Page 38 of Stone

“What will we do when we get back?”

“What will we do when we get back?”

“Take a shower and hit the rack.”

“Take a shower and hit the rack.”

“NO WAY.”

“No way.”

“GOTTA RUN”

“Gotta run.”

“PT.”

“PT.”

“LOTS OF FUN.”

“Lots of fun.”

“Singing, I wanna be a drill instructor.”

“I wanna be a drill instructor.”

“I wanna cut off all of my hair.”

“I wanna cut off all of my hair.”

“I wanna be a drill instructor.”

“I wanna be a drill instructor.”

“I wanna earn that smoky bear.”

“I wanna earn that smoky bear.”

Singing cadence was like something out of a movie. Leesy always said it gaveOfficer and a Gentlemanvibes. But in the real world, it helped us run in time and at the correct pace. Personally, it also gave me a sense of belonging, that I was a part of something bigger than myself.

I was getting used to the crack-of-dawn starts and the physicality of what being a marine entailed. Even the DIs screaming in my face was becoming part of everyday life.

The days of those early weeks blurred together in endless loops of drills and discipline. Our sweat-soaked shirts and blistered feet became badges of honor, almost something to aspire to. It was crazy how, within a couple of weeks, a rag-tag bunch of men who could hardly walk straight could now march in perfect formation.

The drill instructors broke us down to build us back up again, reshaping us into soldiers. I discovered parts of myself I never knew existed—resilience, determination, and a quiet strength that whispered promises of success. Except through it all, a hole in my chest remained because a part of me was missing.

Elise.

Week Three

Isaiah leaned back in his chair, not a care in the world, and looked around the long dining table at us, grinning. “See,” he began. “Two little boys walked into a pharmacy, picked up a huge box of tampons, and took ‘em to the counter. The pharmacist asked the older one, ‘Son, how old are you?’ The boy looked up at him and said, ‘Nine.’ The pharmacist cocked his head and asked the boy, ‘D’ya know what these are used for, Son?’ The boy shrugged, ‘Not exactly, but they’re not for me anyway. They’re for my little brother here. He’s four.’ ‘Well, what does he want them for?’ the pharmacist asked. The little boy grinned. ‘We saw on TV that if you use these, you can run a marathon, ride a bike, and swim. He can’t do none of those things right now.’”

Chuckles rose up as all the boys around the table cracked up laughing until the heavy stomp of approaching boots drowned us out.

Craning my neck, I caught sight of Sergeant Mendez behind me, regarding us thoughtfully. “Any of you little girls play basketball?” he demanded.

I raised my hand, along with some of the others.

---