Wildcat Fireflies Read Online Free

clean the bathrooms.” His face dropped and he stuck out his tongue. “As punishment. I swore.”
    I sighed. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d sworn or not. Mistress was in the process of toughening Bodie’s skin, so although the bathrooms were stained with years of use, that didn’t stop her from making him think they could be cleaned with enough painful effort. He’d been here for only six months and he fought the dampening with everything in him.
    I remembered trying to resist her discipline when I was his age. “I’ll try to come help you, okay? Or see if Nicole can.” I worried that the bruises on his knees from kneeling on the cold cereal he’d spilled yesterday morning would bother him.
    I did my best to protect them all, the young and the old, but I couldn’t be everyplace, every minute. No matter how hard I tried to do exactly that, it was never enough.
    He shook his head, trying to convince me not to worry. “Mini needs you.” He gave me a matter-of-fact look and ran.
    I pushed open the door and Mini’s eyes shot gold at me while her tail coiled and struck at the sheets. I almost saw the air around her head dance and pull at the curtains, but that was sleep deprivation catching up to my imagination. She was clearly upset it had taken me so long. Ten minutes maybe. If she could talk, I knew I’d receive a lecture about keeping elders waiting. I’d learned to pick up on her body language; mainly so she didn’t resort to claws and teeth like in the beginning. She was fickle and demanding, but possibly the best friend I’d ever had. Quite pathetic to think of
friend
and
claws
together.
    “Sorry.” I briefly touched her head, scratched behind herears. Her hair felt like the delicate fluff of a dandelion, but her body was sturdy and muscular under all that pillowy down.
    “Hello, Mrs. Mahoney, it’s Juliet here. And Mini.” I gently took Mrs. Mahoney’s hand in mine. Her breathing was labored, her palm and lower arm chilly, her lips blueing, and her jaw slack.
Any time
.
    I settled myself next to her on the mattress, knowing from experience that at this point there was nothing I could do to disturb her. I hoped my presence provided comfort.
Maybe
.
    Her gasps were jagged, and silence lengthened between them. I smoothed her thin white curls off her forehead with my other hand.
    Mini leaned against my chest and stomach, sitting herself firmly in my lap, her front paws perched across Mrs. Mahoney’s heart. The first few times Mini had done this, I’d put her down on the floor gently, then with more force. But each time, she came back and took up the same position. I gave up. No one ever complained. How could vigil be anything but good?
    “It’s all right, Mrs. Mahoney, you can let go. I’m sure your family is waiting for you.” As a small child, before coming here, my vision of death was like a light switch, or someone hitting the stop button on a song in midphrase.
So wrong
. I’d learned quickly, like Bodie was learning now, that it’s hard work, labor. Between the dying there are always similarities—that was the second lesson. One I passed on to the other inmates, the newbies, the unwanted kids like me sentenced here until, or before, their sixteenth birthday. It was a lessonabout knowing, seeing, making it less formidable a thing to be a kid around so much death.
There are signs
. Signs telling those who were willing to see, that the body’s curtain was falling.
    I always felt so inadequate in this moment. I never knew the right thing to say or do, how to help. So I sat and spoke quietly of nothing and everything. I wet their lips and washed their faces. I rubbed lotion that Nicole smuggled into the house for me into their dry skin. If I were dying, I think I’d miss casual touch the most. I dreamed about casual, affectionate touch. Touch in DG always felt like it had an agenda attached. Except for once, a brief time three years ago, when I felt valued.
    I snapped myself back to the