls with big, expressive eyes and little clothing. The images gradually got more disturbing. They went from vibrant colors to black and red drawings of zombies and corpses.

“You should talk to Mr. Broom and see if you can get into his advanced art class. These are really good.”