Chapter 14: The Stitch Effect

Back in the bunk room, Stitch was holding court. He had somehow managed to smuggle a deck of cards into the theater, and he was currently losing a game of Spades to a very grumpy SSG Miller.

"I’m telling you, Ghost," Stitch said as I walked in, using the nickname that had somehow stuck. "Once we get back to the States, we’re all going to Texas. My Abuela makes tamales that would make the Captain actually smile. I bet his face would crack like a dry riverbed."

"Moreno, shut up and play your card," Miller grunted, but there was no real heat in it.

I sat on my bunk, watching them. For the first time, I wasn't sitting on the edge, ready to run. I leaned back against the wall.

"Hey, Ramírez," Miller said, not looking up from his cards. "Good work on the ridge tonight. Viper said your eyes were sharp."

"Thank you, Sergeant."

It was a small thing. A sentence. But it was the first time Miller had used my name without a sneer. I looked over at Stitch, who gave me a secret thumbs-up. He was the bridge we hadn't known we needed—the kid who didn't know enough to be bitter.