"What’s that supposed to be, Parker? Your spirit animal?" The laughter rippled through the chow line, sharp and jagged like rusty wire. I didn’t turn around. I kept my eyes on the tray in my hands, counting the seconds. One. Two. Three. "I bet she got it on spring break," Private Miller sneered, loud enough for half the mess hall to hear. "Hey Parker! You gonna flutter away if the wind blows too hard?" I just stood there. I was twenty-eight years old, a Private First Class in Logistics. To them,