Leaning against the wall, I watch all the others. Yesterday morning, I got to skip this part since I was still on the dean’s leash.
I have no intention of turning into one of these guys, standing with their shoulders back, head high, and arms straight against their sides. Why on Earth would they submit themselves to this every single morning? Besides appearing ridiculously uncomfortable, it’s degrading to have someone look you up and down and decide whether they can make your life even more of a living hell.
“Cadet Evans,” Commander Jernigan says when he’s directly in front of me. “I know for a fact Lieutenant Commander Durant has taught you the proper way to stand at attention.”
“I must’ve forgotten.”
“I see,” he says, tapping his chin with his finger. Then he turns and walks away. I can’t help but smile. Score one for Logan. I knew eventually I’d win one.
I push off the wall, ready to head for the door and breakfast, but Noah shakes his head. Everyone else continues to stand perfectly still.
“What?” I ask.
Just then, Jernigan returns with a water gun. “Stand up straight,” he says to me.
“Are you serious? You’re threatening me with a water gun?”
He squirts it at my junk. “What are you doing?” I ask, covering the now wet spot on my pants with my hand.
“You will stand at attention or I’ll have fun with this water gun. I’m sure all the girls would love to hear about the new guy who pissed his pants when his commander yelled at him.”
“You’re crazy,” I say, shaking my head.
He squirts it again and leaves a wet mark not even a centimeter from my hand. This prick has got incredible aim.
“Stop it!” I yell.
Another wet spot.
“Seriously. What’s your problem, man?”
Another spot.
“Dude! Enough!”
“Stand at attention.”
I narrow my eyes at him but pull my shoulders back.
He squirts me again.
“I’m standing at attention!”
“Not correctly. Do it the right way.”
I lower my arms and hold them at my sides. Then I slide my feet together.
Another wet spot.
“What now?!” I yell.
“Feet at a forty-five-degree angle. Heels together.”
I do it, and he finally lowers the water gun. With a nod, he says, “That’s better. Now, about your shoes.”
I look down at the shiny black leather on my feet. “What?”
“They’re scuffed.”
“No, they’re not.”
He motions with his finger for me to bend down for a closer look. Then he points to a faint—very faint—white line right above the sole on the left side of my shoe.
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
He raises his eyebrows but remains silent.
“Seriously? No one can even see that.”
“I saw it.”
“You must have, like, Superman vision, then.”
“Fix it. Now!” he barks, apparently not appreciating my humor. “And tuck in your shirt!”
He moves down the line to the next person while I return to my room and search through the closet until I find the black shoe polish. This guy is the biggest asshole I’ve met so far. The first day, he took away my very limited free time just because I can’t run a marathon like him and everyone else. Today it’s how I stand and my shoe. I wonder what tomorrow will be. My now-buzzed hair is an eighth of an inch too long? My socks have too much lint on them? My underwear is too tight?
I run the brush over the white line, which disappears immediately, then put the polish away. The wet spots on my pants have combined, and it does look a little like I pissed myself. I wave my hand over them to try and get them to dry, but the sound of someone clearing his throat catches my attention. Noah is motioning for me to get back in the hallway. I give up on my pants and tuck in my shirt as I take my place again.
Jernigan returns, looks me up and down, and turns away without so much as a word. I shake my head and roll my eyes.
I freaking hate that guy.
The next forty minutes are a complete waste of time. We march around for way too long, say the Pledge of Allegiance, and finally reach the cafeteria—make that mess hall—for breakfast.
My eyes scan the tables and wood-paneled walls covered with posters of ships and submarines, until I find a familiar face. I join Noah, and then we get in line for food.
“How long did it take before you didn’t want to smash the bugle into a million pieces?” I ask.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Hasn’t happened yet. Six weeks and counting.”
“Great,” I mutter as I take two strips of bacon, then add two more. I don’t usually eat breakfast, but I’m starving this morning. I end up also adding three pancakes, a bowl of grits, and two cartons of chocolate milk to my tray. I consider a cinnamon roll, too, but there’s no space.
“What’s your plan for mandatory athletic time? A team or club sport?” Noah asks as we walk to a table.
I shrug. I haven’t played organized sports since junior high. I used to be pretty good at baseball, but I can’t imagine keeping up with everyone here. Being in shape is obviously a prerequisite for admission. At least for those who want to be here. If, at any time over the past four years, I’d known what I know now, I would’ve laid off the video games and television and spent at least a little time outside or in the gym. Now I get to totally embarrass myself in front of Paige and all the other girls who can easily kick my ass.
“Do I have to join a team?” I ask.
“Nah, but then you have to submit a workout plan and have them approve it instead. It’s a big pain.”
It might be worth it if I could get another couple of hours of personal time each day. I could quickly do a few push-ups, then find an isolated corner of the library to hide out. Of course, I don’t have my phone—Jernigan confiscated it as soon as I got here and said I’d only get it back on weekends—and though they have Wi-Fi for our computers in the lab, they closely control which sites can be visited. So, essentially, I have no internet access. I could always read, though. I wouldn’t mind two hours a day to read.
But that would only prolong the embarrassment. Although I managed to avoid PT the first day, Jernigan and Paige never let me out of their sight yesterday. And Jernigan was quick to point out how weak I am.
It was horrible. I mean, a push-up doesn’t seem that hard, right? And one wasn’t hard. Even two wasn’t hard. I actually did okay until about fifteen. Why, for the love of God, do we have to do thirty? The girls only have to do fifteen, but a few of them, Paige included, chose—yes, chose—to do the boys’ workout instead. As much as I’d like to chill during my athletic time, wanting to avoid embarrassment will likely make me bust my ass for the first time in years.
“I’m on the soccer club team now and plan to join basketball in a few weeks, if you want to do that,” Noah says.
I nod. “Okay. Maybe.”
“Good morning, Cadet Green and Cadet Evans.”
I cringe when I hear her voice. My few minutes of freedom this morning are over. She’s going to pummel me with the history of this school and all the ranks and who I salute and when I stand. It was nonstop yesterday and will probably be the same today.