Crazy House (Crazy House 1)

Tim and I looked at each other.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “You?”

Tim nodded. Then, without saying anything else, he grabbed me. As I looked up at him, startled, he angled his head and leaned down. When his mouth closed over mine I was too surprised to react, but within seconds my body was saying, Oh, yes.

Rising on tiptoe, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back, harder. I felt his lip split again, tasted his blood. When his shoulder pressed against the goose egg on my head, I made a sound. When I squeezed his fractured rib too tightly, he made a sound. But other than that, Tim and I were very, very quiet, kissing each other as wildly and as hungrily as if we were food, real food.

70

CASSIE

WATCHING MY SISTER FIGHT TIM had been horrible. As hard as it was to see her get hurt, it was even harder for me to see the deadly intent behind her eyes. I’d seen Becca happy, sleepy, sick, devious, defiant, and afraid, but I’d never seen her look like she wanted to actually kill someone. She truly was a different person now.

Of course, I couldn’t point fingers. I was a different person, too. Since I’d gotten here, I’d discovered that being threatened all the time with beatings and torture was a surefire way of getting me to do my absolute best in anything—taking tests, working out, fighting other kids. I felt like Careful Cassie was dead, and would never come back.

“Cassie?” It was one of the younger inmates, shyly tuggin

g on my jumpsuit.

“Yeah?”

“Can you show me that sticks game?” she asked. “The one I saw you playing before?”

“Yeah, okay.” I started gathering up as many small straight twigs as I could. I mean, I was still Cassie. In some form.

But even after a few weeks, it was still a surprise to see how different these kids were, not only from me, but from each other. Other cells had different childhood games, different schooling systems, and vocations I’d never heard of. At first all I’d wanted was to escape and go home. I still wanted to escape, but would I go back home? Pa was still there… as far as I knew.

“Geez, you haven’t changed much since grade two, have you?” Becca’s cool voice made me look up.

“I’m teaching Peanut how to play Pick-Up Sticks,” I said stiffly.

“You do love to impart your wisdom.”

“Look who’s talking, Queen Bee,” I said, “with your little gang of followers.” I glanced at a couple of the tough inmates Becca was hanging out with. “Does she have you fetching things for her yet? You like being a lapdog?”

The girl’s face flushed angrily, and Becca’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you talk to her like that!” she snapped.

I stood up. “Did I hurt your dog’s feelings?”

The other kid lunged for me but Becca shoved her away. “You think you’re so great ’cause everyone likes you!”

My eyebrows rose. “You want to think that last sentence through?”

That was all it took. Becca’s lip curled in a snarl, and in the next second her fist came up and smashed me in the eye. But I’d learned a few things by now, and not only could I take it, but I could dish it out. I hooked my foot around her ankle and yanked, making Becca fall to the ground amid puffs of dust. Kids gathered around us, quickly dividing into two teams as Becca and I rolled on the ground, punching each other furiously.

I was barely aware of guards arriving, but the first whack of a billy club against my leg made me pause, blood running from my nose.

“You want to get tased?” a guard bellowed, and then the crowd parted for the Strepp, who was running toward us. Her face was white with anger and a strand of hair had escaped from her usually perfect bun.

“Animals!” she yelled at us when she was close enough. Four guards had pulled us apart, but Becca and I were still trying to kick each other. Our jumpsuits were filthy, we were both bloody and bruised, and I could barely see out of my left eye.

“You’re supposed to be sisters!” Strepp screamed. “How can you turn on each other like this?” Looking at a guard, she said, “Put them in the pen!” Glaring at us with disgust, she added, “Maybe that will teach you to get along!”

71

BECCA AND I STRUGGLED AGAINST being shoved into the tiny concrete room, but the guard managed to get us in and slam the door. We stood there panting and glaring at each other until the guard’s heavy footsteps pounded away down the hall.