“So, how was school?” 

“Fine.” John responded, holding his knees to his chest as he looked out the car’s window as it passed by miles upon miles of lifeless, flat land with the occasional bare bush branches and long strands of dead grass to break it up. 

“Whaddya do?” his father asked, his eyes squinting in an attempt to keep the sun out while driving, not that there was much to look out for on the painfully boring road. It was nothing but a line that was surrounded by such a repetitive scenery, you would’ve thought you weren’t making any process after half an hour of driving. John had a newfound hatred for this road, it made the trip to and from school painful,  there weren’t any sort of gas stations or general stores to stop at, so it was just a long, drawn-out 30 minutes of road. Dad had suggested doing some of his homework, but admittingly, he didn’t feel like it.

“Nothing.” John finally responded, his father chuckled.

“Awh, come on, I know you did something, I’m sure you didn’t just stare at a wall all day--oh one second!” the father slowly came to a stop when he spotted a man standing in front of a large, thin black gate only a few feet away; the gate had a small lock keeping it together. The man made his way over to the car and, though it was hard to tell with sunglasses on, kept a keen eye on whoever was in the front seat, showing no emotion whatsoever.

Rolling down the car’s window and promptly popping his head out, he waved to the man with a big smile, “Heya, Walter, just drivin’ by!” 

Walter’s posture seemed to loosen up; nodding and mouthing the word “okay” and adjusted his sunglasses as he turned around to unlock the gate, sand flying up with each step he took, latching onto his long, olive-colored pants.

“Thanks, Walter, be careful out in this heat!” dad said, taking note of the large sweat stains on the man’s shirt and his soaking hair.

Rolling the window back up and lightly pressing the gas pedal as the man began opening the gate, Dad spoke,  “You see John, this is why you always be nice to everyone in your school, you never know when you might need them in the future!” 

“I know.” John murmured as he loudly flipped another page of Action Comic in an attempt to drown out his father’s talking. John would occasionally catch his father waving to the men in camo, still wearing that big smile on his face, some would wave back. He’d hear his dad talk about how nice the people are or that they live in such a wonderful neighborhood. The usual. The car suddenly came to a screeching halt, a cloud of sand surrounding them. John’s face slammed against the passenger seat, his nose throbbed. He heard his father curse under his breath as he watched a large, clunky vehicle drive through the dust.

“That’s the only thing I can’t stand about this darn place, cars here don’t look where they’re goin’!” 

“We can always move if you don’t like them.” John suggested, raising an eyebrow as he closed his comic.

“No no, it’s fine, just somethin’ minor.” Dad shook his head as he continued driving, “Besides, we’re almost home, can’t complain about that!” 

“You consider almost being hit by a motor scout something minor?”

“Could’ve been worse, John, could’ve been worse. Can’t nitpick every little thing bout this neighborhood.” John’s father pulled into the driveway of their two-story, pastel yellow house, which was kept in such good condition for so long that many would guess it had just been built! Letting out a small sigh, he stretched his arms as much as he could in the compacted car as the boy began collecting his schoolwork that had fallen to the car’s floor.

“The middle of a military base is not a neighborhood.”

“Anything’s a neighborhood with enough friendly people and houses.” 

“We’re the only house here.” John shot back in a monotone voice. 

“Don’t say that,” his father said as he swung the car door open and was immediately greeted by a sergeant who towered over him. He looked down at the dad with a straight, but strangely sympathetic face; he turned to John, but still kept his eyes locked on the father and asked “How’s my boy doing?” 

“Good, sir. Got one of the highest grades on yesterday’s test... Sir.” the son quickly answered, his hands tensing up as the broad giant stared down at him. 

Letting out a chuckle, the massive man said, “You don’t have to call me sir, that’s for the soldiers, I appreciate it though.” he shifted his head back to the father, “Can I... Talk to you alone.” the sergeant said with hesitance, placing his hand on the dad’s shoulder as they took several steps away from the car.

“What about?” the dad asked.

Breathing deeply, he adjusted his hat and placed his hands at his side, “It’s about your family. I’m sure you’ve read the news recently,” 

The dad’s eyes lit up as he nodded approvingly, “Yes, Earhart flew solo across the Atlantic Ocean; my wife was ecstatic to hear!”

The sergeant brought his hand to the father’s face, hovering in front of it by a few centimeters, silencing him. “No, not that! The war.”

There were a few seconds of silence before Dad’s expression turned somewhat sour, “Look, if you plan on drafting John, you KNOW he’s far too young-” 

“No, no, not that. I know you ain’t some sap,” another pause, “It’s about your house.” 

Dad’s once sour expression became extraordinarily bitter as he stiffened and stood tall, “Look, I don’t know if you’re trying to start some sorta beef with me, but I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again! My grandfather built that house from the ground up in that spot, so it’ll STAY in that spot!”

“Your grandfather’s dead.” 

“That may be so, but by God will his legacy live on!” the dad turned his nose and huffed, the sergeant--despite raising his voice--stated “I understand where you’re coming from, honestly, but we need more space for training our men--or heck--even storage units!” 

The father waved his arms about, “You have an entire DESERT worth of land! What, is it too sandy for your taste or something?!” 

“That’s not--listen, I don’t know what we can do to make everyone happy, maybe we could move your house outside of military territory, or put your house in a plane and bring it to a different location--”

“You can do that?” dad interrupted, baffled, as his eyebrows shot up. The sergeant opened his mouth for a moment, closed it, then opened it again, “Would you move if we did?” 

“No! But that definitely sounds impressive! Now if you’ll excuse me,” the dad spun around, sand flinging into the air as he began heading back to his bright, happy house, “I’m going to have dinner with my family; wife made clam broth with stuffed celery, unless you want to join us?” 

Shaking his head, the sergeant pressed his lips together, “No, that’s quite alright, have a good evening, Mister Budalla.” 

“And to you as well.” Mister Budalla smiled as he walked farther and farther away from the sergeant.