Reaching the supply room, I was surprised there as many people as there were. I don’t know why, but I’d assumed a common place to skip class would have been a little less active. A handful of students congregated around the closest end of the long table that ran the front half of the room. A few others lingered near the radio, which was strangely playing Christmas music in the middle of summer. I already hated that station.
The long wall, behind the large table had a series of metal rods running the length, and hundreds of plastic covered uniforms hung from them. I had yet to receive my uniform, but I knew this was where they sized and stored the new ones.
A series of cubical walls were positioned just past the long table, separating the main area from that of the instructor’s desks. And another area rested along the opposite wall, blocked off on all but other side. A narrow walkway was all that bridged the two. The other side of the walkway, where the false walls created a tiny office area, I could see a portion of a computer screen playing what appeared to be some kind of hack-and-slash game. I couldn’t see who sat there, but I could feel them. Whoever it was, they were like me. But now wasn’t the time for making friends, or even enemies for that matter. I had to make myself known if I was going to become a regular. That seemed to be the secret to skipping class with permission.
The kids talking at the table glanced at me as I stepped into the room, returning to their conversation almost as quickly. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but it sounded like they were making plans for the weekend. One was rattling off a list of supplies they needed to bring, such as combat boots and flashlights with extra batteries. Another added duct tape and rope to the requirements. It sounded like a hiking expedition, with the inclusion of a cave crawl. It sounded fun from what I heard, though I made myself stop listening when I realized I’d lingered in the doorway too long.
Making my way through the room, I passed the false walls and entered the instructor’s area. There were two desks, one on each side of the room. Each had been decorated with military awards and achievements, as well as bits of personal humor to give it a human touch. The desk to my left was vacant. It had a wooden stand with several unique coins standing on edge in the carved grooves. Beside that rested a wooden plaque with a grenade mount to it. There was a plastic red tag attached to the pin with the number three in black lettering. The writing on the plaque said, “Complaint Department: Take a number.” To top it off, a large bullet, nearly as long as my arm rested sideways in a wooden cradle, and a name plate had been engraved into the wood that said, “CSM Stone.”
The other desk, which was less vacant, was more what I’d expected. Papers were stacked neatly in piles, and a computer appeared to be the central focus. This one had large tack boards mounted along the walls, where the awards and pictures of trophy fish freshly caught were displayed proudly. The man before me was well in his sixties, but he carried himself well. I recognized him from my JROTC class, but I hadn’t had a chance to meet him yet. Sergeant Major, on the other hand I’d had a few interactions with. He was hard but inviting. And his sense of humor made me laugh. This man was in charge of the upper classmen.
“Excuse me.” I said, hoping I wasn’t interrupting anything important.
He turned to look at me. “Yes?”
“I’m in the Third Period, Tuesday – Thursday Class. I heard you were willing to write a pass for students who wanted to do a little extra stuff here.”
“You did, did you? We’ll, I guess I’m going to have to squash some rumors.” He smiled as me and tore a piece of paper from a stack on the corner of his desk. “What’s your name?”
“Evan, Sir. Evan Hart.” I wasn’t sure if I was making a mistake or not. If I’d heard wrong, it was foolish to give my name. That was a direct admission of guilt. And I couldn’t afford drawing unwanted attention to myself.
“We’ll, Mister Hart. Here’s your pass. You can start tomorrow.” He handed me the paper and returned to his focus.
Glancing at the writing, I quickly read the black, nearly illegible scribbling marring the otherwise white sheet. I’ve requested extra time with Evan Hart for the hours of noon to thirteen-thirty. If you have any question, please email me. LTC Baldur. “Start what?” I heard myself ask before I could stop myself.
“Work of course. That is why you’re here isn’t it? Don’t tell me you’re just another kid who wants to waste time on the play station?” Refusing to turn, he gestured to a computer on one of the unoccupied desks in the cubical area. A paper sign had been taped over the screen which read in bold, black marker ink, “This is not a play station. Quit treating it as such.”
“Oh? No, I hadn’t intended on messing with the computers. What is it you need done?” I couldn’t tell if this guy was messing with me, or if he was serious. I hadn’t intended on coming here to work either, but I didn’t want to simply not show up. I wasn’t rude after all.
“Nothing too strenuous. Just a little sorting of supplies. Be here at noon. I’ll get you lined out then. Oh, and this will cover you for today.” He tore off another paper with today’s date. Wouldn’t want you to be counted a tardy.”
I couldn’t help but smile. He was messing with me, though in a serious manner. I had to go to class. This assured it. But at least I wouldn’t be in trouble for being late. “Thank you.” I forced myself to say. Turning away, I made for the door. Being lost in my own little world, I didn’t see the other student stepping from the cubical office. We collided, and it was then I realized who’d been playing the game. In the brief moment our skin was in contact, I accidently looked into him. I could see how he was. I knew what he was capable of. And while it scared me, I was also impressed.
He must have known I was looking inside because I felt myself being ripped out almost as fast as I entered.
“Are you alright?” He asked, extending his hand to pull me to my feet. I’d apparently fallen when we hit.
“Yeah. Thanks.” I took his hand, knowing he’d be shielding himself this time. He pulled me to my feet and side stepped to go around me. A moment later he was in the back office, speaking with the Colonel.
I started to ask myself what the chanced were that I’d run into the one person at this school I actively wanted to meet, but the reality was much simpler. It was a school. The isolated population was maybe six-hundred total, if that. The chances were high.
Shaking away the sensations of his power, I made my way to the door and stepped into the hall.