Chapter 2
I didn’t get much sleep after that. Before I knew it, Reveille was upon us. Nothing metaphorical about it, someone was actually blowing the tune on a damned bugle at 11:49 at night and we all obeyed it.
Up an at ‘em, all thirty of us slipped into our authentic-looking garb, some ruining the historical accuracy by spraying on a hefty coat of deodorant or Axe Body spray beneath. We had a couple of teenagers in the group, not much younger than Jefferson Eaves. They went particularly heavy on the spray cologne.
I had two nice side pockets in my jacket. Jefferson’s diary fit into one. I slipped my smallest sketch pad and some pencils into the other. By order of Patrick, we weren’t allowed to bring phones or anything else “contrary to the historical time.” I’d been imagining Jeffers
