The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 24

Janice

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, the way I did on my first night of basic training. If I'd taken a picture of myself that night to compare to the way I look now, I might not recognize myself.

The cuts and bruises that peppered my face when I arrived have faded almost completely, but the circles around my eyes have become darker than any bruise I've ever had. My hair has faded to its natural brown shade, and the left side has grown out about an inch. I've refused to let anyone touch it since it was cut. It looks kind of stupid, but I don't care. The faster it grows out, the better I'll feel.

I've also gained muscle, and it makes me look a little healthier than I did before, when I was living off the government's rations.

I feel like I've changed on the inside, too, but not necessarily for the better.

Even before Danny gave me hell for convincing Slater to ship out, I felt bad. It was selfish, and I feel dirty and guilty. I should have told him not to go, but I was so scared of being alone that I jumped at the chance to drag him with me.

I don't think I ever would have done something like this before. Before, I looked out for myself. I didn't take handouts or favors or protection—I never wanted any of them. What I had was my brain and my instincts, and they would never have told me to make such a cowardly move.

Where did the old Janice go? She never would have taken advantage of anyone the way I have. I don't want to be this new person.

I try to take the fact that Slater doesn't seem mad at me as a good sign, but most of the time it makes me spiral deeper into the guilt cycle that constantly plagues me. I try to tell myself that even if I hadn't told Slater to come, he might have done it anyway. Maybe they'd have made him. Still, just having reacted to it the way I did makes me feel despicable.

I try to shake off the thoughts and exit the bathroom. My bunkmates are busy packing up the few military-issued belongings they'll be taking into combat. A solemn mood hangs over the large room as the recruits prepare to leave the frying pan and March straight into the fire.

We don't get a graduation ceremony of any kind; instead, we're handed papers verifying that we've completed basic training and can take advantage of military discounts. They also promise that we can't get drafted again, which is the only value I can see in the damn things.

Danny's friends in the kitchen agreed to cover for him so he could slip away and see me off.

In the hallway, he wraps me in a big hug.

"If you die, I'll fucking kill you," he threatens.

I laugh, pulling away to wipe at a tear before it can make its way out of my eye.

"I love you too." I say it jokingly, but we both know I mean every word. I look around the hallway with a sigh, shaking my head. "This place has fucked me up royally. Please do not remember me the way I was here."

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. "Don't be stupid. I'm not gonna need to remember you 'cause I'm gonna see you when we're both back home."

"I really hope that's true."

"It's true," he says with conviction. "I know it's true. Before you know it, we're gonna be back at work, stealing from the soda machine and talking about that one time at boot camp."

I hug him again. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

"I know."

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