Imprisoned (3 page)

“Thanks.”

“See you in the morning.” She smiled and left.

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” Alyx said. “I suggest you do the same.”

A short time later Alyx and I were in our beds. After changing into a clean pair of pajamas and freshening up, I felt a little better. “What time do you get up?”  I asked.

“Five-thirty. I like to beat the rush to the showers.”

“Oh.” I hated getting up early.

She told me good-night, clearly not interested in any conversation. I closed my eyes but had trouble falling asleep as I replayed the events of the evening—the phone call from Anne warning me about the Enforcers coming, the knock on the door, my terror when Dimples and Hansen had walked right in to my house, then tasered me and dragged me away. And of course my attempt to escape when we’d arrived here—then when I’d shoved my knee into Hansen’s groin and run, but had been body slammed by Dimples. It all seemed like a terrible nightmare, but as I reached up and touched my tender face and then the lump in my arm, it was all too real.

I wondered what my family was doing. Were they worried about me? What about Dad? Was he sleeping in a room like this? Was it possible he was in this F.A.T. center? Maybe I would be able to see him. The thought buoyed me up and I was finally able to drift off to sleep.

The next morning I woke to the sound of Alyx blow-drying her hair.

“What time is it?” I asked over the sound of the hair dryer.

“Six twenty. You should probably get up soon. We don’t want to be late for breakfast.”

I lay in bed a few more minutes, calculating how long it would take me to get ready, then decided I didn’t want to cut it too close on my first day. The last thing I needed was to anger Alyx by making us late for breakfast. Sighing, I threw back the blankets and forced myself to get up.

I trudged over to the closet and dug through the clothes Kiera had given me. I found a package of new underwear and pulled out a pair, glad at least those weren’t loaners. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of this whole situation as I grabbed a clean shirt, a pair of sweats, and my toiletry bag and towel.

As soon as I opened the door to the hallway, I saw several girls hurrying toward the bathroom. I followed them down the hall and into the large space and stopped at the back of the line. There were two girls ahead of me waiting to use the row of four shower stalls. As I waited I wondered how many girls were on our floor. Five minutes later I was at the front of the line and no one was behind me. A few minutes after that, one of the shower stalls opened and a girl walked out. Glad it was my turn, I took one step toward it but stopped when a hand grabbed my shoulder. I turned to see who was holding me back and saw two girls glaring at me.

“New girl goes last,” the girl gripping my shoulder said.

My gaze went from her face to the face of the girl next to her. Both looked mean and both were bigger than me.

“Fine,” I muttered as I got in line behind them. Furious that I would have to wait longer, I glanced at the clock nailed to the wall and saw I had half an hour before breakfast, and Alyx had made it clear that we shouldn’t be late.

I watched as shower stalls opened and both girls in front of me were able to take their turn. Five minutes later I was able to take my turn. My face ached as I gently washed it. I ran my tongue over my lip and felt the swelling there. A short time later I dried off—the towel was rough and scratchy—then dressed and hurried back to my room.

“About time,” Alyx said, frowning.

“There was a line.” I wasn’t about to tell her that a couple of girls had bullied me, pushing me behind schedule. I wondered how long I’d be thought of as the new girl.

“Let’s get going.”

“But I haven’t done my hair.” I hung the towel on a hook in the closet, then set my pajamas and toiletry bag on the shelf.

“What exactly were you planning on doing with it?”

“Uh, drying it.” Anger at being bossed around filled my voice.

“Using?”

My anger deflated as I realized I had nothing but a comb, compliments of my toiletry bag. “Could I use your hair dryer?”

Alyx sighed. “I’d let you if there was more time, but we need to get going.”

I turned my back to her and rolled my eyes, then pulled the comb out of my bag. “Can I at least comb my hair?”

“If you hurry.”

The comb caught on the tangles, but I worked it through. I turned to face her. “What’s the big deal about being late for breakfast, anyway?”

“I just don’t like to be late, okay?”

I finished untangling my hair and set the comb aside. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good. Let’s go.” She paused at the door, a folded sheet of paper in her hand. “Don’t forget your card.”

I grabbed the card, which I had left on the closet shelf, and slid it into the pocket of the sweats I was borrowing, then followed her out of our room and toward the elevator. She waved her card in front of the card reader. A moment later the elevator doors opened.

“You do it,” she said, motioning to the card reader.

I pulled the card out of my pocket and waved it in front of the reader inside the elevator. The number four appeared on the touch screen, and since there was no other option, I tapped it and the elevator doors slid shut. The elevator moved downward and a moment later the doors opened to reveal a large cafeteria.

It reminded me of the cafeteria at school, except for the machine where everyone seemed to be stopping and waving their cards, as well as depositing sheets of paper, before picking up a tray and sliding it along the rail in front of the counter. Workers behind the counter consulted a computer monitor before handing food-filled plates or bowls to each person pushing their trays along. Another thing that was different from school was the different sizes of the people. This was the first time since I’d been in this world that I’d seen people who were a size other than skinny. Somehow it made me feel more at home.

One thing that was the same as school was the age of the people in line. They all looked like they were high school age. I wondered if they had different facilities for different age groups. If that was the case, then Dad wouldn’t be here. Disappointment swelled within me as any hope that I might see Dad was swept away.

Alyx gently pushed me out of the elevator and toward the line of people who were waving their cards in front of the machine. As we approached I turned to her. “What does that machine do?”

“Everyone has a list of foods they’re allowed to eat. Your card will tell the workers what you can have.”

“Oh.” I glanced at the workers. “How can they keep track of who is who?”

“Your picture will be on their monitor.”

“But they haven’t taken my picture yet.”

She sighed as we stepped closer to the machine. “Then you’ll be the one without a picture.”

I didn’t answer.

“Go ahead.” Alyx pointed to the machine.

I waved my card in front of the reader and the machine beeped.

She did the same, then slid her folded sheet of paper into a slot.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“My food journal. You have to turn it in each morning.”

“Oh.” I shuffled along and when I got to the stack of green trays, I grabbed one, along with a package containing a napkin and some sort of plastic utensil, and glided the tray along the rails like everyone else was doing.

A woman pushed a bowl of oatmeal toward me and I set it on my tray. I hated oatmeal and this looked especially unappetizing. A big lump of tan mush with no brown sugar mixed in. And I highly doubted that they had brown sugar available. Another woman pushed a bowl of fruit toward me—I wasn’t sure if it was fresh or canned, but at least it would be edible. She also handed me one power bar.

I set the bowl of fruit and the power bar next to the oatmeal and trudged down the line. I would have preferred a plate of bacon and eggs, and a large mug of hot cocoa with a large dollop of whipped cream on top. The thought made my mouth water.

As we reached the end of the counter I saw bottles of skim milk and sugar-free juices nestled in a tray of ice. Frowning, I took some sugar-free orange juice and set it on my tray.

“Follow me,” Alyx said as she stepped away from the counter and wound her way through the tables.

At least it wasn’t like my first day at a new school where I didn’t know anyone. At least I had Alyx to keep me company. We approached a round table with six chairs. Half of them were filled with teenagers who looked to be my age. The other three were empty.

Alyx slid into a chair next to a boy with short black hair and piercing gray-green eyes. I noticed his eyes because they were locked on me as I set my tray down and sat in the chair next to Alyx.

“Who are you?” he asked.

The abruptness of his question startled me and for a moment I couldn’t find my voice.

“She’s my new roomie,” Alyx supplied, much to my relief. “Morgan.”

He grinned at me. “Tried running, huh?”

My face flamed red as I realized that thanks to my swollen lip and bruised face, every single person in this room would know I tried to run. And failed, obviously, since I was here. I concentrated on opening the plastic packaging that held my napkin and utensil, but I could feel the eyes of everyone at the table lasered in on me.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Morgan,” the boy said. “It’s not like you’re the only one who’s tried to escape this place.”

I looked up suddenly. “Did you?”

He laughed and looked at Alyx. “She speaks.” Then he turned back to me, all traces of humor gone. “All the time.”

“Stop it, Billy,” Alyx said. “You’re going to give her the wrong idea.” Alyx glanced at me, then took a bite of her poached egg.

I dug the utensil out of the package and frowned. A spork. I guess it didn’t matter what universe you were in, the spork was a staple. Ignoring the oatmeal, I stabbed a piece of sliced peach but the spork didn’t pierce it very far and I wasn’t able to pick it up.

“You might have to use your hands,” Billy said, grinning.

I ignored him and instead opened the juice and took a sip. It wasn’t too bad. My stomach rumbled and I decided to try the oatmeal. Scooping up a small bite, I placed it in my mouth. It didn’t taste bad, but that was because it had no flavor at all. I had a few more bites, but the texture was like glue.

“Next time you should get the milk,” Billy said. “Then you can mix it with the oatmeal. That really helps to get it down.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. I glanced at the food on the plates of the other kids at my table and saw that no one else had such drab food as me. I looked at one of the girls. “How did you manage to get an omelet?” My mouth watered as I looked at it.

“Don’t get too excited,” she said. “It’s an egg-white omelet.”

“It looks a lot better than this.” I pointed to the tan mush in my bowl.

“When you’re new that’s what you get until they determine what you’re allowed to eat.”

I nodded. “What did you say your name was?”

“Cassidy.” She smiled.

“How long have you been here?”

“Six weeks.”

“When do you get to leave?”

“Hopefully in two more months.”

Two months
. How can she sound so casual about it, like it’s perfectly normal? My gaze shifted to Billy. He didn’t look fat at all. In fact, he looked underweight. “What about you?”

“What
about
me?”

Alyx smirked. “Billy’s not going anywhere.” She looked over at him. “At least not for a while.”

I wondered what that meant, but after seeing the look of anger on Billy’s face, I decided it would be best to ask Alyx later. I attempted to eat my fruit with the spork again. This time I managed to get a piece of banana. Once that was gone and I failed again with the peach, my hunger got the better of me and I picked up the fruit with my fingers and ate it that way. I glanced in Billy’s direction, somehow knowing he would be watching me. Sure enough, he watched my struggles with undisguised humor.

I ignored him and finished my fruit, then ate my power bar. A few minutes later Kiera came to our table. Everyone seemed to know her.

“I’m actually here to get Morgan,” she said to the group. Then she looked at me. “It’s time to meet with your caseworker.”

Chapter Four

As I followed her out of the cafeteria my heart pounded. I didn’t know why I was so nervous to meet him, but I was. I’d never had a caseworker before. It almost felt like he was my parole officer or something. After all, I had committed a crime.

“How are things going?” Kiera asked as we waited for the elevator.

“Okay, I guess.” I paused. “Have you talked to my mom yet? Is she coming?”

“You’ll have to talk to your caseworker about that.”

“Oh.”

We stepped into the elevator and she waved her card in front of the reader, then pressed the button for the second floor. A moment later we exited and I followed her into a reception area.

“Morgan Campbell,” she said to a muscular man sitting behind a desk.

His uniform marked him as an Enforcer and seeing him there made my face throb painfully, memories of being tackled by another Enforcer fresh in my mind.

“I’ll take it from here,” he said to Kiera.

She turned to me. “I’ll see you later, Morgan.”

“You’re leaving?” Panicked at being left alone with an Enforcer, one who could be friends with Hansen and Dimples, I almost begged Kiera to stay, but kept my dignity.

“I have other things I need to do. You’ll be fine.”

I doubted that, but there was nothing I could do about it. I watched her leave, then turned to the Enforcer, who stared at me.

“I need to take your picture for your card.” He held out his hand.

I gave him my card, my hand shaking.

He took the card without comment and stuck it in a slot on the camera. “Stand over there.” He pointed to a large X painted on the floor.

I stood where directed, but couldn’t bring myself to smile.

He pressed a button on the camera. A moment later the camera beeped and he pulled the card out and handed it to me.

It was the worst picture of me I’d ever had taken. Besides the fact that I wasn’t smiling, my lip was swollen and half my face was puffy. Oh well. At least it wouldn’t be going in a yearbook. I shoved the card in the pocket of my sweats.