Page 16 of Caged In

There is a large variety of productslining the shelves. Snacks—chocolate bars, little bags of lollies and nuts, popcorn, protein bars. Beverages—a whole selection of ready-mix drinks, like coffee and hot chocolate, as well as bottled water, juice, bottled energy drinks. Foods—ramen noodles, soups, flavoured oatmeal, beef jerky, rice. Hygiene products—shampoos, soaps, toilet paper, toothbrushes. Electronics—MP3 players, headphones, batteries, book lights. There are even condiments like salt, pepper, garlic powder, taco seasoning. Clothing—shorts, socks, shoes, pyjamas, gloves. Stationary products—paper, envelopes, note pads.

And countless more items. The shelves are crammed full of products. He’s stunned by the huge range of items, he had not expected such a vast selection in a prison store.

There are crayons too, the inmates must not be trusted with pens . . . Those would make some crudeweapons. He’d feel pretty pathetic if he’s killed by a pen—

Oh. No. Wait. There are tiny boxes of microscopic pencils. The crayons look easier to write with than those tiny little half pencils.

Izz waits in line with the rest of The Gang—he has no money to spend, everything he has is with his family—but it’s not like he has anything better to do.

Besides, he enjoys hanging out with Zidie, the inmate might be a little over the top and loud, but he’s a shining light of fun in the depressing dingyprison.

Izz likes the others too, Zidie is a little extra happiness he needs to keep himself grounded, so he doesn’t spiral into dread and worry. His cellmate’s constant talking is also giving his mind something to focus on.

Right now, Reni is in some heated debate with Erik over which ramen flavouring is the best, and which one should be burned and never spoken of again. Reni has his votes in the beef pile, and Erik is adamant that beef tastes like dog shit and the only good flavour is chicken.

Izz doesn’t mind either flavour, he rarely ate packet noodles, but when he does he isn’t fussed over what flavour theyare—

Izz involuntarily groans when his eyes land on the far corner of Commissary—quickly biting off the sound in his throat and glancing around, grateful no one heard him.

They have mattresses, available to buy.

Granted, they are the crappy paper thin ones he already has, but you could stack them on top of each other. They also cost three hundred dollars, how that tiny paper crap cost so much is a mystery. He can only dream. No way can he afford one, let alone the stack it will take to create a decently cushioned mattress—

Izz swivels his gaze from the offensive sight. Trying to keep his bitterness internal and not show anything to the inmates crowding the corridor.

His newly acquired friends are bunched at the window, handing over their prison numbers, to order all kinds of items.

Blake buys envelopes and paper—must be writing to someone on the outside? Izz wishes he could, he would love to write to his little sister. Let her know he’s still thinking of her, and even if she can’t see him each day, he’s still there for her.

Isco fills his pockets with several protein bars, a chocolate bar, pretzels, nuts, beef jerky, chili powder, and a bottle of energy drink. The whole shopping list of foods disappearing into his prison clothes. How he managed to fit it all in his pockets is a mystery.

Zidie went for an unhealthy binge of practicallyevery snack available. Collectingone of everything, as well as a pack of ramen.

“Not getting anything?” Zidie’s over-excited face popsup in Izz’s line of sight. So close, if Izz pursed his lips, he could kiss the boisterous inmate.

Does Zidie not grasp what personal space is?

“Not this time,” Izz doesn’t want to give Zidie the true reason for his lack of purchasing.

When Zidie opens his mouth to demand answers—answers Izz’s not prepared to give—Izz speaks right over him, effectively cutting him off.

“So, Reni, what do we do in this place to keep from tearing out our hair in boredom?” Please let this be the end of Zidie’s fact finding mission. He isn’t in the mood to go into his money problems and the reasons behind them. His sister’s illness isn’t something he wants anyone in here to know.

Reni sidles up to Zidie’s left, eating some kind of bar he bought, grinning around his mouth full of sugary treat.

“Well . . .” Reni muses. “You can play basketball—if one of the gangs isn’t hogging the court. Or they have meetings you can attend, you know, for anger management and stuff like that.There’s a church . . . Somewhere. Where you can pray—or sit there doing whatever Godly things you’re supposed to do in a church. They also have the prison jobs after lunch, to kill a few hours before dinner. You could go to the library and check out books—”

“Wait. Prison job?” Izz interrupts. Flashing his palm in a stop motion, to physically slap a pause in Reni’s sentence.

“Yeah. Haven’t you got one yet?” Reni’s brow raises as he glances over at Zidie, as if Zidie will fill him in on Izz’s work status.

“No.” Izz moves overto the side to allow an inmate to squeeze past him, on their way down the corridor. “How do I do that? And what are the jobs?”

“There are loads of different jobs, there’s—” The three of them walkaway from Commissary, to lean against the wall further down the corridor, as more inmates try to pushtheir way into line. “—the kitchen, gardening, laundry—I’m in laundry. Pretty much all of us are. Except Erik and Phelix, ‘cause they’re too good for that—”

Phelix spits profanities at Reni from his place at the Commissary window, giving Reni the bird over his shoulder as he finishes his order. Reni grins in response.

“They work in the library,” Reni continues, unfazed. “Lazy fuckers. The rest of us actuallywork.”

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