“Is everything a competition to you?” I ask with annoyance as I grab a new rag from the pile and wrap it around my hand. “Because I promise I’ve got you beat on this one.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and I expect some remark about my disrespect, but she just stares at me until it’s uncomfortable. I force my eyes back to the floor.
We begin to work again, silently this time as each of us moves farther and farther away from the other with our progress. What I wouldn’t give to have Lora here right now. We can talk about anything for hours and hours. Even after a year of dating, time together speeds by. Instead, I’m stuck here with Paige and every minute feels like an eternity. It’s going to makes for a very long and mundane personal time, but then again, I’d rather have silence than Paige’s nasty attitude.
She must agree.
* * *
The next day, I’m perusing the library shelves since I’m not allowed to go back to my room until study hall is over, but I’m already done with all my homework. I wander down the aisle, looking for something published in this millennium as I enjoy my first real break from Paige all day. And man, do I need it. She’s out of control. She’s an overzealous dictator drunk on the power juice.
I turn down another aisle and head for a large collection of paperbacks. Unfortunately, they’re old Westerns. Why on Earth would a high school have books only a seventy-year-old man would enjoy? It’s like they put no thought into what students might like to read for fun. Instead, they raided the bargain bin at the used bookstore just to fill up their shelves.
I turn the corner to try another aisle, but skid to a halt. Paige is there, casually sliding books out and analyzing their covers.
I slowly turn around, afraid any quick motions will draw her attention. I think I’m successful until I hear the annoying voice I’ve come to loathe from behind me. “Cadet Evans.” I close my eyes and groan.
“What do you want?” I ask, not bothering to face her.
“Two laps for not greeting me properly.”
Greeeeat. I must be up to at least ten now. Tomorrow’s athletic time will be a blast. I take a step away from her.
“Are you done with your homework?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
I turn the corner to go down a different aisle and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t follow. I’ve landed in the naval book section. The first one I pull out is about knot tying. I flip through the book and find myself strangely fascinated. Who knew there were so many ways to put two pieces of rope together?
“I’d like you to join a couple club activities.” I jump at the sound of her voice. I was so enthralled by the bowline knot, I hadn’t heard her sneak up.
“Huh?”
“When we’re done with the gym, you’ll have personal time again. Either I can monitor you or you can join some clubs where you’ll be under the supervision of one of our teachers,” she says, looking over my shoulder at the book. “There’s a knot tying club, if you want to do that.”
“Seriously?”
“Uh-huh. Though they only meet once a month.”
“Will I ever be allowed to spend personal time by myself again?” I ask, slipping the book back onto the shelf. It’s not like there’s anything great to do during personal time, but I’d rather stare at a wall than deal with Paige or join a pointless club.
“Once you earn back our trust.”
Running my hand over my head, I think about my options. I don’t like either, but a club might be the lesser of two evils.
“What other clubs are there?”
“Yearbook, band, debate team, community service, robotics, public speaking—”
“What’s the community service club?” It sounds like something Mr. Needleham would want me to do.
“They go into town every Saturday to volunteer someplace.”
“Off campus?”
“Yeah.”
“Every Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“Sign me up.”
“Okay, great.”
I turn and step over to the bookshelf on the other side of the aisle. A book with a bright orange spine catches my eye. I pull it out, only to be disappointed: Weaponry of the Civil War.
“Would you mind signing up for band, too?” she asks in this weird, kind of shy way that catches me off guard. Well, it’s actually a combination of her voice and the mention of band that catches me off guard. I haven’t played an instrument in years and have no desire to.
“It’s my favorite club,” she continues. “The dean offered to make other arrangements for you during our practices, but I told him I’d take care of it.”
“Are there other clubs that meet at the same time?”
She shakes her head. “No. It’s okay if you’re not musically inclined. The band leader will be happy just to have another person.”
“I’m not really into band,” I say. “But maybe someone else can babysit me during that time?”
“I won’t pawn off my responsibility on anyone else,” she says, blowing out a breath as her shoulders slump. “I’ll let Captain Reynolds know I can’t be there for a few weeks. Hopefully it won’t mess up our winter concert too much.”
And just like that I’m considering band. Why? To make Paige—annoying Paige, who has been driving me crazy—feel better? It hardly seems worth it. Yet, I hate seeing the disappointment in her eyes, especially since I know I’m the sole source of it. What is it with me and girls? I’m such a freaking pushover. I might as well lie down and let them smush me flat with a two-thousand-pound steamroller.
Actually, that might be less painful than band.
“Can I just play the tambourine or something?” I ask with a sigh.
“Um … yeah, probably.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Good,” she says with a nod and a small smile. My lips start to curve up, but I quickly stop them. I just agreed to band. To help Paige. There will be no smiling. “We meet on Wednesday nights,” she continues. “I think we’ve made enough progress on the gym so far that we can afford to take an hour off tomorrow night for practice.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” I reply absently as I think about what I agreed to. As long as I’m able to hide in the back it might not be so bad. And if they play decent music, I guess it could be entertaining.
Plus, there’s still the community service club. That one has real potential. I’ll actually get to escape Wallingford for a few hours. Sure, I’ll have to work, but for the first time in my life, the thought of manual labor doesn’t seem so bad. In fact, I can’t think of a single job I wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to do if it meant crossing through those Wallingford gates.
Four more days.
If I can make it four more days, I’ll finally get a little freedom.
CHAPTER 8
LOGAN
The next day, during personal time, I’m hiding in the back of the band room as the other cadets warm up.
Compared to the band at my junior high school, this is lame. There are only like twenty cadets and some instruments aren’t even represented while others, such as clarinet, have five people. Paige is first-chair clarinet. Of course she is.