Gasoline | Ben Parish

32

"WELL," he says. "Not a bad way to celebrate graduation." Zombie shoots me a grin. I just snort, trying to suppress a smile of my own. 

We're just about to enter the practice yard, where everyone is supposed to report for the graduation ceremony. We have maybe two minutes before we're late.

"Of all people to find us, thank God that it was her," I mutter. "Otherwise our ass would be grass."

"Yeah," he agrees.

I bite my lip. "I can't believe we just did that."

"Yeah," Zombie says again. "It's about time."

"Shut up."

"Don't act like you don't feel the same way." I send him a look. He isn't deterred. "I have ears." He taps them with a grin.

I roll my eyes. "Seriously, if you don't shut up, that will never happen again."

He smirks. "So you do want it to happen again?"

I don't even bother to answer him. I just push the exit doors open and step out onto the damp lawn.

The sun is just coming up, shining over the entire battalion. Everyone is facing the speaker's platform, which was built the day before. Our squad is at the front, so we have to weasel our way through the crowd to be able to stand with them. From the looks everyone is sending us, it's almost as if they know why we didn't arrive with the rest of 53.

The wind blows, harshly cold, but I barely feel it. The adrenaline from what this day is about has filled me so completely that I am immune to the chilly breeze of doubt. I am a beacon of fire, of hope, of promise for the rest of humanity.

Flags snap in the wind. One is the American flag, slightly tattered but still flying true. I roll my shoulders back and stand a little straighter.

When we finally edge our way into 53, we have to go our separate ways. My position is at the end, beside Ringer and Teacup. Zombie is at the front, as squad leader and now sergeant.

"Where were you?" Teacup hisses. "I thought you got lost and-" Then she gasps loudly, drawing the attention of several people. "No. Way."

I glare at her. "Shut up," I snap. I already know what she's going to say, and I'm really not in the mood to deal with it. "Don't you dare-"

It's like she doesn't hear me. "You guys were having sex!" Her eyes are so wide I'm slightly afraid they might pop out of her stupid little skull.

"No we weren't," I snarl.

Ringer chimes in. "That's a difficult argument to make." When I turn to glare at her, she nods her head to my neck. "He marked you pretty well."

I know this already, but my hand still goes up to the side of my neck, subconsciously rubbing over the tender, damp flesh.

"My suggestion? Adjust your collar," she says.

I fiddle with it and then turn to show her, all the while trying to ignore Teacup ranting and raving to Oompa about it.

She nods, meaning I covered it up. "You might want to tell him to fix his hair." She inclines her head towards him. "If you want to keep whatever this is under wraps."

I turn to look at Zombie and nearly start laughing.

In the dim hallway, I hadn't been able to see it, but now I certainly can – and I'm pretty sure everybody else can.

Zombie has a bad case of sex hair.

I wave my hand, trying to be low key about it but also get his attention. He's staring straight ahead, admiring the set up for the ceremony.

Yes, Zombie, it's all very nice. Now would you look over here?

"Zombie," I call. Nothing.

"Zombie." Again, no luck.

I grit my teeth. "Zombie!"

He turns to me quickly, looking a bit bewildered.

I grimace and use my hand to smooth out my hair.

He frowns, giving me a questioning look.

I gesture around my head and then point at him.

Teacup takes it upon herself to make sure he gets it. "You guys had sex!" She yells, cupping her hands around her mouth. "And now you have sex hair!"

Faster than lightning, Zombie brings his hands up to try and fix his hair. He sends me a red-faced look. I know, buddy. I feel the same damn way.

Fucking Teacup.