Friday 27 April 1917
Day 1225
Dear Diary,
Today was the first day of boot camp. We were shuffled onto this big cart, stuffed to the brim with other wannabe soldiers (which STANK to high heaven) and carted off to Lore knows where, in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, Dallas to train. According to Commander Lewis, we're to suffer through just FIVE WEEKS of intense training before we're thrown to the wolves. That's THREE WEEKS of theory (tactical, geography etc.), TWO WEEKS of training at the rifle range and—if you're LUCKY enough to be a pilot—that's a WHOLE FIVE WEEKS of aerial training on top of it all. I'm gonna be dead tired before I even get out there!
Sunday 29 April 1917
Day 1227
Dear Diary,
Despite all of the way too intense early morning wake up calls and sloppy gruel that they call food, despite all of the tiresome hours of memorisation and bone aching exercises, Sunday (mornings) are still set aside for Church. There's even a deacon who comes in to give prayer and what have you, every Sunday. Well, today is the first time it's happened, but the older soldiers say that it's normal for them. And that, the only other time you should hope to see a deacon is on your deathbed, so it was a cheerful breakfast!
Monday 30 April 1917
Day 1228
Dear Diary,
Paper's precious here. I'll have to use the pages sparingly in this little book of mine and make sure to find a good hiding spot, or keep it on my person so that no one else can take those (blank) pages.
Tuesday 01 May 1917
Day 1129
Dear Diary,
If I thought it was loud at Saint Pat's rifle range, then that's NOTHING in comparison to the one here! Lore! My ears feel like they're STILL ringing!
Thursday 10 May 1917
Day 1238
Dear Diary,
Boot camp is HARD!
I thought I knew what it was like to fly (with my legacies), but this? This is a WHOLE other can of worms. A can that's on the uppermost tippy top of the shelf in the dark pantry, in the middle of the night and I'm blindfolded. Teetering on a wobbily step-stool, whilst trying not to wake Vera from her deepest slumber. I'd have better luck trying to find the ever elusive left sock that always seems to go missing. (I suspect goblins).
Captain Chestnut says that we're the lucky ones not to dropped into the muddy trenches and instead we'll be flying high in the sky. Which sounds good in theory, BUT usually it takes FAR longer than the five weeks of training for someone to learn how to fly. At this point, a morbid part of me thinks that they're just prepping bodies to throw at the enemy. Just WHAT did we sign up for? Is it too late to back out now?
Friday 11 May 1917
Day 1239
Dear Diary,
We're working so hard these days that I barely see Lila or Harlan anymore. Lils' is with the other women, learning how to be a frontline nurse—she says Nurse Olga is a hoot & a half, with the face of an old leather boot!—and Harley's off with the other boy-soldier's learning to crawl through the mud like worms. He's usually asleep by the time we make it back to the barracks.
I feel like my rocks—my friends—are slipping away.
Monday 14 May 1917
Day 1242
Dear Diary,
I'm an Ensign in, what's called an RAF Bomber plane, and I'm paired with this rather squat & gruff fellow called Captain Brown. Each plane only has enough room for both pilot & co-pilot with JUST enough leg room for the both of them (although, it's a little cramped in the back for the co-pilot). Captain Brown swears up & down that being a flier in the 143rd Flying Brigade: Sparrow Squadron is a god-send and, ironically, the closest you'll ever get to the Creator without actually dying.
Tuesday 15 May 1917
Day 1243
Dear Diary,
We went up in our bird today. It felt good to be flying again, even if I wasn't behind the controls
Wednesday 16 May 1917
Day 1244
Dear Diary,
I found this dirty limerick in the cockpit when I was cleaning the plane today. I know FOR SURE that it would've of had Vera rolling over in her grave at the crudeness of it, but Vie would probably get a good laugh out of it. It goes:
"It's hard to ignore all of the calls
Telling me that I wasted my time in these halls
But I guess I'll just shrug
And use my Sparrow hand to tug
On my hot bombshell blast fireballs!"
Classy.
Thursday 17 May 1917
Day 1245
Dear Diary,
After the "initiation" (this crazy test where you had to eat a bowl full of Captain Chestnut's infamous chilli and then go up and perform the world's craziest loop-de-loop set, WITHOUT turning into a vomit comet), the other members of the Sparrow Squadron all taught us the "Sparrow Whistle" for which the squad was so named. It kinda goes like "Fwee—woo?" / "Fwoo-wee"
Captain Chestnut says that if we're lucky enough to survive our first live battle, then we'll even get a tattoo to mark the occasion, just like the rest of them!
Saturday 19 May 1917
Day 1247
Dear Diary,
We're just two dudes chilling six feet apart, quoting rom-com lines to each other because we might be gay. You don't know.
Sunday 20 May 1917
Day 1248
Dear Diary,
So…I nearly crashed the plane today, so that was fun.
Monday 21 May 1917
Day 1249
Dear Diary,
We were doing CPR drills today (I don't know WHY though, considering most of us'll either be in the air or the mud), and…something happened. Okay, a COUPLE of somethings happened. First, there was the thing when I had to play the dead weight dummy for Marty Moore. Which I'm still not quite sure how to swallow (ha!). I KNOW Marty SAID he was giving me the Kiss of Life, but I STILL think that he's gay. I mean, WHO uses TONGUE when performing CPR? As far kisses go though…well, it wasn't the WORST.
The second thing was when I had to "perform" CPR on Harlan. I don't know WHAT happened, but I know SOMETHING did. 'Coz when I pulled back, these little glittery lumen motes flowed from me to him. It was like I'd sneezed and my lumen had come out as fireflies or something…fireflies that Harley then swallowed. Can you even transfer Legacies like that? It CAN'T have been my imagination, right? Lore, this is gonna drive me nuts!
Tuesday 22 May 1917
Day 1250
Dear Diary,
Did you know that if you fall in love with your rescuer, that's what Freud called "Transference?" But of course, Freud made EVERYTHING sexual (which is WEIRD). Like "EVERYTHING is sex! You wanna fuck your parents! And you are in love with your rescuer!" Like dude, calm down, we get it. You think your magic sex will fix broken boy/girl! What a weird dude.
Wednesday 23 May 1917
Day 1251
Dear Diary,
I will admit that I was still a little drunk on the giddiness after my date with Marty Moore (and from the booze) when I returned to my friends in the barracks. So, I'm just gonna blame anything embarrassing that I said on that. I said some stuff.
Like, when I flounced through the door and in the most sultry voice that a sixteen year old could muster, just goes "Oh-ho!" Of course, I got not response from my friends, so I had to kick it up a notch and go, "Oh, mmhm!" And again there was nothing, so I knew that if they were going to crack, I had to bring out the big guns. So I draped myself over their laps and just went, "Oh, my, my, my, my, my!"
And FINALLY Lila pipes up and goes, "Why do I feel the sudden need to bathe?"
"So, how was it Ted?" Harlan asked, hands flying through the signs with ease. Again, neither of them seemed upset that I was draped over their laps like a deflated sausage.
And I just went, "Oh, you might as well as ask me to describe the glory of the great Empire State Building as it rises from the mist of the New York Dawn!"
Harlan elbowed Lila in confusion (I'm pretty sure they thought I was talking nonsense at this point) and goes, "Translation?"
Lila, at my feet who has not looked up from her magazine, just goes, "They went to a sleazy motel"
Meanwhile, I'm still sighing dreamily, "…Or the song of the fuzzy chimaeras as they howl up at the shiny full moon…!"
"He got him to pay for half the room"
"…Or the taut violin bow, held heavenwards; tall and mighty and proud!"
"THAT one, that one I think is pretty self explanatory"
[And LORE was it…!]
Thursday 24 May 1917
Day 1252
Dear Diary,
Ugh! Lila & Harlan could NOT be more obvious if they tried! Good Lore! A "heart felt apology?" My ass! How STUPID do you think I am? You're NOT subtle at all! Here's a tip: DON'T talk about the person when they're NOT in the room! Or suddenly stop when they RETURN! I wasn't going to KILL the guy! Just maim or seriously injure. Besides, I only threw him off of the balcony, it's not like I dumped him outta the plane or anything!
You're like a bunch of grade school kids! Like, "Oh no! That kid we don't like is back! Act natural!" Yeah, like THAT's ever worked before! FUCK OFF! Oh & FYI, WHERE do you think that I learnt how to deal with people? Huh? From YOU, you fuckwits! Did you REALLY think I wouldn't notice you spitting out some bullcrap about how you "Love me & want what's best for me?" When not TWO MINUTES ago, you were jumping down my throat? SERIOUSLY?
Y'know, there's a REASON people get upset when they're angry…it's 'cause that's THE TRUTH! Because the truth only EVER comes out when people are upset/angry, 'cause there are NO filters to hide it! And YOU want ME to believe that you just SUDDENLY realised you did something wrong? Bullshit!
Just LEAVE ME the FUCK ALONE! If you can't say it to my face, then fuck off! It's CLEAR that you don't want me here! 'Cause WHO would care about little ole me? No one, that's who. Why can't you just leave me wallow alone in my misery? Just let me wither away. You've forgotten about me before, why not again? Just go away. GO AWAY!
Saturday 26 May 1917
Day 1254
Dear Diary,
Serious question: at what point do I stop picking dog hair out of my mouth, nose, eyes, hair and other such cracks? Like Mr Pennycrumb is at HOME and I haven't seen him since the last school break, so how?
Sunday 27 May 1917
Day 1255
Dear Diary,
#SaveALife #RubAChimaeraBelly
[It also works on Lila when she's irritable. It's the bowels]
Monday 28 May 1917
Day 1256
Dear Diary,
The end of our boot camp is only a couple of days away, which is why the company is holding an Army Prom at the end of the five weeks, as like a last hurrah before we march off to our deaths. Here's the invite:
Commander Lewis
and the
Texas National Guard
cordially invite you to a gala to be held at
Arlington Hall, Turtle Creek Park in Dallas
on Wednesday 30 May, 1917
at 5.00 o'clock
RSVP as soon as possible
Which is why I had to suffer through THIS interaction today in the Mess Hall today:
Lila: Listen, you guys, I have this friend at Neiman Marcus who's quitting tomorrow and she wants to abuse her discount. So, anyone wanna come with me to take advantage of it?
Harlan: I can't, I have to roll the hay bales
Addison: Okay…Uh, I'll go with you
Lila: Great! Let's go after breakfast! [goes to get food]
Me: Addy, WHAT are you doing?! You CAN'T go shopping with her! What about Alma?
Addison: Oh, it's not THAT big of a deal, is it?
Me: Oh, C'ME ON! I mean, I love Lils, I really do. But you're going to NEIMAN MARCUS' with HER? That's like CHEATING on Alma in her house of worship!
Addison: But—but, I just wanna—
Me: —Addy, she WILL kill you!
Addison: That's a bit much, don'tcha think?
Me: She will ACTUALLY kill you dead, like a dog in the street! [Sorry Penny]
Addison: Oh! I know! YOU can come with us!
Me:…Come again?
Addison: Yeah! That way, she CAN'T kill ME!
Me: No, she'll be killing US! It'll be a double homicide in the promenade section of Neiman Marcus! C'me on, Harley, back me up!
Harlan: Woof! Woof! Ah! Blergh!
Me: See?
Addison: You two worry too much, it'll be fine!
[It was not fine…but at least I got a nice blue suit out of it]
Tuesday 29 May 1917
Day 1257
Dear Diary,
So, I overheard this gem of a conversation today:
Alma: Oh, here're your keys, Addy.
Addison: Oh, thanks
Alma: Hey, Addy?
Addison: Mm-hm?
Alma: If you were out at lunch ALONE, how come it cost you $20?
[Oh, this is gonna be good!]
Addison: Oh, y'know, I went to that super expensive diner down on Maine.
Alma: The one with the frilly plastic aprons? The one that you hate?
Addison: Um, y'know, I thought I'd just see what the hype was about—
Alma: —Addison, what's with you? Who'd you have lunch with?
Addison: …Lucy
Alma: Who?
Addison: Lila
Alma: WHAT?
Addison: Lily
Alma:…You were with Lila?
Addison: Okay, look, when it started I was just trying to be nice to her because we may never even see each other again! And then, one thing led to another, and…before I knew it, we were…shopping.
Alma: Oh! Oh my God!
Addison: Honey, wait—! We only did it ONCE!
Alma: [Choking up] Uh-huh?
Addison: It didn't mean ANYTHING to me!
Alma: Yeah? Yeah, right, sure—
Addison:—Really! Ally, I was thinking of YOU the WHOLE time!
Alma: Yeah, right!
Addison: Look, I'm sorry, all right? I never meant for you to find out.
Alma: Oh PLEASE! PLEASE! You WANTED to get caught!
Addison: That is NOT true!
Alma: So you just HAPPENED to leave the receipt in here?!
Addison: Did it EVER occur to you, that I MIGHT be THAT stupid?!
Alma:…Okay, Addison, I just have to know ONE thing: Did you go with her to Neiman Marcus?
Addison:…
Alma: Oh my God! How could you DO this to me? After everything we've been through? Y'know what? That's it! Friendship over!
Addison: What…?
Addison: FRIEDNSHIP OVER!
Wednesday 30 May 1917
Day 1258
Dear Diary,
I don't know what Alma did to Addison after she "cheated" on her with Lila, but what I DO know is that today she came running up to me in tears (she didn't tell me why). Anyway, the four of us went out for coffee this morning, and Addy was telling us about how she had to break it off with her boy, Earl, because he was already letting his lazy little rich boy tendencies run wild.
So, we're sitting there just enjoying our morning tea when Earl comes storming into the café. And instead of taking the argument outside, we stay seated, why? Because we're petty. They were supposed to go to Prom together before Addy broke it off. And their dresses & suits & corsages were already bought. [I know that Earl's gonna keep the corsage 'coz it's gonna be one of his stalking stuffers]. And so, he's spiralling in the middle of the café, and trying to justify why HE'S being rejected like this.
And finally he goes, "Whatever, Jane Shore, you KNOW you liked it!"
So, I go, "Ewwwww! What makes YOU think that you're SO impressive? Because you COULDN'T even IMPRESS the recruiters to take you on—You had BUY your way in!—And if you even THINK about saying what I think you're gonna say, then you may as well put that Number Two pencil back in its pencil case! The only thing IMPRESSIVE about you, is your LACK of comprehension that you're just NOT GOOD ENOUGH for her!"
[Addison seemed a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught or protection from someone she's not best friends with. Plus, I don't think I've ever said so much in one go…at least, not outside of my usual circle of friends. Lila and Harlan on the other hand, who know what I'm like when you piss me off, wore the SHITTIEST shit-eating grins I have seen on a person.]
Earl said, "Listen, BUDDY, mind your DAMN business—!"
And I go, "—I am NOT your BUDDY. I am MEAN and PETTY and PROTECTIVE…and the person ADDY came to when YOU couldn't satisfy her"
And then we left.
[And yes, I'm just THAT petty]
So, now Addy's coming with us to the Prom tonight as a single Pringle. But since there's four of us now, I s'pose people'll think we're all dating each other (pretty sure they think that, anyway). It'll be fun, anyhow. (And I'll get to see Marty in that suit he's been going on about…Mmm!)
Thursday 31 May 1917
Day 1259
Dear Diary,
Lore, Prom last night was SO much fun! (Not that I can remember most of it, But considering this morning's bedmate, I can readily guess that it was a GOOD one). Anyway, it wasn't until I got to the Mess Hall that the (missing) parental-slash-shovel talk came out, from my co-pilot, no less! Ugh! My head is KILLING me!
Captain Brown and the other Sparrows were all huddled around the table, nursing mugs of steaming coffee that I wouldn't usually touch, but sounded heavenly at that point in time. I, in nothing more than boxers & rumpled shirt, was grumbling to myself about my head when Captain Brown suddenly pipes up with FAR too much cheer.
And he goes, "…Prom, I remember. Hey, Hargreeves, you have fun drinking last night?"
And I, in all of my hungover sass, just went; "…D'you truth or comfort, sir?"
"What's THAT s'posed to mean, Ensign?"
"Sir, do we REALLY have to do this? YOU ask if I was drinking, I say 'no' but we BOTH know I'm lying. I mean, aren't we past this point in our relationship?"
And he, guffawing into his coffee, just goes, "No, Ensign, we are NOT!"
So, I shrugged and just went, "Then no, I wasn't drinking"
"Me neither, Cap'n" Marty then popped out from behind, scaring the crap outta me and wearing the most DELICIOUS crop of post-coital bedhead I have EVER seen. And instead of going over to the coffee pot, he came up to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
[Being taller than me, I fit quite nicely in his embrace, and the taller teen was MORE than happy to snuggle in close to my lumen-heated body despite the inappropriate display of affection in front of our superior officers. In any case, the action—which I MAINTAIN was because of my hangover—had me purring rather loudly with the smuggest expression on my face. Lila said I looked like the cat who got the cream!]
Captain Brown went all pale and pucey-looking as he put two and two together (though neither of us did confirm or deny such an allegation. 'Coz doing so in THIS day & age would not go down well). "Dear God, PLEASE tell me he did not spend the night?"
And I, in all my unfiltered glory, just went "D'you want truth or comfort?"
[Lila just about pissed herself laughing]