Page 17 of His Favorite Felon

I looked up from the cart of books I was organizing. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been called for reclassification.”

My stomach sank in an instant. Just a single word, reclassification. Nothing good ever came from being summoned out of thin air.

“Ugh, okay, but what did I do?”

He didn’t answer, so I slowly set the book in my hand down. My mind raced through everything I’d done over the last month. Did someone report me? I wondered if they knew about Legend and me. My heart pounded at the thought. We were really careful, or at least I thought we were. I followed the officer out of the library. I kept my face neutral even though my thoughts were moving a hundred miles a minute.

By the time I reached reclass, I had already convinced myself I was about to lose good time, be transferred, or end up in segregation. The counselor behind the desk looked up when I entered.

“Ms. Kingsley.”

Nervously, I sat stiffly across from her, like a statue.

“Before we jump to conclusions, I want to clarify that I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I honestly haven’t done anything wrong.” I lied.

“Well, that’s good to know because you’re not in trouble. At least no one has informed me yet.”

“Oh.” I shifted in my chair. “Then why am I here?”

“We completed another review of your file.” She flipped through several pages of the folder she held while I watched her nervously.

“Your behavior has been exemplary. You’ve completed several educational programs, maintained steady work assignments, and earned substantial credits.”

“Okayyy...”

“Considering your earned-time calculations and recent state changes, your projected release date has been adjusted.”

I stared at her. I was afraid to ask because this could go either way.

She slid a paper across the desk and caught my eye. My gaze immediately fell on the date, and I looked at her, confused. I glanced back at the paper, still unsure what it meant. My fingers began to tremble.

“October 31st…” I whispered to myself, loud enough for her to hear.

“Your original sentence was seven years, but I’m pleased to inform you that you’ll be released after five years.”

My chest tightened so quickly that I had to force myself to breathe.

“Wait. You're saying I have three months left?”

“Yes, that’s precisely what I mean, as long as you avoid doing anything that could get you into trouble.”

“So, in three months, I’m going home?” I asked in disbelief.

She smiled. “Yes, in three months, you’re going home.”

I laughed. It came out weird, half laugh, half cry. I covered my mouth.

“This is fucking crazy!” I looked at that paper again.

I only wanted to tell Chance first. But after I got back to my cell, I didn’t see him for hours, and honestly, those hours felt longer than the past five years.

I didn’t see him again until later. He was heading to the guard station. Before he took his post, our eyes met. His eyes immediately narrowed with concern or confusion. At that point, I wasn’t trying to read him. I wanted him to read my mind more than anything.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” he asked once he made his way over to me.

I pulled the folded paper from behind my back and damn near shoved it into his throat.