Free Playing with Fire by Emily Blake

would probably give anything for a lipstick. The thought made Alison relax just a little.
    A large guard at the door on the prisoners’ side announced a new prisoner by number. He unlocked the door and a small, auburn-haired woman walked through. This was not your typical Helen Rose entrance. But she held her head high and smiled when she saw Alison…or maybe when she saw her lawyer.
    Alison was glad that the lawyer was going totalk first. It gave her a chance to get ready. Standing in the back of the room, she studied her mom. The orange jumpsuit was not doing anything for her. She looked oddly younger and smaller without makeup or heels. And yet she looked older, too.
    A lump rose in Alison’s throat. This was all wrong. Her mother did not belong here. She belonged on a lawn sipping a citrus cooler, on a yacht wearing an enormous sun hat, on the cell phone ordering people around, at home driving Alison crazy. The lump in her throat grew, threatening to choke off her air completely—but not because her mother was suffering injustice. Because, Alison realized, she did not want her mom to get out and come home. At least not anytime soon.
    The meeting was over quickly. The lawyer stood and waved Alison over. Alison crossed the room in what felt like slow motion. She could see her mom taking in every detail of Alison’s appearance. Alison had worked hard to get them right. French manicure (home job since Alison had no cash). Low heels. Gloss with just a hint of color. Why am I trying to impress a jailbird? Alison asked herself. It made her lift her chin a little higher.
    â€œHi,” Alison spoke softly into the phone.
    â€œHi,” Helen replied.
    If this were a movie, it would be the part where the reunited mother and daughter pressed their hands together on the glass and let the tears flow. Luckily it was not a movie. All eyes were dry.
    â€œAlison, I know this has been a hard time for you.” Helen looked almost concerned as she said it. Alison was caught off guard. Did her mother know about Kelly and Chad? “But I need your help,” she finished.
    No. This was something else. Something bigger. Alison was silent as her mother leaned closer to the glass. She was serious. Helen Rose was about to ask Alison to do more than play the happy daughter.
    â€œYour Grandmother Diamond set me up,” Helen said matter-of-factly. “She is responsible for all of this.”
    Even though Kelly had said the same thing, Alison hadn’t believed it until now. It seemed too much, even for her family. Why wouldTamara Diamond want her daughter to be in prison? Wasn’t it enough to cut Helen off from the family and take her out of the will? Why would Tamara want to humiliate and destroy her, too?
    â€œListen to me, Alison. I need your help.” Her mother’s voice was suddenly much sharper. Alison’s eyes must have looked glazed.
    She was listening all right. But inside her head the gears were turning. She had never seen her mother so vulnerable. The translucent skin under her eyes was puffy. Alison wondered if she cried at night. If the other prisoners were nice to her. If they were afraid of her or if she was afraid of them.
    â€œThe tables have turned. This is war. I need to know you are on my side.” Helen’s image in the glass blended with Alison’s own reflection. Neither of them showed any emotion. “Tamara is playing with fire, and this time she is the one who is going to get burned.” Helen sounded certain. Alison was not so sure.
    She stuck her free hand in the pocket of her jacket and felt the tiny glass figurine she had taken the other day at Zoey’s. She wasn’t sure why shehad taken it. She hadn’t stolen anything in a long time. She used to do it a lot, especially when her mom was on her case. It was comforting—some small thing that she alone could control. Maybe that was why she had done it the other day, when everything was