Wayland said. "Why was that?" Well the boys hated rubbers, said it was like taking a shower in a raincoat. I didn't care for them either, they were so slick, and you get so you really like how it feels without them." What about other methods?" I needed my parent's permission." And you weren't going to ask for that because that would tell your parents what you were doing."Danielle nodded. "I wouldn't be their sweet, innocent little girl." She looked down, clasping her hands, squeezing them until the ends of her fingers turned white. "I just couldn't do that to my mother," she continued in a near-whisper. "She used to brag about me to her friends! I was always the perfect one, much better than my sister. Hah! If they only knew! But I had perfect conduct, perfect clothes and hair, perfect friends—I was a member of the most popular clique—and I had grades good enough I wouldn't have to go to a Community College like my sister, but could go directly to Berkley, or maybe even USC. I. Even the honors Meiersdottir had promised him would await at the end of their journey would be hollow shams, he would still know the truth and others would, he was sure, suspect; what transpired had the hallmarks of pusillanimous civilian thinking, not the true valor of the fighting man. And the bitch still held the confession he'd been forced to sign. No, it would be Igwanda, not he, who would reap the glory.He was a bitter man. And news of the coming wedding, which he gleaned from bits and snatches of conversations overheard, only intensified his bitterness. By rights Zo should have had to apply to him for permission to marry—permission that would never have been granted; Miller knew, far better than other more liberal officers who might accede to such a presumptuous request, the proper limits for soldiers in his command. Yet as matters stood it was to Igwanda that the sergeant had made his application, and to rub salt in the wound the usurper would even stand beside him as his.
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