Page 24 of The Reformatory

Robert had pledged not to look foolish trying to make friends, but he longed to talk to them so badly that his throat stung. Boys swarmed everywhere at this place, but there were no smiles. Robert hadn’t realized how lucky he’d been before today, since Gloria never failed to smile at him in the mornings even when she was tired and unhappy. Trying to be Mama. These two boys did not smile, or even close to it—but they saw him. They seemed kind, even worried for him. They wanted to be his friend. Knowing that he might look forward to something besides beatings made it easier to soothe the fire in his throat, his ache for Mama.

“Git your apron and hat—you wear them at all times in the kitchen—and go to the sink. Ev’rybody starts at the sink.”

When Robert saw Boone pointing toward the two boys at the sink, he had to catch himself so he wouldn’t show how glad he was.

“Watch out,” the taller boy said when Robert joined them. “Water’s hot.”

“Real hot,” the smaller boy said.

They both lifted their dripping fingers out of the sink, wrinkled as if they were old men. “Useta have gloves,” the tall boy said.

“Yeah, rubber gloves,” said the other.

“But somebody took them.”

The smaller boy’s big eyes hinted toward the right, and for the first time Robert noticed Cleo in the rear, stirring a large, steaming metal vat in the corner with a spoon so big that it looked like a broom handle. Robert looked away fast so Cleo wouldn’t see him. His nose and cheeks still smarted from his beating, and he’d cut his gum with a tooth.

“Takes what he wants,” the tall boy shrugged.

“Better stop making him look dumb,” the small boy said, looking up mournfully at Robert. He had an accent Robert had never heard, sharp g’s and t’s. He was younger, maybe ten. “He’s going to keep whupping you ’til you fight back or he gets bored.”

“But don’t fight back too much,” the tall boy whispered. “Just show heart. If you hurt him, or bloody his nose…” He rolled his eyes and whistled softly. “Whooo-eeeee.”

“Naw, you don’t want to do that. He’s crazy.”

The boys fell silent, palms slapping back into the water, suddenly busy. By instinct, Robert lowered his hands into his sink too, and the heat grasped him in a tight palm. But he didn’t snatch his hands out because he heard footsteps on the shiny white floor, and a thin Negro man in a white shirt and black satin vest strolled past, watching them. Rings shone on his fingers.

“Better not find spots or food on those dishes, gentlemen,” the man said. He dipped his finger in the tall boy’s sink and moved on, satisfied. As soon as he was out of earshot—

“That’s Mr. Crutcher,” the tall boy said. “He useta be real nice.”

“Sure was.”

“But not no mo’. If the water ain’t hot enough, he’ll put your head down in that sink.” Robert stared after the man, trying to picture it. He didn’t seem as mean as Boone.

“Nobody stays nice,” the younger boy said. “Not unless they’re like us.”

“What you mean?” Robert said.

The boys looked at him as if his question were silly. The younger boy giggled. “Children, dummy,” he said.

“Shut up,” the taller boy snapped. “How’s he gonna know?”

The smaller boy still shook his head, chuckling to himself. The boys talked too fast—and so softly that Robert had to crane his ears to hear them. His bad ear rang.

“How long you gonna be here?” the small boy said.

“Six months.” It stung to say it.

“Six months, that ain’t too bad,” the tall boy said.

They exchanged names. The tall boy’s nickname was Redbone, or just Bone. The smaller boy said he was called Blue because he was blue-black, and he surely was. Robert said his nickname was Robbie, but he wanted to be called Robert. He did not want to be Robbie here. “We’ll get you a better nickname,” Blue promised him.

Redbone and Blue finally got around to instructing Robert on his duties: one sink for plates, one for cups, one for forks and spoons. There were only two rules to live by, they said. One—don’t break the dishes. Two—don’t leave grime or spots. Boys who made it past washing dishes could start cooking or mopping the floor. Boys who failed at washing dishes got sent out to the fields. Blue had never been to the fields, but Redbone said he’d worked on a thresher and never wanted to see corn on the cob again. Blue’s family had sent him to Miami from the Bahamas when he was eight, but he’d been brought to the Reformatory after his grandmother died. He was waiting on an aunt to come get him from Bimini, but she kept getting delayed.

Redbone gave Robert a knowing look, as if to say, That ain’t true.

Redbone, who was from St. Augustine, had taken his neighbor’s car joyriding when he was ten, and he’d been sentenced to two years. His sentence would be up in December, a month before Robert’s. He might go home then or he might get leased out to the peanut mill or one of the farms. He wasn’t sure. The warden would decide, based on his behavior record. Both boys looked grim at the mention of Haddock. Robert didn’t want to talk about him either.