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“Claxton, hand up your shovel.”
“It’s checked out to me. I got to hand it back in.”
“Let’s have it.”
Evans took the shovel by its handle and gave it to Avery.
“Give Claxton your pick.”
Avery slid it down the embankment to the old man.
They walked over to the line of brush. Avery marked out the edge of the trench with his shovel. Evans stood off in the shade of the trees to watch them.
“I’ll break the ground and you dig after me,” Toussaint said.
They went to work. Toussaint drove the pick into the cracked earth and snapped the brush roots loose. Avery dug from one end of the trench and worked in a pattern towards the other side.
“What makes Billy Jo and Jeffry think they can make it?” he said.
“Billy Jo has got a brother on the outside. He’s supposed to help them.”
“You think you could make it with somebody on the outside?”
“Not when everybody in camp knows about it,” Toussaint said. “Billy Jo says his brother is going to meet them in a car. I’m surprised he ain’t give out the license number.”
“You might have a chance with help on the outside.”
“You thinking about leaving us?”
“It passed through my mind.”
“You can get out in a year. Serve your time. A year ain’t nothing. If you break out and get caught they add five more on your sentence.’
“Do you ever think about breaking out?”
“I wouldn’t talk about it if I did,” Toussaint said. “You’re young. Wait it out.”
The trench deepened. It was almost time for lunch.
“Why were you in detention?” Avery said.
“Talking during roll call.”
“They gave you a day for that?”
“No, two days. They let me out to put somebody else in.”
“Who put you in?”
“Evans.”
“He must have it against you.”
“He don’t like nobody.”
“He looks like he enjoys his work.”
“It takes a certain type man to be a hack,” Toussaint said.
