Spunkmeyer briefly hesitated before rapping his knuckles against Ferro's door. Her sobbing had subsided a little, but he couldn't bear to listen to it. His mind kept turning to that morning, where they managed to look at each other and even wave to each other. He felt like that meant something, that he really should talk to her.
"Whoever it is, go away," Ferro stammered.
Spunkmeyer bit his lip, struggling to come up with a good introduction. "I just want to see if you're OK."
"I don't even know who you-" Ferro threw open the door, stopping when she looked Spunkmeyer in the eye. "Oh. You're the . . . the new guy who came yesterday morning. Just go away. I don't want to talk to anyone right now." She didn't lose eye contact with him, and didn't slam the door on him.
"Can I talk to you? I won't say anything to anyone-"
"It's not like it's a secret that I cry, OK? I don't care anymore."
Spunkmeyer stayed put. He realized they still didn't lose eye contact with each other, and he didn't want to be the one breaking it. "You're sure you don't wanna talk to me? I kinda . . . got the feeling you did when you . . ." Oh, now that was just stupid of you to say, Danny. Now you sound like you want to be in a relationship with her. You can't. You're only sixteen.
"When what? Spit it out."
"Y-You returned my wave this morning."
"Well, that was before the fucking day started. You're a newbie, you don't want to talk to me or get advice from me."
"I don't care about that right now. Look, I heard you crying, I feel bad, I want to make sure you're OK. Does everyone else do this every time you cry?"
"No, actually. They've become so used to it that nobody cares anymore. They just let me go, and . . . a-and . . ." Ferro broke eye contact, looking down at the floor as tears welled up in her gray eyes. "Get in here." As soon as Spunkmeyer walked in, Ferro closed the door. She gestured for him to sit on the bed, which was unmade. "What's your name?"
"Spunkmeyer."
"And you already know who I am because you heard the Wicked Witch yelling at me yesterday morning and I'm pretty sure someone told you that I'm . . . lagging behind?"
"Well, actually, I asked about you when I was getting help with my room yesterday. Just, wanted to know who you were, that's all."
"Whatever. Point is that I don't need to introduce myself." Ferro sat next to him, sighing. "No, I'm not OK. Every day is the same as the one before it. She just won't let me learn, and it's only a matter of time before she sends Evison down to tell me to pack my bags and go home. Believe me, I don't want to go home."
"Hey, I understand. I don't think anyone here wants to go home."
"Everyone says that. That's probably why no one's put in the effort to help me. Even Evison is too busy to help me."
"What exactly do you need help with?"
"You wouldn't know. And you're not even ready to use a simulator yet."
"Maybe not, but . . . I can listen to you."
"That's not what I need right now. I should be graduating soon, and I'm not. I don't need a crying pillow. I need to pass my tests, I need to start actually flying a ship. Only way I'm gonna leave this stupid place and move on."
"I still think you-"
"No. If that's all you have to offer, than get out and don't speak to me ever again, not unless you have something useful to say."
"Jesus," Spunkmeyer sighed as he stood up. "Fine. Fine. I won't speak to yous ever again, lady."
Things gradually became repetitive over the next several days. Spunkmeyer picked things up rather quickly, especially what made Larkins tick. She didn't like being challenged, especially if someone stated that she was in the wrong. However, if she was right, she'd berate the person who challenged her, brutally. She also didn't like it when someone did something that wasn't in any way, shape, or form part of the current task, unless they were taking initiative and going above and beyond.
Spunkmeyer had tried to do that by helping another pilot with his harness, but the harness kept getting tangled due to Spunkmeyer not realizing he needed to pull that section out of its buckle. He was promptly asked what his IQ was.
"I don't know, ma'am," Spunkmeyer replied.
"Well, I'll give you a pretty good guess, rat turd; it's less than seventy," Larkins said.
Spunkmeyer swallowed nervously, unsure of what to say.
"You're supposed to say, 'Yes ma'am.'"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Congratulations, rat turd, you're stupid."
"Yes, ma'am."
Larkins finally moved on, leaving Spunkmeyer feeling as though he'd been punched in the stomach. Overall, he was learning that she was difficult to impress.
When he got to training with Evison, however, it was a completely different story. Evison was loud when he needed to be, and he only ever got angry when someone did something that could potentially be dangerous. He cursed as much as Larkins, but never insulted anyone.
Those first two weeks were spent on safety training, what to do if there was an accident, and memorizing where things like fire extinguishers and gas masks were located. The week after was first-aid training, which Corporal Byrd was in charge of, but Larkins and Evison supervised.
Spunkmeyer's thoughts would continue to turn to Ferro. There weren't that many times they saw each other during training, but when they did, Spunkmeyer got a clear picture of Ferro's daily interactions with her instructors, and teammates. Much like that first night they talked to each other, Ferro was prone to push people away when they offered help. She wanted to do things on her own, even when she wasn't sure what to do. It was a result of her inability to play the game by Larkins's rules, and Spunkmeyer couldn't tell if Ferro was deliberately ignoring the rules, or just didn't know them.
It wasn't until one night in late September when Spunkmeyer decided to try and talk to Ferro again. He and some of the other Marines had watched her and her training partner make their first attempt at flying a very small troop cargo plane in and out of the hangar.
"She's shaking a little," Herschel said, softly. "Looks like she's not sure how to land."
A nervous knot began forming in the pit of Spunkmeyer's gut. "She could crash."
Ferro didn't crash, but her landing was far from smooth. The plane bounced a lot, and almost whipped off the runway as Ferro attempted to right herself while taxiing back down the tarmac.
When the sound of the engines died down, Larkins approached the plane, waiting for Ferro and her co-pilot to exit the hatch. There was silence, and then a string of cursing and insults as Larkins exploded on Ferro, informing her repeatedly of how she could've gotten a lot of people killed if this was more real.
Ferro was trying to keep herself from crying again. She covered her face as Evison approached them.
"Go on inside," Evison said. "Freshen up and take a few minutes to calm down." He led Ferro back to the living quarters, and gestured for everyone else to do the same.
Spunkmeyer went to his room first to hang up his jacket. Like last time, he heard Ferro slam her door. For a moment, he hesitated, but then quietly walked into the hall. He looked down at his boots as he knocked.
"What the fuck do you want?" Ferro sobbed.
Spunkmeyer's words got caught in his throat, and he couldn't form a proper sentence. When he waited too long, Ferro opened the door, glaring at him. She raised her fist to hit him, but stopped, slowly lowering her fist as she looked Spunkmeyer in the eye.
"Let me talk to you," Spunkmeyer said. "Please?"
He could see Ferro completely letting her guard down. It came in the form of more tears making her gray eyes sparkle. Again, she let Spunkmeyer into her room, and sat on the bed, hunching in on herself as she sobbed.
"How is it that I got so far, and yet . . . didn't go anywhere at all?" she whispered.
That was definitely a familiar feeling. "It . . . It happens, I guess," Spunkmeyer replied. "Not saying that to belittle you. I know that feeling of going really far and not actually going anywhere."
"You do?"
"Yeah. I'm adopted. I've been trying to find my biological father, and the chaplain at boot camp found a pretty good lead, but it didn't . . . didn't go anywhere. It was stuff beyond our control, and it doesn't look like there's anything else I can do to actually find my real dad."
"I'm sorry."
"Nah, don't be. Not your fault."
"Well, I'm also sorry for not . . . just letting you talk to me, or seeing that you were offering help. I mean, in all honesty, considering you're the first person to really give a damn, I . . . was half-expecting you to be like everyone else and walk away and not care anymore. I'm hopeless, I know. I shouldn't be here anymore." Ferro sighed.
"You're not hopeless. I've observed you, and I think . . . you try to plow through things a little too hard, because you're so afraid of someone getting pissed off at you."
"So, I was right. You were staring at me all this time."
"You were staring at me, too. D-Do you like me or something?"
"You're cute, but I'm not romantically interested in you."
"Good, 'cause I'm not romantically interested in you, either."
Silence followed, and Spunkmeyer was worried he had made things uncomfortable. There were so many things he just said that he wished he could've worded differently. He took a breath, and said, "Y'know, maybe we can . . . get some coffee on Saturday, and . . . I dunno, talk more."
"Let me think about it. I'll let you know later."
Spunkmeyer only had to wait an hour for an answer. During dinner, Ferro sat across from him, and weakly smiled. "Yes, I'll get coffee with you on Saturday," she said.
"Alright. Do you know any good places in Denver?" Spunkmeyer replied.
"Yeah. Make sure you ask Evison for a bus pass. Never ask Larkins. Ever."
"Got it. Now, it's true that we don't do anything on weekends?"
"That's true. We just have to be back by four PM."
Spunkmeyer wasn't sure what else to say, and it looked like Ferro went back to being shy when she realized the conversation had ended. It wasn't completely silent, but Spunkmeyer felt like he needed to take the initiative in this newfound friendship. "So, you ever been to New York?"
"The city or the state?" Ferro asked.
"The city."
"No. I'm from Michigan. This is the first time I've left home."
"Never even been on vacation?"
"I went to Detroit for one summer, but that was it."
"Ah. That's fine. This is kinda the first time I've really left home as well. But, yeah, I'm from Manhattan."
"Is that why Larkins calls you 'rat turd?'"
Spunkmeyer nodded. "She asked me where I'm from. I says, 'New York.' She says, 'You've probably seen those giant rats, then.' I go, 'Yeah, I've seen 'em.' And she replies, 'Well, then, your name is now rat turd.'"
"Yeah, don't take it personally," Ferro sighed. "The trick is not letting her get to you, but, I'm proof that sometimes she does."
"Well, I do have one question that I hope you don't mind me asking; how long have you been here?"
"Four months. I passed all my safety stuff and I know all the parts of a dropship. Right now, I . . . I still need to be able to get off the ground. I can't graduate without all my hours."
"How many do you need?"
"Five hundred total. I have two hundred simulated. My remaining three hundred need to be in the air. You won't be touching the simulator for another month or so, unless you excel and Evison decides to get you in a push program. Gets you flying quicker. By the way, I hope you have a strong stomach, because before you can even use a simulator, you need to get used to the feeling of a dropship, you know, actually dropping. Try not to eat too much or too close to your drop test."
"How many times do you do that?"
"Until you don't puke or pass out."
"I've been to Coney Island a few times. I think I can-"
"The roughest roller coasters are kiddie rides compared to this. Trust me." Ferro gave Spunkmeyer a genuine smile.
"Alright, I'll trust you."
This was only Spunkmeyer's second time having coffee, but he could see why people drank it daily. "There're coffee places on base, right?"
"Yeah. Why do you ask?" Ferro asked when they sat in a café with their drinks.
"I think I should start having it every day."
"You didn't drink coffee at home?"
"No. The morning I arrived here was the first time."
"Well, don't get too hooked on it. There might be days where you won't have time, and then you'll get a bad headache because your body's craving it."
"Thanks for the advice." Spunkmeyer grinned. "So, I'm gonna take a guess, and say . . . you're a small-town girl."
"How'd you know?"
"You said you were from Michigan. People from big cities usually say 'I'm from this city' instead of their state."
Ferro smirked. "Wow. Small-town girl and a city boy. How original."
"I take it you've heard that song."
"What, 'Don't Stop Believin'?' Of course I have. You'd have to live under a rock not to. You like older music?"
"Yeah. I mean, I don't have that much of a preference, but I gravitate toward it most of the time."
"Hey, I don't have a preference, either, so, you're OK." Ferro glanced out the window. "Best part about home was seeing all the leaves change. My dad used to take me on a long drive around the backroads and farms to see these long views of yellow and red and orange. Afterwards, we'd grab fresh apple cider and hot cider donuts. I miss doing that."
"I wish I got to do stuff like that."
"Didn't you say you were adopted? Your adoptive parents didn't do that with you?"
"The nurse who helped deliver me kinda . . . adopted me on a whim. She felt bad, and didn't think about how much work kids are. She really wasn't around, but I guess she cared enough to where she didn't want to hand me over to foster care. It's kinda confusing, and . . . simply put, it's why I joined the Marines."
"So, you've never really felt . . . any kind of love?"
"You could say that, yeah."
"That is so sad, and yet you don't seem really bothered by it."
"Technically, I am bothered by it, but I haven't . . . I haven't let it control me. I had other things to keep my mind occupied, and now that I'm on my own, forging my own life, I'm trying to make friends. It's not gonna fill that void, but it'll keep that pain from overwhelming my life."
Ferro nodded while listening. "Well, you found your first friend." She smiled at him.
Luck, or fate. Whichever you choose to believe. Captain Jesse's words were ringing in Spunkmeyer's head. Was he lucky to have run into Ferro, or were they destined to meet each other? That question stuck with him the whole day. He felt like it was too soon to go into a deeper topic like that, even though they had a month to ponder each other.
Spunkmeyer had never spent so much time with only one person before. Ferro was indeed nice when she wasn't sad or frustrated, and he liked her. He felt comfortable around her, and he felt like he'd be able to trust her. The only thing he wasn't sure about was telling her his real age. Would she be mad? Would she keep it a secret? He needed to keep building that trust, so he could tell her without fear. At the same time, he was afraid that if he waited too long, she'd be mad that he didn't tell her earlier. I need to tell her soon, but not too soon. He had already told her a good portion of his story. She understood why he joined the Marines. Surely, telling her that he was underage wouldn't be an issue. Another part of him was afraid that their relationship was too new, and if he told her, she'd start treating him like a child. Just be patient. Give it a few days, but tell her the first chance you get so she knows you trust her.
It was a little past three when they started heading back to the station to catch a bus back to base. They had explored a department store near the café, and had lunch together. It definitely made Spunkmeyer feel more human after months of being somewhat restrained, and years of feeling rejected. It was a feeling he had a difficult time putting to words, but the best way he could describe it was "like getting a soft, warm hug."
Then again, he had never been hugged before. Today was his first time.
The last time he saw Ferro for the day was right before lights-out. She stood in front of her door, hair still wet from a shower, listening to Spunkmeyer telling a story from a baseball game in middle school. "Hey, I really hate to interrupt you, but, we gotta go to bed in two minutes."
"OK," Spunkmeyer replied. "Remind me at breakfast tomorrow to finish." He stopped, feeling like that was a bad way to end the day. "Um . . . thanks for, you know, hanging out with me today. I know that sounds kinda sappy, but-"
"It's fine. I was gonna thank you, too." Ferro smiled again. "Good-night, Spunkmeyer."
"Good-night, Ferro. I-" He was stopped by Ferro quickly putting her arms around him. She held him for a heartbeat, maybe two, and then let go.
"Good-night." Ferro closed her door.
Spunkmeyer found himself blushing, flooded with emotions that had been dormant and undisturbed for almost his whole life.
Question: How does the idea of trust differ between each character in the series?