"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."

"Is she aware you're so far ahead?"

"No, ma'am," Grace said. "She doesn't check my homework anymore. I guess she figures I do it so she doesn't have to check."

"Do you get anything out of class?"

"Not really. I'm usually working way ahead of whatever they're doing," she said. "But I give the right answer when she calls on me."

"When she calls on me, ma'am," Carey said. "All right, it's almost 2100 hours. We'll talk about math tomorrow. You can go to bed right after you do ten pushups."

"Yes, ma'am." Oh yeah, I'm in hell.

The smell of fresh coffee filled the air as Grace slowly woke up. When she opened her eyes, it took several seconds for the unfamiliar surroundings to make sense. With a soft groan, she sat up and rubbed her face. "Morning, ma'am."

"Good morning, Waters," the instructor's voice came from the kitchen. "You have another half-hour before wake-up."

The option of catching more sleep was tempting but Grace did not want to appear lazy. "That's okay, ma'am. I'm up now, ma'am."

"I put a set of towels out for you in the bathroom."

"Thank you, ma'am." After a good healthy yawn, Grace went to her footlocker and removed her toiletries and last clean set of underwear. Guess I'll be at the laundry during first free period. After she set them on the carpet, she folded the bedding and placed it on top of her footlocker. Collecting her things, Grace headed for the bathroom, stopping just before the door. "Ma'am?"

"Yes?"

"In the barracks, we have the shampoo dispenser, ma'am," she said, turning to see her mentor standing in the kitchen, a white mug with a multicolored logo in her hand. "Did you want me to go get some, ma'am?"

"No," Carey said. "Use mine for now."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fresh razors are in the top drawer of the vanity. Waters, I'm going to trust you not to need supervision. Don't make me regret that decision."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't lock the door."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hang your towel neatly over the shower door when you're done."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't touch my conditioner or my body oil."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And the bathroom had better look as clean when you leave it as when you went in."

"Yes, ma'am." What do you think I'm going to do? Have a party in there?

Grace stepped into the bathroom, amazed at how bright and airy it seemed. A skylight graced the slanted ceiling and pale yellow tiles allowed the sunlight to bounce all over the room. Opening the top drawer of the vanity, she found the package of razors. I'm glad she's not gonna watch me shave, she thought as she stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower stall. It was then that she realized in all the times she had taken a shower while at Sapling Hill, Instructor Carey never had shower duty. Must be nice being in charge. A smile came to her lips as she turned on the water. Of course if I was in charge, I'd volunteer for shower duty.

Steam rose as she took her time scrubbing under nice hot water. A corner bench built into the stall made the perfect place to put her foot as she washed between her legs, being much more thorough than she ever could with others in the same room. For someone with short hair you sure have enough things, she thought, looking at the full shower caddy. Shampoo, conditioner, cream rinse, mousse, body lotion, body oil...guess you believe the commercials. Rinsing her hair, she reached for the shampoo and poured a healthy amount on her hand. Strawberry, nice. She basked in the privacy after a month of community showers for as long as she dared, then rinsed and turned the water off. Nice shower. I could get used to this. Opening the frosted glass door, she stepped on the yellow mat and toweled off. After dressing, Grace looked around the bathroom. A red toothbrush sat in a ceramic holder built into the tile. I'm surprised you don't have one of those fancy electric toothbrushes, she thought, opening the medicine cabinet to find the usual assortment of toiletries. Must not worry about your teeth as much as you do your hair. Beneath the vanity she found cleaning supplies. Well, I'd rather clean one toilet than ten. I'll


probably end up having to keep the whole cabin clean or do her laundry or both.

Grace returned to the living room, unsure now of what to do until morning formation. After putting her things away, she sat down on the couch and laced up her boots.

"Do you drink coffee, Waters?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, turning to see Carey open a cabinet and pull out a red mug. Real coffee, she thought excitedly, loathing the brown liquid that came from the large urn in the mess hall. Grace quickly jumped to her feet and entered the kitchen. "Thank you, ma'am."

'This is the only mug I want to see you using. Cream and sugar?"

"Cream, ma'am."

Carey opened-the refrigerator, pulling out a pint of half-and-half. "I tried the mess hall coffee once," she said, then scrunched up her face. "Tastes like they filter it through dirt."

Grace smiled. "We figure they use the swamp water, ma'am," she said, taking the pint, putting a splash into her coffee, then handing it back.

"You may be right about that," Carey said, leaning against the counter. "I was on duty on a cutter off the coast of Connecticut and we ended up reusing the grounds two or three times. It still tasted better than the mess hall coffee."