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“Then you’re not eating.”

His eyes snap to mine. “You’re going to starve me?”

“No. You’re going to give me your hand.”

Finally, he holds out his hand.

“There. That wasn’t so hard.” I take it.

His fingers are tense in mine.

“Three. For throwing things.”

I bring the ruler down across his palm.

Jamie jerks. “Ow! Fuck!”

“One.”

“You crazy fucking bitch.”

The second earns me another curse, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Two.”

I wait until he looks at me before the last one.

“Three.” I let him go.

Jamie immediately curls his hand against his chest.

“Are we done with the fucking kindergarten corporal punishment?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

His expression goes flat.

I point to the mess. “You need to clean your room.”

He laughs once. I don’t. The laugh disappears.

“You’re serious.”

“You’re going to clean your room or find out what happens when I lose my temper.”

For a moment, I think he’s going to start again. His eyes move from me to the open door, then to the baton on the cart. He could try. He won’t get far and he knows it.

“All right.”

The change is so sudden I wonder if he’s feeling ill again.

He bends and picks up the shoe I threw at him. “I’ll clean it.”

“Good.”

He sets the shoe on the shelf beside his old boots. Carefully this time.

I bring him the wastebasket for the broken things and watch while he picks up the room.