The Academy

  And so it went. Predictably, I was chosen last and with much protest by the other members of team B, where I ended up. I tried not to feel hurt and reminded myself that my small stature wasn’t my fault. After all, I was a girl. Even if no one else in the room besides me knew it, I had a perfect right to be petite. But no matter how much I told myself that, it still stung to be called 'runt' and kept in the back of the line.

  Soon enough Coach Janus came back, wheeling a large cart filled with red, hard-rubber balls about the size of someone’s head. “Okay, ladies,” he shouted. “Come and get ‘em. Let’s go—we don’t have all day.”

  Cadets from both teams ran forward, grabbed as many of the balls as they could carry, and ran back to the black dividing line in the middle of the gym. I hung back myself, not wanting to get too involved. I was fine with one-on-one contests like fencing or chess but thanks to my sheltered upbringing and my sex, I had never played a team sport in my life.

  “C’mon, new guy—what’s your name?” I looked up and realized Coach Janus was looking at me.

  “Jameson, sir,” I answered.

  “Well, don’t be shy, Jameson, come on up and grab some balls.”

  “Don’t worry, Coach—Jameson’s good at that,” Broward shouted. He and his crew were still hanging around the ball cart. They roared with laugher and the rest of the cadets snickered as well as I came forward to collect the last remaining hard-rubber ball at the bottom of the cart. I squeezed it to my chest, its surface cool and hard and knobbly under my fingertips. I felt like I was going to explode.

  “What are you implying, Broward?” I said, as the coach turned away.

  “I think you know, freshie,” he sneered.

  I made my face as innocent as possible. “If you’re saying I have some kind of special skill with this equipment, I don’t. I can’t help noticing, though, that you seem to know how to handle those awfully well.” I nodded at the way he was clutching two of the balls in his hands. “Is that a skill you acquire with time or are you just naturally good at fondling, I mean handling balls?”

  Broward’s face darkened. “You little—”

  “That’s enough smack talk, ladies.” Coach Janus had turned back and was frowning at both Broward and myself. “Let’s step it up to the line. Come on, now.”

  Broward pointed a finger at me. “That remark is gonna cost you, freshie.” Then he turned and stalked to the thick black line painted on the plastiwood floor which bisected the gymnasium. All the other cadets were already standing there and I knew they had heard our exchange.

  As I walked to the line, I mentally kicked myself. Why had I gone out of my way to irritate him like that? As if I didn’t have enough trouble as it was.

  My distress was compounded by the fact that I had shocked myself a little, speaking in such a crude way. A joke like the one I had made at Broward’s expense would never have passed my lips in Victoria. But here it seemed natural to fight fire with fire—to return what the bully was dishing out in kind. I wondered uneasily if I would be cursing and spitting and scratching myself like the rest of the cadets by the time I got out of the Academy—if I got out alive, that was. And by the look on Broward’s ugly face, that was becoming less and less of a possibility.

  Coach Janus blew a sharp blast on the silver whistle he wore around his neck. “Balls on the line, ladies,” he shouted without a trace of irony. “Then five steps back.”

  All the cadets placed their hard-rubber balls along the thick black line and took five steps back.

  “Good.” Coach Janus nodded approvingly. “Now on my whistle, run in and grab ‘em. Remember the rules—you get hit with a ball, you’re out. You step over the line, you’re out. If someone catches the ball you threw, you’re out. And body shots only—no head or face hits. Got it?”

  Everyone murmured assent, myself included, but I couldn’t help feeling the tension in the air. The boys around me were tight with anticipation, leaning toward the balls, ready to dash in and grab them and start pelting each other. I wished I could run the other direction but I knew that wouldn’t work. Grimly, I got ready to run along with the others.

  The shrill whistle blast echoed in the vast gym and then the air was filled with the sound of cadets shouting, squeaking athletic shoes, and loud, hollow thumps as those too slow to dodge were picked off one by one. Luckily, I wasn’t one of them. To my surprise, I had finally found a situation in which my petite size worked in my favor.

  I dodged in and out of the larger cadets, weaving and ducking as Broward and his team threw more and more balls in my direction. I caught several, sending the boys who had thrown them out of the game. In fact, I was doing so well, my own team finally started to take notice of me.

  “Lookit that!” A cadet with curly brown hair and glasses pointed at me. “The runt is fast.”

  My team captain, Jakes, gave me an approving nod. “Good going, little guy.”

  “Thanks.” I caught another ball—this one thrown by Nodes—and passed it to him. “Being small has its advantages sometimes.”

  “Not gonna be an advantage if Broward catches you after the game.” Jakes dodged a ball easily as he talked. His natural athleticism made it easy to see why Coach Janus had picked him as a captain. “You’d do better to steer clear of him.”

  “I’m trying.” I dodged another ball myself. “He’s not making it easy.”

  “Too bad for you, then.” Jakes gave me a pitying look and ran to catch a ball on the other side of the court.

  Across the black line, Broward was getting angrier and angrier. I could tell by the way his face got red, then purple. His team was passing him balls to throw at me but he missed every shot.

  I knew I should just let him hit me and be done with it. Maybe getting me out would take the edge off his anger. But my pride rose up and wouldn’t let me. I had always had a strong competitive streak in me and I refused to lose the game on purpose, no matter what the consequences.

  Before I knew it, Broward and I were the only ones left standing.

  “C’mon, freshie.” He beckoned me, two balls in each hand. “Come here and take your medicine.”

  “I don’t think so.” I dodged one of the balls easily. I could have caught it and sent him out, winning the game for my team but no matter how proud I was, I wasn’t stupid. Making Broward lose that much face in front of the other cadets was too dangerous. So I just kept dodging the balls as he threw them until finally Coach Janus blew his whistle and called the match a tie.

  I felt a sense of relief as I walked forward with the others to put the balls back in the cart. Some of my teammates seemed irritated that I hadn’t won them the game but on the whole, I got more admiring glances than angry ones. Jakes smiled at me and punched me lightly on the shoulder. “Good game, Jameson.” He nodded at the still glowering Broward. “And good call.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled back, glad that he understood why I hadn’t been able to win.

  “Very nice, ladies.” Coach Janus gave us a bored nod. “I’ll see you all tomorrow same time, same place.”

  He headed back to his office and I was about to start for the dressing room—bypassing the showers altogether—when I heard someone call my name. I turned just in time to see a large red object flying at my head. There was no time to duck—the ball hit me squarely in the nose and I fell to the ground, spikes of exquisitely sharp pain exploding outward across my face.

  I gasped and cupped my hand over my nose, which was already fountaining blood.

  “Hey, look at that, boys.” Broward strolled up to me, his thick lips curled in a nasty grin. “Looks like he’s not so fast after all.” He pointed at me. “You’re out, freshie.” For some reason this made his cronies roar with laughter.

  Tears of rage and pain filled my eyes but there was nothing I could do. Coach Janus hadn’t seen the incident since he had disappeared into his office and the rest of my teammates were already in the showers—not that they would help me. They might admire my speed on the c
ourt but I was fairly sure none of them was prepared to take a beating for me.

  “Aww, poor little baby.” Broward made a face of mock sympathy. “Look guys, he’s crying.”

  “You bully,” I said, my voice coming out thick and hoarse. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “Just leave me alone,” Nodes mimicked in a high voice and Dawson echoed,

  “Yeah, Broward, just leave me alone.”

  The three of them laughed as they sauntered off to the showers, leaving me to cup my wounded nose and bleed into my palm.

  I stared after Broward and something dark and new stirred in my heart. It was hatred I felt, growing inside me—a loathing as black and virulent as the vine of the Blood and Honor Blossom. It made me clench my free hand into a fist and mutter a most unladylike curse under my breath—words I had never dared say before. I never would have let such an epitaph pass my lips while living in Victoria but here it seemed to fit the situation perfectly. I didn’t even blush as I said it.

  As I got slowly to my feet, still cupping my wounded nose, one thing was clear: being at the Academy was changing me. It remained to see whether it was a change for good or bad but I knew that I would never be the same.

  Chapter Twelve

  North’s back was to the door, his head bent over his tablet as he sat at the desk. “Hi,” he said distractedly, not looking up as I entered our room.

  “Hello,” I said dully, going to my bed. “North, do you get in trouble for skipping meals here?”

  “You mean not eating the slop they serve in the mess hall or just not going?” he asked, still looking down.

  “Not going.” I threw myself down on my mattress and sighed.

  “Depends on if you have a good enough excuse or not. If you’re really sick…” He finally looked up at me and his blue eyes widened. “What happened to you?”

  “Guess.” I blotted my throbbing nose gently with a blood-spotted tissue and sighed.

  “Broward.” North’s face went dark and he got up from the desk and came over to look at me. “Did he punch you again?”

  I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what had happened…and closed it again. North had already made it clear he found it irritating to be thrust into the role of my protector. If I told him that Broward was still picking on me, one of two things would happen. Either he would seek the bully out and beat him up or simply decide to wash his hands of me entirely because I was too much trouble. Either way I risked looking weak and helpless and losing his good opinion. And for some reason I couldn’t explain, even to myself, I didn’t want that.

  “Well?” North demanded and I realized I was taking too long to answer.

  “We were playing dodge ball—a sport from Earth-that-was,” I said.

  “I know what dodge ball is—Janus loves antiquated sports,” North said impatiently.

  “So you know how it’s played.” I shrugged. “I got hit in the face with a ball.” That, at least, was the truth.

  “A ball Broward threw, I’m guessing.” North’s pale blue eyes blazed. I wasn’t certain if he was angry with me or Broward.

  “Just let it go, North.” I lifted my chin. “I’m okay. Nothing is broken—I don’t think anyway.”

  “I hope not.” He chucked me gently under the chin, his gaze softening somewhat. “It’d be a shame to ruin that pretty face of yours, shrimp.”

  “Yeah, right,” I mumbled but for some reason I found my cheeks getting hot under his gaze.

  North stared at me a minute longer and then shook his head and turned back to the desk. “I don’t have time for this—I have to study. This damn equation is going to drive me crazy.”

  “You mean the one from Inter-dimensional Calculus?” I asked as casually as I could.

  He nodded and ran a hand through his hair, rumpling it up into a dark gold halo around his head. “It’s so frustrating. If that old goat, Blinski would slow down a minute or answer a question once in awhile it might make sense.”

  “It does make sense,” I said. “I mean, well, maybe not the way he’s explaining it but the equation does work out.”

  “How?” North demanded. “How can M x M be a hollow torus? That’s like a donut shape, right? I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Because you’re not thinking in three dimensions.” I hopped off the bed, the throbbing in my nose temporarily forgotten. “Here, give me your tablet.”

  Frowning, North passed it over to me. “All right, since you’re so smart.”

  “I’m not,” I said, taking the tablet and turning to a fresh application page. “I’ve just had much better teachers than Mr. Blinski explain this concept to me before. Now look…” I spent a few minutes sketching with the stylus before handing it back to him. North took it from me and studied it closely for a long moment. Then his face broke into a slow smile.

  “Hey—now I get it!” He looked up at me. “It makes sense this way. How did you know how to do this?”

  I shrugged modestly. “Like I said, I had a good tutor.”

  “It’s more than that. You’re pretty smart for a shrimp.” Grinning, North reached over and ruffled my hair.

  For some reason I found I was blushing again. “Well, my old tutor did say I would make a good starship navigator. If I wasn’t—” I stopped myself, biting my tongue abruptly.

  “If you weren’t what?” North raised an eyebrow.

  “If I wasn’t so eager to be a captain instead,” I improvised quickly. “I mean, who wants to be a navigator when you can run the whole ship instead?”

  “The navigator’s as important as the captain,” North objected. “The captain can give orders until he’s blue in the face but if the ship doesn’t have a navigator to plot the course, it’s going to be stuck in dry dock forever.”

  “Yes, but the men need a captain they can look up to,” I pointed out. “Someone strong and brave. Someone they know will stand up for them and lead them without fear.”

  Suddenly I realized I wasn’t thinking of myself as the captain as I spoke—I was thinking of North. He would make an excellent leader of men. With his tall, muscular frame and those commanding blue eyes—not to mention his courage and integrity. He was someone to inspire a crew, someone who could lead them into combat or into the darkest reaches of uncharted space without fear.

  North spoiled my idealized image of him by laughing and shaking his head. “Sorry, shorty, but if you want anyone to look up to you, you’d better grow a couple of inches fast.”

  “Very funny,” I said sourly. “And don’t call me shorty.”

  “Fine, shrimp.” He grinned. “Look, it’s almost dinnertime. Come on, let’s go.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I muttered, but I followed him anyway as he stepped out the door of our room.

  “After playing dodge ball all afternoon with Broward? I doubt that.” He shot me a look over his shoulder. “All that ducking and running works up an appetite. Not to mention using your face as a ball stop.”

  “Ha-ha.” I frowned at him as we walked down the hall. “I hope you’re amusing yourself, North, because I can’t say I find you very funny.”

  “That’s because you have no sense of humor.” He put an arm around my shoulders and shook me gently. “Lighten up, Jameson. Take it easy for once.”

  I thought about mentioning how ironic it was that the prince of brooding silences was telling me to lighten up and get a sense of humor but for some reason I didn’t say a word. For one thing I found that my mood was improving—just from being around him. And for another, his arm around my shoulders felt warm and nice. I didn’t want to say anything to make him stop touching me.

  Despite the horrible day I’d had, everything suddenly seemed like it was going to be okay. Looking up at North, I couldn’t help wondering why I let his mood affect my own. But somehow I couldn’t help myself—he was happy and I found that I was happy too—even with my throbbing nose.

  Even though it was completely irrational, I didn’t want the feel
ing to end.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dinner was a relatively quiet affair. North and I walked to the mess hall together but parted ways outside, as usual. Wilkenson sat with me and exclaimed over my nose. I told him the truth about what Broward had done and he made the appropriate noises of sympathy. Speaking of Broward, he and his cronies were laughing loudly as usual over at the fourth-form table. I was careful to finish my dinner and leave well before they were through but, though my nose still ached, Broward and his bullying were no longer uppermost on my mind. What I was mostly thinking of was my plan—my plan to get a shower.

  That night I changed in the closet as usual and skipped the evening shower time before RLO. North made a comment about how I would start to stink if I kept this up but I ignored him and tried not to watch when he casually disrobed in preparation for his own shower. I couldn’t help noticing, though, how broad his shoulders were and how muscular his back was. And when he came back to the room, his dark blond hair slicked back and beads of water dotting his chest, I admit I looked a little longer than was proper.