Free I Become Shadow by Joe Shine

surprised at how few parts went into making those things. Taken apart and in pieces it looked like a pile of scrap metal. But when put back together there was something scary about it. So simple yet so powerful. While I played with the weapon in my hands I got a sudden sense of dread. I did not like this thing, but I was destined to wield it for the rest of my life.
    As the session came to an end we had to clean up the gun grease from the tables and sweep up the used bullet shells and clips from the floor by the range.
    At one point Junie picked up an empty shell and said, “Remember when picking up shells meant you were at the beach?”
    I picked up an empty clip and said, “Remember when clips were for hair?”
    We didn’t know it then, but that would become our private joke for the rest of our time here. Whenever we were doing something odd, dangerous, or just plain nuts, one of us would say something along the lines of “Remember when knives were for butter?” or “Remember when tanks were for fish?”
    What I did know was that being next to Junie felt good. It felt natural. He made me feel warm and safe in a place that was cold and dangerous. Again, inappropriate feelings, feelings that didn’t belong here, welled up inside me. I laughed them off though.
Yeah, right. What could it ever lead to? Midnight romps in the used bullet casings pile?
But that didn’t stop them.
    Back in the world I would have totally put out the vibe as best I could for at least six months: silently waiting for him to talk to me, avoiding all direct eye contact, and keeping my distance before giving up because obviously he didn’t like me. But this was not the place for such rash behavior.
    I reminded myself that I hardly knew this kid. I only knew his name. Sad since he was already my closest friend here. Scratch that,
only
friend here. I glanced up at him and caught him looking at me, as if waiting to say something. It was now or never.
    “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” I asked.
Good one
, I told myself. Just the right amount of curiosity, but not enough to seem flirty. Innocent would be a good word for it.
    “Just growing up I guess. Did a lot of hunting with my dad.”
    “Ew.”
    “What?” he asked.
    “Hunting’s stupid and disgusting.”
    “No, it isn’t. It’s a fun sport,” he said defensively.
    “Football’s a sport. Hell, I could even give you golf. But sitting around drinking beer, waiting for an animal to come eat from an electric feeder so that you can shoot it does not a sport make.”
    “I think the entire South would disagree with you,” he said.
    “Well the entire South is a hot, stupid place.”
    “You know you jinxed yourself and you’ll be assigned there now, right?”
    “Dangit!” He was right of course. Señor Jinx had a cruel sense of humor.
    He smiled. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll give you some pointers, show you where to eat and stuff.”
    “Deal,” I said. And we shook on it. His hands were strong and hadn’t been wrapped around video game controllers their whole lives.
    We all lived on the same hall. This was old hat to the others but new to me since I’d spent our first night in the hospital. I liked that we were all here, that the whole team of kids without lives was together.
    “So where should I hope to be assigned if I really am jinxed to be there?” I asked. A cunning way to ask where he was from, if I do say so myself.
    “Falls Church, Virginia.”
    “Sounds creepy.”
    “It’s awesome. Right near DC, a couple hours from amazing camping and backpacking. There’s everything. It’s the best.” He choked up talking about his home. Hetried to play it off with a cough, but I knew better. I thought about calling him out on it, but figured who was I to do that? I was a crying mess. I’d let it slide for now but be sure to bring it up when I knew him better.
    “Virginia’s not really the South though,” I teased. “It’s like the fake South. It’s like the Splenda