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“What?” he asks, taken aback by my confidence.
“I’m not dumb. You can open these windows from the outside and put the food through. So do it.” I don’t know what makes me say it, and I have no idea if I’m right, but it’s the only logical reason why the window would be so low to the ground. I’m hungry, tired, and sick of this conversation. I just want my food.
He looks shocked, but gets over it quick enough to say, “No can do, ma’am. I’ve got orders to visit you personally. Like ‘go inside the cell’ visit you personally. Can’t disobey orders.” He laughs, his dark eyes glistening with humour.
“Fine. Just give me the food.” I say, giving in. I’m stubborn, but not stubborn enough to give up the opportunity to have a nice meal.
He gives me a satisfied smile, stands up from the window, and I hear the locks of the door being opened. I don’t understand why he didn’t just open the door and give me the food in the first place. It would have made this ordeal pass so much quicker. The door opens and the boy walks through. He’s tall, and a flannel shirt hangs comfortably from his broad shoulders. He places the tray of food at my feet, “There you go.”
“What, you’re going to make me eat it with my mouth,” I gesture to my hands that are scratched raw from the chains digging into my wrists.
He looks at my hands, his face a mix of surprise and disgust, but he hides it with a laugh. “Someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” He strides over and kneels down beside me.
The boy presses a finger to the chains, and at his touch, they release. “How did you-” I start to ask.
“I have magical superpowers,” he smirks, pulling the chains away from my hands. He holds my hands in his own for a moment, rubbing my wrists like he is trying to scrub away the marks caused by the chains. The unusual physical touch sends a tingle down my spine, and I instinctively pull away, holding my hands defensively against my chest.
He stands up and goes to sit on my mattress like nothing even happened. I ignore his curious stare and instead focus on the food in front of me. I start by picking up the toast, and shoving it into my mouth, inhaling its goodness.
“You must be hungry,” he says. I look up at him realising that the egg is dribbling down my chin. He laughs and points to the napkin. “You might want that.” All of a sudden, I feel self-conscious that he is just sitting there, watching me eat and make an absolute fool of myself. I snatch the napkin off of the tray and wipe my mouth.
“Just make sure you don’t get food on the floor. Usually, they don’t let people have food in these cells, but, as I said, I have superpowers.” He winks for good measure, and I want to frown at him. To ask him what game he’s playing at. Why is he even here? But all I can focus on right now is the food.
Priorities, Emerson. Food now. Questions later.
Despite the lack of conversation from my end, the boy continues. “Anyway, my name is Jasper, and I will be your personal food-giver and host.” He gives me a wide grin. “This is just your temporary room. If everything goes to plan, you should be in your room this afternoon. Until then, you will be staying here. I hope it is comfortable enough for this morning. If you need anything, just ring the bell.”
He stands up, ready to walk out, but stops mid departure, “Ah, I forgot your feet. You might need those if you plan on doing anything.” Jasper walks over to my bare feet and carefully unlocks them. For a split second, I wonder where my shoes have gone but I am too busy savouring the feeling of my feet being set free. “Enough about me. What about you? What’s your name? Where are you from?”
The questions surprise me. I thought he’d get a file report or something before he came into my room, but perhaps not. Or maybe he is just being polite. Yes, that’s it. He just wants me to talk.
But, unlike him, I’m not one to follow orders. I stay silent, staring at the empty plate of food in misery. Jasper sighs and sits back down. “Now, look.” He says, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way. You’re stuck with me for as long as you’re here, so you might as well get used to it.” He has lost his grin, and the light-heartedness to his voice. He is being completely serious. “Shall we try again?” When he asks, it’s not a suggestion. It’s a command.
Everything inside me is saying no, to not give in to him, to not tell him. But it’s just my name. What can it hurt to say a name? “It’s Emerson Clarke and you know where I’m from, so don’t act like you don’t.” I snap.
“Emerson. It has a nice ring to it. It’s sweet.” Did he just call my name sweet? No, he did not. It takes every ounce of self-control inside me to stop myself from wrapping my hands around his throat.
“I suggest you choose your next words very wisely Jasper.” I threaten, clutching my knife and fork too tightly in my hands. He must know how dangerous I am. I am in Calveron for a reason. He must think I’m insane. He must know better than to mess with me.
But instead of cowering in fear like he should, he just laughs. “Please,” he says, “you can’t hurt me here.” When I give him a look that says, ‘try me’, he adds, “I’m invincible.”
“Because you have superpowers, right?” I roll my eyes.
“Yep.” He says, still smiling. I don’t understand what’s wrong with him. Why does he think he has the right to storm in here and be all Mr. smiling sunshine beaming in my room? He should just leave.
I start to verbalise this idea when he suddenly says, “I’m technically not meant to do this till you are settled in your real room but why don’t I show you around?”
“Around?” I put on a mock pout, “are you worried that I might get lost in this gigantic place?” I gesture to the cell. When he frowns in confusion, I elaborate. “However dumb you’ve been told that I am, Mister Jasper, I know my way around a cell.” The sarcasm is replaced by anger. “Instead, you could be helpful by telling me how to get OUT of this place. I don’t belong here.”
It’s a risk being so blunt with him; but just by looking at me, he must realise there’s been some mistake. I need to be back at Beast Eye with my family; whoever they are. I only say this to him because I know he must be looking down at me now and thinking the exact same thing I just verbalised. How can this messed up child be considered a criminal?
“Firstly,” he smiles, “I meant to show you around the whole building, not your cell.” Oh, I frown. Why do I have to always assume the worst of people? It’s been built into me to assume that people are out to hurt me, to never trust anyone with a charming smile and a confident stride. Nice people stab you in the back. I don’t know from what part inside me comes to that conclusion, I can only trust my gut.
And my gut is telling me to run as far away from Jasper as possible.
Jasper continues, “Secondly, I’ve heard a lot of rumours about you Emerson, none of them indicating that you’re dumb.” His smile dims slightly, “Thirdly, I think we both know that there’s a reason you’re here. No one gets placed here by chance, Emerson. Everything in here is methodically designed, not one piece is out of place. If you are here, it is no accident. Mr. Cunningham always has a plan,” his eyes stare into mine so intensely that I can’t look away. It’s like he knows something that I don’t. Something about this place; something about me.
His eyes drift to a place above my head and I almost swear that he shakes his head at me. I want to turn around and see what he’s looking at, but my instinct tells me not to. Instead, I drop my eyes and keep them firmly on my empty plate. I remind myself I have no interest in whatever he is looking at; I only care about getting out of here.
