"Yes, ma'am," Jan said.

"Well, ladies? Don't just stand there, if you need the bathroom, go now," Carey said.

"I'm all set, ma'am," Jan said, crawling between the sheets.

"Me too, ma'am," Grace said. And if not, I'll hold it 'til morning.

"I'll be right back," Carey said, picking up the pajamas and a toiletries kit. "Try not to destroy the place while I’m gone."

As soon as the instructor left the room, Grace went over to Jan's bunk. "I'm going to kill Grenner for this."

"Yeah, who knows how many days it's going to take the stupid state to get new mattresses up here," Jan said. "And we're going to have to put up with Scary or Short Shit."

"This is so bogus," Grace said. "We didn't do anything wrong and we have to spend the night with Queen Bitch five feet away."

"I just hope she doesn't snore," Jan said.

"Fuck," Grace said. "That would be my luck."

"Office of General Services, how may I direct your call?"

Carey had been listening to music for so long it took a second for the words to register. "Yes, this is Joanna Carey, head instructor for Sapling Hill Youth Facility. I need to get two mattresses shipped up here right away."

"Hold please." Click.

"I've been holding," she said to the teeth-grating music.

"Purchasing. How may I direct your call?"

"This is Joanna Carey, head instructor for Sapling Hill Youth Facility. I need to get two mattresses shipped up here right away."

"Hold please." Click.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding," Carey said, leaning back in her chair.

"Purchasing, Miss Dunphy."

Carey decided to save her breath until she was sure she was talking to the right person. Are you the one I talk to about getting some supplies?"

"Where are you calling from?"

"Sapling Hill Youth Facility."

"When was the voucher submitted?"

"I haven't," Carey said. "It's an emergency order."

"You have to submit a voucher."

"How long would it take after that?"

"Miss, there are procedures that have to be followed. What facility are you calling from?"

"Sapling Hill."

"Please hold." Click.

"Argh," Carey growled.

"This is Mrs. Daniels. How can I help you?"

"Mrs. Daniels? I was just talking to a Miss Dunphy."

"I'm Miss Dunphy's supervisor. Who am I speaking with?"

"Joanna Carey. I'm head instructor at Sapling Hill Youth Facility."

Carey hoped having a supervisor meant there was a way to get the mattresses quickly.

"Miss Carey, according to our records, you submitted a rather sizable order just three months ago. Is this something that you didn't receive?"

"No, we've had two mattresses destroyed and we need to have them replaced," she said.

"Were the items lost as a result of fire or other natural disaster?"

"No, vandalism."

"And the items you're requesting have not been approved on a voucher yet, is that correct?"

"Not yet," she said. "But I can fax a voucher to you if you want."

"Well we can certainly add to your fall purchase request."

"You've got to be kidding," Carey said into the phone. "I need those mattresses now, not with the next shipment of supplies."

"I'm very sorry, Miss Carey, but Sapling Hill Youth Facility is budgeted for supplies to be issued once every six months for use during that period. A request for purchase has already been approved and processed for this period. Any vouchers submitted now that are not a result of an OGS backlog or error will be processed for delivery in August."

"August? August? What am I supposed to do with two girls who don't have a bed to sleep in for the next four months?"

"If you would like to submit a voucher for new mattresses for the next dispersal, we'll be happy to process it. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

“Is there any way I can get emergency funds so I can go out and buy the mattresses myself?"

"All purchases must be approved by the General Accounting Office."

"I get the picture," Carey said. "Bye." Hanging up the phone, she ran her fingers through her short black hair and sighed. Another night of sleeping on the infirmary mattresses was just not an option. The remaining choice was only slightly better.

"Ten hut," Carey said as she and Instructor Gage entered the barracks. "Waters, pack your gear into your footlocker. Bowen, you too." Grace moved quickly, packing everything but her uniforms into the footlocker. "All right, you two. Let's go. You have new housing from now until the end of the term."

Oh great, Grace thought as she slung her uniforms over her shoulder and reached for one of the handles for her footlocker. To her surprise, Instructor Carey took the other end. The four left the barracks, Jan Bowen and Gage heading west while she and Carey headed east. "Ma'am, may I ask where we're going?"

"You'll see," Carey said. They walked beyond any area that Grace was familiar with, up a winding path that opened into a small clearing with a cabin. "The choice was between the infirmary or here, and frankly I prefer my recliner to those hard-backed chairs." Carey opened the door of her cabin, then reached for the footlocker. "Go inside, find the kitchen, and sit down in a chair."

"Yes, ma'am." Oh damn, I'm dead. She quickly located the small kitchen and sat down.

Carey put the footlocker in the corner of the living room. "You can change out here or in the bathroom," she said, heading for the bedroom. "Hang your uniforms in the closet in the living room. Give a shout when you're decent."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, going to the living room and opening her footlocker. I'll never survive. She pulled out her sleeping shirt and shorts. My arms are going to look like Popeye's from all the pushups she's gonna make me do. After removing her khaki shirt, she hung it on the hanger, then stripped off her undershirt and sports bra. I'll never survive four months here with her. The pants were exchanged for the white shorts, then hung up with the shirt for the next day. Grace took a moment to look around. Half of the square cabin was taken by the bathroom and instructor's bedroom, while the other half was the living room and kitchen. The front door opened into the living room with the small closet she had used in one corner and a soft blue recliner in the other corner. A tall reading lamp sat on the table next to it, and the couch faced a false fireplace. A simple wooden coffee table took up the center of the room. It was functional but woefully lacking in terms of any personal effects. No paintings hung on the walls; no pictures adorned the mantelpiece. Nice place, but you wouldn't know who lived here. "I'm dressed, ma'am," she said, deciding she had taken enough time.

Carey stepped out of the bedroom dressed in light blue pajamas, the initials JC monogrammed on the breast pocket. "You get the couch," she said, settling into the recliner. "Sit down." Grace sat on the couch. "Rule number one. Don't touch anything unless you have permission, especially anything in my refrigerator."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Two, you don't use the phone or listen to the answering machine."

"Yes, ma'am."

"In the bathroom is the linen closet. You'll find fresh towels there. I'll get you clean sheets and a blanket. Each day, you'll strip the couch down, fold your bedding, and set it on your footlocker."

"Yes, ma'am." This is hell. I've died and gone to hell.

"I don't want to find water on the bathroom floor or toothpaste in the sink."

"Yes, ma'am."

'This..." Carey tapped her hand on the armrest. "Is mine. You can use the couch to sit on."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Did you get all of your homework done?"

"Most of it, ma'am. Everything that's due tomorrow, ma'am." Oh great, here it comes. From now on, I'll be studying and doing homework from the beginning of free time until lights out.

"Your math is all done?"

"Of course, that's easy," Grace said, then realized her mistake. "Ma'am."

"Good," Carey said, standing up. "I'll get your bedding while you get your workbook."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, waiting until the other woman had gone to the bedroom before rolling her eyes. I am so dead. Reluctantly, she walked over to the footlocker and retrieved her math workbook. Fifty pushups, easy. Setting the book on the coffee table, she returned to her seat on the couch and awaited her fate.

“Here you go," Carey said when she returned to the room. Grace took the blanket, pillow, and sheet.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said, surprised when she saw Carey open the drawer on the lamp table and remove a pair of glasses.

"This it?" Carey asked, picking up the workbook. The small black- rimmed glasses looked odd to Grace, who was used to seeing mirrored sunglasses or nothing at all on the instructor.

"We had to do through page forty-two, ma'am," Grace said, hoping the instructor would see that work was done and leave it at that.

"Really?" To Grace's dismay, her mentor flipped through the pages, stopping where Grace had finished during study time. "So why is yours done through page one-fifty-seven?"

Grace looked down at the carpet. "I was bored in study class and I only had my math book, ma'am."

"Are you bored in math class?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And it never occurred to you to mention this to anyone? Look at me.”

Grace looked up and found herself captured by curious brown eyes. Instructor Carey did not look angry or upset, merely puzzled by her decision. "I um…I figured there was only Remedial Math and regular Math and since I'm already in regular Math..." She shrugged her shoulders. "My homework's always done when Instructor Donaldson wants to check."