CHAPTER 1
PAIGE
“Fired up!”
“Fired up!”
“Feeling good!”
“Feeling good!”
“Motivated!”
“Motivated!”
“Ded—”
Alex, the commander of Alpha Battalion, stops our jogging cadence abruptly as Commander Anderson, the dean of students, approaches him.
“Commander Jernigan!” the dean yells, motioning for Alex to join him.
Alex jogs over to the dean and a guy who has stepped out from behind him. This new guy clearly doesn’t belong here. He’s wearing jeans, a long-sleeved red T-shirt, and stylish sneakers that won’t last for a single run during PT—physical training. The most obvious sign he’s not a Wallingford student, though, is his full head of blond hair hanging over his eyes and ears.
Alex makes eye contact with me and motions for me to take over. “Lieutenant Commander Durant is in charge,” he says to our battalion before continuing with the dean and the new guy.
I step out of line to put myself next to the ten rows of cadets and continue with the cadence.
“Dedicated!” I yell, getting us back to where we were.
“Dedicated!” the cadets reply, their heavy footsteps keeping time as we pound out our five miles.
“All right!”
“All right!”
This added responsibility puts more pep in my step than usual. As lieutenant commander, I don’t get this job as often as I’d like, though I do have plenty of other responsibilities.
“Everybody!” I yell as we pass under an arch and onto the gravel path that circles our campus. I take a deep breath and smile at the nice view of the mountains. The trees are a little barer than they were yesterday, the ground is littered with a few more red and gold leaves, and mist rises from the valleys, despite it being the middle of the afternoon. If it were up to me, there would only be one season and it’d be fall.
“Everybody!” the cadets reply.
“Fired up!”
“Fired up!”
When we start on our second lap around campus, Alex and the new guy join us. I drop back into line, but Alex motions for me to fall out of formation to stand next to the new guy. I do as he orders and try to get a better look at the guy while staring straight ahead.
He’s shuffling his feet, slumping his shoulders, and huffing and puffing despite just starting to jog at what is really a leisurely pace. Then he stops. He literally stops on the gravel, causing three cadets to run into him, knocking him to the ground.
“What the hell?!” he barks, sending them a glare as they sidestep him and return to their places in line.
“Get up,” I say as the rest of our battalion pulls away.
“No,” he replies, brushing dirt from his sleeve.
“It wasn’t a request; it was an order. Get up.”
“Make me.”
My jaw almost drops at his display of disrespect, but I quickly catch myself. I can’t let him think he’s got the upper hand.
“Get up now or you’ll be disciplined.”
“Fine. I’ll get up,” he says, standing with a smirk.
I nod, happy he came to his senses. “We’ll need to sprint to catch up to them. Commander Jernigan doesn’t tolerate cadets who fall behind,” I reply, looking at the group now far away. “I hope those shoes are more comfortable than they loo—” Where’d he go?
Turning around, I see him sauntering along the path to a bench. Then he sits down. On the bench. During PT.
“Cadet!” I yell. “Your behavior is completely unacceptable!”
“My name’s Logan,” he grumbles before raising his fist into the air and then jutting his middle finger out. This time, my jaw does drop.
It’s clear by this guy’s attitude he’s not here by choice. Wallingford Academy has split admission: half of the cadets, like me, apply and have dreams of a military academy after graduation, and half are sent here by their parents or the court when all other attempts at correcting their behavior have failed. Most of these delinquents, or DQs as we call them, come at the start of a semester, though, not four weeks in. And they aren’t nearly as disrespectful. The drill sergeant usually gets that out of them during their two-week boot camp.
As I begin marching toward the new cadet, Alex comes racing back at us. “What’s the problem, Paige?”
“No problem,” I reply, shaking my head and smoothing back my black hair, making sure none of it has come free from my braid. I don’t want Alex to think I can’t handle the new guy. I’ve never had a problem with DQs before, and I’m not about to start now.
“Why’s Evans sitting down?”
“He’s being petulant. I’ve got it, though.”
“Move your ass now!” Alex yells, ignoring me and causing my jaw to tense and my blood pressure to rise higher than it’s been throughout our run. Later, once we’re alone, I’ll call him out on this. I’m a great cadet and even better officer. Given two more minutes, I would’ve gotten the new guy—Logan Evans, apparently—in line. Alex should know that. Besides being my commander, he’s one of my best friends.
The new guy gives Alex the finger, and suddenly my annoyance disappears. I cringe, waiting for the punishment that’s coming. Poor Evans doesn’t stand a chance.
Alex stalks over to the bench with narrowed eyes and slow, confident steps. “You will never do that to me again. Understand?”
“I’ll do whatever the hell I want,” Evans mutters, meeting Alex’s eyes briefly before dropping his gaze to the ground.
“The correct answer is ‘Yes, sir, Commander Jernigan.’” He rests his hands on his knees and bends down until he’s eye level with Evans. “This cocky attitude of yours might have worked where you’re from, but it’s not going to work here. You will spend your personal time tonight cleaning all the whiteboards in the classrooms.”
“Screw you,” Evans says, standing and trying to push his way past Alex. Except Alex has at least fifty pounds more muscle, so he doesn’t budge, and Evans has to squeeze past him.
“Make that two nights of personal time. Want to try for three? I have no problem standing here the entire afternoon and taking away all your free time for the rest of the semester. In fact, I’d enjoy it.”
Evans pauses, his back to Alex, and his shoulders fall.
“It’s your choice,” Alex says.
Evans slowly turns around and starts jogging at what really is more of a walking pace along the gravel path. Alex nods. “Good decision, cadet.” Then he speeds up to join the rest of our battalion while I accompany Evans. At this pace, we’ll never catch the others, but at least he’s trying and will eventually get the miles in.
I consider starting a new cadence song with him, but he’s already out of breath and red-faced. There’s no way he can yell on top of running.
Unfortunately, our crawling pace is going to make me miss the rest of PT. I’ll need to figure out a time to get my push-ups and pull-ups in, although I doubt I’ll have a chance until late tonight since right after PT, I have cross-country practice, then it’s dinner, followed by study hall, and then two hours of personal time, most of which will be spent at debate club. If I’m quick, I can probably fit in my workout after debate club and before lights-out at 10:00 P.M.