Slave to Beauty
A vignette from some images found
By Maryanne Peters

I was brought up in a beautiful home. My mother called herself “A Slave to Beauty” as if that could explain everything that she did to me – or perhaps excuse it. It was like saying that she had no choice, but surely that was mine.

When Matt said That's the protocol, it reminded me of something my grandfather told me
about his time in the Army: "The most important thing you can learn in the Army
is that there's a right way, a wrong way, and the Army way."

"How do you know which way is the Army way?" I asked him.

"It's in the manual," he replied.

The Show Place Arena, Prince George's County, Maryland:
“This song is for all you cowgirls out there.” Angela gives Cassady a head nod.

Her daddy gave her first pony
Then told her to ride
She climbed high in that saddle
Feel I don't know how many times
He taught her a lesson that she learned
Maybe a little too well
Cowgirls don't cry

Jo faces up to the future and comes clean to her employers. How it will all turn out is still unclear.

Stepping into combat class, I saw that everyone was lined up by the protection medals. Ameth was crouched on the table watching everyone like a hawk. Getting in line behind Naomi, I asked, “What's going on?”

“No idea,” she said. “I just got in line with everyone else.”

We moved quickly and soon enough it was our turn. “Sign your names for a medal,” the cat girl said.