Shut Up and Color.

A Story by Nicole

I was shaking in that bed, the springs spitting out tiny squeals as I shifted beneath the scratchy wool blanket. My mattress was waterproof. When I moved, it sounded as though I was wrestling inside of a plastic shopping bag. The pillow was hard, water proof as well. Maybe tear resistant. Part of the plastic casing was cracked and sharp against my neck. I literally clutched at my sheets, staring up into dark, trying to find the seams of the ceiling tiles. Outside I could hear chanting,

"One two three four, two two three four, three two three four"

I heard pea whistles and birds. I heard murmurs beside me in the dark, sniffling and snoring. How could anyone possibly be asleep?

I could feel redness stretching across my eyes. There was no way I would ever feel rested here. I turned onto my side, and as I tucked my hands under the crunching pillow, a door slammed.

She came in like a storm, I heard a thunderous roar and I sat up straight in my bed. Suddenly all the darkness omitted itself and my eyes found the bulging neck-veins of a small woman in camouflage. She tore through the center aisle of the bay, pulling at an empty cot, lifting it up and thrusting it onto it’s side. The metal frame screamed across the floor and the mattress halved over, crunching into a lump.

"Get your asses up! Clean this s**t! You have five minutes."

Her teeth were slammed together in a shining white enameled wall with snarling lips. I could hear them grinding in the back of her mouth as she turned in a sharp about-face and moved quickly out of the room. She had on a smokey the bear hat.

I looked over to the other trainees, and I saw some girls immediately stumbling out of their wool and iron cage beds, fumbling in the cold to pull on sneakers and straighten blankets. There were jaws hanging, hands shielding tears, and bright fearful eyes glimmering across into mine. I blinked, I couldn’t seem to make myself move. There were two girls on either side of me, they had both bounced out of their beds and pulled on their shoes. I could hear them huffing as they pulled their bed sheets tight and made trivial attempts at fluffing their crunchy pillows.

"Hurry up!" The girl on the right of me hissed, she was pulling her wool blanket taut and squeezing the corners of it into the spring frame underneath.

"Make your bed!"

I crawled out quickly and nervously began scratching at my shoe laces. They suddenly seemed mysterious and far too complicated. She came around her bed to me and started to pull my blankets together as I re-mastered shoe tying.

"I’m Sarah." she turned her head over her shoulder, watching me stumble over my kindergarten challenge.

"Chloe"

Got it. I finished the knots on my feet then crouched down beside her. I squished the lumps of the covers out, suddenly startled by the instructor’s office door slamming open and crashing into the wall. I froze, and then I heard her feet clicking. Like tap shoes,

Click, click, click...

Everyone in the room was stuck, caught in headlights, shivering in her frosty glare.

"Get against the wall lockers!"

We all looked around at each other and started moving in circles around each other.

"Now, d****t!"

We jumped against the lockers behind our beds.

There are times when people say, "It scared the s**t out of me." Now, it was at this moment that I earned an understanding for this phrase. The training instructor started to walk down the center aisle, stopping at the foot of each bed. She glanced at the covers, the shoes underneath, and then finally at the trainee. We were stuck in our civilian clothes, fresh play dough, ready to be mauled in her palms. I was four beds in. Her heels would click, then stop. Click, then stop. Click, then stop. She clicked her way to the end of my bed, and I went erect, trying to look past her shoulder into the opposing wall lockers. It was me that she chose to approach. Her shoes tapped loudly, the sound of her heels echoed with profound brilliance as suddenly the brim of her smokey the bear hat was pressing into my forehead. I could feel the muscles in my a*s starting to shake. I mean, my bowel muscles. They were literally quivering in fear, threatening to fart or s**t at any moment. Or something.

She started to scream. I was having a hard time focusing on her words, but in general the attack was at everyone. Just... in my face. Spit was getting on my lip and I had no idea where I was supposed to look. I was more worried about making a fecal scene.

"What the piss are you lookin’ at? Get your eyes off me, trainee! What’s your name, pinhead?" She was leathery and nearly the same height as me. Her uniform was starched crisp into a board, and she had mirrors for boots.

"Chloe Donovan"

"WHAT?"

"Ma’am, Donovan"

"You’re lookin’ at pushups now, trainee!"

"Ma’am...Donovan, Ma’am..."

"EVERYONE ON YOUR FACES"

The whole flight crashed to their hands and feet.

The instructor paced the floor in front of us as we all started to perform pushups.

"No, No, STOP. Hold yourself in the UP position!"

There was a unanimous gasp of disbelief, everyone forcing themselves up.

"Every time I blow this whistle, you go down. When I blow it again, you will go back up. When I blow it multiple times, get to your filthy feet and snap to attention!"

One blow, and she calls "DOWN" and starts to walk, another blow, "UP", and she moves around the wall into the other bay. The dorm was divided into two rooms, or bays...each with two rows of beds. My arms are starting to get tired already.

"DOWN"

Each row had several single beds, and then two sets of bunk beds at the end. The walls were all lined with lockers. I can see the veins in my wrists popping. I wish I was in my locker.

"UP"

That is where I have my journal, my favorite body lotion, pictures of my mom and my cats. To get into it, I have two keys on a beaded chain, around my neck. I have to wear it 24 hours a day.

"DOWN"

If my key is not hidden under my shirt, that becomes a "demerit" and can equate to personal or group punishment. It is all about attention "UP" to "DOWN" detail. Three blows.

"Get up!"

My knees hit the floor and I shove myself to my feet. There is dirt and debris stuck in my closed hands. They are pinned awkwardly to the sides of my legs. I have no idea what I’m doing here. The instructor comes around to my bay side and stops in front of me again. My a*s starts to tremble.

"Get over here trainee"

I start to move toward her, my legs unlock, and wiggle into a gelatinous first step. The looming

prospect of farting is drawing sweat to my forehead.

"Get back! What do you think you’re doing?"

I don’t say anything, I definitely hold my breath though.

"You ALWAYS approach with the statement, proceeding ma’am."

I’m stuck. I literally have to squeeze my abdominal muscles and swallow back fear, I clench my cheeks tightly.

"Well? Come here!"

I unlock my knees, and my lips are sticking together on the inside. My mouth peels apart into a tiny gap.

"Proceeding ma’am."

"LOUDER, so the humans can hear you"

"Proceeding ma’am!" My cowardly vocal chords vibrate, then I step toward her. I have to walk with my butt curled in, because my a*****e is terrified of this woman.

"Now face your flight members."

I turn my head toward the other girls, but I don’t look anyone in the eye. I look past them, into the beams of the nearest bunk bed. I look at the paint separating on the bars, I look at the rust curling around the bolts.

"Your reporting statement is as follows: Ma'am, trainee dumb-smith reports, as ordered!"

There is a pause of silence. Eyes are darting. What does she want? I’m standing like a blank void, holding my body up rigidly.

"I just dropped everyone for this, trainee. Do I have to ask you again?"

"Ma’am, trainee Donovan reports, as ordered."

She turned on her heel in another about-face, and clicked toward the front door.

"Everyone line up in the hallway."