Degrees of Wrong (10 page)

“I might ask the same of you, Captain,” I clipped, offended that he thought I’d come here to ogle him. I may not be able to resist the urge to ogle him while I was here, but I didn’t come
specifically
to do so.

He paused—I could tell he was searching for a politically correct way to tell me he didn’t like to be gawked at. Also, he wasn’t used to being answered with a question. I felt certain he would adjust.

“I—
prefer
to work out alone, so I come late at night. The quiet helps me concentrate.” He studied my face for a reaction. I wondered what he saw. “What about you? I’ve never seen you here before.”

I shrugged, a little ashamed that this was indeed my first visit to the gym. “I’ve been staying late in the lab and just remembered tonight that there’s a gym here. I figured the physical activity would help me sleep.”

He tilted his head. “You’re having difficulty sleeping?”

I cringed inwardly for divulging that and decided evasion was my best bet. I didn’t want to rehash the events of my nightmares—and certainly not to
him
.

“Yes. Tell me, Captain, do you come here at the same time every evening?”

His curiosity changed to caution again. Apparently he still considered me a potential stalker.

Mortified, I continued quickly, “Because if you do, I have a proposal.”

“A proposal?”

Perhaps I could’ve chosen my wording better. The man was going to develop a complex. And I was getting—even more—impatient.

“Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “I prefer to be alone too. So, I propose a joint custody. You tell me when you’ll be here in the evenings, and I’ll come before or after you. That way, we have no chance of running into each other. Ever.” Although, I was beginning to doubt that myself. I hadn’t seen this man for the two weeks since my arrival, and suddenly he appears three times in one day. There was no way I wasn’t dreaming about him tonight.
Great.

He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t like me.”

“I prefer to be here earlier than this, maybe eleven o’clock-ish. So, if this is your normal time… Do we have a deal?” When in doubt, evade, evade, evade. I extended my hand, a sealant of our verbal contract.

Finally—and unfortunately—he grinned. Every muscle in my abdomen worked together to restrain my gasp. He grasped my hand, the sheer size of his enclosing mine completely. The physical contact sent a shock through my arm, and for the tiniest of seconds I thought he might have felt it too. His face flickered into that same questioning expression he held on the dock but disappeared just as quickly. I tried to snatch my hand back in a way that didn’t seem offensive. He released it without a fight, oblivious to my reaction to him. How he could miss the goose bumps puckering my flesh, I wasn’t sure.

“We have a deal,” he agreed, smiling. “I was just finishing up, if you’d like to go ahead and start. I won’t be here much longer.”

“I will. Thanks.”

I walked to one of the virtual joggers and pulled up the settings—a variety of sceneries including beaches, mountains, deserts, cities, highways, forests and a stadium track. Not wanting anything to do with beaches and the memory they could conjure up so close to bedtime, I opted for the one labeled
Mountain Run
.

The hologram encompassed me, transporting me to a peaceful mountain trail, complete with sunlight beaming in through the tree canopy and a light breeze dancing through the ferns along the path. As I progressed up the mountain, the jogger inclined accordingly, and in no time at all, my heart rate raced with my exertions. For good measure, I increased the speed to a full run, in honor of the pile of candy wrappers still polluting my desk.

The hologram wasn’t a solid barrier. Through it I could see Captain Marek collecting his items—with any luck his shirt was among them—and preparing to leave. He still grinned, and I wondered that I ever doubted his ability to do so, or for that matter, to do so for such an extended period of time. Whatever I did to amuse him was beyond me.

He strolled to the jogger and watched me run for a moment, just long enough to make me uncomfortable. It seemed like he would say something, but he just gave a small wave to indicate he was departing. I returned one in kind, but otherwise had to concentrate on my breakneck pace. It just wouldn’t do to trip in front of the good captain.

After he left, I increased the speed further and concentrated my attention on the path winding before me. An hour later, I finished my run, a heaving, sweaty mess. As I made my way back to my quarters, I was thankful no one was awake to see me in this state.

As I showered and readied myself for bed, I felt a renewed excitement about the prospect of shopping. At this pace, my little pouch would disappear in no time.

Snuggling into the covers, I noted how much more comfortable the bed felt after attaining physical exhaustion. With my tension aches absentee, my entire body beckoned me to sleep.

Chapter Six

The artificial sunrise brought with it the vague realization that I hadn’t dreamt. As my eyes struggled to stay open for more than two seconds at a time, I swept my gaze around my quarters, trying to discern where I was and how I’d gotten there. The covers held me hostage but I must have put up a fight at some point, because they were just as mangled as I felt. With willpower I didn’t know I possessed, I pulled myself into a sitting position, glancing at the clock. Then did a double take.

In a panic, I wrestled free from the covers, dumping myself onto the floor. I jumped up and snatched my clothes from the wardrobe. If I didn’t bother to do anything but dress myself, I
might
make it to roll call on time.

I crammed into my clothes and sprinted to the elevator. “Roll call deck.” While it flung me to my destination, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, combing it with my fingers as best I could manage.

The elevator stopped and opened the doors to the hallway I’d always associate with hard feelings. And aching arms.

Everyone stood in line excepting myself. Ebony summoned me with wide eyes that suggested I
hurry
. I took my place beside her, and no sooner did I fold my hands behind my back did Lt. Horan call attention. Although to me, it still sounded like, “Atten-hut!”

Naturally, he strode to my face, while the short, skinny man I now knew to be Corporal Binder began to call roll. I was in no mood for this.

Horan leaned in as if I were hard of hearing. “Top o’ the morning to ya, Cadet Troublemaker!” he bellowed.

I said nothing. He didn’t ask me a question, and if he didn’t ask me a question, I shouldn’t answer. We’d already covered that many, many times. Tricking me into speaking out of turn was his new favorite thing. I kept my gaze focused on a special point behind him, not allowing myself to make eye contact—which was better for both of us.

“You’re looking particularly gruesome this morning, Cadet Big Lips. I wonder why that is,” he mused.

No question, no answer.

He angled closer and sniffed. “Whew! And your breath stinks worse than three-day-old fish guts left out in the sun.”

That could be true.

He tilted his head. “You know what? I’ve got a deal for you,” he exclaimed in forced excitement. “It’s a deal you can’t refuse. You’ll love it.” He stepped closer, close enough that, if my breath did smell like fish guts, then he was just punishing
himself
. “This is my offer. I’ll do you a favor, Space Cadet. You know what a favor is, Cadet Maggot? It means I’ll do it for free.”

Despite my efforts to fixate on the point behind his fat head, the rage in my stomach lurched to life.
No
, I commanded it.

“So, Cadet Loser,” he continued on, “for free of charge, I will SLAP THE UGLY OFF YOUR FACE.” He enunciated every word, and the inferno that was my stomach roared in anger.

And—was that Stanley snickering again? He’d pay for that.

My glare tore from the wall behind the lieutenant, met his eyes. He grinned, triumphant.

It wasn’t that I considered myself beautiful or attractive—I’d never been afflicted with vanity. What bothered me was that I knew he was right. My hair was messy, I probably still had lines imprinted on my face from the blankets, and for all I knew, last night’s chocolate spotted my teeth. And he was pointing it out to everybody. That was just meanspirited.

“How does that sound?” he asked.

A direct question. What would I say? There was no telling now. I couldn’t trust myself to speak. I swallowed hard. And then I swallowed again.

“Did ya hear me, Cadet Fatso?”

My eyes bulged.

“I just made you the deal of the century,” he continued. “Though I gotta tell ya, I’ll probably have to slap you twice to get the ugly off
that
face.”

My lip trembled with the dilemma. Beside me, Ebony cleared her throat in blatant disapproval.

His head snapped toward her. “You stay out of this, Snow White.”

She inhaled sharply but said nothing.

It was the reprieve I needed. I cleared my own throat, swallowing the acid fire.

“No thank you, sir,” I answered. He wouldn’t humiliate her on my behalf.

He jerked his head back to me. “No?” In my face again, his nose touched mine at the very tip, his eyes narrowed to the point of closure.

“No thank you,
sir
!” The crescendo in my voice startled him. Against my will, the corner of my mouth cracked a tiny—but distinct—grin. He didn’t miss it.

“That’s it,” he screamed. “Drop and give me fifty. The rest of you are dismissed.”

As she passed, he grabbed Ebony’s arm. “If you ever interfere again, you’ll be down there next to her.”

She hastened to the elevator. I’d already begun my punishment before the doors closed in front of her mortified face.

When the hall was empty, he laid on the floor beside me, stretching out on his back, determined to see his discipline through to the humiliating end. He cocked up his arm to brace his head on one hand, watching me. “It’s not so funny now, is it?”

“You’re a poor sport, Pretty Princess.” I grunted as I pushed myself up for the seventeenth time.

“You got a thick skull, you know that?”

“Well, you’ve got a thick neck.” It was the only thing I could think of. My arms shook as I pushed myself up to complete number twenty-one, a sweat mustache forming on my lip.

He chuckled without humor. “So will you, when I get done with ya. Fifty’s your new number to beat.” He pulled himself from the floor. “Twenty-seven…twenty-six!” He counted me down, but progress slowed, and then trickled. I dropped to the floor in defeat at twenty-to-go, my arms ablaze.

“You’re pathetic.” He snorted and turned to leave me there, as he always did when I maxed out.

But I couldn’t allow that, not today. I’d met my goal of thirty pushups, and I wouldn’t let him diminish that victory. Knowing I’d pay for it later, I rose again and yelled, “Nineteen!” I fell back to the floor in a heap.

He whirled around.

Again, I rose. “Eighteen!” My arms couldn’t possibly lift me again.

But they did. “Seventeen!” Now my arms dumped me on the floor. Hard. My body made an outline of sweat on the rubberlike surface.

He stepped closer. I pulled my head up to grin at him. His nostrils flared.

“How about I slap the disappointment off
your
face?” I offered with heaving breath. He frowned so severely I thought the corners of his mouth would extend down his neck.

I knew it was asking too much, but I pleaded with my arms to lift the dead weight again.

They complied. “Sixteen!” I screamed in agony. I plummeted to the floor.

“Hmph,” he snorted, turning to leave again.

“Fifteen!” I called to him, but he kept going. I laughed after him, which was unnecessary, but oh-so-much fun. He disappeared into an elevator down the hall, still sulking.

I hauled myself from the floor, and me and my trembling arms asked the elevator to take us to breakfast. The one good thing about wearing all black was that sweat didn’t show as much as it would in other colors of like material.

I plopped down in the chair beside Dr. Folsom, startling her from her book. She hadn’t touched her eggs and toast. I hoped she hadn’t waited for me.

“Good morning, Elyse.” She eyed the barren tabletop in front of me. “Aren’t you eating breakfast this morning?”

“Yes.” I beamed. “But I can’t move my arms just yet. Think you could get me some bran cereal and a banana?”

She narrowed her eyes, closing the book with a pop, the wind from it wafting her hair. “What did you do?”

I was hoping she would ask. “Thirty-five today. I really showed him this time.” I grinned.

“You shouldn’t provoke him, Elyse,” she said, but I could tell she wasn’t mad—she probably felt an obligation to my mother to say such things.

“Why shouldn’t I? His blood pressure is his own fault. He has a bad temper.”

She laughed at my hypocrisy and rose to get me my breakfast.

Eating cereal with no arms was tricky. In the end, the best strategy was to prop them on the table at the elbows for support, and drink the mush like soup. I brought the banana to the lab with me, in case I worked up the strength to peel it later in the day—not likely, though.