Double Threats Forever by Julie Prestsater

Author:Julie Prestsater [Prestsater, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: High School
Published: 2012-10-28T05:00:00+00:00

“How are we supposed to know which one he is?” I ask. “They all look the same.”

“We’ll know when we see him,” Ben’s mother says. “They all look very handsome, don’t they?”

We stand for the National Anthem. The lyrics form on my lips as the band plays the song. When it’s over and we’re seated again, my eyes scan the perfectly straight rows of men looking for my friend in a sea of Marines all dressed in the same khaki colored dress shirt, and blue slacks. The band plays as I continue to search.

“Find him yet?” Alex asks.

“You’ll know when I do.”

We watch as a Marine—who I assume is someone special because there’s a red pinstripe going the down the side of each of his pant legs—grunts out a bunch of stuff I can’t make sense of. I’m assuming these jarheads know what he’s saying but I sure don’t. And they don’t even flinch, sway, or move a centimeter while he calls out to them. It’s amazing to me how still they can be on their feet, their right hands up in a salute, while everything goes on around them.

Through a P.A. system, an officer tells us about this group of graduating Marines. There are 428, ninety-nine percent are high school graduates, and nine are college grads. The booming voice thanks the parents for giving up a part of their families to protect this great country. I look over at Ben’s mom. She nods with a smile on her face. His dad is beaming with pride.

“Good morning, Marines!” he shouts.

Then, I’m assuming they say good morning back, but I can’t quite make out the words. The crowd cheers in response.

The voice goes on to talk about the changes we’ll see in these new Marines. I laugh aloud when he says they’ll all wear their pants where they belong now—around their waist and with a belt. Maybe the rest of the guys at my school should enlist.

“I still don’t see him,” I say.

“Neither do I,” his mom says. “If he asks, we’ll just tell him we had our eyes zoomed in on him from the moment he marched in.”

We all chuckle at her joke.

At one point, the spokesperson asks all Marines in attendance to rise. Near us, an older gentlemen stands, wearing a red ball cap that reads, “USMC Veteran” in gold lettering. His legs are a little wobbly as he raises a shaky hand to a salute, but the hardened look on his face is sheer determination. A young woman sitting next to him has tears gliding slowly down her cheeks.

“Is he your dad?” I ask.

She dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “Yes. We’re all here,” she gestures to the people next to her, “to see my friend who’s graduating today. Me, him, and his girlfriend have been friends since the fourth grade.”

“Wow, that’s a long time.” I think of Keesh and smile.

“My dad is a Vietnam vet so things like this always get emotional for us.” She reaches out to steady her father as he sits.

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