"Three trips to Crestwood says a lot by itself," Gage said. "Let's set her aside for now. Who's next?"

"Lopez, Maribel."

The two instructors went back and forth selecting the girls they would be responsible to mentor and counsel. Carey picked up the last folder, surprised by its thickness. "Waters, Graceful." She raised an eyebrow and looked at Gage.

"You have to admit her mother was clever," Gage said.

Carey smiled and shook her head. "Her mother should have called her Stormy. I thought I was going to have to strap her into the chair to get that clown hair off of her. All right, let's see the distinguished record of Smart Mouth. Seventeen. Assault, vandalism, possession of drugs on school property, the list goes on." She flipped through the pages. "Look at this transcript. A's and B's freshman and sophomore years, then she went right to C's, D's, and F's first quarter of her junior year."

"What's the psych eval say?" Gage asked.

"Incomplete. Don't tell me she attacked her shrink too." Carey looked through the pages until she found the report. "She refused to say anything to the psychologist." She closed the folder and set it on her stack. "I'll take Waters, you take Bowen."

"You sure?" Gage asked.

"I'm sure," Carey said. "I have a feeling about Waters."

Grace draped the towel over her shoulder and picked up her toiletry kit. "This is so bogus," she said.

"Word up," Latisha replied. "What do they think we're going to do with a Bic?"

“Nothing,” Jan said. “Gage just wants to get a look, that’s all.” They stepped into the changing room and opened their assigned lockers. "Gets a thrill figuring out who's a natural blonde."

“How am I supposed to shave my bikini area if she's right there watching?"

"Turn your back to her," Grace said, kneeling down to unlace her boots. "Then all she'll see is your ass."

"Yeah," Jan said. "That's wide enough to keep her from seeing anything."

"Bite me, Bowen," Latisha said. "I'm not the one who had to go back and get larger-sized pants."

"That's not my fault," Jan said. "Crestwood gave them the wrong size. I told you that before."

“Uh-huh, sure," Latisha said.

"Are you girls going to stand there and chatter all day?" Instructor Gage called out from the shower room.

"No, ma'am," Grace said, pushing her pants and panties down together, then sitting on the bench to pull them off. "Babysitting in the shower," she added in a lower voice. "Way bogus."

“Well,” Jan said. "Let's go show Short Shit what we've got."

As they entered the large shower area, Instructor Gage stood near the entrance with a clipboard and a box of safety razors by her side.

"Name?"

"Bowen, ma'am," Jan said. Gage looped a plastic tag on a razor, then labeled it with permanent marker. "Shaving allowed only in stations one through four," she said as she handed Jan the razor. "Name?"

"Waters," Grace said, looking around the tiled room, ten showerheads spaced along three walls, while a towel rack and privacy wall took up the fourth. She rolled her eyes. Of course, pukey green with little windows way up high that no one can squeeze out of. Like anyone is going to try and run away while buck naked in the shower.

Setting her towel on the rack, Grace walked past Jan at station one and took station two while Latisha took the one next to her. "Hot water?"

"Lukewarm," Jan said, soaping her underarms. "So what's the deal with having to shave right here?"

Grace turned on the water, setting it as hot as it would go. "Guess they don't want us to slit our wrists or something."

"With these little things?" Jan asked, holding out the blue razor.

"Next thing you know they'll take away bar soap for fear we'll carve it into a gun."

Grace rinsed her hair, then reached for the shampoo dispenser mounted on the wall between each shower station. "No hair dryer, no makeup, no nail polish, can't even wear jewelry."

“Word," Latisha said. "My holes are going to close up, but they don't care."

"I'm surprised they let Hathaway keep her glasses," Grace said. "Don't they know they have metal screws?"

"You have a commentary, Waters?" an authoritative voice asked.

"No, ma'am." Grace said, sharing a look with Jan and Latisha. I have got to learn to watch what I say when the Goon Squad's around.


DAY TWO


Grace kept her eyes focused on the flagpole as the instructors walked up and down the rows of girls. To her dismay, she found herself face to face with the imposing Instructor Carey.

"Two hits for Waters," she said. "No undershirt, laces touching the ground." Grace shifted her weight from one leg to the other and rolled her eyes. "Drop for twenty!" Carey yelled into her ear.

Grace dropped to the ground, fighting to keep her thoughts to herself.

Damn bitch. You think it's so fun to do pushups? Get that tall ass of yours down here and do them and see how you feel, Queen bitch. When she finished, she rose and glared at the flagpole, wishing it would magically collapse and land on Instructor Carey.

“All right, report to the mess hall. Barracks inspection in thirty minutes," Instructor Carey said, and mirrored sunglasses looked in Grace's direction. "I've seen the barracks, and some of you should think about skipping breakfast."

“Ten hut," Instructor Carey said as she and Gage entered the barracks. "Line up at the foot of your bunk. Bowen, sneakers go to the left of the footlocker, not the right. Jennings, hats aren't worn indoors." She stopped at Grace's bunk. "Obviously your mother never taught you how to make a bed," she said, reaching down and ripping off the linens with one firm tug.

Grace watched her bed linens drop to the floor. Damn.

"Make it again," the dark-haired instructor said. Grace reached down and took the sheet, then spread it out over the cot and began to tuck it in around the sides. "Hold it," Carey said, pulling the sheet free. "Watch me. Do the blanket and sheet together. Tuck the bottom in first, then make a sharp corner here," she demonstrated. "Then the sides. No wrinkles and you can bounce a quarter off it."

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said, thinking it silly to worry about how a bed was made.

"Now you do it," Instructor Carey said, stripping the bunk again.

"Yes, ma'am." Picking up the linens, Grace spread them out over the bed. She tucked the bottom in, then made a less than perfect corner and pushed the blanket under the sides.

"Think if I took out a quarter that it would bounce on that?" Carey asked.

"No, ma'am." Who cares?

Instructor Carey then gripped the top of the blanket and pulled the linens off again. "Now do it correctly."

"Yes, ma'am." Bitch. Grace jerked the blanket up from the floor.

"Ten hut!" The teen jumped to attention, the blanket still gripped in her hand. "You'd better learn to curb that smart-ass attitude of yours, and I mean right now!" she yelled into Grace's ear. "Do it right and you wouldn't have to do it again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm not sure you do, Waters. But you will. Now you drop and give me ten. Now!"

Grace hit the floor. Fucking bitch.

"Count out loud, Waters."

“One," I hate you.

"Two," I hope you get hit by a bus...

"Three," and after they hit you...

"Four," they backup and…

"Five," run over you again…

"Six," I hope I'm driving the bus.

"Seven," Why can't you leave me alone?

"Eight," Fucking bitch…

"Nine," Drop dead.

“Ten, ma'am."

"Now get up and make that bunk properly," the instructor said.

"Yes, ma'am." Grace reached down and picked up the blanket again, this time making sure not to snatch the linens.

"All right, Alpha and Bravo Squads, fall in." Carey stood in front of the group of girls. "The four hours between barracks inspection and lunch are reserved for your physical and field training. On A schedule you'll have PT with me and on B with Instructor Gage. There is more to gain from PT than just sore muscles. You will gain confidence and a sense of accomplishment, both of which are sorely lacking in each and every one of you. How many of you think you can run five miles?" She paused and looked from girl to girl. "Don't all raise your hands up at once. You'll be doing five miles easy before you're through here." Grace rolled her eyes and put her hand on her hip. "Waters, you have a problem?"

Grace straightened up. "No, ma'am."

"Are you sure? You don't seem happy about the idea of PT."

"PT is fine, ma'am."

"Then it's the five-mile run that caused that little display of attitude?"

"No, ma'am.”

"Then I have to assume your unspoken commentary was for no reason," Carey said calmly as she walked over to the teen's side. "So since you disrupted for no good reason, drop and give me ten pushups right now!"

Grace lowered herself to the ground.

"Do you like doing pushups?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then you like being yelled at," Carey said. "Is that it? Do you need to be yelled at?"

"No, ma'am."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then you better adjust that attitude of yours, and quick," Carey said. "Because I'm not going to put up with it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Seven, eight, nine, ten. Now get up and show some respect."