October, 1988

Today was interesting.

It was the test to make scout. They let me take it after Hannah and I begged and begged. You had to hit every target within a certain time frame. When I got to the nest, I counted too many targets to get hit in the given time. There was one too many.

The bastards made it impossible for me. They knew I would embarrass everyone else with my precision, but a total miss was an automatic fail. They knew I wouldn't make a hit on that last target. I looked over at the viewing area; I felt like turning my rifle on their smug, leathery faces. Ooo, I was boiling.

Sarge had the audacity to ask, everything alright Ms. Calhoun? I hated when he called me Ms. He just used the last name for everyone else.

I said, nothing at all sarge. And I laid down and started getting control of my breathing during the warmup rounds. It didn't feel right. It wasn't fair. I know life aint fair. It's never been fair for me. It's cattywampus, off kilter, unbalanced.

The test started.

Time ticking in my ear.

I thought about Pa not letting me do things when I was young, but my Ma balanced that out by her secret gift. Hit my first two marks with plenty of time.

I thought about "good" ladies not being able to speak their minds, but this journal helps me balance out that dumb rule. Hit my second two marks dead in the center.

I thought about stupid boys saying stupid shit to me, but then God giving me Hannah to balance my spirit when I needed someone. Hit two more targets with speed and grace.

I led the rifle's dance to my right and we reached the last two targets. One easy to hit, the other impossible to hit in the remaining time. What's the balance here? Where is God's gift in this moment?

I found it.

It wasn't supplied to me. It wasn't a gift. I went back to the feeling of those moments when a wrong was made right and uneven scales were made flush, and found the power to enact a balanced will on that moment of injustice.

I split the bullet in half and found the center of both targets before the timer ran out. Impossible, but that's what I did.

Dear God, sorry for cursing. Thank you for helping me pass the test. Help me forgive my superiors who gave me this unfair test, and please fix their hurt feelings that I passed anyway.

Piper