“Fifty dollars says she quits before Friday.”
Marcus stood.
His chair scraped loudly across the floor.
“Let us find out.”
He crossed the mess hall toward Reeves’s table, and his group followed.
The surrounding conversations faded as recruits sensed the confrontation developing.
Drill Sergeant Haynes, a hardened infantry veteran in his mid-thirties, watched from his table but remained seated.
Marcus stopped in front of Reeves and towered over her.
“This section is for real soldiers, sweetheart. Maybe you should try the children’s table.”
Reeves raised her eyes for exactly one second.
They were cold, clear blue and almost completely empty of visible emotion.
Then she returned her attention to the plate.
Her lack of response irritated Marcus more than any insult could have.
David stepped forward.
“He is talking to you. It is rude not to answer.”
Reeves remained silent.
JJ laughed sharply.
“Maybe she does not speak English. Or maybe those scars go deeper than her skin.”
She tapped one finger against her temple.
“Brain damage.”
Several recruits at nearby tables shifted uncomfortably.
Private Tommy Chen, barely eighteen and still carrying a boyish face, rose halfway from his chair.
“Leave her alone.”
Marcus turned toward him.
“Are you her boyfriend?”
Tommy froze.
“You both look like you need your mothers to fight your battles.”
Tommy’s face turned red, but he slowly sat again.
Reeves placed her fork down.
The movement was slow and deliberate.
She folded her napkin into a perfect square, aligning all four corners with exact precision.
There was something unusual in the control of her hands.