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“I have my connections.” Said Alfie, trying to be mysterious in response to Joe’s question.
“Who then?” Rem Dogg asked, eyebrows raised.
“Mitchell.” He smiled.
Rem Dogg could feel people glancing at him, but he ignored them. “How is he?” He tried to keep his voice level, but if he had said one more word, he knew his voice would have cracked.
“Banged up, obviously.” Said Alfie, dismissively, about to get back into the flow of encouraging the students to cheat.
“What?” Rem Dogg demanded angrily. Why hadn’t he been told? By Alfie, by Mitchell, by anyone?
“Did bad, got caught. Simple.”
“Give me the number.”
“He’s only allowed one phone call a day. I called him earlier. Sorry mate.”
“Give. Me. The. Number.” Rem Dogg muttered, gritting his teeth.
... ... ...
Rem Dogg barely slept that night, the scrap of paper with the number on repeatedly twisted through his fingers. He eventually put it down, in case he ripped it. But then he couldn’t stop checking to see if it was still there, safe on his bedside table, where he had left it a few seconds before.
A few hours later, he eventually drifted off; face still turned towards the small, precious, piece of paper.
... ... ...
He woke with a start; it was late morning, he was seriously late for school. He flopped back onto his bed, sighing. It was a Friday. Nothing important today. No exams. No revision, for sure. He could afford the day off. His head fell to one side, and his eyes were caught by the number on his table. He sat up impressively quickly, grabbing the paper and his phone from where it was charging. He ripped the cord out, and quickly dialled the number, tapping his fingers as the dial tone sounded.
“This is Tring Juvenile Detention Centre, who are you trying to reach?” came a robotic, monotone voice from the end of the line.
“Mitchell Harper.” Rem Dogg said, fingers tapping ever quicker.
“One moment.”
Rem Dogg bit his lip hard, his eyes already stinging.
“Hello?” Rem Dogg heard Mitchell’s familiar voice, but it didn’t click that it was him for a few seconds.
“Mitchell.” Remmie forced out.
“Rem? Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
“Y’alright mate? You sound... Different.”
“I’m fine.” Rem Dogg swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat.
“I take it you got the number from Dickers.”
“I take it you didn’t want me to find out.” Rem Dogg snapped.
“It wasn’t like that Rem. I only get one call a day-”
“And how many days have you been in there?” Rem Dogg cut him off, getting progressively angrier.
“... I’m just coming up to two weeks. I shouldn’t be able to get phone calls, strictly speaking. I sweet talked a pretty guard.”
“I bet she was ecstatic.” Remmie said drily.
“He was surprisingly alright about it.” Mitchell said, quietly.
“Fuck sake Mitch, two weeks and you’ve already been converted.”
Mitchell laughed, and the sound made Remmie relax. He took a deep breath before continuing.
“Listen, Mitch. The last time we spoke... I want you to know that-”
“It was no homo? Sure, okay.”
“No, you twat. That I was telling the truth. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Oh.”
“How long are you in there?” Rem Dogg asked, changing the subject.
“Only a few more months. I’ll be out by the time you leave school.”
“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll keep calling.”
“I don’t doubt it Wheels. Love you.” Rem Dogg nearly dropped his phone, but he kept his cool.
“Love you too.” He murmured, tears pricking at his eyes again as he hung up.