Page 20 of Unmade

“Get here now!” I yelled.

I gnashed my teeth and strode toward the elevators.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, big brother.

Since I was just going down one floor, I ducked into the stairwell instead and jogged down the stairs.

I checked my watch. Two minutes past nine AM. I pushed up the sleeves of my Henley and then patted the side pockets in my pants. Folding knife, work phone, multitool, emergency smokes, lighter…

I attached my ID card to my belt before I pushed the door open and entered the lobby.

Coach was dressed like me in black utility pants and a black Henley with the Hillcroft griffin on it, and it was the one and only uniform that made us stand out. We trained gray men at this agency, so the only time anyone saw us in branded gear was within the confines of this building.

He was giving the first intro, the warm welcome to a hellish year, so I just came up next to him and stayed quiet.

Thirteen men and three women between the ages of twenty-four and thirty-six. Most of them were in their mid to late twenties.

There you are.

I spotted Leighton in the back, and fuck me, the boy had grown up. We locked eyes, and he smiled tentatively, forcing me to react. I dipped my chin in acknowledgment, and something faded. The light in his eyes, the smile—gone.

Dammit.

Why was he here?

He was still too young, and I just had this memory seared into my brain… He’d been so fucking innocent. Not to mention lonely. His mom had died. Did he ever find his old man’s family?

He had more of an edge to him now, and he looked like he wanted to stand at parade rest but forced himself to relax his arms somewhat.

Despite having only seen him in person twice—six years ago—he’d left a mark. It was practically unheard of for me to feel something deep within around strangers, and he’d managed both times. I’d felt this urge to protect him, partly from his sense of loss and lack of direction in life, and partly from his own stupid decisions.

He reminded me a little of an old friend’s kid brother. Back during my “confused” days, when both guys and girls had turned me on. Mostly my buddy, Adam, who was open and proud. I’d talked shit out with him and figured I might’ve been bi, but… Anyway. Didn’t matter. His kid brother had followed us around like a puppy, and when we’d learned he was being bullied at school, I’d…turned into someone else. Adam and I had been suspended for two weeks for talking with our fists.

My mom used to say I had an ear for silent cries for help. As if I had a sixth sense for sniffing out people who were lonely and didn’t know how to escape their own reality.

It wasn’t a great gift.

“…and as you already know, if you want to live elsewhere after these first two weeks, that’s fine,” Coach was saying. He handed me the orientation binder, and I flipped it open to get started on sleeping arrangements. “Any questions so far?”

One guy raised his hand. “Do we call you Operator Coach or just Coach?”

“Just Coach,” Coach replied. “If you graduate to become a Hillcroft operator, you will meet some colleagues who work under nicknames or call signs instead. You should remember seein’ the option to choose your own handle in the application. Some use only their last name. The reasons are private, and you can ask them why, but they can also tell you to mind your business.”

“How come you go by Coach?” another guy asked.

“Mind your business.” Coach gestured to me next. “Operator Beckett is gonna tell you your dorm unit. The rooms are equipped to house between five to twelve people, with some havin’ bunk beds, but we’re kind enough to make sure you have extra space.”

I took a step forward and read from the top page. “DU-1, recruits Morris, Davies, Hernandez, and Kelley.” I lifted my gaze to Tanner Kelley. “Your brother’s looking forward to seeing you.”

His older brother, Finnian, had graduated this summer.

Tanner’s grin was as carefree as his brother’s. “I’m sure he is. Thanks, sir.”

I dropped my stare to the page again. “DU-2 is ladies only. Recruits Jones, Ortiz, and Bryant. DU-3, recruits Fuller, Jensen, Cohen, Travers, and Adebayo. Lastly, DU-4, recruits Watts, Flores, Fairchild, and Grey.” I shut the binder and looked out over them. “Your rooms will be inspected on Tuesdays and Fridays at oh-seven-hundred, and before you ask, no, we don’t have any regs for how you fold your sheets or make your bed. But, with that said, the unit will be held back to do a better job if we find dirty laundry on the floor or trash outside the trash can. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Moreover, the shower room isn’t restricted to one gender, so just be respectful in there,” I went on. “There’s a communal shower area, and there are individual shower stalls that can be locked for those who want privacy. Pick whatever you feel comfortable with. And those areas will be cleaned daily, but that’s no excuse to be a pig in there. Grab your things when you go, and be nice to the maintenance staff. They are encouraged to treat you the way you treat them. Are we clear?”

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