"Turn around, wrists together out in front of your body, legs shoulder length apart." Grace opened her eyes and turned around, putting her hands as instructed. She looked over to where Instructor Carey was standing, surprised to see her mentor looking out the window. She doesn't like this either, she thought to herself. Chains went around her waist, secured by a lock that the guard felt the need to jerk hard to prove it was secure. Grace lost her balance but recovered quickly, refusing to let the corrections officer get the best of her. "Left arm down at your side." The handcuff was slapped on, then locked into position. Her right wrist was held in a punishing grip as the final restraint was applied. "The prisoner is ready for transport," the guard said. "If you'll just sign the release forms."

Carey turned away from the window and crossed the three steps to her desk. After taking the clipboard and scrawling her name across the bottom of the form, she handed it to the corrections officer. Picking up the pencils, she walked over to Grace. "Good luck," she said, opening the side pocket of Grace's camouflage pants and putting them inside. "Good luck."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Just do your best. I know you'll do well."

"I will, ma'am."

"Hey, where's she going?" Jan asked, jabbing Latisha as Grace was led out of the administration building in shackles, Instructor Carey right behind her. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Latisha said. "She didn't say anything to me."

"Did she do something?"

"Not that I know of," Latisha said. "Instructor Mitchell, what's happening to Grace?"

"You don't have enough of your own business to mind?" the instructor said. "Get stretching. Instructor Carey will be with you in a few minutes."

"Yes, ma'am," Latisha said.

The small windows provided Grace with only a view of passing trees and utility poles. While she hated the shackles, she found the seat restraints to be even more loathsome. Get some decent shocks on this thing, she thought as the van went over another bone-jarring bump, bouncing her on the metal bench on which she was restrained. All the questions on the practice test fled her mind and even the simplest equation seemed an insurmountable task. She decided the verbal part was a total loss, having no idea what was on it or even what to expect beyond multiple choice answers. When the trees gave way to buildings and the van slowed, Grace found her hands starting to sweat and rubbed them on her camouflage pants. It's just a test, right? Nothing to get worked up about. Just a test Viking expects me to ace. What if they ask questions I don't know? FOIL, outer, inner, no-first, outer, inner, last. That's it. Now what's that for? The van slowed to a stop, causing nervous anticipation to well up within her. What am I doing here? Everyone else has been in study groups, or at least did some studying for this. I'm gonna bomb, I know it. The single large door on the back of the van opened, flooding the cabin with sunlight. Officer Baker turned the key to unlock the mesh gate, then stepped inside.

"You try to take off and I'll break your legs, you got that?"

"Yes," Grace said as the seat restraints were removed. "I'm not gonna try anything."

"I've heard that before," the corrections officer said, backing out of the van. "All right, come out slowly." As much as Grace disdained the woman, she was nonetheless appreciative of the steadying hand that helped her step down. "When I release your handcuffs, keep your hands still until I tell you otherwise." The cuffs were removed, then the chains that met at her waist. "Hold still." Another set of leg cuffs were put on her, the chain shorter than the one required for use with the shackles. Finally the first set of leg cuffs were removed and Officer Baker stepped back. "Since there will be a proctor in the room, I'll wait in the hall."

Grace looked at the question again. Wolf is to pack as blank is to blank: horse to saddle, goose to flock, fox to lair, dog to sled or lion to cub. Grace tapped her pencil rhythmically against her chin. I hate these questions. Wolves run in packs. Dogs run with sleds. Is that what they mean? No. It's supposed to be a clear relationship. That's what the instructions said. Flock. A goose flies in a flock. A single to a group. That's got to be it. Grace let the pencil hover over the circle, reading the question once more before filling in her answer. Thumbing the remaining pages, Grace let out a long breath. I'll never make it. Without thought she shifted her feet, causing the chain to scrape against the floor. Damn. Several heads turned but just as quickly went back to their own tests. Tapping her chin with the pencil, Grace looked at the next question. Down is to goose...What is it with all these questions about geese? All right, down is to goose...

"All right, settle down," Carey said as Bravo Squad entered the classroom. "Take your seats and get those pens out from behind your ears. We have a lot to cover today."

"What happened to Waters, ma'am?" Jan asked.

"I hope you were worried more about your homework than what's going on with someone else," Carey said. "Now, we were talking about the types of sexually transmitted diseases. Bowen, what's the cure for herpes?"

"Um, penicillin, ma'am?"

"Bowen, drop for ten. Campbell, cure for herpes."

"Surgery, ma'am."

"Campbell, drop for ten. Hathaway, cure for herpes."

"There is no cure, ma'am."

"Good, I was beginning to think that for some reason the writers of your text forgot to include it," Carey said. "Do you girls need to go back to the barracks and pick up your brains? Jones, what are the visible symptoms of herpes?"

"A rash, ma'am?"

Carey slammed her book on the desk. "Jones, when were you planning on studying?"

"First period study hall, ma'am."

"And did you even open your book?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Really? Did you read it?"

"No, ma'am."

"So what were you doing?"

"I was asking if anyone knew what happened to Grace, ma'am."

"If Waters wants you to know what happened, she'll tell you when she gets back," Carey said, seeing smiles form on many of the faces in the class now that they knew Grace would be returning. "Now since obviously Hathaway seems to be the only one who did any reading, you can all sit here and read not only what I assigned for today but through the end of the chapter. Next class will be a test."

"And...time. Please put your pencils down and remain in your seats," the proctor said, closing his pocket watch and rising from his seat. "After I collect your exam, you may leave." Grace remained in her seat, not wanting to have everyone see her leg irons. Only after the last student had left did she get up from her seat, her legs groaning after being in the same position for so long.

Stepping into the hall, Grace was surprised to find it deserted. Maybe she went to the bathroom. I'd better stay right here. Leaning against a locker, she waited until the proctor left the room. "I'm sorry, miss, you have to leave now," he said.

"I'm supposed to wait for the guard to get me," Grace said, wiggling her leg and making the chain jangle.

He pulled his pocket watch out again and checked the time. "I don't know what to tell you, but I need to lock up the school."

What am I supposed to do? "Sir, can you just wait here a minute and I'll check and see if she's in the ladies room? Please, if she shows up and I'm not here, I'm gonna be in big trouble."

He sighed and shut the classroom door. "The ladies room is down the hall on the right side. It's the only one available during testing times."

"Thanks," Grace said, moving as fast as her leg chains would let her. The bathroom was halfway down the hall but when she opened the door and called out, no one answered. Now very nervous, she checked each stall before returning to the hallway. "Did she show up?" she asked, even though she could clearly see only the proctor was standing in the hallway.

"No. Come on, miss, you'll have to wait outside."

There was no sign of the IJCF van when she went outside. An hour later she was still sitting on the high school steps. She thought about calling Sapling Hill and letting them know what was going on but there was no pay phone in sight and she was afraid not to be right there when the corrections officer did show up. So she sat there, her feet on the step below with the chain slack hidden behind her feet. Passersby would see nothing more than a teen sitting on the high school steps waiting for a ride. When the van did pull up, an angry Officer Baker greeted her. "Let's go, get down here," the woman yelled from the curb while opening the rear door of the van. Grace worked her way down the steps, mindful of the short chain that hobbled her usual gait. "I thought it was a four-hour test."

"Three," Grace said, letting her hands rest at her sides in preparation for the shackles. "It ended about two hours ago." The guard moved quickly, wrenching Grace's arm up behind her back and slamming her against the mesh door.

"Did I ask you a question, you little bitch?"

Grace smelled alcohol on the woman's breath.

"Now stand still." Grace gritted her teeth as the drunken woman's hands moved over her torso, then up to her breasts.

"Having fun?" Grace said, her anger flaring.

"I'm just making sure you're not hiding anything," the corrections officer said, backing up and easing the pressure of the mesh against Grace's cheek. "Turn around." The shackles were applied, then the wire mesh door was opened. "Get up there." The leg chain made it impossible for her to just step up, forcing Grace to go in butt first, then roll up on her knees. As she was about to push herself up onto the seat, the guard was there, pushing Grace off balance and causing her to fall against the hard steel edge of the bench.

"Ow, shit!" Grace said as she tumbled to the floor, her shackled wrists making it impossible to break her fall. Officer Baker grabbed her by the upper arm and pulled her up onto the bench seat.

"Stop your whining." The restraints were secured, then the crouched guard stepped out of the van. "I'm not listening to your mouth all the way back." Grace heard the driver's door open and close, then the burly woman returned. "Give me a reason," she said, holding a wide roll of duct tape.

No fucking way, Grace thought to herself, staring hard at the floor knowing that if she looked up and saw the mocking look on the guard's face she would lose her temper.

"I had to spend my whole day waiting around for you," Officer Baker said, stepping into the van and crouching down in front of her. "Beautiful day like today where I could have been relaxing at home and I had to be called in because you wanted to go take a test and get away from the hill for the day."

Don't say anything. Don't look. Just stay quiet.

"Huh? What's that? Don't have anything to say now?"

Grace shook her head. Just get up front where you belong, you fucking bitch.

"That's what I thought," the guard said, backing up out of the van. "You just remember, one word and I’ll shut your mouth for you." The wire mesh gate slammed shut.

There was a short knock, followed by Gage opening the door. "I just spoke to IJCF. They haven't heard anything."

"So where is she?" Carey asked, turning away from the window. "It's a little over an hour to Mohawk. Three hours for the test, then back here. Six hours tops." She looked at her watch. "Eight and a half hours so far."

Gage pointed at the window. "Here they come."

Carey stormed out of the office, Gage on her heels. "Where have you been?" she asked as the corrections officer stepped out of the van.

"Flat tire," she said. "Radio doesn't carry too well up here." Officer Baker inserted the key in the lock, then opened the rear door. "Couldn't even raise a tow truck."

"Really," Carey said, looking at the two tires visible to her. "You had the phone number for here. Why didn't you call?"

"No phones nearby," the guard said, opening the mesh door and stepping inside. Carey strolled around the van, returning to the rear just as the burly woman pulled Grace out. "Do you want me to search her?"

"We'll take care of it," Carey said. "Just get those manacles off her." She was bothered-by the way Grace refused to look at her or any instructor. "Waters, how did the test go?"