The Maplethorn Initiative (Book 1, The Maplethorn Series)

Uh, Work?

Keegan touched his right elbow to his left knee, his left elbow to his right knee, and then dropped back to the floor. "Everything okay?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling.

"Yeah," Cam answered, putting his weight on Keegan's sneakers. "Why?"

Keegan raised himself back up, touching elbows to knees again. "You're looking around like you're expecting someone."

"It's just... I thought this would be harder."

Keegan finished his tenth sit-up and signaled it was time to switch places. "Did you think you'd be doing pushups in the mud with Carver standing on your back?"

"Probably not that bad," Cam said, curling his upper body off of the gym floor.

"That's one," Keegan counted.

"But I figured they'd work us till we were puking and crying."

"Two."

"Ten sit-ups then a break is—"

"Three."

"Way easy."

"Four. So, you feel like you're going through the motions? Five. Not accomplishing anything? Six. And no one cares? Seven."

"I know." Cam grunted through his next three sit-ups. "Welcome to Maplethorn."

Sit-ups gave way to pushups that gave way to laps, but with so many cadets in the small gymnasium, all anyone could manage was a brisk shuffle. Cam hadn't even broken a sweat by the time he and Keegan made it back upstairs. They were both showered and in uniform by oh-six-thirty.

"When's breakfast?" Cam asked, tying a patent leather shoe.

"There's no such thing as breakfast around here, Drex."

"There's huh?"

"Forget breakfast, lunch, and dinner," Keegan said jovially. "Or supper or whatever you call it. Breakfast is chow, lunch is chow, dinner is chow."

"How do I know which is which?"

"If it's morning..." Keegan began slowly.

"I know that much!" Cam snapped. "I'm just—"

"Overthinking. Carver calls chow, you go eat. That's all there is to it."

As if on cue, Captain Carver's voice echoed down the hallway. "Chow formation!"

•  •  •

It was Cam's first visit to the chow hall as a full-fledged cadet, and he had never seen it so crowded. A sea of gray uniforms filled the large, square room from the stainless-steel serving counter to the long windows that looked out over the yard. The scent of burned pancakes and bleach assailed his nostrils while the hushed din of conversation buzzed in his ears. "Is this why you don't want to be last to b— Chow?" he asked, correcting himself.

"Nah." Keegan spied two cadets who were piling silverware onto empty trays and headed for their table. "There's always a place to sit."

Cam held his tray shoulder high as he walked, using an elbow to pin his cap against his left side. "Just grab the first seat that opens then?"

"Only if you want your ass kicked."

Keegan led them to a square table along the right wall and dropped into one of the newly vacated chairs—ignoring two other cadets who were still eating. "Sit down, Drex, or you'll lose your spot."

Cam eased his tray onto the table. "Hi."

Neither of the cadets looked up, and Keegan shook his head disapprovingly.