The Bulletproof Boy Read online

  “Shut up and check this out!”

  Trying to conceal his disappointment, Levi studies the laptop. He is silent for a few seconds as his eyes scan the screen, but then his eyebrows jerk upward. I watch the reflection of the words in his pupils as his eyes grow narrowed and more focused. “No! Really? Are you fucking kidding me? McFarlane? That’s the same judge who sentenced Cole!”

  “Exactly,” I tell him victoriously. “The judge is crooked. He’s receiving money from the juvenile detention center to have kids convicted and sent there, so that the prison can be more profitable.”

  “He’s getting paid to send innocent kids to jail?” Levi repeats slowly.

  “As many as possible.”

  “So Cole is literally a victim of the system. If he hadn’t had that judge, he probably would have gone free.”

  “I had a feeling something was off,” I tell him. “Benjamin threatened Cole before and he mentioned judges, so I was looking for some kind of connection between Benjamin and the judge. But my dear adoptive father is too smart for that, and they probably didn’t exchange more than a few words. I should have gone deeper and looked into the prison.”

  “Does Benjamin have connections to the company that owns the prison?” Levi asks.

  “I don’t know, but I don’t have time to look into that. We need to focus on getting Cole out quickly, so that he can go to school. Will you help me?”

  “Of course,” Levi says, giving me a funny look. Then he shakes his head. “Cole has no idea how lucky he is to have you, Scar. There aren’t many girls out there who would spend every spare minute digging for dirt to take down a judge to get her foster brother out of prison.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say softly. “He’s in prison because of me, remember?”

  “You say that like you’re doing this out of guilt instead of love.”

  I make a face, unsure of how to respond to that.

  Levi smiles. “You’re special, Scar. I would kill to have a girl like you. Sexy, smart, and tough as hell.”

  “Okay,” I tell him, blushing a little. “Stop hitting on me. Let’s go talk to your dad.”

  “It’s the middle of the night,” Levi says. “He’s sleeping. We should probably wait until morning.”

  I want to grab him and shake him. “Are you kidding me? This can’t wait!”

  Moving out of my room and across the hall to Mr. Bishop’s room, I knock on the door softly.

  “Yes? Come in,” he says at once, and it doesn’t sound like he was sleeping.

  I open the door and see that he is sitting up in bed and reading with bifocals and a small lamp while his wife sleeps beside him. He is such a sweet old man.

  “There’s something important I need to tell you,” I say, moving forward with the laptop.

  “What is it, dear?” he asks.

  Levi follows behind me as I show his father the information on the computer screen, and begin to explain what I’ve found in detail. Mr. Bishop adjusts his bifocal lenses to get a closer look, and at some point, his wife wakes up and begins to read the screen as well.

  I feel guilty for disturbing their sleep, but this is too important to wait.

  “That bastard,” Mrs. Bishop finally says when I am finished. “How could he do this to these poor children? Being sent to prison will ruin so many of their lives.”

  “Especially a shitty prison like this one,” Levi adds.

  “This information is shocking, Scarlett. I am deeply offended to know that a judge would behave like this.” Mr. Bishop sighs and removes his glasses, closing his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right, dear. I will file an injunction against the detention center to cease operations first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you so much, sir. I would also like to send this information anonymously to the press. Once the public knows what’s happening to these kids, they are sure to be outraged.”

  Mr. Bishop nods. “Some press could be good. A story like this could even get some sort of protest going at the prison.”

  I chew on my lip slightly. A protest? That could be interesting.

  “It looks like we might get our boy out in time for school after all,” Mr. Bishop says with a smile. “But—there is still the matter of his scholarship. When he deferred his admission to MIT, he lost his scholarship. So even if we get him out of prison, he might not be able to afford the tuition.”

  My face twists up in frustration. “I know it’s a lot of money, but can’t he apply for financial aid?”

  “Maybe,” Mr. Bishop says. “A lot of these deadlines have passed, so he might be in a bit of a pickle. But we’ll do our best to help him out.” The older man pauses. “You know, there is one other thing to consider…”

  “What’s that?”

  “His inheritance,” Mr. Bishop says, turning to share a look with his wife. “Cole’s father had a bit of a playboy youth, and he didn’t really settle down and become successful until he got married. To deter Cole from having a similar adulthood, wasting a lot of time and money partying like he did, he decided that Cole wouldn’t receive his inheritance until he got married. Married to a good girl, someone supportive of Cole’s career choices, with the intent of starting a family.”

  “But doesn’t he need to be eighteen to receive that money?”

  Mr. Bishop chuckles to himself. “Cole has asked me about that a great deal. Technically, he needs to be an adult to receive the money. And Cole has his own special ideas about what being an adult means. I thought it would be impossible with the conviction, but if we get it overturned… then there is still a possibility. We just need a young lady who loves Cole enough to marry him! Do you know anyone like that, Scarlett?”

  The way that the older man is smiling at me makes me a little uncomfortable and embarrassed. “Do you mean…?”

  “Dad!” Levi interjects, sounding annoyed. “She’s only fourteen. You can’t get married at fourteen.”

  “Actually—” Mr. Bishop begins.

  “No!” Levi says strongly. “They are too young. I’m almost nineteen, and I would never even think of getting married.”

  “I married your father at age sixteen, sweetheart,” Levi’s mother says. “He was your age. And look, here we are, perfectly happy all these years later.”

  I clear my throat. “Um, I’m not even sure that Cole likes me that way.”

  Levi rolls his eyes. “What? Of course, he does! He killed a guy and burned down a house for you.”

  “But it doesn’t even have to be a real marriage,” Mr. Bishop explains. “As long as you can convince a judge to allow the marriage and Cole’s emancipation, he can receive his inheritance and attend MIT. We could use Scarlett’s spectacular SAT scores and grades, and some references from her teachers and employers to demonstrate her maturity. We can say that she intends to apply to the same college and attend with Cole, living together as his spouse.”

  “That makes sense,” I say quietly, as I do want to attend college with Cole. Does it matter if I have to pretend to be his wife? I’m already pretending to be Scarlett Smith. My whole life is a lie.

  “Dad, this is sick,” Levi is saying. “You’re forcing them to be together! Even if they don’t want to be married, and they’re going to have to pretend for how long? Years?”

  “Levi, my boy,” says his mother. “Do you think a marriage of convenience is a new concept? For thousands of years, people have been getting married for reasons other than your naïve notions of romantic love. Your father and I got married due to an immigration issue.”

  “Cole and Scarlett seem to genuinely care for each other,” Mr. Bishop adds. “They should be able to convince any judge.”

  Levi turns to me with a shocked look on his face. “Scarlett, I apologize for my crazy parents. This is obviously a horrible idea.”

  It must be nice to be Levi, and to have this home and these wonderful parents. It must be nice to have so much privilege and luxury that you can’t even comprehend what it feel
s like to be desperate. To have a limited number of choices. Cole is the closest thing to family I’ve ever had, and he’s been ripped away. I don’t know if marriage is really that effective in keeping people together, especially compared to superglue, rope, or barbed wire. But I will do just about anything to get Cole back and ensure that I never lose him again.

  Marriage is a small price to pay.

  And hey, it could even be fun. Slowly, a smile creeps over my face as I begin to formulate an epic plan. Nodding at Mr. Bishop, I give him my assent. “I actually think marriage is a great idea. If we could make it work for the next few years—we wouldn’t need to ever be in foster care ever again. I would no longer be a burden on you.”

  “You’re not a burden, dear,” Mrs. Bishop says, “but we won’t be able to help out much when Cole’s in Massachusetts. You two need a long-term solution, and you need to be extremely careful with money. The cost of education in this country is insane.”

  “I think we’re going to be okay,” I tell the Bishop family. “I can work hard, and so can Cole. We’re resourceful. As long as we don’t have to live with anyone who causes us harm, I think we’ll be fine. I’ll suggest this marriage thing to him, but first let’s work on getting him out of prison.”

  “Scarlett, you’re insane!” Levi says. “You can’t seriously be thinking of getting married at age fourteen?”

  “Levi, I have absolutely nothing to lose.”

  “Cole will never agree to this. Marriage is a just another kind of prison.”

  I make a face. “You’re wrong. This is the perfect strategy. You can’t possibly understand what it means to be free if you’ve never been trapped. In this unique situation, marriage means freedom instead of containment.”

  “This decision could ruin your life, Scarlett.”

  “My life has already been ruined, more times than I can count. Now, Levi, it’s nearly morning and I need a ride to the mall to buy a few things required for my engagement. Will you take me?”

  “Sure,” he says with defeat. “Cole’s a really lucky bastard.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It is early morning, and I am sitting at my bare metal desk and sketching a house. One of the kids in here, Matthew, has a father who owns a construction company, and he sent some of my sketches home for appraisal. His father sent back a letter with some very positive feedback on my designs, saying that they were practical and attractive homes that could be built at affordable prices. He even expressed interest in working with me at some point in the future.

  Maybe prison isn’t so bad after all, if I can make valuable contacts for my future career. I have started thinking about creating a business proposal to present to the banks, in hopes of getting a loan so that I can build my first house. But I would probably have to create a company first, and I have no idea what I’d even call it. It would have to be something really cool and meaningful.

  Hours spent locked away with no sunshine are perfect for dreaming.

  Speaking of being locked up, I am a little puzzled that none of the guards have come around to let us out of our cells at the usual time. Most of the kids have taken the opportunity to sleep in, and don’t really care. But as I get up from my desk to stretch and look around, I start to get an odd feeling. I begin pacing in my cell and growing restless. Where are the guards? The detention center is unusually quiet today.

  “Can you stop walking around in circles like that?” Little Ricky says with a groan as he pulls the blanket over his head. “I’m trying to get some beauty sleep, bro.”

  “Sorry,” I say, standing by the bars and staring out into the empty prison halls. “Just… doesn’t it seem like something is different today?”

  It takes Little Ricky a few minutes before he drags himself out of bed to join me, shuffling his feet. His eyes are half-closed, and he yawns as he struggles to peer through them. “It looks like a ghost town in here,” he says in surprise. “Like in those Westerns, before a duel, with dust flying everywhere.”

  Nodding, I notice that a few other kids are standing by the bars, and looking out in confusion. Some of them are quietly chattering with their roommates.

  “Is something wrong?” Little Ricky asks. Then louder, he suggests to everyone, “Maybe the apocalypse happened and we all got stuck in here forever. We’re going to starve to death!”

  “Man, why’d you say that!” says a boy in the next cell over. “Now I’m freaking out. I’m really hungry.”

  “What happens in the apocalypse?” another boy asks. “Is it war, or like, a plague of locusts or something?”

  “Great,” I tell Little Ricky with a frown. “Widespread panic is exactly what we need right now. Good job.”

  He grins at me. “What can I say? I always had a gift for telling a scary story.”

  Everyone continues to complain about the lack of breakfast, the absence of guards, and the impending apocalypse, when there is a peculiar sound in the hallways. It’s an odd clickety-clack sound, like a rhythmic drumming, that echoes off the walls and grows louder by the second.

  All the boys in their cells grow quiet as they try to peer down the hallway and see what’s happening. There are some murmurs from some of the guys, and I find myself growing curious. As the sound grows louder, it becomes clear that there is a person approaching, and that person is wearing high heels. A female person.

  But there are no female guards in this prison. There are no female inmates.

  And even if there were any, none would wear high heels.

  My curiosity grows as I hear louder whispers, and a few whistles from the guys in adjacent cells. Finally, by pressing my face against the bars, I am able to catch a glimpse of jet black hair, so black it’s almost blue. My breath catches in my throat, and I nearly want to sit down and cry. But I try my hardest to remain standing, and grip the bars for support, just watching her approach.

  As she grows closer, I see that she is wearing red high heels. I didn’t know she even owned a pair! I have never seen her in heels before, and I think my heart skips a beat. She is also wearing large sunglasses, tight-fitting jeans, and red, long-sleeved shirt. She stands in front of my cell, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares at me.

  “Cole,” she says softly.

  It takes all the effort I can muster not to smash myself against these bars with my arms outstretched through them, trying to touch her. I feel like I have been dying of thirst, and there’s a glass of water just out of reach. Grasping the bars, I press my forehead between them, looking down and closing my eyes to try to be cool. I try to gather my senses and quell the ridiculously happy feeling in my chest.

  “Scar,” I whisper in response.

  She steps a little closer, and I can see the pointed toes of her high heels in my line of sight.

  This is a dream. I’m dreaming.

  “You’re not allowed to visit,” I tell her, looking up with eyes narrowed in confusion. “It’s family-only—parents or guardians, and I don’t have either of those. So no visitors for me.”

  “I’m not visiting,” she says, as the corner of her lips curl slightly, in a mysterious smirk. She knows something I don’t know.

  “Scar,” I murmur, extending my hand through the bars a little desperately. Is this a dream? It must be a dream, so I might as well try to touch her.

  She smiles and extends her own hand so that our fingertips touch for a moment, and I am shocked to find real soft flesh against mine. I try to grab her hand, but she pulls away.

  “I thought we could hang out,” she says with a shrug. “Go somewhere, get some pizza, talk about life.”

  My eyebrows lift in puzzlement. Has she not noticed that I’m in a prison cell?

  Little Ricky whispers from a few feet behind me. “Cole, is that your girl? She’s crazy hot.”

  “Do the guards know you’re here?” I ask her. “Scar, you’re making me worried. Have you been sentenced to do time here? Please tell me you’re not going to be in prison with us.”

&n
bsp; “Guards?” Her little smirk of a smile turns into a full-blown, self-satisfied grin, and suddenly, I somehow know that everything is going to be okay. “There are no guards.”

  I find that I’m smiling, too. I’m smiling so big it hurts my face. I shouldn’t be, but I can’t help it, and I don’t care if it isn’t cool. “Scarlett,” I say quietly. “What did you do?”

  “Just a little research,” she says, stepping closer. “Did you know that the prison made this huge scheduling error today and didn’t ask any of their employees to come into work? And I guess the guards who were scheduled to come in received mysterious phone calls that their shifts had been cancelled due to certain… circumstances.”

  “Circumstances?” I ask her.

  “Yeah. No one even questioned it—they must all really hate working here. And there was also this crazy glitch where all the security cameras were disabled. I could just walk right in the front door. It’s a bad day for prison security.”

  “Scar…” I say with warning. “What’s going on here?”

  Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls a key ring out, identical to the ones used to open our cells. She twirls it around her finger flirtatiously. “I just found this lying around somewhere. Someone must have dropped it. Do you know what this is for?”

  My heartbeat is acting erratically. “Come on,” I tell her softly. “Stop teasing me and tell me what’s going on.”

  Walking forward, Scarlett picks a key off the keychain, and uses it to open our cell door. She slides the bars open and steps away, allowing us room to exit. We continue to stand still and stare in amazement.

  “Scarlett,” I say in a harsh whisper. “I can’t just walk out of this prison with you. I’ll be a fugitive. I have to serve my sentence.”

  “Not if your sentence was wrong.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask her.

  Turning and moving into the center of the prison, Scarlett looks around at the other kids in their cells. “Were any of you sentenced to be here by Judge McFarlane?” After a bunch of nods and assenting speech, she continues. “It turns out that he’s been charged with conspiracy, fraud, endangering minors, and a whole host of other offences. Judge McFarlane received money from the people who own the prison to send as many kids here as possible. So, some of you are going to get retrials with a better judge. But all of you are going to get removed from this prison, because they have received a cease and desist order for all operations.”