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Rolling her eyes, Grace put her hand on her hip. "Where?"

"Drop and give me ten pushups, now!" Carey yelled, causing Latisha to jump back and the other girls in the barracks to stop what they were doing to see what the commotion was about. Grace lowered herself to the floor, though not as fast as she knew the streaming woman would have liked. "When I tell you to do something, you say, yes, ma'am or yes, Instructor Carey!" she hollered. "Four, five, six, keep going. Seven, eight, nine, ten. Stand up."

Grace felt the anger rise in her along with the embarrassment of being reprimanded in front of the other girls, but knew enough to stay quiet this time. Clearly Instructor Carey was not someone to mess with.

"Now let's go."

Grace remained quiet as Instructor Carey led her to the administration building, not wanting to draw any more pushups. "We're going to do something about that hair of yours," Carey said as she unlocked the door labeled "Barber."

"No way," Grace said. "You're not fucking touching my hair."

Carey was immediately at her right side. "Did I ask you a question?" she yelled into Grace's ear. "Drop and give me ten! You don't get to make the decisions around here, do you understand? Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Grace said as she pushed up with her arms.

"What do you think people think when they see that rainbow on your head? They see a freak, not someone to take seriously. Is that what you want people to think of you?"

"No, ma'am."

"I don't care what trash your parents let you get away with, you don't swear at the instructors here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Bitch.

"All the way up, all the way down, Waters. You don't take shortcuts here," Carey said. "Nine, ten. Stand up." Grace did as she was told, giving the instructor a dirty look for making her do pushups. "Get your ass in that chair, and I don't want to hear one word from you unless I ask a question, got it?"

Grace rolled her eyes and slowly moved into the chair. "Yes, ma'am," she said, doing her best to be as disrespectful as she could with the word.

"We can do this easy or we can do this hard, it's all up to you, Waters," Carey said. "You can follow the rules and do what you're told, or spend all day doing pushups and being yelled at. You make your own bed here." She put a short length guard on the electric clippers. "Now you're going to sit still, and that smart mouth of yours isn't going to say a word unless I ask you a question." Grace gave her a murderous look as the clippers were turned on. "What you're thinking is written clearly on your face." Carey shut the clippers off. "You think I'm the biggest bitch living and you'd love to take a shot at me." The dark-haired woman gripped either side of the barber chair, her face only inches from the teen. "Do it and you'll never be that unhappy again. Now wipe that look off your face and sit up straight."

Grace clenched her jaw and stared hard at the door opposite her as Instructor Carey wrapped a plastic robe around her neck. Damn bitch. She became even angrier as multicolored locks of hair fell to the floor. "You wanna leave some?"

A firm hand clamped down on her head, keeping her from moving it. "Move your head again and I'll shave you bald," Carey said. "And when I'm done, you're dropping for ten for that smart mouth of yours. Want to try for twenty?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then sit still and keep quiet."

Walking back to the barracks, Grace ran her fingers through her now short blonde hair. "Fucking bitch," she said, rubbing arms sore from all the pushups. Seeing Latisha standing with several other girls just outside the barracks, Grace headed over to join them.

"Damn, girlfriend, you got chopped," Latisha said.

Grace self-consciously rubbed her hair. "The bitch wasn't happy until she damn near scalped me," she said. "What'd I miss?"

Latisha shook her head. "Nothing. See that girl over there? She got into it with the short instructor."

"Yeah," one of the girls standing next to them said. "And Gage started screaming and yelling at her and the wimp started crying like a baby." The girls laughed at the incident and Grace joined in, knowing full well that no one could make her cry.

"All right, girls, let's line up," Instructor Gage said as she approached. "Arm's length apart, I want to see you nine across and four deep." Other girls began to assemble and Grace quickly made her way to the back row. Suddenly she felt a firm hand slap down on her shoulder. The look from the girls around her left no doubt as to who it was.

"You're going up front where I can keep my eye on you," Instructor Carey said. "Let's go." Grace knew better than to object. Now up front, Grace had an unobstructed view of three of the instructors. Carey was the tallest; her short black hair barely peeked out beneath the olive drab cap, while mirrored sunglasses kept her eyes hidden. Next to her was Gage, her complexion several shades darker than Latisha. Standing slightly behind the other two was Donaldson, a tall, short-haired blonde with an angular face, whose light blue eyes were in constant motion, moving from one girl to the next.

"Quiet," Carey said, causing a silence to fall over the group. "As you know, you were not allowed to bring any personal effects, other than what you're wearing." The mirrored sunglasses turned in Grace's direction. "This is the last time you will wear those clothes. You will be provided with everything you will need to wear while you are here. And before any of you get any ideas, bras and panties are required, not optional." Grace wondered how they were going to enforce that rule; not that she would ever violate it. Ever since she had started to develop, her nipples had been too sensitive to rub up against a shirt all day.

Instructor Gage stepped forward, the petite woman barely coming to Carey's shoulder. "You will be divided into four squads. Count off and line up with your squad. You will be known as Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, and Delta squads in that order," she said over the counting. "Let me explain how your days will go, ladies. At 0600 you will wake up. You'll have half an hour to shower, dress, and make your bunks. At 0630 you will report here for inspection. Whenever you are told to report to formation you will come here and assemble with your squad. You will have morning mess between 0700 and 0730. At 0735 there will be barracks inspection. From 0800 until noon you will participate in physical training or field training. In the future we will refer to these as PT or FT. After lunch you will have classes, mentoring sessions, or studying time until dinner. After that, you'll have three hours for studying or rec time. Lights out is 2100 hours. That's nine p.m. for those of you unfamiliar with military time."

"You will attend classes and training according to your squad assignment," Instructor Carey said. "The schedule will be posted on the bulletin board outside the mess hall. You will have one-on-one counseling sessions with your assigned mentor. That schedule will also be posted on the board. There are no weekends here, ladies. Monday, Wednesday and Friday are Schedule A and Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday are Schedule B. Sunday is not a day of rest. On Sunday your mornings will be the same as they are on A and B schedules with the exception that you may be excused from the morning run if you wish to attend chapel. The afternoons will be spent in studying or doing your homework unless you receive privilege."

"Privilege," Instructor Gage said, her voice much higher than Carey's. "What do you think privilege is? Just like the real world, privilege is something you earn. If you are on privilege, you will be allowed to spend your free time in the rec room or at the athletic fields. You'll be allowed to have visits from your family."

"No way," Grace said when she saw the khaki dress uniform. "We're not in the fucking army."

"You got a problem?" Instructor Gage said, approaching rapidly.

"No, ma'am."

"Then cut the chatter and keep moving."