Avery did not widen his eyes or offer a speech.
“Do you want to know what support is available?”
Evan almost laughed from relief.
“Yeah.”
Then he remembered Dean.
“And I want to report what happened.”
Avery looked at him carefully.
“Because of the letter?”
“Because I said it was nothing when it wasn’t.”
“You can take time before deciding.”
“If I wait, I’ll find a reason not to.”
Avery nodded.
The report did not become a dramatic punishment scene.
Dean and the others were interviewed. The recruit who had laughed first admitted that Evan asked for the letter back more than once. Another confirmed Dean held it away and tried to force Evan to read aloud. The explanation about practicing a speech collapsed immediately.
Dean received formal corrective action under the training unit’s process and lost privileges for a period. More importantly, the behavior became documented rather than absorbed into barracks culture as harmless joking.
Evan hated the attention.
For several days, people became unnaturally polite around him. Conversations stopped when he entered. One recruit offered to read a posted schedule aloud before Evan had even looked at it.
That humiliation felt different but related.
He confronted Avery.
“Now everybody thinks I can’t read.”
Avery leaned back in his chair. “Can you?”
Evan glared at him.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know. What do you want them to understand?”
Evan thought about it.
“That I can read. It just takes me longer sometimes. Handwriting is worse. Reading out loud when people are watching is worse. I don’t need people grabbing things out of my hand or doing everything for me.”
“Then tell them when you need to.”
“You make that sound easy.”
“No. I make it sound possible.”
Evan hated that answer too.
