“When they brought me in here, I was given the tour by another one of the girls in juvie. They pointed out Lindsay. They said everything had to get run by her.”

“Phrasing,” he said. “‘Get run’ is not proper English.”

“What are you, my teacher?” she asked. Reflex.

He leaned forward, meeting her eyes with his. “I may end up being one, Jean Brown. Keep in mind that some lessons are more final than others.”

She felt the thrill of terror as she heard that. One of her hands slipped from the edge of the chair she was gripping and she adjusted her position in the seat, hands clasped together and pressed down into her lap.

“Continue,” he said.

“I didn’t want to run things by her. She was telling us when we could get ourselves—when we could get commissary, and when we could go to the bathroom. Right away, I knew I didn’t like her.”

“This dislike and frustration led to you pinning her down, cutting her lower eyelid off, and lacerating the other eye?” He arched an eyebrow as he asked it.

“I would’ve cut all of the eyelids off without cutting the eye itself if she hadn’t thrashed so much. Either way, I was placed in S.T. and they brought me out to see you.”

“She was mine, Jean Brown. She did me a favor and that favor led to her confinement here. She interpreted one of my instructions too loosely, and that is why she was to spend the one year here before she turned eighteen and graduates out, instead of finding her way out right away. She had a position waiting for her. Now I have to figure out what I’ll do with her… and I have you to deal with.”

Jean swallowed, and found it harder to swallow than she wanted. She tried to look nonchalant.

“She’s not the first person you’ve grievously injured. You have several more years here and after that you’ll graduate to an adult prison to see out the remainder of your sentence.”

Jeanne looked away.

“Look at me.”

She did.

“I’ve noticed the pattern behind your actions here, and I’ve identified it as a desperate grab for standing. It was crude, rising up by cutting people down. You used a razor on a classmate’s face and attacked a teacher.”

She hesitated, then asked, “Sir?”

“Yes, Jean Brown?”

“Can I ask why you’re talking to me instead of having someone hurt me like I hurt her?”

“You may ask,” he said.

When he didn’t follow up, she connected the thought, and asked, “Why, sir?”

“Because, Jean Brown, I understand the desire to rise up and desperately make sense of a world that seems so senseless. I read every file that can be found about you, and I don’t believe you ever had a chance to be civilized.”

“Civilized?”