Week 12: Jail House Blues

This one's a little different: a dialogue prompt. Enjoy! 

"Well, this is a nice change of scenery."

"It's a prison cell."

"I was being sarcastic." 

Jacob rolled his eyes while biting off the remark. "Don't you get sarcasm?"

"Yeah, I do. I was being sarcastic too," Chris replied. He folded his arms tightly around him to conceal the faint tremors. He was scared shitless. 

"Well what are we going to tell them?" Jacob fired back. He slicked his long blonde hair back, the greasy strands flopping back onto his forehead seconds later. "You know they're going to separate us. We have to have a story." The dim light revealed the small cell the two boys were sitting in, two metal cots pushed against cinderblock walls, slightly damp from the condensation from the air conditioner. The boys sat across from each other, dressed in dark clothes and muddy converse. 

"There is no story! We did nothing wrong!" 

"Oh, come on man," Jacob rolled his eyes again, the motion becoming a tick, repeated over and over again. "We were trespassing. You don't think we can't tell them the real reason why, right?"

Chris nodded. No, they couldn't, because it was beyond embarrassing. 

"You said the acoustics would be better under the overpass." 

"And they were, exactly as I said." Jacob smiled. "I knew I should have brought my camera, we could have definitely filmed a viral video." 

"But you didn't mention that they have a freakin' cop patrolling the place!" 

"How was I supposed to know? Beth told me about the place, I wanted to go. Maybe it's better if we tell them the truth," Jacob sighed. "It can't be that bad, right?"

"Are you kidding me?" Chris blurted loudly. He looked around before lowering his voice. A single cough sounded from the neighboring cell. "Billy's dad is out there. He would for sure tell him, then it would be all over the school." He wrung his hands together, sweat pooling in his shoes as he thought about the next day at school. 

"Better than going to jail for trespassing!" his friend protested. "In their minds, we're just a couple of fruits-"

"Don't finish that sentence," Chris hissed. 

"Who LOOOVE TO SING!" Jacob finished, singing the last part loudly, outstretching his arms. The sound seemed to bounce off the walls, louder than the neighbor's cough that continued. "Hmm, maybe we should film in here. Good acoustics." 

"Oh god, you're gonna embarrass me," Chris mumbled from his hands, his face planted firmly in the open palms. 

"Oh, get over it," Jacob replied. He flicked his hair back again. "A little singing never hurt anybody. Maybe we should confess in acapella?" 

"Just stop-"

Jacob stood up, waving his hands dramatically. "Should we do it with jazz hands?" His friend continued to shake his head. "No? Jumping high kicks?" He jumped spastically, flailing his gawky limbs. 

"Ahem," a low voice interrupted from the hallway. 

Jacob stopped, mid-shake of his hands, turning his head to look at the cell door. 

The sheriff stood there, his bushy mustache partially obstructing his scowl. "You're up, boy."