In 1943 Steven Grant Rogers was enlisted to the United States Army.
Everyone knows the righteous, patriotic Captain America and his story. People might have heard of his mother, Sara, who was a nurse and died of tuberculosis. Perhaps some have even...
The paper was shaking slightly, making the young boy frown. He had succeeded on the first try.
And he wasn't even 18 yet.
His blue eyes were wide as saucers, his pulse ran like Jesse Owens and he could feel the beads of sweat covering his temples. A cold shiver ran down his back as he read that one word in cursive, bold letters. Approved.
Was that how Steve felt when he was offered one, probably first and the last, chance to get into the army? He sure as hell didn't look as freaked out as William felt. Unlike him, Steve seemed to be ecstatic and thriving for the front lines.
William tucked the piece of paper carefully into his side pocket, groaning internally as he realized he had to come up with a lie for Mrs. Davis.
There was no way The Mistress of Evil was letting him just march into the camp Leigh like Steve. No, she would probably hit him upside the head, burn the enlistment form, let the authorities know what he did and make him work for his hide. And possibly chain him into the basement with jars of mushrooms and pickles, let him out only on full moons and turn him into a fat turkey to make a nice dish out of him on Thanksgiving.
Apparently, William was as good of a thief as he was a liar. A trait Steve and he did not have in common. With the wind in his sunny hair and thirst for adventures swirling in his eyes, William took off towards someone whose handwriting was as intelligent and beautiful as the person herself.
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