The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

11: Doomed from the Start

"I don't feel well."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Don't pull that shit with me, Charlie, you're comin' whether you like it or not."

Charlie frowned as she smoothed out the skirt of her dress uniform. She didn't understand why they had to go out in their uniforms instead of normal dresses but supposed she was glad for it, if only because she knew she would have been running out of dresses already if she'd been having to wear her own. Still, she didn't much feel like herself in the charcoal grey blazer and skirt, with all its hard lines and blunt tailoring - she was much more used to paler colours, softer silhouettes, but beggars couldn't be choosers. She supposed the beret was cute, at least.

"I just started a new book," Charlie mumbled under her breath, not that she expected Mabel to be convinced by that at all. Where Charlie was all about books and reading, Mabel was all about equations and solving, and Charlie was endlessly envious of her quick and mathematical mind. However envious, though, she knew she would always rely on stories to keep her sane, and right now she felt as though her sanity was resting solely on the prospect of reading another chapter of her new book.

"You can read it tomorrow," came Mabel's predictable reply. "You ain't workin', remember?"

"I remember." Charlie sighed. "I don't even know what I'm going to do with myself tomorrow. I'll be all by myself." Where she was sitting on Mabel's bed, waiting for her to finish doing her makeup, she gazed longingly out of the window. "I wish you were off work tomorrow, too."

"Me too, honey," said Mabel with an audible smile. "Me too."

"I suppose I should have a look around the village. I haven't seen much of it since we got here."

Mabel nodded, capping her lipstick and pressing her lips together to distribute the vibrant red she'd painted on them, the same as Charlie had done herself only a little while ago in her own room. "That's a good idea. Maybe you can try out that bakery over from the bus stop."

Charlie smiled, rolling the idea around in her head. "What should I get?"

"Muffins, definitely," replied Mabel without missing a beat. "Blueberry, if they got 'em."

"Muffins, you say?" Charlie said with a laugh. "Why muffins?"

"They remind me of home. My mama used to make 'em every Sunday mornin'. I'd come downstairs to the smell of 'em and know they were fresh out the oven."

Charlie smiled softly, running her fingers over the bedspread beneath her and watching idly as Mabel fluffed her blonde hair. "That sounds so nice," Charlie said, remembering her own home fondly. She'd managed to avoid homesickness mostly since arriving, probably because she was so busy, but she felt it bubbling up in her stomach now, a leaden weight which wanted to weigh her into the ground.

She brushed it hastily aside. "I like cookies best," she said to try to steer her thoughts toward something happier. "At home there was a bakery just around the corner from my house and they sold the best chocolate chip cookies I've ever had. I went with my parents to get some one last time the day before I left."

Mabel spun around on the chair of her dresser and made a face. "As cute as that story is, chocolate chip cookies have gotta be one of the most disgustin' baked goods you could'a said were your favourite."

Charlie gasped. "What?!"

"You heard me."

"You don't like chocolate chip cookies?!"

"I don't like any cookies." Mabel shrugged, completely unapologetic about the blasphemy she was preaching. "They're gross."

"You must be some kind of monster," Charlie accused.