Other than debate club and my second round of PT thanks to Evans, it’s an exact replica of yesterday. That’s one of the nice things about Wallingford—you always know what to expect. There are never any surprises.
Without warning, he turns right onto the lawn, and then sprints between two buildings. Well, it’s a sprint for him. I could easily catch up, but I stand staring at his back instead.
So much for no surprises. Where did he find that spurt of energy? And where in the world is he going? The only thing behind those buildings is the staff parking lot and then forest leading up the mountain. Unless he plans on committing grand theft auto or living in the wild, there’s nothing for him back there.
With a sigh, I pick up my pace and follow in his footsteps, twice as quickly as he went. It takes a few minutes, but I find him sitting on a yellow cement parking block with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
“You have to finish PT,” I say, stepping in front of him.
“Nope.”
“Yes.”
“Look,” he says, raising his head, “you’d have better luck convincing me to jump off a cliff than you will getting me to run five miles. It’s not going to happen. There’s no way in hell I’m doing all this military shit.”
He doesn’t have a choice. The only way to avoid the strict routine is to leave Wallingford, which I imagine isn’t an option for him. But maybe it is. Only one person knows the answer to that. “You can take it up with the dean. Let’s go to his office.”
With a nod, he says, “I’ll head over there in a minute,” before stretching out his legs and leaning back on his arms, as though he’s enjoying a causal summer afternoon lounging around a pool.
Except it’s not summer, there’s nothing casual about Wallingford, and our pool is only used for swimming laps, not floating on a raft and soaking up the sun. “I’ve got to get back to PT. We need to go now.”
“I don’t need a chaperone.”
“I’m sure you understand why I don’t trust you to go on your own.”
He remains silent, so I continue. “You are free to mess up your life all you want, but I won’t have you messing up mine. I need to get back to PT, but I can’t do that until you either rejoin PT or I deliver you to the dean.”
He stands, but not before sending an annoyed look in my direction. “Fine, let’s go to the dean’s office.”
We cross through the parking lot to a sidewalk and then quietly make our way to the administrative building.
“You’ve delivered me,” he says when he reaches for the door. “You can go back to your pack of brainwashed robots.”
“Excuse me?” I reply, my hands landing on my hips. His disrespect seems to have no end.
He waves his hand in the general direction of the athletic field, where my battalion should be done with their run by now. “I’d hate to mess up your life. Go back to whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.”
I grit my teeth and bite my tongue. He needs a lesson on how to behave around here, but that responsibility will need to fall on his peer mentor. I can’t be expected to turn him around in only a few minutes.
Hopefully whoever is paired with him will be able to do it quickly because Alex will have zero patience with him if he keeps acting like this. Fortunately, it usually doesn’t take long. My last match was the beginning of my junior year, and it took less than a semester for my good behavior to rub off on her. She went from a C to an A average and from picking fights in her spare time to being a key player on the soccer team.
As far as my responsibility to Evans, it ends here. Since he refused to do PT, I brought him to the dean. Nothing more can be expected of me. I turn on my heel before sprinting back to my battalion.
Throughout the rest of PT, I can’t stop thinking about the guy. He might be the worst cadet I’ve ever seen. Sure, all DQs have issues, but most of them respond to our threats. And want to avoid the dean at all costs, not volunteer to see him. He’s an unusual one, for sure.
I have no idea what the dean’s plan is for him, but boot camp really needs to be in his future. Maybe some hard-core drill-sergeant treatment will be the kick in the pants he needs.
Once we’re done with our exercises, I start to head for my dorm with my roommate, Leah, who also happens to be my best friend. Suddenly, a flash of red between a cluster of pine trees catches my attention. I turn in the direction and stare.
“What’s going on?” Leah asks when she notices I’ve stopped.
“I thought I saw something. Back there,” I reply, pointing. It was the exact color of Evans’s shirt, but it couldn’t be Evans. The dean wouldn’t allow him to wander around campus alone.
Squinting, she says, “I don’t see anything. It was probably just a squirrel.”
Convinced she must be right, I nod. For some reason, I’ve got Evans on my mind. It’s ridiculous. He’s just another DQ, one who may not even be here by tomorrow morning. It’s time to forget about him and how he messed up my PT so I can focus on the important things I’ve got going on.
Like the urgent discussion I need to have with my dad.
* * *
The next morning, in the mess hall, I follow Alex from the buffet line to where Leah and some of our other friends are seated.
They’re congratulating Chris on his acceptance into the Naval Academy, which he just received yesterday. I start to say something, but I’m interrupted by a voice behind me. “Lieutenant Commander Durant.”
I turn around to find the dean standing there. My stomach drops and the two bites of breakfast I’ve taken feel like a bowling ball weighing me down. I quickly review everything I’ve done the past twenty-four hours, but can’t come up with anything that would lead to a visit by the dean. I got As on my two tests. All the girls passed their room inspections. Lights-out was seamless. I did get frustrated at cross-country practice when I lost to a junior right in the last 100 yards, but I took out my frustration by running sprints. No one should have a problem with that.
“Sir, yes, sir,” I say, sitting at attention, not letting my voice give away my nerves.
“Please come to my office after breakfast.” Lowering his voice, he says, “I have something important to discuss with you regarding the new cadet.”
I gulp and nod as my stomach drops even lower. Evans. Was I not imagining things in the forest yesterday? Was he somehow sneaking around? That’s impossible … unless he never went to the dean after I dropped him off.
How could I make such a careless mistake? I should’ve escorted him into the office. What if he went AWOL? Will the dean hold me responsible? “Yes, sir,” I say with another gulp. “I’ll report to your office immediately after breakfast.”
He turns around without another word and leaves the mess hall.
Leah lowers her fork and gives me a sympathetic look. “What happened?” she asks.
I crack my knuckles. “I’m not sure.” I don’t want to admit my mistake in front of the other officers.
“Did you sneak off campus?” Deborah, the girl to my left, asks.
“No.”
“Were you caught using your phone during school hours?” Alyssa, a girl seated across the table, asks.