(Tristan's PoV)

    My eyelids were heavy as I got ready in the morning. Part of me wondered if I could use my birthday as an excuse to get out of workouts.

    Now being at Basic Training sucked, but having your birthday at Basic Training really sucked. And of all of my birthdays it had to be my 16th. Today I was supposed to be able to get my license and drive without an adult in the car, but no. I had to be up at five in the morning preparing for hardcore workouts. To top it all off, there's no cake, just gross military, dare I call it, "food."

    I slumped down on my bed after putting my T-shirt on.

    "What's wrong?" Gavin asked.

    "It's my 16th birthday and I'm stuck here," I explained.

    From down the hall we heard Lt. Jason call, "mail!" We all immediately shifted our attention to him. Once he got to our room, he shuffled through various sizes of letters and handed them out. When he came to me, he pulled out a small package. I couldn't help feeling important because my mail was the biggest.

    In the front left corner the name read Kierra Tomguard. Intrigued by what she could have possibly thought to send me, I pulled off the duct tape and opened the edges. Inside was a note and a king-sized Reese's peanut butter cup.

    She had remembered my favorite kind of candy.

    I picked up the letter and read it.

    Dear Tristan,

        Happy 16th birthday. Sorry you have to spend it at Basic Training. Hope this helps a little bit. By the way, I just wanted to remind you that I'm still 3 weeks older than you.

    Even before eating my candy, I wrote a short reply.

    Dear Kierra,

        I'm still taller.

    I decided I'd send it tonight.

    Logan seemed to jump up in excitement. "You know what I just realized? It's Sunday! Don't we get a day off for like...holy reasons?"

    Call me a bad Mormon, but I had completely forgotten about that. If we were in church, then we couldn't do workouts. Thank God. Literally.

    "Well actually," Justin spoke up. "Soldiers used to get Sundays off for church and other free time, but they've cut that since Basic Training was shortened."

    The rest of us groaned in response.

    Although I was curious about one thing. Justin had been spewing off facts left and right since we got here. "How do you know all this?" I asked.

    "I did some research before I left," he replied.

    Clayton made a sort of gagging sound. "Oh well God-forbid you don't do research."

    Justin's posture went even stiffer. "Well, I'd kind of prefer to lessen my odds of dying."

    "Oh yeah cuz an enemy soldier is just gonna pass you by cuz you're so smart," Clayton retorted and the two of them began bickering.

    Unfortunately for us, Justin's research was accurate because Sgt. Blake came storming into our room yelling at us to head to the gym.

    I cannot wait to eat my candy when I get back, was all I could think.

(Connor's PoV)

    Sgt. Blake had us running timed 100 yard sprints. Then he took our times and had us race each other based on how fast we were.

    The first couple of heats were pretty pathetic. Most of the guys were tired and completely half-assed the whole thing. At least I hope they were half-assing it. Saddest of all, that nerdy kid, Isaac couldn't even finish it in 25 seconds.

    I was in the fourth and final heat amongst some worthy competition: Aaron, Alan, Logan, Ned, and Sean. As much as I would've liked to directly kick Matteo's ass at running, I was happy he wasn't good enough for my heat.

    Sgt. Blake started us with a blank gun. As soon as I took off, I was moving so fast the ground looked blurry.

    I got 13.1 and Aaron got 12.6.

    "Beat you," he bragged.

    "By half a second," I retorted, playfully punching him.

    "Still beat you." He punched me back.

    "Well I guess it's kind of a good thing. Cuz you're gonna need that speed to run away from the angry mob of witch hunters," I said, ruffling his hair. He pushed my hand back and we both laughed.

    Even though Aaron beat me, he still only placed second. The kid who got first got 12.2, and that kid surprised everyone.

    "Guys! Guys!"  Sean was bouncing up and down. "Did you see me? I was up in the very front. I was going so fast. I was just pretending that I was trying to make a touchdown and I won!"

    "I bet  Tim Tebow would be very proud," Aaron told him.

Sean's eyes light up. "Really?"

    Aaron nodded, causing him to jump around in excitement again. After a couple of seconds his mind completely shifted gears. "It's time for dinner! And I'm hungry." He dashed to the door.

    Aaron smiled and laughed. 

    "I swear that kid has smuggled double-shot coffee into here," I said to Aaron.

    "Well if he did, he needs to share it with me," he replied before we both followed Sean.

(Landon's PoV)

    We pretty much collapsed on the table after running all morning.

    Gavin made an attempt to cut his chicken--at least that's what I think it was supposed to be. "I swear to God this stuff is not edible."

    "I know." Tristan held a piece of his lunch at a distance. "I actually miss school lunches."

    "Oui," the part French boy, Jean-Paul, added. We weren't totally sure if he somehow managed to keep his accent despite living in the U.S. for the past twelve years or if he just really enjoyed hamming it up and committing to the bit. "Zee food 'ere is absolutely terrible . Zee food when I lived en France four years ago was much better."

    Whether or not it was intentional on his part, he wasn't always easy to understand. Nevertheless, I wasn't gonna pass up an opportunity to make a joke. "Well, at least his accent's not as thick as Wong-ti's."

    He just glared at me from the opposite end of the table. "I don't have an accent."

    Gavin gave an exaggerated shrug. "Can't understand you, dude."

    Peter rolled his eyes as the rest of us erupted into laughter. "Don't listen to them, John."

    We went back to making fun of the food. "Why does it have to suck so much," Tristan groaned.

    "Well the food isn't supposed to taste good," Alan said matter-of-factly. Now, Justin was our platoon's resident know-it-all, but Alan was our know-it-all without a single trace of tact. "It was designed to be full of calories to give you strength for workouts in order to fix undesirable body types."

    "What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, slightly taken aback.

    He turned to Tristan. "It's supposed to help some guys get rid of their unwanted baby fat. And for others," he looked at me, "it could put some muscle on scrawny wimps who can't even do 30 push-ups."

    I shifted uncomfortably. Next to me, Gavin had coughed "asshole" once Alan had stopped listening to us.

    Tristan looked down at his plate. "We should probably finish, cuz, you know...dinner ends in five minutes."

    I nodded. "Yeah. Since...we have workouts next."

(Matteo's PoV)

    "Matteo, mail." Lt. Jason handed me a letter during "wind down" time.  I didn't hesitate to take it from him, already knowing who it was from. I ripped open the envelope and began reading the note.

    Dear Matteo,

        I'm so sorry that Basic Training is so hard for you. And there's no use telling me not to worry about you. I'm always worried about everything. I really miss you too.

        Your brothers are doing fine other than wishing you were still around and our swim team misses you too (and not just because you were the fastest person on the team and state finals are coming up in two and a half weeks). I'm signed up to do the 50 free, 100 back, and I'm going last on the medley relay and third on the free relay.

        But gosh, I just can't get over how much I miss you. I wish this war would get over as soon as possible.

        Please write back as soon as you can and be careful.

        And I love you too.

                        Love,

                            Emmy

    Will noticed my reading. "Is that from your girlfriend?" he asked.

    "Yeah," I replied, a smile slowly emerging on my face. "It's from Emmy." I dug through my bag and grabbed my wallet. I pulled out a picture of her and I together at the start of season potluck back in October of last year. It's one of the very few photos I have of her since she doesn't think she's very photogenic and she hates the camera's bright flash.

    In the picture, I had my arms wrapped around her. Her curly red hair was pulled back behind a purple headband.

    I really missed her.

    When I showed the picture to Will, he wasn't the only one who saw.

    "You're dating a ginger?" Connor laughed.

    My whole body tensed up. I hated that term and everything associated with it. Emmy didn't mind but I think that's why I hated it so much. She had just gotten so used to the degrading and demeaning that it didn't bother her anymore. "My freakish appearance only serves to symbolize my freakish mind," she would always say. That and "maybe I am this way because I don't have a soul." I didn't care whether or not Connor was joking. It was a big deal. All it does is cause Emmy to accept her hatred of herself more.

    "I wouldn't call her that," I responded.

    "I would," Connor scoffed. "I can't believe you were able to get a picture of her. I guess that's proof that the camera doesn't trap your soul."

    I stood up to face him. "Shut up!"

    Will grabbed hold of my arm. "Calm down, he's just trying to make you mad."

    "Yeah, well it's working," I replied. "He has no right to talk about her!"

    "I know, I know," Will told me, trying to get in front of me. "But you know he's wrong, and that's all that matters."

    I didn't just want for him to be wrong. I wanted to prove him wrong. I wanted to show him that he couldn't just do and say whatever he felt like just because he was strong. My hatred for Connor Notham increased dramatically.