Read Firstlife for Free Online Page A

a beard.
    He leans back and drapes his tattooed, muscular arms over the tops of the chairs flanking him, and smiles, a slow unveiling of perfect, white teeth.
    In moments like this I miss Clay more than usual. He was—is!—such a good judge of character. He can take one look at a new inmate or guard and tell me if they have a heart of gold or one that’s as wrinkled as a prune. We called him the heartalyst.
    Where are you, Clay?
    â€œSon of a Myriad-troll.” Bow snarls, taking a step forward, about to move out of line. “How dare he show his ugly face!”
    I shackle her wrist in a hard grip to hold her in place.
    â€œDon’t worry,” she says, huffing and puffing. “I won’t break the rules and murderhim. I’ll just introduce him to my fists—repeatedly!”
    When she continues to struggle, I plant myself in front of her, forcing her to concentrate on me. “Calm down. Now. Or you’ll be dragged out of here kicking and screaming.”
    She tries to glare at the boy over my shoulder.
    â€œMy TL once said hate is like drinking a vial of poison and expecting it to harm the other person,” I tell her, and she finally settles. “You’re not hurting the guy, only yourself.”
    â€œBut...but... I’m justified,” she says with a whine.
    â€œSo is everyone else, I’m sure.” As I peer at her, curiosity fills me. “How do you know him? What’d he do to you?”
    Stiffening, she turns away. “We’ve crossed paths a time or two. He’s pure Myriad evil, trust me.”
    â€œHe can’t be that bad. I’m sure—”
    In a flash of motion, she’s facing me again, fisting my shirt, clinging to me, her copper eyes imploring me to understand. “He’s worse than bad. Stay away from him. Okay? All right?”
    I dare another glance at “pure Myriad evil.” He’s focused on Bow now, looking her up and down like he’s a predator and it’s finally mealtime. He smiles again, even more slowly, a lot more wickedly, and runs his tongue over his teeth, as if he can already taste her...and he only wants more.
    I lose the ability to breathe.
    â€œMove,” the inmate behind Bow commands, giving her a push.
    I snap to and toss the girl a scowl that rivals Sloan’s, silently promising violence. Only when she’s staring at her feet do I step forward and accept my tray from a creeper with greasy hair and an even greasier mustache. I’m pretty sure Dr. Vans purposely hires the scourge of the earth to scare us straight.
    Bow accepts her tray and shepherds me across the cafeteria, as far away from New Guy as possible. I let her get away with it for only one reason: that stupid curiosity. Along the way we pass Sloan, who just can’t resist the opportunity to stick out her leg to trip Bow. But Bow is a freak of nature. She jumps over the obstacle and kicks back, hooking Sloan’s ankle between her feet and ripping the girl out of her chair.
    As Sloan goes down, her elbow slams into her tray. Food pours over her head, and as she shrieks, the rest of the cafeteria grows quiet. Finally a chuckle cuts through the shock, and it’s like a starting bell. The rest of the room explodes into squawks of laughter.
    Bow doesn’t grin over her triumph; she frowns. Once again wishing she’d handled things differently? “I’m sorry,” she calls over her shoulder.
    What a conundrum she is. Smart, with sharply honed protect-yourself-at-any-cost instincts. But she also has a deep-seated need to soothe others.
    When we find a table, she stares at me, intent. “Listen. Things are different now. Things you won’t understand. You have to trust me, and you have to keep me nearby from now on. No matter what. Okay? All right? I’ll see to your safety. If you’ll let me.”
    â€œYou can’t see to my safety.” No one can. “There are too many