I stood erect, clad in my stiffly crisp uniform with horizontal bars over my heart and patches on my sleeve.

I marched in tiem with four rows of three, I marched beside them. I called orders to my hand selected drill team.

Judges watched.

I felt like I was a dog in a sheep herding comepetition - where your dog has to separate certain sheep and try to beat a clock. I'd never been to one personally, but I'd seen Babe before as a kid.

"About face. Dress right dress. Left, left, left, halt." We froze and swiveled to face the judges.

"Sergeant Tristan DuGrey leading company 00604 tagline 201." I recited.

They all studied us a moment. The judges scribbled furiously on their carbon paper scoring sheets.

"At ease." A Judge finally breathed. The Merrel girls, parents, and Redding guys in the two sets of makeshift bleachers watched from the stands.

Our routine had been perfect. Flawless. We didn't crack a smile even though King (who wasn't caught of course) released a box of mice into the performance field. At least when I play pranks I do them fair and square. The same way I will win.

We marched off the field and out of site, taking a spot off the "stage" field and between the two sets of tall bleachers. We broke into relieved grins and laughter. Over the sides of the bleachers, the girls who sat on the edge turned and gave us thumbs ups.

I reached into my shoe and pulled a sharp pebble out. King had most likely played them in before we took field. It had bit at my ankle the whole time.

"That guy is a jerk." Drew, whom I had picked as one of my first choices, removed an equally painful pebble from his shoe.

As everyone removed pebbles from their shoes they grumbled in agreement. No one asked who Drew was referring too, only King would stoop that low.

There was a ding as the PA crackled to life. Drew had set the tape recorder to go off on automatic timer right after we, the last group, had finished.

"Did you cut and paste the words good?" I whispered as the James Bond interlude music began.

"Didn't need too, Chris taped him when he wasn't looking." Drew replied, grinning.

"Now introducing." My disguised voice announced. "Frank King."

"You locked the door right?" I whispered.

"The key's in the trash can. They won't find it till after." Chris replied.

"What do you think of Vixen." Someone asked.

"Good for a fling." King's distinct voice was amplified. "I'll chill with her, but I got other priorities in the other camp." He sighed proudly. "Not to mention a few girls writing to me from back home."

"You're a regular ladies man."

"I prefer." King's smirk during the taping was obvious. "Pimp."

I wished I could see King's face. I glanced at Chris. "When was this?"

"Last night."

"What's that, who's that one chick you liked so much? Chancre?"

"She's all right. But she's got nothing on my second girl back home."

"Dude, you're on top of it all!"

"Well." King's voice said, everyone listening in on the private conversation. "It's not like anyone will ever know."

On that incriminating note, the tape ended. Everyone was whispering among themselves.

"Dude, that was classic." Lance whispered.

I smirked and dusted off one of my shoulders."What can I say?"

I inched over and glanced over the side of the bleachers that the spectators sat on. The Merrel girls were huddled together, whispring furiously.

I grinned.

"Where's King?" I asked Carlos, another member of my team.

"Who knows? After that show I don't really care! Do you know who did that?"

I shrugged. "I salute them, no matter who they are."

"I'd suspect you, but don't tell me." He grinned wider. "Every single guy at camp has a bone to pick with King."

King's drill team marched past me. His face was so red. "HALT, LEFT, ABOUT FACE." He screamed at them.

They faced him, and King was pretending nothing was wrong, save for the cherry red flush that was decorating his ears and neck. A vein in his neck throbbed and his team were all looking everywhere but him. The other drill teams, being there were four in this competition, were whispering audible among each other.

"FRANK KING!" A shrill voice yelled. "You tell you girlfriend back home that you're devoted to her because you don't have girls here anymore!"

From above King, on the highest bleacher step (as our platoons stood between the two stands) Vixen looked even angrier than King. She grabbed the Merrel water cooler and emptied the contents (which happened to be red Gatorade) onto his highness.

"Who's the fling now?" She screamed an obscenity and threw the entire cooler off the edge - narrowly missing King himself.

"Wow King, she beat me to the water cooler." Chancre joined Vixen in leaning over the bleacher rail. "GUESS WHAT ELSE! There will be no more dancing for you on Saturday nights!"

King, drenched in red, didn't reply. He cursed to himself. His team had to look away as not to burst out laughing.

"You're so vain, you probably think this song is about you, don't you, don't you?" Drew, Lance, and Chris hummed softly, only audible to the boys on the ground.

There was a sqwack as the brass regained control of the PA. "Will the platoons report to field?"

We lined up and I commanded my twelve. "Forward march."

Our group halted nest to King's. He remained stiff, despite the fact Merrel girls were shooting daggars at him, and his before clean uniform was drenched red, matching his neck.

"Winner of the head drill Captain of North Carolina Redding. Coperal Tristan DuGrey."

Double K.O. I saluted. "I accept all duties and punishments with my role."

Everyone applauded and the ceremony was over.

I grinned and high fived Drew. I opened my mouth, but a different voice rang in my ear.

"Tristan." A cool, silvery, large-and-in-charge.

"Dad?" Surprised I turned to face the man I hadn't seen in a month.

"Captain." He glanced over my team, then my many medals adorning my chest. "You've done well."

The three words meant more than King's red face and the medals together.

"Son, pack your pags. You're coming home. Today."

I smirked. "Five minutes."

"I'll be in the Rolls." He walked away.

I looked to my new friends. "I'm busting out."

They all congratulated me. Drew shook his head ruefully. "Dude, how are we gonna have any good ones on our ex-monarch."

"I'll mail them to ya." I looked over his shoulder where King was cussing on of his teammates out and kicking rocks over the field.

The three walked me to the cabin and helped me pack, then walked me to the Rolls Royce.

"I'll write." I promise.

I slid in next to Dad, who was all ready working on his laptop.

I sighed and looked to my Dad. "You're letting me out of prison early. Why?"

"You're doing well there." He didn't even take his eyes off the screen.

"A DuGrey." I said pointedly. "Doesn't do anything with a distinct self serving reason."

Dad smirked, thirty years ago it could have been my own. "Just rule Chilton as you used to, go on a few dates, stay on the right side of the law, and prepare to do anything but bea lawyer."

I knew he was hiding something, but I also knew the wise time to bring it up would be when we were at least out of earshot from Seargent Cruiz's booming voice.

A/N: I have released a mad virus to anyone who reads this story and does not hit the "Comment" button will lose all priveleges to enter Fanfiction! bwahahaha..ha....ha......ha.............ha. cough just kiddidng! :)

Please comment, it means a lot. If you are on my author alert then an e-mail will be sent to you everytime I update, thought some of you might want to know!

ps. What does OCC mean?

p.s.s. Still working on the grammar stuff, sry. Plz don't tell me how bad my typos are, I know.