About an hour and a half later, all the furniture has been moved and reassembled, so we’re sent to a fenced-in area outside to play with the dogs. I grab a tennis ball and chuck it for a big black Lab with plenty of drool. She jumps and snags it midair before racing back to me and dropping it at my feet. Our game continues for at least twenty minutes while the rest of the cadets trickle in as they finish their work. Eventually, my new buddy gets tired and lies down next to my feet. Following her lead, I lower myself to the ground and then scratch behind her ears. She must like it because she moves closer and lays her head on my lap.
“You’re a good dog,” I say, patting her shoulder. She lifts her head and gives me a big, wet, sloppy kiss on the face. I wipe the drool from my cheek with my sleeve. “But not a very good kisser.”
With two wags of her tail, she pushes her nose under my arm, encouraging me to pet her head again. When I do, she yawns and appears to settle in for a nap. I wasn’t feeling especially tired today, but her yawn must have been infectious because I’m now doing the same. I scoot back about a foot until my back rests against the fence and then close my eyes, too.
Not even two minutes later, before my mind even has the chance to grow groggy with sleep, I feel something tugging on my boots. Then two things. Then three things.
I peel open one eye and can’t help but laugh. Down by my feet are three pudgy brown-and-white puppies, attacking my shoelaces like they’re prey to be taken down. I yank my boots away, then roll the biggest one over and rub his belly. His brother tries to attack my fingers, so I use my other hand to do the same thing to him. Then the third clambers onto my lap, yipping and pawing at my chest as though he doesn’t like being left out. Soon, I’m rolling on the ground, laughing and fighting off the three energetic puppies and the black Lab, who has decided she needs to be part of the action, too.
I haven’t had a dog since I was eight and never really missed it since I have my cat, Coconut, but I’m suddenly wishing I could adopt all four of these guys. I’m sure Wallingford has a strict no-pet policy, though.
“If you’re still here in June,” I say, spinning a puppy around as it tries to attack my shoelace again, “I’m taking all of you home with me. Mom won’t be thrilled, but I can probably convince her.”
A deep bark across the grassy area draws my eyes away. It’s from one of those massive dogs with way too much skin. He’s wagging his tail and nudging Paige’s hand, which holds a Frisbee, but she’s not paying attention to him. She’s staring at me with … not quite a smile, but not her usual frown, either.
I offer her a small nod but stop when Jernigan steps next to her. He follows her gaze and immediately narrows his eyes when he notices me.
I quickly lower my head and focus on the puppies again.
That doesn’t stop him from coming over, though. I feel his presence only a fraction of a second before he says, “Stand up, cadet, so I can inspect your uniform.” I inwardly groan. He’ll find something wrong.
“Did you just realize your inspection three hours ago was inadequate?” I ask as I stand.
He ignores my comment like he always does as his eyes slowly roam up and down me, looking for anything out of place. He must not be happy with what he sees because he says, “Show me your hands.”
I hold them out for him. “Check out my right one. I’ve got some gnarly new calluses from all the pull-ups.”
He clenches his jaw as he inspects every single finger. “You’ve got dirt under your nails.”
“That’s impossible,” I say, turning my hands around so I can see. I scrubbed my hands for like five minutes after working on the furniture.
Damn. He’s right. There’s dirt under two of my nails. “It’s from playing fetch,” I say. “It will be gone as soon as we’re done here.”
“Yes, it will because you now have dish-washing duty. You’ll help our kitchen staff clean the lunch dishes today.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, my shoulders slumping. Paige is going to kill me when I’m late to the gym this afternoon.
I glance over to her, and she’s got her hands on her hips and is shooting daggers at one of us. Probably me. I’m sure she’s annoyed I screwed up again. But, seriously, did they really expect us all to have spotless hands while playing outside in a field with dogs? It’s totally unreasonable.
“Complain and I’ll assign you dinner, too,” Jernigan says.
I shake my head and bite my tongue so I don’t make it worse. I can’t believe this new punishment is going to make me late for my previous punishment, which will likely land me another punishment. I can’t win. Even off campus.
This place is hell.
CHAPTER 9
PAIGE
Evans finished lunch an hour and a half ago and still hasn’t made it to the gym. Weekend dish duty generally takes a little over an hour, so he should be here soon. I couldn’t admit it to Alex, but I was annoyed by what he did. He knew Logan and I have to wax the gym floor, and yet he assigned him an excessive punishment for what really shouldn’t have amounted to an infraction. He was playing fetch. Of course his hands were going to be dirty.
The door slams open, and Logan, looking frazzled, rushes in, holding a tray. “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “Commander Jernigan made me wash dishes, but I finished as quickly as I could. And I brought a peace offering. Please don’t assign me anything else for being late. I’m having a hard time keeping up with all the punishments as is.”
“We’re not allowed to have food in the gym,” I say.
“Of course that’d be your first comment,” he mutters under his breath as he shakes his head. At least he doesn’t roll his eyes. I may have finally been successful in curbing one of his irritating behaviors. “Not ‘Thanks, Logan, how thoughtful,’” he continues, “or ‘Yes, I love the red velvet cake the cooks keep for special visitors, how’d you know?’” He turns around as he keeps talking to himself. “Just another thing you can—”
“Thank you,” I say, interrupting him before he says something that would absolutely require me to take corrective action, which would further delay our work on the floor. Plus, it is a nice gesture.
He gives me a half smile. “Was that so hard?”
“How’d you know red velvet cake is my favorite?”
“Al told me.”
That makes sense. Al, the main cook, knows all the student officers’ favorite recipes so he can make our birthdays a little special. I’m tempted to eat the cake now, but we should wait. There will be time for cake when we’re done.
“Let’s finish the buffing, then take a break,” I say, getting back to work.
He sighs, then nods before lowering the tray to the ground and stepping inside the gym. After grabbing a rag, he starts on the opposite side of the gym. It’s our usual routine. We put as much space between us as possible.
I have no doubt he hates me and Wallingford. All DQs do at first. Eventually, he’ll come to the realization everything I’ve done has been for his own good.
Three hours later, after no more words between us, we finish.
I walk into the hall and find the cake, along with a bowl of melted chocolate ice cream with sprinkles and a cherry floating in the liquid.