Sounds Like Crazy by Shana Mahaffey

the rules,” said Sarge sternly inside my head.
    “I am guiding our destiny and you two have the nerve to complain?” said Betty Jane. “Who do you think you are?” She dimissed us with her hand.
    “We are going straight to Milton,” I said. Betty Jane answered my threat by disappearing through the Committee’s front door.
    “No need,” said Sarge.“The agreement was that I enforce the rules.”
    “Well, let me applaud you on a job well-done.” I clapped my hands.
    Sarge was unmoved.“Just like in combat, Holly, you discover your enemy’s intentions before acting.”
    “Next time,” I said, gesturing dramatically with open palms, “just ask. Any one of us could have told you what Betty Jane’s
intentions were. Even him.” I tapped my head where I thought the Silent One was sitting inside. “Of course, he’d answer by clasping his hands in prayer—”
    “Holly, two o’clock. Look sharp!” said Sarge. I stopped short. A bike messenger stood slightly to my right. His startled face told me he’d taken in the whole exchange.Well, one side of it.
    “Let me,” said Ruffles. Sarge nodded. I guess today’s a rules holiday. I relaxed. She took over. “I’m an actress,” Ruffles said. Then she flirted with the freedom of a fat woman who knows that the object of her attention will never view her as an object of desire.The elevator arrived. Ruffles stepped in.The messenger smiled and waved at her as the elevator door closed.
    When we got home, Sarge called a meeting. I lay back on my bed and entered the Committee’s house.
    “Sit,” barked Sarge at all of us.We all looked over at Betty Jane stretched out on her bed, nail file in hand. Hers was the only space with enough room to accommodate all five of us.
    “I told you, sit!” thundered Sarge. Betty Jane slid over and we all scrambled onto her bed.
    “People.We have a mission. Sixty days to complete it. And I am the only combat-ready soldier in this unit.” Sarge articulated each word, his voice a gruff tone I’d never heard before.“For the next eight weeks, you shit birds will follow the routine.”
    Betty Jane gasped.“Do not use that kind of language in front of the Boy.” Ironically, the Boy was the only one unfazed by this Sarge with chest muscles straining against his white T-shirt.
    Sarge pointed his finger right at Betty Jane. “If you want to succeed, you will not interrupt me.You will not question me. I am First Shirt here, and my orders will be followed to the letter.” Betty Jane opened her mouth. Sarge waved her off. “To the letter! Do you hear me?”
    We all nodded.

    “When I ask a question, you answer, ‘HUA.’ Heard, understood, and acknowledged. Do you hear me?”
    A feeble, “HUA,” sounded in the room.
    “Say it like you mean it,” said Sarge.
    “HUA,” we said louder.
    “We’ll work on that. Now, SOP will be a weekly plan with nightly sit rep to make sure we are on target. We get up daily at zero-dark-thirty. We will not be late for classes or meetings. We will take public transportation without any backtalk. We will pull together and we will conquer this mountain. Together. I want to see assholes and elbows every day until D-day.”
    I got so lost in the lingo, I didn’t hear the rest of the details. Later I listened while the Boy explained to Ruffles that swearing didn’t bother him, shit birds were slobs, first shirt meant sergeant, zero-dark-thirty was really early in the morning, and assholes and elbows meant we’d better be working really hard.
    We used my World Wildlife Fund calendar to count down to D-day. The panda hanging on the tree watched every night when the Boy crossed off the day gone by with a red pen. After a week, we were running like a well-oiled machine, down to the hospital corners on our beds.
     
    The task Sarge couldn’t prepare me for was how to convince Sarah to get me the funds I needed to cover my new line of work. I had enough money to get me halfway through the second week of