“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."

Grace stood up and straightened her cap. Bitch.

"All right, we're taking a nice easy one-mile run, girls. Start stretching."

Stretch this, Grace thought as she limbered up. As soon as the dark-haired woman's back was to her, the teen flipped her the middle finger.

"Man, she's got it in for you," Jan said in a low voice.

"She's a fucking bitch," Grace said. "I'll never make it through this dump if I have to put up with her."

"That's not chatter I hear, is it?" Instructor Carey said, causing all the whispering conversations to stop. "Must be done stretching then. All right, line up and get ready."

"Grace, sit here," Latisha said, moving over to make room on the bench. "Did you see the schedule for classes?"

"I saw it," Grace said as she swung her legs over the bench and sat down. "Any idea what PF stands for?"

"Not a clue, but Gage is teaching it," Latisha said. "I know SD is Self-Defense."

Grace rolled her eyes. "Great, Carey's teaching that one."

"Yeah, another excuse to beat up on us," Jan Bowen said. "Grenner said that Viking Donaldson told Delta Squad that SR is Sexual Responsibility."

"Oh no," Grace groaned. "Don't tell me they're going to do that whole 'be good girls and keep your legs closed' bullshit."

"Sounds like it," Jan said. "What's the matter, Waters? Your legs so far apart they're in different zip codes?" The table erupted in laughter.

"Fuck you," Grace said lightly, unaware of the dark-haired woman coming up behind her. "At least I don't go to the kennel looking for dates."

"Oh no, you didn't just say that," Latisha said.

"Bite me, Waters."

"Naw, I'm trying to cut down on fat," Grace said, drawing more laughter at their table for several seconds before it suddenly stopped and everyone looked at a spot just behind her. She rolled her eyes, knowing that once again she had been caught by the queen bitch.

Carey squatted down so she was eye level with them. "Do you ladies think you can find something more constructive to talk about?" she said, looking around the table and pausing when her eyes landed on Grace. "Unless you would rather write a nice long essay on how incredibly unladylike it is to imply that someone has sex with dogs."

Grace rolled her eyes. Can't you find someone else to pick on? When the instructor walked out of earshot, Grace saluted with her middle finger. "Aye aye, Captain Carey, ma'am," she said, drawing giggles from the girls at the table.

“She's just worried there won't be any Dobermans left for her," Jan added, causing even more laughter. She held her hands up like a begging dog. "Woof woof."

"Oh shit," Latisha said. "She's coming." The girls settled down and did their best to appear interested in their lunches when the instructor returned.

"Why is it that out of all the tables in here, this one is the loudest?" Carey said. "You girls must have too much pent-up energy. I'll tell Instructor Gage to work you a little harder tomorrow during PT."

"All right, settle down," Carey said as she closed the classroom door. "This is the infamous SR on the schedule. SR stands for Sexual Responsibility and for the next five months we will be studying just what that means, and what effect your sexual activity can have on your life." The dark-haired instructor sat on the desk. "Now this isn't high school and you certainly aren't a group of choir girls. I expect most, if not all, of you are no longer virgins. Put your hand down, Jones, I'm not asking if you are or aren't. Now, tell me what you think sexual responsibility means. Waters."

Oh sure, pick on me. "It means being responsible about sex, ma'am."

"Give me an example, Jones."

"Using a condom," Latisha said.

Carey slapped her hand on the desk and stood up. "Next to abstinence, a condom is the single most effective way to prevent both pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases. Bowen, give me another example of being responsible about sex."

Jan smirked. "Making sure your parents aren't coming home soon, ma'am."

Carey gave her a mirthless smile that Grace recognized instantly. "Bowen, do you think this is funny?" the instructor said as she slowly made her way over to the girl's desk.

"No, ma'am."

"Well then why don't you take a minute and think of a better answer? Oh, and while you're thinking, drop and give me ten!" Carey's eyes turned and landed on Grace. "Waters, since you think you gave such a brilliant answer, why don't you give us another one while we're waiting for Bowen?"

Damn it, Jan; don't piss her off. "Not going someplace alone with someone you don't know, ma'am," Grace said.

“Good answer," Carey said. "Why?"

Great. Why didn't you move on to someone else? "Because something might happen that you don't want to happen, ma'am."

"Now, Bowen, see if you can condense Waters's long-winded answer into one word," Carey said. "What can happen?"

"Rape, ma'am."

"Nothing funny about that is there, Bowen?"

"No, ma'am."

"Rape is the number one violent crime committed against women," Carey said. "You will be taking self-defense class while you're here, but it's always best to avoid a situation rather than having to fight your way out of one."

Oh, spare us the lectures, Grace thought, slumping in her seat and resting her chin on her hand.

"Waters, when you're in my classroom you will sit up in your seat like a young lady," Carey said. "Now drop for ten. Hathaway, give another example of sexual responsibility."

While Mo, the youngest of the squad, gave her answer, Grace lowered herself to the floor and began her pushups. You witch. You miserable rotten bully bitch from hell. Drop for ten. Drop for twenty. Why don’t you drop for a while and see how it feels? She continued to mentally curse out the instructor, forgetting to count at the same time.

"Waters."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you feeling guilty?"

Grace paused, arms fully extended, and looked questioningly at her. "Ma'am?"

"You've done fifteen pushups. I hate to tell you, but you can't bank them for credit later. Take your seat."

Ah damn. "Yes, ma'am."

"Just your luck you have mentoring with me right after SR," Carey said. "Sit down." The instructor tossed her cap on the hat rack and settled behind the desk. "I said sit." Grace rolled her eyes, then flopped into the chair. Carey jumped out of her seat. "Stand up! That is the last time you pull a stunt like that, do you understand?”

”Yes."

"Yes, what?"

The eyes rolled again. "Yes, Instructor Carey."

"You think people don't notice that little commentary you make with your eyes?" Carey said, sitting on the edge of the desk so she was eye level with Grace. "From now on, every time I see those eyes roll, you'll owe me twenty pushups." She walked behind the desk. "Now, sit down like a civilized young woman should." Grace sat down and watched as Carey opened a folder. "Quite a distinguished record for seventeen," she said, lifting the top page to see the continued list of offenses. "Vandalism, assaulting a teacher, assaulting other students, possession of marijuana, expelled from school." Carey closed the folder and looked at her. "You're on the fast track to the State Correctional Facility for Women," she said, tapping the folder.

Grace shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever."

Carey rose from her seat: "Drop and give me twenty!" Grace moved fast, hitting the floor as the instructor continued to yell at her. "Let's refresh your memory. You will answer and address me as Instructor Carey or ma'am." She knelt down next to Grace. "Do you understand this time?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You will only speak when a question is asked, or if you have permission. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Whether you like it or not, you will learn to respect authority," Carey said. "And for the next five months, each and every day, I am the authority! If I tell you to do something, you do it with no questions and no lip. Do you understand?"