Gasoline | Ben Parish

24

ABOUT a week and a half after Ringer's arrival, we're marched out once again to the obstacle course. Even without the dangers of slipping due to sleet, it still looks incredibly daunting.

Teacup cringes. Oompa gives her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "It's gonna be fine, Cup." He assures her. "It won't happen again."

"How do you know that?" She asks. Her voice, struggling to seem strong, holds a pinch of uncertainty and fear.

"Because..." Oompa tries to find a reason. "Because..."

"Because we've all got each other's backs." Zombie says. "We're going to get through this together, and we're going to kick its ass."

Ringer crosses her arms, but doesn't say anything. I get the feeling she's not really one for team work, or maybe she just prefers doing team work with her old squad. She doesn't meet the standards in Squad 53. We were the rejects, the doubts, the hard cases. Ringer is the perfect soldier.

Flintstone claps Zombie's shoulder. "Nice pep talk, chief." He says. "I like it better than the last one you gave."

Zombie rolls his eyes. "It wasn't that bad, Flint."

"But you admit it was still bad." Dumbo teases, a grin stretching his face.

Now Zombie's smiling, a sight that has my heart squeezing. "No way. I give the best pep talks. C'mon, guys, you know this."

"How did it go again?" Flintstone playfully strokes his chin.

"I think it went something along the lines of," Dumbo makes a show of clearing his throat. He deepens his voice to a ridiculous level and throws his arms up in the air. "'Oh well!'"

We all crack up – well, aside from Ringer. Zombie shakes his head. "All right, guys, let's focus." His dark eyes dart across the field, watching as the other squads tensely wait for the tweet of the whistle that sends them barreling across the field. "Who is gonna go first?"

"Nugget's the fastest." I find myself speaking up. "He should lead."

Zombie nods, eyes meeting mine briefly before turning to Nugget. "Can you handle that, man?"

"Definitely." Nugget nods, expression serious and motivated. I bite my cheek to keep from smiling.

"Okay, great." Zombie nods, taking a quick check over his shoulder to monitor the other squads. "I'll bring up the rear-"

"No, I will." I interject. "That way I can keep an eye on Teacup."

"Hey!" She says. "I don't need to be babysat." But her eyes betray her.

"Well, it's happening. Get over it."

Dumbo sighs. "You always take up the rear, Croak."

I scoff. "No I don't. Zombie usually gets it."

Flintstone smirks. "That's 'cause Zombie likes rear."

Oompa groans at the lame joke. "Seriously, Flint?"

He throws his hands up in defense. "He's not denying it!"

"Focus." Ringer hisses. Immediately everyone sobers. "We need to figure out our strategy. It's almost our turn."

"Ringer's right," Zombie says. His cheeks are slightly flushed. I think he's glad she cut the conversation off so he doesn't have to confess or deny his love for rear. "Nugget leads. Flint and Dumbo follow, then... Ringer, you take the middle. Poundcake, you go next... then Oompa and Teacup, then me and Croak."

I roll my eyes. "I don't need you to-"

"It's happening. Get over it." He says, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Then he turns his attention to the rest of the squad. "Stick together. Help each other. None of this independent bullshit. We're a team; we do this together."

For the first time, Squad 53 finishes with the second highest scores. Not first place, but hey – still pretty good.