Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“But I don’t want a nice guy. I want you!”
Zane and Ryder walked over. Ryder even put down the beer he was drinking—before noon. The two of us had gotten arrested together for breaking into the school. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck. You think he’s going to do that to me, too?”
I shook my head. “Probably not. It was your first time being arrested. You’ll just get a slap on the wrist—some community service or something.”
“Are you fucking with us?” Zane pointed to me. “You got lice or gum stuck in your hair, and you’re just being your usual asshole self, aren’t you?”
I sighed. “I wish I was, buddy.”
“Damn, man. The Marines? That’s some hardcore shit. Maybe you could be a SEAL or a Green Beret guy like one of the Hemsworth brothers was in 12 Strong.”
“SEALs are Navy, and Green Berets are Army.”
“So what the fuck are you going to do then?”
I chuckled. It was the first time I’d been able to feel amused in the two days since I’d walked out of the courtroom. “I have no damn idea. I just got finished taking some tests down at the recruiting office. They place you based on your results.” I shrugged. “At least that’s what I think they do. I didn’t ask too many questions because the answers didn’t matter. I’m going in no matter what job they give me.”
Ryder smirked. “What if your job is to clean toilets and suck the commander’s dick?”
I shook my head. “You’re an idiot.”
Lexi was still pouting. “When are you going in?”
“A week from tomorrow.”
“But that’s your birthday!”
“I don’t think the Marines give a shit that I’m turning eighteen.”
“We were going to have a big party.”
“Cancel it. Because the party is definitely over for at least four years.”
***
“Take a seat, recruit.”
A few days later, a guy who had to be six-six and wore dress blues pointed to the plastic chair on the other side of his desk. I sat down.
He opened a manila folder and scanned the paper on top. “I thought you cheated on your ASVAB.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t cheat.”
His face grew stern. “That’s I didn’t cheat, sir. And if you’re going to have that attitude, you aren’t going to make it very far in the military.”
God, I freaking hated this shit already. The guy kept staring at me like he was waiting for something. I managed not to roll my eyes, but the words still came out slightly mocking in tone. “I didn’t cheat, sir.”
He shook his head and went back to the papers in the folder. “You got a perfect score on every section of the aptitude test—math, science, reading comprehension, even mechanical comprehension. I’ve been doing this for nine years now, and I’ve never seen anyone with these kind of numbers.”
I was surprised most people didn’t score a hundred because the test was a total joke.
He continued. “A kid with your background and attitude gets sent to us from Judge Hanover and scores a hundred on everything we test for, it’s only logical to assume you cheated. So I had your high school records pulled and dug into ’em.” He leaned back in his chair, taking the folder with him, and flipped through pages. “Ten points from perfect on the SAT, yet barely above breathing level on the PSAT. Why is that?”
“I was hungover and fell asleep…sir.”
The recruiter cracked a smile. “You were tested in elementary school for some kind of advanced program, and your IQ is genius level. Yet you barely passed your classes in high school. You also have transcripts from a half-dozen different places. Why did you change schools so much?”
“We moved around a lot…sir.”
“Who is we?”
“Me and my mother…sir.” It felt awkward to keep adding that word. If I was having a conversation with Zane or Ryder, I wouldn’t say their name at the end of every sentence. “Do I need to add sir to everything I say? It feels weird.”
“I’ll tell you what, you’re not a marine yet, and we’re just having a casual conversation. So speak freely. But, yes, you will add sir when addressing an officer. It’s a sign of respect. You’ll get used to it.”
“Okay.”
“Tell me, is your father in the picture?”
I shook my head. “I’ve only met him once.”
He frowned. “And your mother?”
“She has some problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“The kind that made her smash the phone I’d saved up to buy because she thinks the government is tracking us.”
The recruiter’s brows furrowed before his face softened. “Your address changed fourteen times during your high school career. Six times to the same place up in Yorkville. Is that where your mother lives?”
I shook my head. “That’s where I go when she gets admitted to the hospital. The Emersons’ house. They’re my foster parents.”
The recruiter tapped his pen against the desk a few times. It looked like he was mulling over what I’d said. “Do you have any career goals or aspirations?”