Gray Girl Read Online Free

down, after the order “Take Seats”
was given.   He showed them how they
were to sit in the chairs—with straight backs one fist distance away from
the table and the back of the chair.   Then, they learned a new way of slow motion eating.
    Beginning with both hands on their
lap, eyes straight ahead, they could use their fork to lift one morsel of food,
about the size of a raisin, to their mouths.   Only after placing the utensil back down
on the plate and returning the hand back on the lap, could they begin to chew,
slowly.   After completely swallowing
that bite, they could repeat the process.  
    Jan jumped when she heard a familiar
voice shouting from the next table.   "What the hell do you think you're doing, New Cadet?"   It was the fourth floor man in the red
sash, Cadet Jackson.
    Jan froze again, forgetting for a
moment that she wasn’t the one in trouble this time.
    “I'm talking to you, New Cadet!”   He bellowed again.
    "Uh, eating, Sir."   The male voice sounded scared.
    "IS THAT ONE
OF YOUR FIVE RESPONSES?”  
    "No, Sir."
    "Then I'll ask again: what the
hell are you doing?"   He asked
more calmly this time.   The new
cadet didn’t answer.   “Well, New
Cadet, I’m waiting?”
    “Sir, may I ask a question?”
    “No, you may not.   Answer MY question, New Cadet?”
    “No excuse, Sir.”
    "Damn right no excuse.   That was the biggest piece of chicken
I've ever seen on one fork.   You
some kind of pig, New Cadet?"
    "No, Sir."
    "You just sit there and think
about that huge bite you just took.   Think about how gross that looks."  
    “Yes, Sir.”  
    Jan used her peripheral vision to see
her squad mates taking their own unauthorized big bites.   Cadet Dogety didn’t seem to look up very much.   He concentrated on his own plate.

 
    Finally, the great hour of R-Day
came.   All new cadets changed into
white shirts, gray trousers and black shoes without hats.   Apparently, new cadets could not be
trusted to keep hats on their heads.   They lined up in squads, in platoons and in companies, and marched
onto   “The Plain” in front of all
those spectators—family, friends and alumni.   The first day hadn’t even ended and
Jan’s calves, biceps and neck were throbbing.   Throwing up was not out of the realm of
possibility.  
    Yet, she also felt pride to be in
this elite group, on this honorable field, with so many adoring
spectators.   In just a few hours,
they had transformed from mere civilians into disciplined soldiers.   They were the future leaders of the
United States Army and on that glorious, sunny afternoon, the West Point Class
of 1985 became part of the Long Gray Line.   
    Together with her classmates, she
raised her right hand and took the West Point oath:

 
    “I, Jan Wishart ,
do solemnly swear that I will support the Constitution of the United States,
and bear true allegiance to the National Government; that I will maintain and
defend the sovereignty of the United States, paramount to any and all allegiance,
sovereignty, or fealty that I may owe to any State or country whatsoever; and
that I will at all times obey the legal orders of my superior officers, and the
Uniform Code of Military Justice.”

 
    She wondered what “fealty” meant but
figured there wouldn’t ever be a good time to ask.   Then all 1528 new cadets, along with the
“cadre,” which Jan decided meant “old cadets,” passed in review and presented
arms.
    In that glorious exhibition of
tradition, as Jan’s platoon rounded the corner, a male voice shouted from
somewhere in the crowd, “Go home, Bitch.”

 
 
 
    3

 
    Thursday,
May 6, 1982
    1700
hours

 
    “What happened after Cadet Wishart’s third
time to your room?” Conrad asked Jackson.  
    Here
it comes.   Jan dreaded this
part.   She hoped he would say
something that seemed out of place, anything that would raise a red flag in
their minds.   But Jackson’s as cool as a carrot.
    “Cadet Wishart came back