The Virginity Mission Read Online Free PDF Page A

know as soon as it’s out of my mouth but it slipped out before I could stop it.
    â€œYou always this prickly?” Again, the smile softens the question and I don’t mind answering.
    â€œOnly when I’m route marching up a whopping great hill, my calves screaming at me, and I’m dying of thirst.”
    â€œThen stop and we’ll drink.”
    I shake my head. “I might not start again. I’ll survive. Keep going. We’re bound to stop soon.”
    But Tim isn’t accepting my excuse. He wrestles my drink bottle from the side pouch of my backpack and thrusts it into my hands. I walk and sip the blessed water before screwing the cap back on. “Do you want some?” He shakes his head and returns my drink bottle to my pack.
    He slips his bottle from his belt and sips. “It’s much easier when you can grab it yourself.”
    I have one of those belts—at base camp. I didn’t think I’d need it.
    Somewhat replenished of moisture, if not breath, the conversation picks up. We have things in common, which surprises me. Of all the people to find the most connection with, I didn’t expect it to be the army guys. I don’t know why. I think it’s because of the way everyone avoids them, whispers about their reputations, and the warning to steer clear of them. I should never listen to rumours.
    Tim finally asks the question I’ve been expecting. “So what’s with you and Jason?”
    Luckily I’ve had time to plan my response. I pretend to be coolly unaffected. No fraternisation. “Nothing’s with us. We spoke a couple of times.”
    â€œHe doesn’t speak to people as a rule.”
    I stop short. My legs will not respond to my brain. What does he mean, Jason doesn’t talk to people? Why has he gone out of his way to speak to me? He seemed more than capable of speaking when we chatted, unlike me.
    â€œMac, you coming?” Tim’s about five paces ahead of me and turns with concern etched into his face. “What’s up?”
    I huff the five paces to catch up to him and keep walking, putting one foot in front of the other. “What do you mean he doesn’t speak to people?”
    â€œJust that. I’ve been in his company for almost a year now. He bitched unendingly about having to do this duty. He drilled us with the rules. And then I see him down the creek, sitting with you, chatting away as if you’re old friends. I’ve never seen him relax with a stranger.”
    â€œI’m not that strange.” I grin but Tim isn’t letting me fob him off.
    â€œHe voluntarily spoke to you, didn’t he?”
    I shrug not quite sure what to say. He didn’t seem to have any trouble talking. I blush at the memory of my own problems with speaking. Maybe that’s why he spoke—he felt sorry for me. “Are you saying he’s shy?” I wonder if that’s the reason for Tim’s comment.
    Tim’s sudden burst of amusement makes me feel a fool. “You spent almost an hour talking to him and you’re asking me if he’s shy? Didn’t you get that impression?”
    I frown, thinking back to our conversation. “No. He ripped into me about being a wuss. Told me to get out here and bust a gut proving I could do this.”
    It’s Tim’s turn to stop in his tracks and look dumbfounded.
    â€œWhat?” I ask, twisting my head to make sure he starts walking again. He does.
    â€œWow. You must have hit a raw nerve. He doesn’t dish out advice. How on earth did that come up?”
    â€œI don’t know.” I shrug and try to explain without showing my foolishness. “He asked how I was doing and caught me at a weak moment. I told him I wasn’t doing so well.” I look at Tim. “Did he ask you to keep an eye on me? Is that why you’re here?”
    â€œNo. I wanted to come and meet you for myself. I wanted to find out how you knew