ds_flashfiction | "Summer of '79" Challenge

bethbethbeth.livejournal.com posting in

I scavenged this 731 word snippet from a WIP that hasn't shown a sign of life in over two years. Another 93 challenges, and maybe the entire story will be posted. *g*

(btw...I think this actually *is* set in 1979)

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First Impressions
by Beth H
(c) June 24, 2003

Our training period wasn't due to begin for another three days, but it appeared that my roommates, still unknown to me, had similar attitudes to my own where proper preparation time was concerned because the other three narrow beds in the small room had already been claimed.

I unpacked my belongings and had begun to hang up my clothes, when the door flew open. A young man with wavy auburn hair hurried in and flopped stomach-down on the bed nearest mine, his head hanging over the edge as if he were looking for something on the floor.

He pulled himself back up onto his bed and looked over at me. "You're Fraser, right? I'm Richard Tett. Call me Dick. How'd you end up in prison?"

"Excuse me?"

"Oh man, don't tell me. One of those. You actually wanted to be here, right?"

"Well, yes, I did. Do. Are you here under duress?"

"Duress. You always talk like that? Yeah, my old man duressed me here. 22 weeks until I get sprung, and it can't come fast enough, as far as I'm concerned." He got up from the bed and walked toward the door, then stopped and looked back at me. "You read all that crap in the cadet manual about deportment and neatness and whatever, right? Hope you've got a civilian suit, like they wrote and said we needed to wear for dinners. They're real sticklers about that sort of thing . . . but I'm sure you know that already. See you around, Fraser."

Oh dear. I couldn't recall any mention made of formal civilian attire being required so soon in any of the correspondence I'd received from Depot, but I'd been hoping I would have time to purchase a new suit with the money my father had given me before I had to wear one to any official functions.

My grandmother had encouraged me to pack the suit they'd bought for me when I attended the Cullin wedding - "Better to be safe than sorry" - and I was glad I had taken her advice, but as I began to change into the suit, I realized that in the two years since this purchase had been made, I had grown quite a bit taller and had filled out as well. Neither my ankles nor my wrists were even close to being covered and it was difficult to breathe easily with the slacks fastened. However, there was no help for it. In any case, I told myself, this was the RCMP Training Academy, and not a fashion show.

When I reached the door of the company mess, I was no longer quite so certain that I'd been correct in my assessment that this was not a fashion show. I paused nervously at the door, trying to pull my jacket sleeves just a bit lower and failing miserably, when the sound of a stranger's laughter bubbled up behind me.

"Oh, Lord...not another one. Don't tell me - you've got Dick Tett in your dorm block."

"He's one of my roommates," I replied automatically.

"Well, he sure lives up to his name. My name's Dorothy. Dorothy Ryman. This has gotta be your first day here."

"It is. I'm Benton Fraser."

"Cool name. Come on then, Benton Fraser...we've got to get you out of here." She grabbed my hand, pulled me down the hall away from the mess, and began marching me toward C block before I even thought to ask where we were heading.

"Back to your room. You must have a pair of sweats or something."

"Of course, but I thought . . . ."

"Yeah, you thought you were supposed to get dressed up for dinner. Make a good impression . . . that sort of thing. Believe me, Benton Fraser, no offense, but the only impression you'd be making wearing that suit is Big Doof."

"Doof?"

Dorothy laughed again. "You're from the Territories, aren't you?"

I nodded.

"Nobody dresses formally around here for dinner, at least not before classes start. Now go on and change. Shoo. I'll wait for you."

She pushed me down the hall, and I changed into something more casual as she had suggested. When we returned together to the mess hall, I noted that as Dorothy had told me, nobody was wearing anything more formal than the odd button-down shirt. I was almost pathetically relieved that I hadn't made a fool out of myself even before my training commenced.