a hard time lately, but nothing too serious, and so far Ross had been able to joke his way out of it. Carl wondered how long the jokes would work.
Rivera said, “You do push-ups like those, Ross, maybe you ought to be the cheerleader.” Everybody laughed. Rivera was definitely way cooler than the other drill sergeants. “Now, orphans, you’re going to have some hard days here, hooah?”
“Hooah!” the platoon responded. The only guy who didn’t join in was Medicaid. He sat in the back, staring at the floor and mumbling to himself. The kid had more issues than Sports Illustrated.
“Well, you tough those days out, and you will be amazed at the changes in you. You’ll go from being boys to being men. You’ll go from being individuals to being team players. Hooah?”
“Hooah!”
Rivera nodded. “Now you sound like soldiers. All right, orphans, commence personal time. Lights out at twenty-two hundred. Campbell, you need anything, I’ll be down at CQ.”
Personal time, Carl thought. We’re actually getting personal time tonight. It was always on the schedule but never quite materialized. He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even 2100 yet.
“Book Man,” Rivera said, “come with me. We have to run over a couple of things.”
Carl followed him out of the bay. The guys started horsing around back there, making too much noise, fired up by their first bit of freedom in many days.
“How you doing on the duty roster, Freeman?”
“Not bad, Drill Sergeant. The guys don’t like it, but it’s working.”
“Outstanding, Freeman.” Reaching the end of the hall, Rivera unlocked the door on which the whiteboard hung and swung it open to reveal a dim closet. “Your office. You got your desk there, paper, pencils. File cabinet. We need you to file stuff, we’ll unlock it. You even get a chair.” He handed Carl a key. “That opens the closet. Do not lose it. You read me, Freeman?”
“Lima Charlie, Drill Sergeant.”
“That’s the way a soldier talks. I’m off to CQ for the next hour or so. You need anything, tell Campbell, and he can come tell me. After that, Drill Sergeant Parker relieves me, and I’d recommend you just hold any subsequent questions till tomorrow. Hooah?”
“Hooah.”
Rivera handed him the next day’s schedule and left, pausing just outside the door to smoke a couple of kids running down the hall.
Carl copied the schedule on the whiteboard, shut himself inside the closet, and went to work setting up guard duty. He planned to square this away, hit the showers, give his boots another polish, reroll his socks, and maybe even socialize a bit before lights out.
He got to work. People showed up, trying to get out of duty, but he shut them down. He went by alphabetical order, since if he followed that it was impossible to say he was playing favorites, but, as usual, some people got pissed anyway. So be it. Let them go to Campbell.
Decker and his toadies came by, all smiles, offering Carl protection from Davis’s gang in exchange for Carl “forgetting” to put them on the roster. When Carl said thanks but no thanks, Decker stared at him for a few long seconds. The guy had these weird pale blue eyes that shone, cold and thoughtful, and didn’t match the otherwise brutal face, which looked like it had been carved from scarred stone. Decker looked interested, amused, and angry, all at the same time . . . but mostly interested. Then he and his thugs left.
A while later, Ross showed up and got Carl laughing with an imitation of Rivera, tilting his head back and squinting a little. “Ross, give me twenty for thinking like an individual.”
Carl laughed. It was perfect. “You’re awesome at impersonations.”
Ross shrugged. “When you’re my size, good ones are a survival skill. Comedy as self-defense. How much work do you have left?”
“I’m almost finished.”
“Awesome. Hurry up. We’re playing Ninja in the back bay.”
Ninja was, without a doubt, the stupidest game in
Rivera said, “You do push-ups like those, Ross, maybe you ought to be the cheerleader.” Everybody laughed. Rivera was definitely way cooler than the other drill sergeants. “Now, orphans, you’re going to have some hard days here, hooah?”
“Hooah!” the platoon responded. The only guy who didn’t join in was Medicaid. He sat in the back, staring at the floor and mumbling to himself. The kid had more issues than Sports Illustrated.
“Well, you tough those days out, and you will be amazed at the changes in you. You’ll go from being boys to being men. You’ll go from being individuals to being team players. Hooah?”
“Hooah!”
Rivera nodded. “Now you sound like soldiers. All right, orphans, commence personal time. Lights out at twenty-two hundred. Campbell, you need anything, I’ll be down at CQ.”
Personal time, Carl thought. We’re actually getting personal time tonight. It was always on the schedule but never quite materialized. He glanced at the clock. It wasn’t even 2100 yet.
“Book Man,” Rivera said, “come with me. We have to run over a couple of things.”
Carl followed him out of the bay. The guys started horsing around back there, making too much noise, fired up by their first bit of freedom in many days.
“How you doing on the duty roster, Freeman?”
“Not bad, Drill Sergeant. The guys don’t like it, but it’s working.”
“Outstanding, Freeman.” Reaching the end of the hall, Rivera unlocked the door on which the whiteboard hung and swung it open to reveal a dim closet. “Your office. You got your desk there, paper, pencils. File cabinet. We need you to file stuff, we’ll unlock it. You even get a chair.” He handed Carl a key. “That opens the closet. Do not lose it. You read me, Freeman?”
“Lima Charlie, Drill Sergeant.”
“That’s the way a soldier talks. I’m off to CQ for the next hour or so. You need anything, tell Campbell, and he can come tell me. After that, Drill Sergeant Parker relieves me, and I’d recommend you just hold any subsequent questions till tomorrow. Hooah?”
“Hooah.”
Rivera handed him the next day’s schedule and left, pausing just outside the door to smoke a couple of kids running down the hall.
Carl copied the schedule on the whiteboard, shut himself inside the closet, and went to work setting up guard duty. He planned to square this away, hit the showers, give his boots another polish, reroll his socks, and maybe even socialize a bit before lights out.
He got to work. People showed up, trying to get out of duty, but he shut them down. He went by alphabetical order, since if he followed that it was impossible to say he was playing favorites, but, as usual, some people got pissed anyway. So be it. Let them go to Campbell.
Decker and his toadies came by, all smiles, offering Carl protection from Davis’s gang in exchange for Carl “forgetting” to put them on the roster. When Carl said thanks but no thanks, Decker stared at him for a few long seconds. The guy had these weird pale blue eyes that shone, cold and thoughtful, and didn’t match the otherwise brutal face, which looked like it had been carved from scarred stone. Decker looked interested, amused, and angry, all at the same time . . . but mostly interested. Then he and his thugs left.
A while later, Ross showed up and got Carl laughing with an imitation of Rivera, tilting his head back and squinting a little. “Ross, give me twenty for thinking like an individual.”
Carl laughed. It was perfect. “You’re awesome at impersonations.”
Ross shrugged. “When you’re my size, good ones are a survival skill. Comedy as self-defense. How much work do you have left?”
“I’m almost finished.”
“Awesome. Hurry up. We’re playing Ninja in the back bay.”
Ninja was, without a doubt, the stupidest game in
Similar Books
