Although it would’ve been smarter for Roland to jump him when he wasn’t expecting it, that wasn’t Roland’s style. He had that weird code of ethics, which he was always rattling on about to the other inmates—what he called a sense of fair play. He felt it only right to inform his intended target that there would be trouble. He chose only his equals for opponents. And he never “sucker punched someone from behind,” as he put it.

Jasper had none of those scruples. He’d launch a sneak attack on Roland in a heartbeat—would do much worse—if he ever got the chance. He knew, in the minds of the other inmates, that made him inferior to Roland in some way, but he didn’t understand why. Roland was a fool to sacrifice the element of surprise. Why allow an opponent to get prepared?

Jasper saw no reason to give up any advantage. Ordinarily, advance notice would be enough to make it possible to prevail in any confrontation, since he now knew to keep his eyes open. But it wasn’t that easy with Roland. The man had many watching out for him in this place. The other inmates seemed to see him as some kind of folk hero, and the guards liked him, too, which was the weird part. Jasper had never seen such broad-based support, especially because, unlike most of the other inmates, Roland hadn’t cliqued up with any particular gang or group of friends. He remained aloof, his own man always, and measured everything according to that odd code of his.

“Getting nervous?”

Jasper didn’t need to look over to know who’d asked the question. He could tell by the voice and couldn’t help bristling at the taunt.

Turning, in his own sweet time, he looked over as casually as possible.

Sure enough, Roland was leaning up against the bars of his cell, watching Jasper. Roland had barely taken his eyes off Jasper since their encounter in the yard, had given him no privacy at all. Roland was trying to intimidate him, and Jasper understood that, hated that it was working, especially because Roland’s interest drew so much attention. Not only were the other prisoners urging Roland to make his move, they also were rooting for him to succeed.

“Shut your mouth, or as soon as I get the chance, I’ll shut it for you,” Jasper growled. But he couldn’t help watching the clock as it ticked inexorably toward eight thirty, when he’d be led to the showers along with everyone else in Cellblock D.

He could refuse to go. He was only forced to shower twice a week; the third was optional. But feigning sickness or lack of interest wouldn’t ring true. He seized any opportunity to get out of his cell and had never begged off.

Besides, not heading to the showers like usual would only delay the inevitable. Such a move wouldn’t be worth losing face over—a constant concern in prison, since falling to the bottom of the power pyramid could have even more dire consequences. He couldn’t behave like the stupid kid in elementary school who tattled if someone was picking on him. He had to stand up and fight.