"I didn't ask that."

Oh, she's offering. Grace smiled and went to the kitchen. "Do I have to answer before I find out what it is?"

Carey smiled and opened the refrigerator. "I'm not making anything fancy tonight. There's sandwich meat or help yourself to hot dogs." She pulled out a plate of leftovers and put it in the microwave. "Don't even think about touching the cheesecake if you want to keep your fingers intact."

"I won't, I promise."

"One can of soda," Carey said, programming the microwave and pressing the start button. "I know how many are in there."

Grace went to the refrigerator and looked at the offerings. "How about grape?"

"How many do I have?"

Yeah, you know how many are in here, Grace thought, her smile hidden from the older woman by the refrigerator door. "Three."

"Fine," Carey said.

"Can I have some potato salad?"

"Go ahead. Did you have any fruit today?"

"Orange juice with breakfast," Grace said.

"There's some grapes in the crisper," Carey said.

Grace selected the items she wanted and set them on the counter.

"That smells good," she said, referring to the aroma wafting from the microwave.

"And surprisingly it's also nutritionally balanced," Carey said. "Speaking of which, why didn't you eat your spinach yesterday?"

"It was mush," Grace said. "Pasty green mush."

"The joys of mass food production," Carey said. "I suffered through it in the Coast Guard." The microwave dinged. "Something else you have to look forward to when you turn your life around. No more food from vats."

"Amen," Grace said. "I should put that on my goals list for Personal Finance."

"Either add lettuce and tomato to that sandwich or finish up the broccoli in the little container on the second shelf," Carey said as she carefully removed the hot plate from the microwave. "And remember, you don't want the others to think you're getting any special privileges."

"Food? What food?" Grace said, adding lettuce and tomato to her sandwich. The last thing she planned to do was tell anyone she was getting extra treats, snacks, and drinks when everyone else was suffering with food from the mess hall.

"That's what I thought you'd say." With the plate now cooled, Carey picked it up and leaned against the counter to eat. "So have you thought any more about college?"

"I haven't even finished high school yet," Grace said, mimicking her mentor's actions and leaning against the sink as she ate her sandwich.

"You will. It's one of your goals." Carey took a sip of her soda, then sat the can down on the counter. "Answer my question."

"I've thought about it, a little. There's no way I can afford it."

"Don't be so sure of that," Carey said. "If you want to go bad enough, there's always a way to find the money."

"Like you said before, I don't have any rich relatives on the verge of dropping dead."

"I'm sure I didn't put it in quite those terms," Carey said. "There are other ways to get money, Grace. Student loans, grants, work relief from the school where you put in so many hours working on campus in exchange for a break on tuition, the list goes on."

"Where did you go to college?"

“The Coast Guard Academy."

"Well I'm not interested in joining the military," Grace said. "I've had enough of ten hut as it is."

Carey chuckled and turned on the water to rinse her plate. "I'd have to agree," she said. "I can't see you in the service. I can, however, see you in college. Speaking of which, how are you doing on those practice SAT questions Instructor Donaldson found for you?"

"Okay," Grace said. "My scores for the verbal part are lower than the math."

"How much lower?"

Grace finished chewing before answering. "Out of a hundred test questions, I got sixteen wrong."

"Any particular area giving you the most trouble?"

"Relationships," Grace said. "You know, A is to B as what is to what."

"Ah," Carey said with a smile. "I disliked that part too. Keep working on it. As a matter of fact, instead of trying to be ten chapters ahead of everyone else in your classes, concentrate on those SAT practice tests this week."

"Why?"

"Because I said so." Carey took another drink of her soda. "I know, not an answer you like. I was able to reserve a slot for you for the next test but I'm still waiting for approval for the transportation. The test is this coming Saturday."

"Oh." This Saturday? Three days away? "I don't think I'll be ready by then."

"You'll do fine."

"Uh-huh," Grace said dubiously.

"You will," her mentor insisted. "You're just nervous."

"Dismissed," Carey said. "Waters, stay behind." Grace remained where she was, wondering if it had anything to do with the IJCF van that was parked near the administration building. Once everyone else was gone, Carey stood next to her. 'Today is the last day to take the test until October," she said. "So I'll ask you again, do you want to take the SATs?"

"What happens if I fail it, ma'am?" Grace asked.

"You can't fail it. If you aren't happy with the score, you can take it again in October." A firm hand clasped Grace's shoulder. "Now I need to know. Do you want to go?"

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, not wanting the opportunity to pass until October.

"All right," Carey said. "Go change into your PT shirt and sneakers. You can keep the khakis on since I don't think you want to go in BDUs or your shorts."

"Actually the BDU pants would be better, ma'am."

"Fine. Go get changed and meet me in my office."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're not putting her in a jumpsuit?" was what Grace heard as she reached the office door. She paused, waiting for Carey's answer.

"She's going to take a test, not appear in court. It's bad enough you have to use the shackles. I'm not sending her into a test room looking like a convict any more than I have to."

"Suit yourself," the deep-voiced woman said. "Don't worry, she won't go anywhere."

"One more thing. When you get to the school, can you take the shackles off before she has to go inside?"

"Now you're asking too much. Why don't I give her twenty bucks and the bus schedule, too?"

"You have to take the handcuffs off for her to take the test."

"I only have to let one hand out."

"It's your call, of course, but I would take it as a great personal favor if you would do this."

There was a pause during which Grace held her breath, hoping the corrections officer would give in.

"Shackles to and from, leg irons there. So where's the delinquent?"

Grace tiptoed back several steps, then approached again and knocked on the door. "Instructor Carey?"

"Come in."

Entering the room, Grace saw the face that belonged to the gravelly voice. It was not a corrections officer that she had ever seen before, but it was clear from the squinted eyes and pinched lips that the woman did not like her. "I'm ready, ma'am."

"Almost," Carey said, opening her top desk drawer. "You're allowed to bring two number two pencils," she said, putting the items on the desk. "Officer Baker will take you to Mohawk High School where you'll take the test, then you'll be returned here."

"I'll be waiting right outside the classroom," the corrections officer said. "Attempted escape carries an automatic six months at Crestwood, or if you're old enough, the women's facility in Irwin."

"I won't try to escape," Grace said, doing her best to keep any attitude out of her voice.

The guard looked at her from head to toe, then shook her head. "I'd rather have her in a jumpsuit."

"I'll take full responsibility," Carey said, then her brown eyes locked on Grace. "She'll be a model young lady."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, snapping to attention.

"Search and shackle, let's go," the guard said, grabbing Grace's arm and muscling her face first against the wall. "I know you know the position."

Grace closed her eyes, finding the situation humiliating, especially in front of her mentor. Hey, watch those hands, she thought to herself as they closed around her breasts and felt for any foreign objects that could be hidden in her sports bra. It took longer than Grace felt was necessary, but she knew better than to say anything. Finally every inch of her upper body was searched. Now the meaty hands slithered up her left leg, reaching the apex-and pressing up hard enough that she was forced to go up on her toes before the procedure was repeated on her other leg. Getting a good feel, you bitch?

"Turn around, wrists together out in front of your body, legs shoulder length apart." Grace opened her eyes and turned around, putting her hands as instructed. She looked over to where Instructor Carey was standing, surprised to see her mentor looking out the window. She doesn't like this either, she thought to herself. Chains went around her waist, secured by a lock that the guard felt the need to jerk hard to prove it was secure. Grace lost her balance but recovered quickly, refusing to let the corrections officer get the best of her. "Left arm down at your side." The handcuff was slapped on, then locked into position. Her right wrist was held in a punishing grip as the final restraint was applied. "The prisoner is ready for transport," the guard said. "If you'll just sign the release forms."

Carey turned away from the window and crossed the three steps to her desk. After taking the clipboard and scrawling her name across the bottom of the form, she handed it to the corrections officer. Picking up the pencils, she walked over to Grace. "Good luck," she said, opening the side pocket of Grace's camouflage pants and putting them inside. "Good luck."