P.D. Workman - Two Teardrops

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T AMARA AWOKE WITH A hand gripping her shoulder. She sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open, hands coming up to protect herself.

Take it easy, French, Kirk snapped, pulling back from her. What are you doing still in bed? Reveille went a long time ago. Youre missing breakfast.

Tamara swallowed and looked around. She was in juvie. Where else would she be? Her most recent taste of freedom seemed to have broken her bodys entrainment to the rigid schedule. It had been years since she had failed to wake at the reveille bell. She was alone in the cell, but it took a few long seconds for her to remember that she was odd man out with no cellie. Which explained why she hadnt been wakened by her cellie when she failed to rise at reveille.

Kirk stood back, watching her, waiting for her to get her head on straight and get out of bed. Tamara lowered her hands from the defensive position in an attempt to show Kirk that she was fine and wasnt going to attack him the first chance she got. As if she could have taken him on anyway. She was smaller than most of the other girls, certainly no threat to one of the men guarding the block. Tamara pushed her blanket off and scrubbed at her eyes with her fists, trying to wake up fully. The threads of her dream were still clinging to her brain like wisps of fog. Shed been running from some threat, but shed lost who or what it was.

Just didnt hear it, I guess, she offered lamely.

Kirk shook his head. We dont have the time to be babysitting you. You know the schedule and the rules. You dont get some special pass because youve been on TV lately. No one cares about your celebrity or what you did when you were out. Its just the same here as it was before. Youre just the same as you were.

A ball of fire lit in Tamaras gut. She breathed slowly, trying to keep it from igniting further. Everything Kirk said was true. She wasnt anyone special, just because shed been taken hostage and had ended up the suspect in an assault and kidnapping. Never mind that shed been trying to protect the baby from what Tamara and the babys two sisters had gone through. She didnt want any little girls having to deal with Mr. Bakers lecherous advances ever again. He was in jail. He wouldnt be getting out again any time soon with Mrs. Baker testifying against him. He wasnt going to walk this time.

French! Kirk snapped.

Tamara startled and focused on him again. He seemed like he was far away, much farther than the few feet the cell would allow. Tamara rubbed her eyes again, as if her only problem was vanquishing the drowsiness.

Yeah. Yessir. She massaged her forehead and face. Im up. Im coming.

You dont have time for showers, breakfast is already on. Get your days on and get to canteen.

I will. Im up.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed to demonstrate that she was awake and aware and on her way to breakfast.

Kirk gave her one last glare and left the room, pulling the cell door shut behind him. Tamara moved as quickly as she could, stripping off her pink night uniform and pulling on her orange day jumpsuit. She glanced at the observation window in her door before using the toilet and splashing some water on her face. She opened the door to make her way to the canteen. The smells of breakfast floated down the hall to her, even less appetizing than usual.

Kirk was still standing there, waiting on her, making sure that she didnt go back to sleep again. He looked her over and shook his head.

What? Tamara demanded.

Comb your hair and tie it back. Youre not going into breakfast looking like that.

Tamara patted her sleep-tousled hair down self-consciously. She turned around and went back into the cell to get her comb from her kit and drag it through her hair a few times, until it no longer snagged. She stretched an elastic around it in a ponytail and returned to the hallway.

Sorry. All ready.

He shook his head again. Tamara hadnt been trying to act like a princess, but she knew that was what he was thinking. That she thought she could just do whatever she wanted because she was better than everyone else. She didnt know why she couldnt get back into the regular schedule and felt so tired and foggy.

Dr. Sutherland said it was perfectly normal. She had been through a traumatic experience. She had barely slept or eaten. Her body was just trying to heal, and that took resources. Her attention and alertness were suffering simply because her body only had so much energy to draw on.

She could have asked him to write her a sick note until she started to feel better, but she knew how well that would go over with the staff and the other girls. They already resented her for how much attention she was getting. She didnt need a bigger target drawn on her back. She wanted to go back to being invisible, someone that nobody cared about.

Kirk walked her all the way to the canteen to make sure that she got there. Like if he left her side, she might wander off down the wrong hallway and never make it to the canteen. The way that her brain had been behaving since she got back, maybe he had a point.

Shape up, he warned as he prepared to leave her to her breakfast. I dont want more of this diva behavior from you. Were going to start cracking down.

They had been giving her a little leeway since her return. Not writing her up every time she broke the rules or forgot where she was supposed to be. Not reporting infractions to the administration or Dr. Sutherland. Not imposing all of the consequences they were authorized to.

Tamara swallowed hard and nodded her understanding. Yessir. Sorry. Ill try harder.

He watched her enter the canteen and was still standing there when she looked back. Tamara had been expecting to have to get in line with the other girls as usual, but everybody had already dished up and was sitting at their tables eating. She was really late. Everybody watched her enter the room. So much for staying invisible. Tamara grabbed a tray and hurried over to the serving counter.

She didnt really want anything, but she knew she would get sent to Dr. Eastport if she refused to eat. She was underweight and they were keeping a close eye on her to make sure that she put back on the pounds she had lost during her brief stint on the outside. She stopped to get a soupy bowl of oatmeal and a piece of toast, turning down reconstituted eggs and whatever the squares of breakfast meat were supposed to represent. Tamara felt dangerously nauseated by the smells, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. She would feel better once she had eaten. Hopefully.