Page 11 of Unmade

Bo leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t get the military vibe from you last time. Quite the opposite.”

Yeah, no shit.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I offered helplessly. “I’m here, talking to a stranger, so…”

He didn’t smile or anything. He just observed me.

How old could he be? Last time, he’d mentioned his ship date to basic around the same time Jake had knocked up my mom, so maybe Bo was thirty-seven, thirty-eight…? Depending on when he’d joined the Army. With a dad who was military, I was sure it was early.

“What does your family think?” he asked. “Your ma, siblings…”

“No siblings, and my mom died a few months ago.”

“Damn.” He leaned back again, and he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“My aunt thinks I’m crazy, but I’m not the one who has four ferrets,” I added.

That finally made his mouth twitch a little. “What did you get on the test?”

The ASVAB? “Eighty-three.”

“Not bad at all.” He actually looked slightly impressed. That was good, right? “All right, so basic at Fort Benning—and I assume AIT right after. Which MOS did you request?”

I nodded. “Infantry. I mean…11X or whatever.” It was going to be a while before I was fluent in clusterfuck codes.

He smirked faintly. “You picked the worst season, kid. It’ll be eighty-five degrees when you get up at four thirty.”

My recruiter may have mentioned that, and it was okay. I loved the heat and got cold easily. The humidity was another matter, so that was definitely going to suck.

“I’m more concerned about falling behind. I passed all the tests and exams, but it’s not like I excelled,” I said. “Do you have any pointers? That’s kind of why I wanted to talk to you again. I don’t know anyone who’s served.”

He thought about it and rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw.

He had that perfect manspreading going on too. It was just so hot.

“I’ll tell you what my old man told me before I got on the bus in Atlanta,” he said. “Keep your head down. The nail that sticks out gets hammered. If you complete basic without your Drills knowing your name, you’ve done a good job. You just do your thing. Don’t be last, don’t be first. Don’t volunteer. You’re gonna be voluntold a whole lot anyway.”

I could blend in. I’d done that my whole life.

“Don’t drink either,” he told me. “We have a serious drinking problem in our military, and it’ll fuck you up. A few beers when you go out—fine—but you’ll meet boots who will take every opportunity to get blackout drunk. You don’t wanna be one of them.”

No drinking, noted. “I’m not much of a drinker anyway.”

“That’s good.”

“Is there, um…anything specific about Fort Benning?” I wondered.

He checked his watch, making me automatically sit straighter. What was wrong with me? I was wasting his time. He was working.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re busy, and?—”

“It’s fine. I have a few minutes.” He sat forward once more, and he absently cracked his knuckles while observing me. “Whether you’re religious or not, don’t miss Sunday services. Pick whatever religion you want and attend. It’s a nice break. My buddy and I would nudge each other if one of us snored.”

I grinned at the image that popped up in my head.

“Don’t go first during land navigation,” he went on. “The first guy is the spider stick, and there are a shitload of banana spiders in that terrain. They’re harmless but spin their webs at face level and can be the size of your palm. I’m not even afraid of spiders, but when you’re out on a ruck in the middle of the night and one of those yellow shits slaps you in the face, it’s not fun.”

Oh, gross. I hated spiders. My recruiter had jokingly warned me about boars and not-so-jokingly about copperheads.

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