Apple seemed lost for an explanation.

Sam said, “I think I understand. On the one hand, reporting Klein and Lukowski would have been giving up one’s peers, which is not done. But on the other—”

“You talk like a lawyer,” Nate interrupted, while watching to see what exercise we were doing next.

“I’m only articulating what—” Sam broke off, looking embarrassed. “I do, don’t I?”

“Or a politician,” Nate said. “A senator. That’s what we should call you. The Senator.”

“So now,” Apple said, looking glad to have the attention turned off him, “somebody besides me’s got a nickname. Who gets one next? Moss?”

Nate and Sam both started to say something they thought better of. Probably that Moss, itself, was as good as a nickname.

Nate got serious again. “Really, Apple, you have to stand up for yourself.”

Apple, struggling to touch his toes without bending his knees, said, “I know. I should have pitched into them when I had the chance. Next time I will.”

“You mean that?” I asked him, as we walked to breakfast.

“Sure,” he said. “You know the saying. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’”

“But you’re not going to do anything hotheaded? Everybody’s been warned about fighting, and Compton’s already got you and me marked from that business Sunday.”

“Stop worrying,” Apple said. “With luck I won’t have to work with those two again, anyway.”

I hoped not, because I liked Apple, and I didn’t want to see him pitched out of the CCC for being a troublemaker.

Nate was right. The only way to deal with guys like Klein and Lukowski was to stand up to them. But there were ways to do it that didn’t start with throwing a punch, which I feared would be Apple’s way.

When work details got assigned that day, I got trash burning, Sam and Nate were put on grounds cleanup—that meant picking up cigarette butts—and Apple, Klein, and Lukowski drew the latrines.

That detail always caused a laugh and some crude jokes because of the nature of it, and the guys on it were expected to make snappy comebacks. Klein and Lukowski, though, just glowered. And I could see Apple gearing up for something.

Before I could stop myself, I was asking him, “Say, you want to switch? I’d rather swab out showers than sweat over a fire.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said.

“Really,” I said. “Anyway, you can switch with me the next time I draw KP. Peeling a barrel of potatoes like I did the other day—that’s one job I don’t ever want again.”

“They’re just going to try to walk all over you like they did me.”

“I won’t let them,” I promised. “I won’t give them a chance.”