The Prince and the Punk [EDITING]

Chapter 21

Janice

I can't rope climb for shit.

I never thought I'd need to know this, but apparently I have absolutely no upper body strength. Because, you know, I've never had to use a rope to pull myself up a 20-foot wall before. Gee, thanks, world. I really needed another thing to suck at.

By the time lunch hits, I'm covered in sweat, grime, and rope burn. I'm tired, frustrated, and too sore to eat, so I sit there drinking as much water as they'll let me have and playing with the salad I didn't even have the energy to put dressing on. A few people give me sneaky little kicks to the shin as they pass, snickering. One guy throws his banana peel into my salad from a table about 40 feet away, which is honestly just impressive.

The people here remind me of high school bullies. They all think they're just so damn funny, and it makes them relentless. Ultimately, it's just annoying.

Danny has been my rock over the past four weeks, even though I don't get to see him that often. Most weekends, we meet during free time so he can distract me from my constant internal monologue of, I could turn a corner and get decked. Goddamn, I miss Xavier. I hate my life!

Something along those lines.

I sigh, picking up my tray and getting up to trash my food.

Slater catches my gaze and raises a silent eyebrow. I shake my head, and after a moment he turns back to the other drill sergeants at his table. He's really not as annoying as I thought at first, and while I still don't know why he's taken such an interest in me, it feels good to finally have someone watching my back. Even if he is just a bit overbearing.

I almost don't want to sit back down in the cafeteria—mostly because of the fact that the assholes in there are Earth's best defense against alien overlords. It just depresses me.

I sigh and return to my table, where I sit silently until lunch ends.

Weekends should be half days, but thanks to our stupid accelerated schedule, we get three free hours on Saturdays and one on Sundays.

"You know, I never thought I'd say it, but I really miss working in the café," I tell Danny on Saturday night.

"War is hell," he agrees.

"This isn't even the war yet."

"Well, that's just proof that it can always get worse."

I chuckle dryly, leaning my head against the wall.

"Elliot!" Slater calls from down the hall. I'll never get used to people calling me by my last name.

"Hey, Slater."

"I wanted to talk to you," he says, glancing warily at Danny.

"Hi. Name's Danny. You're the stalker, right?" He grins and sticks a hand out to Slater, who stares at it, unimpressed.

"Danny, shut the fuck up!" I hiss, embarrassed.

He puts his hands up defensively, but his smirk says he's pretty pleased with himself.

"Anyway," Slater starts slowly, "I did some digging, made some threats, and I found out who organized the attack on you the other day."

"The one that didn't happen," I clarify.

"Yeah, because I was there," he reminds me.

"I know."

There's a moment of silence as we both wonder what exactly there is to disagree on.

"So who was it?" Danny finally chimes in.

"Francine and Dimitri Herman" Slater says. "Their files said they're brother and sister, and known Anti-Dictators."

"Shit, there are two?" I groan.

Slater nods. "They were drafted intentionally, like you and most of the people here. They're angry at the monarchy, and thanks to all of your publicity, that includes you."

"So what am I supposed to do with that?"

He shrugs. "Training is halfway over, so I guess it's a good thing they've only tried something once. I'll keep an eye out, but you should still watch your back."

"Oh, good, more of that," I snap.

I expect him to snap back, but he just says, "I know. And I'm sorry. But, uh, I'm here, if it helps at all."

I chuckle halfheartedly at his attempt to be comforting. "Yeah, it does." I quickly add, "You're like my own personal bodyguard."

"That's me."

More silence.

"I have to go," Slater says, and leaves.

"That was so awkward," Danny comments as we watch Slater turn a corner.

"Thank you, Danny, I had no idea," I reply.

"Just stating the obvious. Speaking of which, you and Slater, huh? That was fast."

"What?"

"Dating the drill sergeant. Scandalous." He does little jazz hands for emphasis.

"What the fuck are you talking about? We're not dating. I don't even know his first name." 

"Janice, how come I always have to point these things out to you? I'm just surprised you got over Xavier so quickly. I mean, the sexual tension I just witnessed—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there because you have the wrong idea. I promise, there's no sexual anything between me and Slater," I insist, shaking my head slightly. "I don't even like him. And I am not over Xavier."

"Okay, yeah, I accept your denial, but I hope you know that that guy—" he points down the hall to where Slater just was— "is into you. Massively into you. Guys don't just arbitrarily make it their personal business to protect girls. And he doesn't seem like the type to take much of an interest in what goes on between platoon members."

"No." I won't even think about it. There's no way. "I refuse to engage in any form of love triangle, affair, or rebound relationship."

"Okay, sure. Think about it. Mull it over and then get back to me when you're ready to admit I'm right."

I do mull it over. That night, it's all I can think about. I analyze everything I can remember Slater saying to me since my arrival, trying to see what Danny could be talking about. I replay his motions, thinking maybe I can decipher something from his body language the way shrinks do. In the end, I find some hidden meaning in nearly everything he's said or done, and I have to scrap all of my dramatic conclusions. What I do decide is that it's possible Danny has a point. Maybe Slater does like me.

But I also decide that I don't like him. I appreciate his help, and by now I consider him a friend, but I definitely don't like him. What I have with Xavier is special, and I'm not ready to give up on it.

For now, I need to focus on is surviving the next few weeks, then making it out of combat alive, and after that, I decide, I'll sort out my love life. My frustrating, destructive, complicated, confusing fucking love life.

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I like that my sci-fi story took almost 20 chapters to actually get sort of sci-fi ish but there's still just absurd amounts of middle school level romance in it. Whatever. I like it. Vote, comment, and share if you do too.