Graceful Waters

by B L Miller & Verda Foster
© 2001

part 1

Disclaimers:  Lots of swearing, mentions of sexual abuse and of course since it's a B L story there are graphic scenes of two women making love.

            The booming voice of the bailiff cut through the din of the courtroom.  "All rise, Family Court of Iroquois County is now in session.  Honorable Judge Grimm presiding."  Grace stood next to the Public Defender, her hair a rainbow of pink, green, white and blue with blonde roots.  "Be seated," the bailiff sat after the judge took the bench.

            "Miss Waters," Judge Grimm said, looking squarely at Grace.  "This is not the first time you've appeared before me, but it will be the last.  You have no regard for the rights of others and no amount of community service or probation is going to change that."  Grace rolled her eyes.  "I know you think this is all some kind of fun little game but your playtime is over, young woman," he said, his voice rising with anger.  "You assaulted a teacher and that kind of behavior cannot be tolerated.  I agree with the School Board's recommendation that you not be allowed to return to Iroquois High School.  Since the District Attorney has decided not to charge you as an adult, the question before this court then becomes what to do with you."

            "Who cares," Grace muttered, then rolled her eyes at the reproachful look from her court appointed lawyer.

            "Indeed, Miss Waters," the judge said.  "It's clear you don't.  It is also clear to this court that your mother is unable to maintain any type of control over you and releasing you to her custody again will only result in allowing you the opportunity to add to your already lengthy record.  Therefore, the sentencing will be as follows; the minor Graceful Lake Waters is remanded to the custody of the State until the age of eighteen, which I understand to be in six months."

            "Big fucking deal," Grace mumbled, ignoring the stifled cries of her mother sitting in the row behind the defense table.

            Judge Grimm's face turned beet red.  "That's enough from you.  I was going to send you to Crestwood but after listening to you, I think something more than a minimum-security youth facility is in order.  I'm sending you and that smart mouth of yours to Sapling Hill."

            "You had to open your mouth," her lawyer whispered.

            "Big deal," Grace said, flipping her middle finger at the judge before the handcuffs were put on her by the bailiff.  "Boot camp for girls.  Who cares?"

            "Oh Grace," her mother cried as the bailiff passed her to the corrections officer for the youth facility.

 ******

 DAY ONE

 ******

             The parking lot was full of upset parents waiting for the corrections officers to take their teenage daughters away to the Sapling Hill Youth Facility for Girls, better known as the Girl's Boot Camp.  Grace had spent the two weeks since sentencing at Crestwood, unable to see her mother.  Now she had only a few minutes before she would be put on the bus and sent north to what other teens had described as 'hell with lots of trees.'  To her annoyance, Edna Waters spent those minutes crying at the sight of her daughter in an orange jumpsuit and shackles.

            "That's right, make a scene," Grace said, rolling her eyes as her mother pulled out another tissue.

            "I told you we should have hired a private lawyer instead of going with the Public Defender," her mother said, dabbing at the tears that spilled out of her eyes.  "Now look at you."

            "It's six months, Ma.  I can do that standing on my head," Grace turned her head to let the wind blow the pink bangs out of her eyes.  "Look at it this way, you're always complaining you don't know where I am or what I'm doing.  Now you'll know."

            "Shackles," her mother said sadly, referring to the restraints keeping Grace's wrists pinned to her sides.  "If your grandfather had lived to see this."

            "Yeah yeah, I know I'm a huge disappointment and a disgrace to the family," the teen said, drawing a look from a nearby guard.

            "If you would just realize how much better things could be," her mother said.  "If you would just get some direction in your life."

            "I've got direction," Grace snapped.  "I don't need you or anyone else telling me how to act and what to do.  I can handle everything just fine by myself."

            "That's enough," the burly guard said as he approached the pair.  "Mrs. Waters, it's time for you to say goodbye now."  He leveled Grace with a glare.  "Maybe you'll clean up that smart mouth of yours and learn some respect at Sapling Hill."

            "Yeah and maybe I'll grow up to be President too, right?"  Jerking her wrists against the restraints, Grace growled in anger.  "You don't give a shit anyway so get the hell away from me, you lousy pig."

            The corrections officer grabbed her arm.  "I think you'll sit right up front with me," he said.  "Mrs. Waters, did your lawyer explain the visitation to you?"

            Grace's mother nodded and pulled out another tissue.  "He said maybe after the first two months."

            "They'll send you a letter to let you know," he said.  "Let's go you smart mouth punk."

            "What's the matter?  Can't get any unless you chain them up?" Grace taunted as he pulled her in the direction of the bus.  "Then again, maybe you ain't got one to get up in the first place."

            "Oh yeah, that big mouth of yours will be real welcome at Sapling Hill," he said, jerking her to stop in front of the bus where another officer stood with a clipboard in hand.  "This is Grace Waters," he said.  "She's going right up front."

 ******

             Grace was furious by the time the bus pulled through the high gates of Sapling Hill.  A well-aimed glob of spit had earned her a gag that brought laughter and comments from the other teens.  Now the bus had stopped and everyone was off except her.  The guard who put her on the bus, and whom she had spit upon, was now talking to a tall woman with short black hair and wearing military fatigues.  The woman nodded several times, then stepped onto the bus. 

            "Well Waters, it seems you're going to be this group's hard case."  The imposing woman stood in front of Grace and towered over her.  "You listen up and you listen close, little girl.  Playtime is OVER!" she shouted into Grace's ear, startling her as the shackles that held the teen to the seat were removed.  "Now you get your ass off this bus and line up.  MOVE IT!"  Grace ran off the bus, the screaming woman right on her heels.  "MOVE MOVE MOVE!"  When the teen reached the end of the line, she turned and stood facing the bus.  "All right ladies," the tall woman said.  "Welcome to Sapling Hill Rehabilitation Facility.  I am Instructor Carey.  You will refer to me as Instructor Carey or Ma'am."  Looking around, Grace noticed more than half of the girls standing around were wearing orange or green jumpsuits from the Youth Authority, including herself.  Carey paced back and forth in front of the three dozen girls.  "Nothing else will be tolerated.  Do I make myself clear?"  She was met with a chorus of 'yes ma'ams and yes Instructor Carey', except for Grace, whose mouth was still gagged.  Carey walked down the line until she was standing in front of Grace.  "This is Waters," she said in a loud, clear voice.  "Waters didn't know enough to keep her mouth shut.  As you see, she was punished."  Reaching around Grace's head, Carey untied the knot and removed the gag.  "This is Sapling Hill.  You have a chance here to turn your life around.  The other instructors and I are here to help you.  If you accept that help, you will leave Sapling Hill a different person.  If you don't," she stared directly at Grace.  "This will be the saddest five months you've ever had."

 ******

             "This is bogus," Grace said to the girl standing at the next cot.

            "Word up," the girl said.  "Latisha Jones," she said, holding out her hand.

            "Grace Waters," she answered, shaking the hand in dark contrast to her own.  "What'd you do to get here?"

            "Set fire to the school library," Latisha said.  "You?"

            "Threw a chair at a teacher," Grace said.  "He had it coming, though."

            "You get five months?"

            "Six," she said.  "After I get out of here I have to serve another month, probably at Crestwood."

            "I'm done after here," Latisha said.  "Girl, that's one funky 'do."

            Grace ran her fingers through her multicolored hair.  "Works for me.  Better than dreadlocks," she said, referring to the style Latisha was wearing.

            "Jones."  They turned to see the imposing Instructor Carey approach.  "This is not macramé class and your head isn't a planter.  Get those beads out of your hair now.  Waters, let's go."

            Rolling her eyes, Grace put her hand on her hip.  "Where?"

            "YOU DROP AND GIVE ME TEN PUSHUPS RIGHT NOW!" Carey yelled, causing Latisha to jump back and the other girls in the barracks to stop what they were doing to see what the commotion was about.  Grace lowered herself to the floor, though not as fast as she knew the screaming woman would have liked.  "WHEN I TELL YOU TO DO SOMETHING, YOU SAY YES MA'AM OR YES INSTRUCTOR CAREY!" she hollered.  "Four, five, six, keep going.  Seven, eight, nine, ten.  Stand up."  Grace felt the anger rise in her along with the embarrassment of being reprimanded in front of the other girls but knew enough to stay quiet this time.  Clearly Instructor Carey was not someone to mess with.  "Now let's go."

 ******

             Grace remained quiet as Instructor Carey led her to the Administration Building, not wanting to draw another any more pushups.  "We're going to do something about that hair of yours," Carey said as she unlocked the door labeled Barber.

            "No way," Grace said.  "You're not fucking touching my hair."

            Carey was immediately at her right side.  "DID I ASK YOU A QUESTION?" she screamed into Grace's ear.  "YOU DROP AND GIVE ME TEN!  You don't get to make the decisions around here, do you understand?  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

            "Yes Ma'am," Grace grunted as she pushed up with her arms.

            "What do you think people think when they see that rainbow on your head?  They see a freak, not someone to take seriously.  Is that what you want people to think of you?"

            "No Ma'am."

            "I don't care what trash your parents let you get away with, you don't swear at the instructors here.  Do you understand?"

            "Yes Ma'am."  Bitch.

            "All the way up, all the way down, Waters.  You don't take shortcuts here," Carey said.  "Nine, ten.  Stand up."  Grace did as she was told, giving the instructor a dirty look for making her do pushups.  "Get your ass in that chair and I don't want to hear one word from you unless I ask a question, got it?"

             Grace rolled her eyes and slowly moved into the chair.  "Yes Ma'am," she said, doing her best to be as disrespectful as she could with the word.

             "We can do this easy or we can do this hard, it's all up to you, Waters," Carey said.  "You can follow the rules and do what you're told or spend all day doing pushups and being yelled at.  You make your own bed here."  She put a short length guard on the electric clippers.  "Now you're going to sit still and that smart mouth of yours isn't going to say a word unless I ask you a question."  Grace gave her a murderous look as  the clippers were turned on.  "What you're thinking is written clearly on your face."  She shut the clippers off.  "You think I'm the biggest bitch living and you'd love to take a shot at me."  The dark haired woman gripped either side of the barber chair, her face only inches from the teen.  "Do it and you'll never be that unhappy again.  Now wipe that look off your face and sit up straight."

             Grace clenched her jaw and stared hard at the door opposite her as the Instructor Carey wrapped a plastic robe around her neck.  Damn bitch.  She became even angrier as multicolored locks of hair fell to the floor.  "You wanna leave some?" she snapped.  A firm hand clamped down on her head, keeping her from moving it.

             "Move your head again and I'll shave you bald," Carey said.  "And when I'm done, you're dropping for ten for that smart mouth of yours.  Want to try for twenty?"

             "No Ma'am."

             "Then sit still and keep quiet."

 ******

             Walking back to the barracks, Grace ran her fingers through her now short blonde hair.  "Fucking bitch," she grumbled, rubbing arms sore from all the pushups.  Seeing Latisha standing with several other girls just outside the barracks, Grace headed over to join them.

             "Damn girlfriend, you got chopped," Latisha said.

             Grace self-consciously rubbed her hair.  "The bitch wasn't happy until she damn near scalped me," she said.  "What'd I miss?"

             Latisha shook her head.  "Nothing.  See that girl over there?  She got into it with the short instructor."

             "Yeah," one of the girls standing next to them said.  "And Gage started screaming and yelling at her and the wimp started crying like a baby."  The girls laughed at the incident and Grace joined in, knowing full well that no one could make her cry.

             "All right girls, let's line up," Instructor Gage said as she approached.  "Arm's length apart, I want to see you nine across and four deep."  Other girls began to assemble and Grace quickly made her way to the back row.  Suddenly she felt a firm hand slap down on her shoulder.  The look from the girls around her left no doubt as to whom it was.

             "You're going up front where I can keep my eye on you," Instructor Carey said.  "Let's go."  Grace knew better than to object.

             Now up front, Grace had an unobstructed view of three of the instructors.  Carey was the tallest, her short black hair barely peeking out beneath the olive drab cap while mirrored sunglasses kept her eyes hidden.  Next to her was Gage, her complexion several shades darker than Latisha.  Standing slightly behind the other two was Donaldson, a tall, short haired blonde with an angular face whose light blue eyes were in constant motion, moving from one girl to the next.

             "Quiet," Carey said, causing a silence to fall over the group.  "As you know, you were not allowed to bring any personal effects including jewelry and clothing other than what you're wearing."  The mirrored sunglasses turned in Grace's direction.  "And in some cases, clothing provided by the youth authority.  This is the last time you will wear those clothes.  You will be provided with everything you will need to wear while you are here.  And before any of you get any ideas, bras and panties are required, not optional."  Grace wondered how they were going to enforce that rule, not that she would ever violate it.  Ever since she had started to develop, her nipples had been too sensitive to rub up against a shirt all day.

             Instructor Gage stepped forward, the petite woman barely coming to Carey's shoulder.  "You will be divided into four squads.  Count off and line up with your squad.  You will be known as Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta squads in that order," she said over the counting.  "Let me explain how your days will go, ladies.  At oh six hundred you will wake up.  You'll have half an hour to shower, dress and make your bunks.  At oh six thirty you will report here for inspection.  Whenever you are told to report to formation you will come here and assemble with your squad.  You will have morning mess between seven and seven thirty.  At seven thirty there will be barracks inspection.  From eight until noon you will participate in PT or FT.  After lunch you will have classes, mentoring sessions, or studying time until dinner.  After that, you'll have three hours for studying or rec time.  Lights out is twenty one hundred hours.  That's nine PM for those of you unfamiliar with military time."

             "You will attend classes and training according to your squad assignment," Instructor Carey said.  "The schedule will be posted on the bulletin board outside the mess hall.  You will have one on one counseling sessions with your assigned mentor.  That schedule will also be posted on the board.  There are no weekends here, ladies.  Monday, Wednesday and Friday are Schedule A and Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday is Schedule B.  Sunday is not a day of rest.  On Sunday your mornings will be the same as they are on A and B schedules with the exception that you may be excused from the morning run if you wish to attend chapel.  The afternoons will be spent in studying or doing your homework unless you receive Privilege."

             "Privilege." Instructor Gage said, her voice much higher than Carey's.  "What do you think privilege is?  Just like the real world, privilege is something you earn.  If you are on Privilege, you will be allowed to spend your free time in the rec room or at the athletic fields.  You'll be allowed to have visits from your family."

 ******

             "No way," Grace said when she saw the khaki dress uniform.  "We're not in the fucking army."

             "You got a problem?" Instructor Gage said, approaching rapidly.

             "No Ma'am," Grace said quickly.

             "Then cut the chatter and keep moving."

             Grace filed forward, stopping at the counter when Inspector Carey was waiting.

             "Name?" the dark haired woman asked without looking up from her clipboard.

             "Waters, Ma'am."

             The instructor turned around and grabbed a neatly folded stack of khaki slacks and shirts with Grace's name patch already sewn on.  "Shoe size?"

             "Eight, Ma'am."  Instructor Carey pushed the clothes into Grace's arms, then added a pair of black boots and white canvas sneakers with thick soles.  "Move on to the next station."

             Moving on, Grace found herself in front of Instructor Donaldson.

             "Bra size, panty size."

             "Thirty two C, four, Ma'am."  Two sport bras and three pairs of panties were added to her pile.

             "Into the next room, strip and shower, then change into your dress uniform and report to formation.  Make sure you stand with your squad," the blonde woman said.  "Next.  Bra size, panty size."

 ******

             Grace entered the next room where Instructor Mitchell was waiting.  "Strip.  Clothes go in the trash bag, footwear in the box.  What's your name?"

             "Waters, Ma'am," Grace said as she put her foot on the bench and began untying the laces.

             "Nice sneakers, Waters.  Goodwill will be happy to have them," Mitchell said.  Grace scowled and almost said something but thought the better of it, not wanting to do any more pushups.  "Let's go Waters.  You don't have anything I don't."

 ******

             "I said line up," Gage said.  "I can see from here that we're going to have some work to do.  Dress uniform means just that.  Take some pride in your appearance.  Bowen, get that shirt buttoned and tucked in."  She began pacing back in forth in front of the squads.  "When you return to your barracks you will find the rest of the clothes assigned to you are on your bunks.  Instructor Carey will explain what clothes are to be worn when and what the requirements are for inspection.  Today is day one and it will be the easiest day you will have for the next six months."

 ******

            "Listen up," Instructor Carey said.  "You've received two sets of tee-shirts and shorts.  The blue set is for PT, the white set for sleeping."  She stopped in front of Grace.  "Waters, when would you wear the blue set?"

             "PT, Ma'am."

            "You have been issued several undershirts," Carey continued, moving on down the line of bunks.  "When you report to morning formation you will wear your dress uniform.  That consists of the following; your boots neatly polished with the laces not touching the ground, one pair of white socks, panties, bra, one pair of khaki slacks neatly creased down the front and back, one khaki web belt with the buckle polished, your khaki cap, one undershirt and your khaki shirt with the sleeves neatly pressed."  Reaching the end of the bunks, she turned around and began walking back.  "When you are told to report to FT, or field training, you will report in your BDU's.  BDU stands for battle dress uniform.  That's the camouflage shirt and pants with the olive undershirt and olive cap.  Classes and meals will be attended in your dress uniform only."  Once again she stopped in front of Grace.  "Waters, what makes up the dress uniform?"

             "Khaki shirt and pants, Ma'am."

             "Drop and give me ten," Carey said.  "Anyone else want to try?"

             I hate you, Grace thought as she lowered herself to the concrete floor.

 ******

             "We survived day one," Gage said, opening a can of soda and leaning her hip against the desk.

             "It's going to be a long term this time, Sue," Carey said, leaning back in her chair.  "I just feel it."  She looked at the stack of folders on her desk.  "We still have to finish up the mentoring assignments."

             "How many are left?"

             "Twelve," Carey said.  "Mitchell took ten and Donaldson took fourteen."

             "Why did Marilyn take fourteen?" Gage asked.

             "Because Judith is taking RM," Carey said.

             "Why would anyone volunteer to teach Remedial Math?" Gage asked.  "You know that will be the biggest class."

             "Judith is good that way," Carey said.  "She can make anyone understand math.  Be glad I didn't have to assign it or you would have gotten RM."

             "No way Carey," Gage said.  "I've already got Personal Finance and English."

             "And I have Self Defense and Sexual Responsibility," Carey said.  "You think I want to spend two sessions a day trying to get teenage girls to talk about sex?  I'll make you a deal, you take SR and I'll take seven girls."

             "Not a chance," Gage said.  "I'll take seven and you keep SR."

             Carey sighed and reached for the top folder.  "I tried," she said.  "All right, Jennings, Christine.  Sixteen, assault with a deadly weapon, declared PINS after cracking her father's skull with a lug wrench.  Psych eval suggests sexual abuse."

             "I'll take her," Gage said.

             "All right, that's one down, eleven to go," Carey said, reaching for the next folder.  "Bowen, Jan.  Seventeen, oh this is nice, armed robbery, possession with intent to sell, assault, three different trips to Crestwood.  Sent to a foster home after step-father arrested for sexually abusing minors.  Psych eval incomplete?"  She flipped the top page to see the supplemental information.  "She attacked the psychologist at Crestwood but has a long history of receiving counseling."  She looked at Sue.  "Wonder what that shrink said to tick her off."  Running her thumb along the corner of the rest of the pages, Carey let out a low whistle.  "Seems like everyone has something to say about her."

             "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."

             "Wonderful," Grace said, unbuttoning her shirt and pulling it free from her pants.  Next to her, Latisha pulled off her white sports bra, revealing nipples several shades darker than the smooth caramel toned skin.  Grace dared to peek out of the corner of her eye as she removed her own tee shirt and bra.

             "Well Latisha, I guess you don't have to worry," Jan said.

             "Yes I do," Latisha said.  "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 skeptically.

             "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."

             "Word," Latisha said in an equally low voice as she closed her locker.

             "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 shower heads 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.

             "Shaving allowed only in stations one through four," Instructor Gage said.

             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?" she asked.

             "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?" the 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 is 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 screamed into her ear.

             Damn bitch, Grace thought as she pushed up.  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, 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.

             Damn, Grace thought as the bed coverings went flying.

             "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 screamed into Grace's ear.  "Do it right and you wouldn't have to do it again.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

             "Yes Ma'am."  You bitch.

             "I'm not sure you do, Waters.  But you will EVEN IF I HAVE TO YELL AT YOU EVERY SECOND!  Now you drop and give me ten.  I SAID NOW!"

             Grace hit the floor.  Fucking bitch.

             "Count out loud, Waters."

             "One Ma'am."  I hope you get hit by a bus.  "Two Ma'am."  And after they hit you…  "Three Ma'am."  …they back up…  "Four Ma'am."  …and run you over again.  "Five Ma'am."  Go to hell.  "Six Ma'am."  I hate you.  "Seven Ma'am."  Why can't you leave me alone?  "Eight Ma'am."  Bitch.  "Nine, Ma'am."  Drop dead.  "Ten Ma'am."

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

             "Yes Ma'am."  I hope I'm driving the bus.  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 eighteen.  "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?  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, YOU DROP AND GIVE ME TEN PUSHUPS RIGHT NOW!"

             Damn, Grace thought as she 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.  Damn 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 damn bitch," Grace muttered.  "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 asked, 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 she had once again been caught by the woman she thought of as 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 infer that someone has sex with dogs."

             Can't you find someone else to pick on? Grace thought to herself.  When the instructor walked out of earshot, she 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 out of four tables, this one is the loudest?" Carey asked.  "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.  "Well if it isn't Bravo Squad.  What class are you coming from?"

             "English, Ma'am," Latisha said.

             "A class all of you should pay attention to," Carey said.  "Well, 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.  "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 asked as she slowly made her way over to the teen's desk.

             "No Ma'am," Bowen answered.

             "Well then why don't you take a minute and think of a better answer?  And while you're at it, you can drop and give me ten."  Brown 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, Grace thought to herself, then quickly came up with an answer.  "Not going someplace alone with someone you don't know, Ma'am."

             "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' 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 is 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 twenty seven pushups, Waters.  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," she repeated.  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.  "Every time I see those eyes roll you 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," Grace huffed as she pushed up.

             "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?"

             "Yes…Ma'am," Grace said, her arms screaming from the exertion.

             "Your mouth shouldn't make promises your body can't deliver, Waters.  Let's go, seven more."  Carey returned to her seat and opened the folder again.  "Interesting transcript from your high school.  Seems like you went from an angel to the devil reincarnated in just one year.  You threw a chair at a teacher?"

             "Yes Ma'am."

             "Why?"

             "It…just happened, Ma'am."

             "Committing an act of violence against a teacher isn't something that just happens," Carey said.  "I'll ask one more time.  Why?"

             "He pissed me off, Ma'am," Grace said as she finished the final pushup.

             "Now sit.  I piss you off too, don't I?"

             Grace hesitated, then answered.  "Yes Ma'am."

             "Did you know Mr. Henderson sent a letter with your records?"

             "No Ma'am."

             Carey pulled out the handwritten note.  "It seems he actually thinks very highly of you.  At least he did when he had you for Earth Science during your freshman year.  Says here that he thinks you're bright but you just don't apply yourself.  In fact, he says he was telling you just that when you decided to throw the chair at him."  She tossed the note back in the folder.  "Nice way to treat someone who's trying to help you.  You have anything to say about that?"

             Grace stared at the faceted glass egg.  "I don't care, Ma'am."

             "Well I have five months to make you care, Waters," Carey said.  "And if I have to be a boil on your ass to make you care, I will.  Trust me."

 ******

             Grace walked down the hall of the administration building, running into Latisha just outside of Instructor Gage's classroom.  "Hey."

             "Hey girlfriend.  Where were you?"

             Leaning against the wall, Grace turned her head and glared in the direction of Carey's office.  "I had my mentoring session with Queen Bitch."

             "Ooh, too bad," Latisha said.  "I have Mitchell for mentoring.  She's pretty cool."

             "Lucky you," Grace said, pushing off the wall as others arrived for class.  "Come on, we'd better not be late.  I don't need Gage on my ass too."

             "Take a seat," Instructor Gage said.  "This is Personal Finance.  If you think this will be an easy class, you are sadly mistaken.  You will learn about managing your income and expenses, how to plan for the future, financing and credit, and investing."  Gage paced back and forth in front of the class.  "Abusing credit is the easiest way to get yourself in trouble.  Letting someone else use your credit is another.  If someone asks you to put a bill in your name, get a cel phone for them, charge something on your credit with a promise to pay it back later, you run as fast as you can.  Waters, how long does a negative mark stay on your credit report?"

             "I don't know, Ma'am."

             "Seven years," Gage said.  "Think about how long that is.  Most of you were under the age of ten seven years ago.  Can you imagine paying now for something that happened when you were ten?  That's what a negative mark on your credit report is.  Bankruptcy stays for ten.  As juvenile offenders, your records are wiped clean at age eighteen.  You get a fresh start, a new life.  When you are irresponsible with your money and credit, there is no magic way to wipe the slate clean.  Jones, if a bank approves you for a credit card, would you take it?"

             "Yes Ma'am," Latisha said.

             "You would."  Gage turned and walked back to her desk.  "I'm going to ask that question again in a week.  We'll see if your answer changes."

 ******

             "You have a class now?" Grace asked as they left the classroom.

             "No, you?"

             "No."

             "Going to study hall?"

             "It's either there or back to the barracks," Grace said.  "Any idea who's in charge of that?"

             Bowen brushed up against her.  "No one," she said.  "No one knows if we're there, no one knows if we're not."

             "No way," Grace said.  "They must have hidden cameras or something.  There's no way they trust us to just go in there and study."

             Bowen looked stricken.  "You think?"

             "I don't know," Latisha said.  "But I'm not gonna take the chance."

             "I'm with you," Grace said as they started walking down the hallway.  "Carey's on my ass enough."

             "She sure is," Jan said.  "Guess you shouldn't have spit at that fat guard on the bus.  Got you pegged from the start that way."

             "It wouldn't have mattered," Grace said.  "That bitch has it in for me."  She touched her shorn locks.  "Look what she did to my hair."

             "I heard that short girl Sally Dawson had to be treated for lice," Latisha said.

             "Damn, I'm glad her bunk is down at the other end of the barracks," Jan said.

             "Really," Grace said.  "She can keep her bugs to herself."

             When they arrived at the classroom reserved for study hall, several other girls were already there.  "Okay Jan, what's your problem with math?" Grace asked as they claimed a table for themselves.

            "Percentages and fractions suck," Jan said.

            "Yeah, like your mother," one of the girls standing near the teacher's desk said.

            "Fuck you, Grenner."

            "Naw, I wouldn't wanna take that job from your daddy," Grenner said.

            Jan jumped from her seat, shoving the larger girl against the desk.  "You got a problem?"

            "At least I know what a fraction is, stupid," Grenner said, looking to make sure her friends were standing behind her.

            "Come on," Latisha said.  "Let's go back to the barracks and study there."

            "Stay out of it, vine head," Grenner said.  "You too, Blondie."

            "You got a fucking problem?" Grace asked, moving to join Jan.

            "I don't know where you little prissies came from but if you want to stay in one piece, don't screw with me."

            The door, which had been ajar, flew open, the doorway filled with the large blonde instructor.  "Well, if it isn't a group of little girls trying to play king of the mountain."  Instructor Donaldson entered the room and stood between the two groups of girls.  "Let me make it easy for you," she said, her eyes darting from girl to girl.  "At Sapling Hill, there are four kings of the mountain and we all have the word Instructor before our names, got it?"

            "Yes Ma'am," several girls said.

            "What's that?  Waters, I didn't see your lips move."

            Grace rolled her eyes.  "Yes Instructor Donaldson, Ma'am."

            "You just don't know when to shut that smart mouth of yours up, do you?  Waters, drop and give me ten pushups.  Bowen, Jones, go sit down.  Grenner, Dawson, find something to do before I find it for you."

           "Yes Ma'am," Grenner said, giving Grace and Jan the evil eye before scooping up her books and moving to the far table.  Everyone in the room knew it was not the end of the situation.  The only question was when and where the next battle would be.

******

            "All right, ladies, let's get lined up around the mat," Carey said as she moved to the center of the blue padding.  "I'm here to teach you how to defend yourself against an attack.  By the end of this series, you'll know exactly what to do to get away from an attacker.  Now since you get five minutes at each end of class to change, we're going to get right to business."  She shook out her arms, then looked at Grace.  "Waters, front and center."

            "Yes Ma'am."  I'm dead.  Grace stepped into the middle, stopping two feet away from the taller woman.  Carey walked behind her, then turned Grace to face the others.  "When you attack your opponent, it's important to know if it's a man or a woman.  On a man, there are four key areas; eyes, throat, groin and knees.  On a woman, it's eyes, throat and knees.  Insteps are also a good point of vulnerability, especially if you're being held from behind."  A strong forearm wrapped around Grace's throat.  "Waters, I'm a mugger.  Give me your purse and you won't get hurt.  What do you do?"  Reaching up, Grace grabbed the muscular arm and did her best to dislodge it, her efforts completely ineffectual.  "Now if I had a weapon, you'd be very unhappy by now," Carey said.  "The first thing you do is try and avoid the situation.  If that's not possible, decide what's more important, a few dollars or your life.  If they want the money, give them the money.  Now Waters, I'm a mugger.  Give me your purse and you won't get hurt.  What do you do?"

            "Give you my purse, Ma'am," Grace said, wishing the instructor would let go of her and pick on someone else.

            "Now I'm not a mugger but a rapist.  I don't care about money.  What do you do?"

            "I try to get away, Ma'am," Grace said, the arm around her neck tightening and her body pressed against the solid woman behind her.

            "Think you can get away from me?"

            "No Ma'am," Grace said, feeling the pressure ease, then the instructor pull away from her.

            "Sit down, Waters.  When you are faced with a situation where you are in danger, the ultimate goal is to survive," Carey said.  "If the opportunity is there to escape, by all means do it but if it isn't or a weapon is involved, your life comes first."

            "So we should just lie there and get raped?" Jan asked.

            "That's a choice only you can make," Carey said.  "But if the choice comes down to being raped or being killed, I choose life.  Now knowing some self defense moves can help."

            "So's carrying Mace," Grace said in a low voice.

            "What was that, Waters?"

            Shit.  "I was just saying that Mace is good for defense, Ma'am."

            "You think so?"  Carey smiled knowingly.  "Waters, stand up."

            Damn.  Grace stood up and moved to the center of the mat while the instructor walked over to a supply locker and opened it, removing a small canister.  Great, what's she gonna do?  Mace me?

            "Any weapon, whether it's Mace, a gun or anything in-between, can be turned against you."  She tossed the canister to Grace.  "It's empty," she said.  "But it will work for our purposes.  Waters, now you have a can of Mace.  What are you going to do?"

            Why me?  "I would spray it in the attacker's face, Ma'am."

            "And what if it's windy?  Or the attacker is right on top of you?  Mace won't work then."

            "I'll spray him before he gets too close, Ma'am," Grace said.

            "All right, we'll see," Carey said.  "Waters, I'm a mugger."

            Grace gripped the canister, ready to spin and aim it at the older woman's face but when she raised her arm, it was caught in a firm grip and the teen found herself flat on her back.  "Ooof."

            "Now I have a weapon to use against you," Carey said, holding up the canister that had fallen out of Grace's hand upon impact with the mat.  "And now Mr. Mugger is mad.  Still think Mace is the answer, Waters?"

            "No Ma'am," she said, looking up at the imposing woman.

            "Get the idea, Waters?"

            "Yes Ma'am."

            Instructor Carey stood up and addressed the class.  "A weapon is only good if you are the one in control.  Why bring something into the situation that could be used against you?  Waters, go sit down."

            That's it, I'm not saying another word unless Queen Bitch calls on me.

******

            "Any idea what kind of meat this is?" Grace asked, pointing at the oval patty.

            "Mystery meat," Jan said, stabbing hers with her fork.  "Processed, formed, nutritionally sound, tasteless mystery meat."

            "Wonderful," Grace said, glancing around to make sure Instructor Carey was out of earshot.  "It'll go good with the instant potato flakes and lima beans."

            "I think they have someone who knows what kind of food we like and makes sure they never serve them," Latisha said, adding a copious amount of salt to her food.  "We can't even get salsa around here."

            "I'd kill for a taco day," Grace said, sniffing the unidentifiable meat before taking a bite.  "Or ice cream."

            "How about soda?" Jan added.  "I'm getting tired of milk, juice and their excuse for coffee."

            "Really," Grace said, burying the piece of meat in her mashed potatoes.  "Someone should tell those idiots in the kitchen not to use the dishwater to make coffee."  Seeing activity at the table where Alpha Squad was sitting, she nudged Jan with her elbow.  "What's going on?"

            "I don't know but there's Scary," Jan said.

            "Uh oh," Latisha said.  "She looks pissed."

           "At least it's not at us this time," Grace said.  "Look, she's talking to Grenner."

            "More like she's yelling at Grenner," Jan said.  "Yup, there she goes.  Ten or twenty?"

            "I know that look," Grace said.  "Twenty."  She winced when she saw Instructor Carey kneel down to continue her tirade as Grenner did pushups.  "She is really pissed."

            "Word," Latisha said.  "Ooh, Scary's turning red."

            "Do you girls have nothing better to do?" Instructor Gage asked.  The teens quickly turned in their seats and looked down at their trays.  "That's what I thought."

            Grace waited until Gage was out of range.  "Damn," she said.  "We always get caught."

            "At least it wasn't for whatever Grenner did," Jan said.  "Look, she's still yelling at her."

            "Hey Grace," Campbell said.  "I didn't think it was possible for someone to piss off Carey more than you do."

            Grace gave a false smile and scratched her cheek with her middle finger.  "I've seen her drop you a few times."

            "Yeah but you hold the record so far."

            "I want to know what she did so I don't do it," Jan said.  "Look, she's finished."

            "Doing pushups," Grace said.  "Queen Bitch is still yelling at her."  She took a bite of her sandwich, watching the dark haired instructor finish her tirade.  I'm glad that's not me, she thought, her sore arms aching in agreement.

******

            Grace groaned and sat up, the light coming through from the sodium lamp outside providing little illumination.

            "Psst, you up?" Latisha whispered.

            "We're all up," Mo said from the bunk on the other side of Grace.  "How can you sleep through all that?"  Loud snoring was heard from the other end of the barracks.  "Sounds like a damn bulldozer."

            "I'm up, Latisha," Grace said, pushing off the blanket.  "Every time I start to fall asleep, Godzilla over there starts up again."

            "Esa muchacha le van a poner una almohada sobre la cara si no para."

            "Lopez, you know we don't speak Spanish," Grace said.

            "I say that girl is going to get a pillow over her face if she doesn't stop," Maribel Lopez said, moving from her bunk to flop across Grace's.

            "I'll help," Bowen said, joining the crowd and sitting on the edge of Latisha's bunk.  "I woke her up twice to tell her to knock it off."

            "Which one is it?" Grace asked, propping her pillow against the wall to use as a backrest.

            "Campbell," Bowen said.  "Grenner's not too far behind either."

            "Be quiet," a voice in the darkness hissed.  "Some people are trying to sleep."

            "How is it you can sleep through Campbell's snoring but our talking is too much?" Bowen returned.  "Shut up and roll over, Rosetti."

            "Dammit, there's no way I can handle tomorrow with no sleep," Grace grumbled.  "Campbell!  Shut the hell up!"

            "Wha-what?" Campbell said, her voice thick with sleep.

            "You're snoring is enough to wake the fucking dead," Jan said.

            "Shut up, Bowen."

            "Piss up a rope, Rosetti."

            Grace slammed her head into the pillow and rolled her eyes as the bickering continued.  "We're never going to get any sleep."  The springs squeaked as Jan joined Mo and her on the bunk.

            "I snuck a deck of cards back from the rec room," Jan said.

            "And just how are we supposed to see them?" Mo asked.  "It's not like we can turn on a light."

            "Word," Latisha said.  "Viking or Short Shit would be on us faster than ugly on Dawson."

            "You'd better have those cards back before they do inspection tomorrow," Grace said.  "Queen Bitch will drop your ass."

             "You mean Scary?"  Jan snorted.  "I've handled worse than her.  A few pushups isn't gonna make me change and be a choir girl."

Continued in Part Two

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