Of course, all of this was my imagination, but it was all I had to go on, since Moms and I never discussed these things.

THE HOUSE WAS BEGINNING to cramp the need of my senses to stretch a bit more. I decided to go out and see if I could tease the sky. I left a note saying I’d gotten in and would be back around six. I was tempted to stay in and wait, but that would have been too easy. Moms and Pops would act as if nothing had happened. And Debra would probably act as if everything had. I was still looking forward to seeing everybody. I knew a big fuss would be made over me, and after being away for two years I was definitely ready for that.

School was just letting out, and kids dominated the streets. I passed Otis’ house. I hadn’t seen him in about four years. We had grown up together and had been real tight. I’d always looked up to Otis as a sort of pentathlon champion because of his ability to perform well in all the main events with girls. He could find them, fool them, feel them, fuck them, and forget them with exceptional agility. We were inseparable, and even though I could never match Otis’ exploits I was content to be more a spectator in his life than an actor in mine. After high school we drifted apart. I went to college and Otis went into the Marines. We wrote each other for a while, but then the letters stopped.

I rang the bell, but no one was home. I decided to walk over to Rocky’s Bar, my old hangout. Someone there might know where he was. A kid almost knocked me over coming through the gate of my old school. I looked at the high iron gate surrounding the building and the grated wire covering the windows. These security measures reminded me of the day I approached another building that had U.S. Penitentiary chiseled into the brick…

I am among about forty men being led inside the wall. Once inside we strip, give the hacks a peep show up our asses, and change into prison-issue clothing. The hacks take us upstairs. We walk down a long corridor and are sized up by the other inmates. They make catcalls and whistle. But none of this bothers me as much as the howling silence from stares. I have never seen such hard, gritting faces before. And then there are the eyes: eyes that explode in your face, taunt you, crawl over you, make propositions and inquiries, but never ignore you. On this first encounter I try to meet them head-on but I’m forced to look away or drop my head.

About sixty of us are jammed into a dormitory for new arrivals. Everyone has picked his company or chosen to stay by himself. I’m lying on a top bunk reading a book when someone touches my shoulder.