Grace filed forward, stopping at the counter where Inspector Carey was waiting.
"Name?" the dark-haired woman asked without looking up from her clipboard.
"Waters, ma'am."
The instructor turned around and grabbed a neatly folded stack of khaki slacks and shirts with Grace's name patch already sewn on. "Shoe size?"
"Eight, ma'am." Instructor Carey pushed the clothes into Grace's arms, then added a pair of black boots and white canvas sneakers with thick soles. "Move on to the next station." Moving on, Grace found herself in front of Instructor Donaldson.
"Bra size, panty size."
"Thirty-two C, four, ma'am." Two sport bras and three pairs of panties were added to her pile.
"Into the next room, strip and shower, then change into your dress uniform and report to formation. Make sure you stand with your squad," the blonde woman said. "Next. Bra size, panty size."
Grace entered the next room where Instructor Mitchell was waiting.
"Strip. Clothes go in this bag, footwear in the box. What's your name?"
"Waters, ma'am," Grace said as she put her foot on the bench and began untying the laces.
"Let's go, Waters. You don't have anything I don't."
"Listen up," Instructor Carey said. "You've received two sets of tee shirts and shorts. The blue set is for PT, the white set for sleeping." She stopped in front of Grace. "Waters, when would you wear the blue set?"
"PT, ma'am."
"You have been issued several undershirts," Carey continued, moving on down the line of bunks. "When you report to morning formation you will wear your dress uniform. That consists of the following: your boots, neatly polished with the laces not touching the ground, one pair of white socks, panties, bra, one pair of khaki slacks neatly creased down the front and back, one khaki web belt with the buckle polished, your khaki cap, one undershirt and your khaki shirt with the sleeves neatly pressed." Reaching the end of the bunks, she turned around and began walking back. "When you are told to report to FT, or field training, you will report in your BDUs. BDU stands for battle dress uniform. That's the camouflage shirt and pants with the olive undershirt and olive cap. Classes and meals will be attended in your dress uniform only." Once again she stopped in front of Grace. "Waters, what makes up the dress uniform?"
"Khaki shirt and pants, ma'am."
"Drop and give me ten," Carey said. "Anyone else want to try?"
I hate you. Grace lowered herself to the concrete floor and began to count pushups.
"We survived day one," Gage said, opening a can of soda and leaning her hip against the desk.
"It's going to be a long term this time, Sue," Carey said, leaning back in her chair. "I just feel it." She looked at the stack of folders on her desk. "We still have to finish up the mentoring assignments."
"How many are left?"
"Twelve," Carey said. She sighed and reached for the top folder. "All right, Jennings, Christine. Sixteen, assault with a deadly weapon, declared PINS after cracking her father's skull with a lug wrench. Psych eval suggests sexual abuse."
"I'll take her," Gage said. “All right, that's one down, eleven to go," Carey said, reaching for the next folder. "Bowen, Jan. Seventeen, oh this is nice, armed robbery, possession with intent to sell, assault, three different trips to Crestwood. Sent to a foster home after step-father arrested for sexually abusing minors. Psych eval incomplete?" She flipped the top page to see the supplemental information. "She attacked the psychologist at Crestwood but has a long history of receiving counseling." She looked at Sue. "Wonder what that shrink said to tick her off." Running her thumb along the corner of the rest of the pages, Carey let out a low whistle. "Seems like everyone has something to say about her."
"Three trips to Crestwood says a lot by itself," Gage said. "Let's set her aside for now. Who's next?"
"Lopez, Maribel."
The two instructors went back and forth selecting the girls they would be responsible to mentor and counsel. Carey picked up the last folder, surprised by its thickness. "Waters, Graceful." She raised an eyebrow and looked at Gage.
"You have to admit her mother was clever," Gage said.
Carey smiled and shook her head. "Her mother should have called her Stormy. I thought I was going to have to strap her into the chair to get that clown hair off of her. All right, let's see the distinguished record of Smart Mouth. Seventeen. Assault, vandalism, possession of drugs on school property, the list goes on." She flipped through the pages. "Look at this transcript. A's and B's freshman and sophomore years, then she went right to C's, D's, and F's first quarter of her junior year."
"What's the psych eval say?" Gage asked.
"Incomplete. Don't tell me she attacked her shrink too." Carey looked through the pages until she found the report. "She refused to say anything to the psychologist." She closed the folder and set it on her stack. "I'll take Waters, you take Bowen."
"You sure?" Gage asked.
"I'm sure," Carey said. "I have a feeling about Waters."
Grace draped the towel over her shoulder and picked up her toiletry kit. "This is so bogus," she said.
"Word up," Latisha replied. "What do they think we're going to do with a Bic?"
“Nothing,” Jan said. “Gage just wants to get a look, that’s all.” They stepped into the changing room and opened their assigned lockers. "Gets a thrill figuring out who's a natural blonde."
“How am I supposed to shave my bikini area if she's right there watching?"
"Turn your back to her," Grace said, kneeling down to unlace her boots. "Then all she'll see is your ass."
"Yeah," Jan said. "That's wide enough to keep her from seeing anything."
"Bite me, Bowen," Latisha said. "I'm not the one who had to go back and get larger-sized pants."
"That's not my fault," Jan said. "Crestwood gave them the wrong size. I told you that before."
“Uh-huh, sure," Latisha said.
"Are you girls going to stand there and chatter all day?" Instructor Gage called out from the shower room.
"No, ma'am," Grace said, pushing her pants and panties down together, then sitting on the bench to pull them off. "Babysitting in the shower," she added in a lower voice. "Way bogus."
“Well,” Jan said. "Let's go show Short Shit what we've got."
As they entered the large shower area, Instructor Gage stood near the entrance with a clipboard and a box of safety razors by her side.
"Name?"
"Bowen, ma'am," Jan said. Gage looped a plastic tag on a razor, then labeled it with permanent marker. "Shaving allowed only in stations one through four," she said as she handed Jan the razor. "Name?"
"Waters," Grace said, looking around the tiled room, ten showerheads spaced along three walls, while a towel rack and privacy wall took up the fourth. She rolled her eyes. Of course, pukey green with little windows way up high that no one can squeeze out of. Like anyone is going to try and run away while buck naked in the shower.
Setting her towel on the rack, Grace walked past Jan at station one and took station two while Latisha took the one next to her. "Hot water?"
"Lukewarm," Jan said, soaping her underarms. "So what's the deal with having to shave right here?"
Grace turned on the water, setting it as hot as it would go. "Guess they don't want us to slit our wrists or something."
"With these little things?" Jan asked, holding out the blue razor.
"Next thing you know they'll take away bar soap for fear we'll carve it into a gun."
Grace rinsed her hair, then reached for the shampoo dispenser mounted on the wall between each shower station. "No hair dryer, no makeup, no nail polish, can't even wear jewelry."
“Word," Latisha said. "My holes are going to close up, but they don't care."
"I'm surprised they let Hathaway keep her glasses," Grace said. "Don't they know they have metal screws?"