The Prison Project (by Bethany Donaghy) novel Chapter 1

Margot’s POV

Cara frantically glanced up to the wall clock, before her eyes darted back towards the librarian who had been watching us both like a hawk since the moment we had first sat down…

“We only have ten minutes left to submit yours before she kicks us out for the day!” Cara breathes, having roped me in on another one of her wild ideas as she always did.

Sighing, I nod along with her, watching her click yes to give my permission to an endless list of terms and conditions that neither of us had bothered to read for the second time today…

“The deadline is at midnight tonight, so we are probably too late on sending these in! They’ve no doubt already picked out who they want for this Cara – I don’t imagine the government would leave such decisions to the very last minute, do you?” I complain, knowing that the idea had been a ridiculous one right from the very start.

Shipping ourselves off to spend some one on one time with maximum security prisoners as a new form of rehabilitation?

Sure thing.

But why would I ever even agree to this, you ask? Well because it obviously isn’t for free!

Having just finished school, struggling for jobs in our shit little home town filled with nothing other than farms, motels and dusty mines, Cara had found this bizarre advert posted up last week when we had been scrolling online – while using our one hour of free WiFi that we got in the public library every week…

‘Females wanted for prisoner coupling – $25,000 reward on completion’

I had almost choked on my own saliva when Cara said she wanted to sign us both up, adding that the grand total for us combined would be $50,000…

But dare I admit that as the days passed, she had successfully managed to talk me around on the idea – listing a number of ways in which the money would change our lives!

No more drunk and toxic fathers, no more having to live in a damp little trailer and no more living without a purpose…

“Ok, I’m almost there, we have about four minutes left before she cuts us off!” Cara hums out, wriggling slightly on the computer chair to lean in even closer to the screen…

She pushed a clump of her thick blonde hair back from her face, as I watch her proceed to uploading the digital photo we had both taken of each other on an old camera she had found in a box back home that surprisingly still worked.

The pictures weren’t the best quality, but dare I admit that we had somehow managed to scrub up well enough to make ourselves look somewhat presentable…

I leaned back from my position to glance at the librarian, her age showing through the way she would peer over at us from above her glasses – an upset frown taking over her entire face as if wrinkled and creased.

Why the heck did she hate us so much anyway?!

We had tried to be polite to her on numerous occasions, but had quickly learned that unless we were a young, attractive guy, then she wasn’t at all interested!

One time, I even recall a guy coming in to use the internet just as we had, and when it came to being time up, she only shooed us away – stating that he would get longer because whatever he was doing ‘seemed important’.

Shaking my head at the memory, and refocusing my attention back on Cara, I watched as she clicked the final confirmation button as a ‘Successfully Submitted’ tab popped up in bold letters on the screen, before the librarian cleared her throat loudly from across the room.

We’ve evidently overstayed our welcome.

Again.

“Alright, alright, we’re done, Jesus you would think you were the one paying the damn electric bills for this place!” Cara mutters out under her breath, slamming the laptop shut with a little more force than what was necessary.

I exhale and rub my temples. “Cara wait, this is actually insane. What if they pick us for this?”

Cara beams at me, her eyes twinkling at the thought. “Then we pack our damn bags as quick as we can and kiss this place goodbye!”

I roll my eyes but don’t argue with my own insecurities. It’s easier to let her have her fantasies, since the whole thing felt way too good to be true anyhow.

What are the odds that we’d actually be chosen for something as important as this? A new idea to reform dangerous criminals, and to think they could be trusting the likes of us to help them? There was no way!

We both make a move to shuffle out of the library, not bothering to say a goodbye as we pass the desk – knowing that we would be lucky for a grunt in response on the best of days…

I frowned, but she wasn’t wrong about one thing — nobody in this town got a chance like this. We were stuck in a place that had nothing to offer, scraping by with whatever side jobs we could find, living off gas station snacks and borrowed WiFi.

It was shit.

This money could actually change something, despite what we have to do to get it…

But still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had just signed ourselves up for something far bigger than what we even understood.

“You’re not even a little nervous about getting picked out though?” I continued on, adjusting the strap of my worn-out bag over my shoulder. “I mean, these are real life prisoners, Cara. As in, murderers. Gang members. People who don’t belong on the outside for a reason… they might take one look at us and just end it all – no fifty grand for us, only death!”

Cara snorted. “Or maybe they’re just misjudged guys who made mistakes. You know how screwed up the justice system is. Some of them are probably harmless. And besides, we’re not moving in with them forever. We would only be there to offer a shoulder to cry on, to help them adjust to life on the outside, right?” She grinned, nudging me again. “Maybe you’ll even find yourself a hot reformed bad boy lover in the process.”

I shot her a glare. “That is absolutely not funny.”

She only laughed, tossing her sweaty blonde hair back over her shoulder.

The truth was, I didn’t know what to expect. The ad hadn’t gone into much detail beyond the money, the ‘groundbreaking rehabilitation program,’ and the confidentiality agreement we’d basically agreed to blindly.

But if it was legitimate — and if we were chosen — then in a few weeks, everything could very well be different.

Maybe even better?

But as we crossed the road and stepped onto the dirt path leading into the trailer park, I couldn’t ignore the creeping thought resting in the back of my mind.

We had no idea what we had just gotten ourselves into.

But I also believed that it couldn’t get much worse than where we were already trapped – in this hell hole of a place…