Purple Hearts (Front Lines 3)

“Not yet.”

“At least we’re heading downhill,” Jenou says.

“Sorry to drag you into this, Jen.” Rio is about to add something about being desperate for veterans, but she checks herself and says, “I need you.”

“Well, isn’t that nice?” Jenou says, intending to sound sarcastic, but the truth is she’s oddly touched and sounds like it. Jenou has barely spoken to Rio since Stick’s death. “You doing okay?”

“Like Christmas morning finding a stocking full of gifts,” Rio says.

“Speaking of which, it’ll be Christmas soon. I guess that’s good what with everyone saying the war will be over by Christmas.” Jenou fumbles in her bag and pulls out something that looks like a big, metal Tootsie Pop. “Beebee scrounged this. It’s a British thing called a ‘sticky bomb.’ You take it out of its shell and it’s basically a grenade with glue on it. You’re supposed to throw it at tanks. I have two. I’ll hold on to them for you.”

“Why are they for me and not for you?”

“You’re the hero, Rio, not me.”

“No?”

Jenou shakes her head. “You know, when we started out I was just looking for a guy and a way out of Gedwell Falls. I have a feeling that Jenou is dead. Dead and buried.”

“We’ve all changed,” Rio says.

Jenou nods. “That’s true. You used to just be my flat-chested best friend who broke out in hives at the thought of kissing a boy.”

Rio glances back to see who might be overhearing this exchange. Milkmaid Molina is nearest. Her face is blank, but it’s the careful sort of blank that indicates that yes, she heard all right.

“At first I was not real happy with how you were changing, and that took my mind off thinking about myself and whether I was turning into someone different.” Jenou trips on a root, takes two wild balancing steps, and catches herself.

“So?” Rio prods.

“So, like I said, that Jenou, the empty-headed little flirt, died somewhere back along the way. Italy, I guess. Yeah, that’s when I started to feel like . . . I don’t know. Not like me.”

Rio grabs Jenou’s arm and pulls her off the trail. “Keep going, Molina, we’ll catch up.”

“Is this a rest stop?” Chester asks hopefully.

Something in Rio’s snarl convinces him to keep moving.

“Are you okay, Jen? We never got much of a chance to talk about what’s going on with your folks.”

“I blame the Krauts—they keep interrupting. Anyway, to be honest, Rio, it’s a relief. It was getting me down thinking of going back there, back to . . . them . . . when this is all over.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well . . . there’s this GI Bill thing, you know, where the government will pay for college?” Jenou winces as if expecting ridicule.

“Jenou Castain, college coed?” Rio smiles crookedly.

“You think I’m not clever enough.”

“Oh bullshit, Jen, you’re smart enough to do whatever you want.” She frowns. “Which is what, exactly?”

They start walking again, a few dozen paces behind Chester.

“Well,” Jenou says, “I’ve been sort of noodling around with this journal . . . anyway, I thought maybe I’d study English and think about writing.”

Rio is silent for a while until Jenou says, “Yeah, but it’s probably a silly pipe dream.”

“I think it would be wonderful. You’ve always had a way with words. I’d be proud of you,” Rio says. “All right, Molina? Take point. Stafford to the rear.”