Free Girl in the Dark by Marion Pauw

with gaping upturned nostrils you could easily push a marble into if you were so inclined. I hated that my old nickname was already catching on. His eyes bulged so wide that the whites showed all around the irises. “Let me guess: you couldn’t keep your paws off the little girls.”
    â€œI believe that isn’t one of your strongest points, either, Melvin,” said Mo. “Now, why don’t we all let Ray here eat in peace?”
    I made myself a peanut butter sandwich. Not because I was in the mood for peanut butter, but because the peanut butter was the only thing within reach. I tried to get my knife to spread the stuff smoothly on the bread, but my hand was shaking. They’d all see it and then they’d know I was scared.
    â€œDid you guys watch America’s Next Top Model last night?” asked a man with a small mustache.
    Then to my great relief they all started talking. There were two opposing camps. One side was rooting for Erica, the other for some girl named Beverly. I ate my sandwich and then made myself another one with liverwurst, because that plate had come to rest close to me. The peanut butter jar had flown.
    â€œWhich one’s your favorite, Ray?” asked Hank, the lightning bolt guy.
    â€œI’ve never watched that show,” I said. “I’m more interested in Animal Planet or the Discovery Channel.”
    â€œLet me give you a little tip.” Hank leaned his colossal body closer. He stank of stale tobacco and had a fine scar running fromthe middle of his top lip to the bottom of his nose. He whispered, “You’re for Beverly, get it? That would be best, at least for now.”
    After lunch Hank said he was going to a social skills training session, but was first going to have a smoke in the yard. “Wanna come?” he asked.
    I looked at Mo questioningly. He said that was fine. “But after that you may want to go back to your suite for a rest.”
    The yard was a cheerless gravel patch running parallel to the common room. You could see inside through the glass. Two men were clearing the lunch dishes. In the middle of the yard was a big bucket overflowing with cigarette butts. Hank offered to roll me one, but I declined. The smell of smoke was already horrifying; I couldn’t imagine how disgusting actual smoking one would be.
    A camera clicked around at us. I looked up and heard it zooming in on us.
    â€œListen, Ray,” said Hank. Now that I was standing next to him, it was even more noticeable how big the guy was. He could easily make mincemeat of me with a well-aimed fist.
    â€œI’ve been here awhile, so I’m going to help you a bit with the unwritten rules. You’ll be taught the official rules by Mo and the other goons who run this place. But I’ll tell you what really counts if you want to have a nice time in here—who to stay away from and what to say and what not to say, what you have to do in order to get a leave, or permission to have visitors, especially a certain kind of visit, if you know what I mean. You’re lucky you have me to guide you. “
    I nodded.
    â€œAs far as what you’ve done, I don’t give a shit. We’ve all had ourmoments of weakness, but you seem like a nice boy.” He tossed his cigarette butt in the pail and emphasized, “ Real nice .”
    At that point Mo stuck his head outside. “Coming?”
    Hank put his big hand on my shoulder. “Remember what I told you. I’m one of the only ones you can trust in here.”
    Mo said, “I really appreciate your offering to show Ray the ropes, Hank.” But not even a minute later, as we were walking back to my room, he said, “Watch out for that guy.”
    That confused me. How was I to size up Hank? There was no scale on which to weigh him, so I could decide: too much or too little. Or: just right.
    My mother sometimes said, “You’re a good sort, Ray.” But most of the