Drafted

Chapter 2

Just a quick note before I begin; I'm dedicating this chapter to my real-life Madeline and Selene who've seen me through the good and the bad and stuck with me no matter how far away we are.

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The doorbell rang, effectively silencing the teenage girls laughing on the couch, cheeks half-stuffed with kettle corn. 

"Delainie," Mrs. Trenelli called from her room upstairs. "Could you get the door?"

The bell rang again as a very reluctant Delainie kicked her numbed legs off the cushions, wincing as pins and needles rushed up her calves. 

"Delainie?" Her mother sounded a tad frustrated this time, a signal that her daughter really ought to obey. And soon.

Shaking her legs in an attempt to regain feeling, Delainie sighed. "I'm on it Mum," she replied, just loud enough for her mother to hear. Turning to her friends, she shrugged. "Sorry guys," she said, sighing dramatically. "I've gotta take this before Mum decides to have a fit."

Madeline, a cheerful, petite brunette, waved her hand dismissively through her laughter. "That's alright Lainie," she responded, still biting off laughs at Selene's stories of drunken idiots at boarding school. "But while you're up, mind grabbing me my water bottle?"

"No prob." Delainie could feel her thighs and half her calves now, enough to be able to walk without staggering too much. "You want anything Selene?"

The girl in question, a curvy Filipino with dark, animated eyes, just shook her head. "I'm okay thanks. Wait, could you throw me the remote? This movie hardcore sucks."

Nodding, Delainie forced her still-tingling legs to move to the coffee table, wincing as she bent to retrieve the remote, chucking it in the general direction of Selene's head. "Have your damn remote bitch," she playfully snapped, winking at her friend who just grinned lazily and flipped her the bird. 

"Back at 'cha," Selene drawled. 

The doorbell rang a third time, prompting a semi-unintelligible stream of shouts from Mrs. Trenelli which caused a slightly frustrated Delainie to shout "Be there in a sec!" and chuck Madeline's water bottle at its owner with unnecessary force in retaliation for her obnoxious snickers. Still a bit unsteady, Delainie half-ran to the door, pulling it open to reveal an impatient postman holding an envelope. 'IMPORTANT' was stamped across the front in blood red ink. 

"Delivery for Delainie Trenelli," he said, voice a straight monotone as he held out the delivery. Confused as to what the envelope held, Delainie accepted the offering. As she flipped it over to get a look at the return address, he turned to leave, but seemed to catch himself, turning back before he'd left the porch. "By the way," he stated, voice taking on a strange, almost sympathetic tone. "I'd wait until my friends were gone and parents home to open that." He cleared his throat awkwardly and left, attempting to whistle a tune as he departed, truck disappearing around a corner. 

A problem-solver by nature, Delainie only needed to ponder the man's words for a moment before a sick feeling crept through her body. There was no way this was happening, it just couldn't be real, it was some sort of sick joke.

Another look revealed the return address as Brussels, ex-NATO headquarters and the new offices for the United Army. It was her draft notice. The sound of her friends' confused voices were the last thing she remembered before she hit the floor.

"Delainie? Delainie?" 

The voice sounded echoey, dreamlike in her head. The strong, louder ones were busy singing Colton Whynnes. 'One more week, one more week/ One more week of freedom 'till I'm goin' away/One more week 'till I'm off to hell...'