Front Lines | Sodapop Curtis

04

     I walked over to where Steve was standing and stood behind him. 

     My heart was beating fast and seemed to ache inside my chest as I turned my back to my brothers, hearing my bag hit the pavement with a thump. 

    "Attention, draftees!" The officer yelled. "This is Seargent Levine. He deserves your undivided attention as he gives you further instructions as to what you will do next." 

    A tall, older man took the other officer's place. An angry look was painted on his face, and he had his hands clasped behind his back. For a few moments he paced in front of us, staring down a few of the boys who straightened at his gaze. 

    He stopped in front of a younger boy who was trying to hide his crying. The guy only looked to be sixteen or seventeen, barely had a build on him. 

   "Your momma's not coming with you, pussbucket." 

     The Seargent's tone was low and intimidating, followed suit by a smirk laced with superiority. He looked out over the crowd of boys, jaw clenched and expression cynical. 

    "Looks like I've got nothing but pansies!" A dark laugh rumbled up and out of his mouth. "Unless you maggots have got enough guts to prove me wrong--which is none of you--get on the bus before I have to pluck you from the pavement!"

     That's when I learned that "further instructions," was just a long rant of insults with a little bit of direction here and there. 

    "Leave your bags!" I heard Sergeant Levine call from behind. 

     I walked to the bus, empty-handed and throat tight, climbing up the small set of stairs and finding a seat near the back. 

    I sat down by a guy who looked to be about my age. He had a super muscular build, kind of like those guys that lift weights all the time. 

   He reminded me of Darry, but I decided I wouldn't think on that. 

   "The name's Charles." He looked over at me and offered a hand. 

   I shook it, nodding a little bit. "Sodapop. Nice to meet you." 

   He gave me the usual confused look that I was almost so used to that it seemed subconscious. 

   "Be serious." His tone dropped to sarcastic.

   "I am being serious." I laughed a little. "That's exactly what's written on my birth certificate." 

   He nodded slowly, still a little skeptical. I never understood why people were like that when I told them my name, but I guess if somebody told me their name was milkshake or something like that, I probably would be a little skeptical too. 

  The bus was finally full by the time I'd finished talking to Charles, who was pretty intense about the whole thing, I noticed. 

  I looked around for Steve, and soon enough I found the back of his head pressed against the window of two seats in front of me. 

   It bothered me he was acting this way. 

   Sergeant Levine climbed onto the bus and it got quiet. The doors closed and the bus took off almost simultaneously. He stood almost like a statue in front of us, his stature rigid and professional. 

    "Now, if any of you sisters feel the urge to express your unwanted opinions at any point, go ahead and waste my time. If you think you've got the balls to keep yourself from writhing in your own vomit, I'll decide if you were worth my wasted time..." His expression didn't flinch. "Which none of you are." 

     He took a step forward, eyeing a few of the mouthier boys who'd held a cocksure smirk on their lips moments earlier. 

    "Anyone?" He clenched his jaw. 

    There was silence. 

   "I said, anyone?" 

    Soon enough we figured out that that was the cue to answer with a "yes sir," or a "no sir." 

    A thunderous no sir! came from everyone. 

    Sergeant Levine gave a slight, disdainful nod, then sat down near the front with the other officer who had introduced him. 

    "You know where we're goin'?" A chubbier guy in front of me asked the guy beside him. 

    "They said Fort Sam-Houston in San Antonio." The other guy answered. 

     "San Antonio?" The chubby guy scoffed. "That's almost nine hours away!"

     "Shh, man. Don't talk so loud." His friend whispered. "Unless you wanna get your hide skinned I wouldn't complain. I guess it gives you more time to get your head right." 

     I leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes and listening to the engine roar down the interstate. I tried to mind my own space, since Charles seemed a little uptight and I was on the verge of tears again. 

   "Hey, Soda..." I heard a voice call from behind me. 

   I jerked up, looking behind me to find the source of my name. 

   "You remember me?" 

    It was no other than my old buddy, Tony Robertson. I hadn't seen him in a long time, since his dad had gotten a better job and they'd moved out to the country. 

    "Oh, man, Tony! Is that you?" I asked, matching his grinning face. 

    He nodded, looking around. "Never thought this is how we'd meet up again, that's for sure." 

  "Yeah," I looked down at my shoes then back to him. "I guess we ain't got much else of a choice." 

    He shook his head. "Nah, we don't." 

   We paused for a moment because Sergeant Levine was observing us again. 

   "Well, it was good seeing you, buddy." Tony whispered, reaching forward to punch me on the arm. "Better be quiet now." 

    I nodded, turning back around to see the icy gaze of Sergeant Levine looking over us like a centurion over his troops. Which I guess was pretty accurate. 

    "In eight hours, you will be arriving at Fort Sam-Houston. Let's see if you wimps can keep your whining in for at least that long." He started walking down the bus aisle. "If I hear one complaint, I'll have all of you sleeping in the dirt for your first night, which, shouldn't be much of a change for some of you." 

    The smirk was back. 

   "This is the army." He turned around, the smirk turning into a grin. "HOOAH!" 

    Another rumbling cry erupted from the boys. 

   HOOAH! 
 
      A lighthearted buzz replaced the silence that had been just moments ago, and we were starting to gain a sense of belonging.

     It was abruptly short-lived.