Convention
Level 5
Moving Out
When Dylan opened his eyes, Goofy was staring at him, pointing a gun at his forehead. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, put your hands on your head.”
Dylan sat up, startled, and put his hands on his head.
Hunter, who was next to Dylan in bed again, screamed when he saw what was going on.
“Quiet,” the Goofy figure said, shaking his gun at Hunter.
“What do you want?” Dylan asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking so Hunter wouldn’t freak out more.
“Do you know—the Hokey Pokey?”
“The Hokey Pokey?” Dylan was confused.
Goofy nodded and started to laugh. “It’s just me, Lyle,” the figure said, removing the head and tossing it on the ground. “I really got you!”
Dylan shoved off the covers and stood. “Really funny,” he said as he started to get dressed, avoiding Lyle’s eye.
“Maybe this will make you smile.” Lyle pulled a chrome button with two stripes from his pocket and handed it to Dylan, “You’ve just been promoted to team leader of Company D.”
“Team leader?” Dylan asked, confused again.
Lyle nodded, excited. “I’ve been moved to Company C, and I gave your name as my personal recommendation.” He paused and then added, “Congratulations.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you eat at the big boy’s table—come on, grab your things and let’s get some breakfast.”
“What about Hunter?”
Irritated, Lyle glanced at Hunter and said, “What about him? You can meet him after breakfast.”
Dylan turned to Hunter and said, “Get dressed and go to Trinity’s room. I’ll find you downstairs.” He looked over at Samuel. He was lying in the fetal position at the edge of the other bed, staring blankly at the TV—the same position and place Hunter and Dylan found him in when they came back the night before. They’d tried to talk to him, but he refused to speak. “And get Samuel downstairs.”
“What if he won’t get out of bed?”
“Find Trinity and have her help you.”
# # #
“The great thing about your new position,” one of Lyle’s friends explained as Dylan ate breakfast, “is you get to send the other kids out to die—I lost my entire company last week, and you know what happened to me?”
Dylan shook his head.
“Army gave me a week off while they put together a new squad for me! I’ve been riding rides all week.”
“So my job is just to assign kids to die?”
“Basically,” the guy laughed. “It sounds bad when you put it that way—you get used to losing men. I’ve been assigned to new men twenty times, and I’ve only been in the Army less than a year.”
“I’ve been assigned new men twenty-two times,” Lyle boasted.
“Twenty-six here,” another man called.
“I heard about a woman in Oregon that has been assigned new companies over a hundred times, and has lost over a thousand soldiers!”
“Gun-Shy Molly?” Lyle asked.
“That’s her.”
“She’s a legend,” Lyle said dismissively. He turned to Dylan. “But it’s like I always say—exaggeration is just another form of survival in the Army. Maybe twenty-two squads have served under me, and maybe there’s only been one. Maybe we’re all lying. Doesn’t matter. No one cares as long as you act like you’re the right man for the job.”
Dylan was barely listening, staring instead at the entrance and waiting for Trinity and Hunter to come in. A piece of corn hit him between the eyes, and Dylan looked across the table at Lyle’s friend. “Are you?” the soldier asked, throwing another piece of corn.
“Am I what?”
“The right man for the job.”
Dylan shrugged. “Sure—whatever.”
Lyle laughed and slapped Dylan on the back. “What’d I say! Do I pick them good or what?” He started to say something more, but