“Yeah?” Bim asked.
“Pretty cool,” I said, then immediately sat down, taking a long gulp from my canteen.
Was that smooth? That was smooth, right?
I wasn’t sure what Sun Tzu or Beowulf would say about flirting with cute guys. Maybe share the skulls of your enemies with them, as a gesture of affection?
I felt kind of warm and gooey （in a good way） until I spotted Jerkface—across the room—watching me. I gave him a hard glare.
He, pointedly, turned to Nedd and Arturo. “I guess we shouldn’t expect real honor,” he said, “from the daughter of Zeen Nightshade.”
A bolt of coldness shot through me.
“Who?” Nedd asked. “Wait, who did you say she was?”
“You know,” Jerkface said, voice loud enough to carry through the entire room. “Callsign: Chaser? The Coward of Alta?”
The room went quiet. I could feel everyone’s eyes turning toward me. How had he found out? Who had told him?
I stood up. Scud, even Kimmalyn seemed to know who Chaser was. Her canteen dropped from her fingers and bounced against the floor, spilling water that she didn’t notice.
“Who?” Morningtide asked. “What is happen?”
I wanted to flee. Hide. Escape all those eyes. But I would not run.
“My father,” I said, “was not a coward.”
“I’m sorry,” Jerkface said. “I’m only stating the official history.” He stared at me, with that arrogant, so-punchable face. I found myself blushing in embarrassment—then in anger.
I shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I’d lived practically my entire life with this mantle. I was accustomed to those looks, those whispers. And I wasn’t ashamed of my father, right? So why should I care that the others had found out? Good. Fine. I was happy to be Chaser’s daughter.
It was just that . . . it had felt nice. To be able to make my own way, without standing in anyone’s shadow.
That thought made me feel like I was betraying my father, and that made me even more angry.
“She lives in a cave, you know,” Jerkface said to Arturo. “She goes there every night. The elevator operators told me they watch her hike out into the wilderness, because she’s not—”
He cut off as Cobb stepped in with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. Cobb focused immediately on me, then Jerkface. “Back to your seats,” he snapped at us. “We still have work to do today. And Quirk, did you drop that canteen?”
Kimmalyn unfroze and picked up her canteen, and everyone climbed into their cockpits without another word. At one point shortly after we went back to practicing with our light-lances, I caught Cobb looking at me with a grim expression, with eyes that seemed to be saying, It was going to happen eventually, cadet. Are you going to give in?
Never.
But that didn’t stop me from feeling sick through the whole set of drills.
A few hours later, I trailed out of the women’s bathroom, canteens refilled. A new pair of MPs walked me to the doors and saw me out, then—like normal—left me there.
I trudged across the base grounds, feeling frustrated, angry, and alone. I should have kept going out of the base, on toward my cave. But instead I took a path around the training building, one that let me walk past the mess hall.
I looked through the window there and spotted the others seated along a metal table—chatting, laughing, arguing. They’d even bullied Jerkface into joining them tonight—a rare treat for the plebes, as he usually drove off to the exclusive elevator. Nedd said it could reach the lower caverns in under fifteen minutes.
So there he was, enjoying what I was forbidden, after tossing away my secret like a fistful of expired rations. I hated him. In that moment, I kind of hated them all. I almost hated my father.
I stalked off into the night, leaving the base through the front gates. I turned to my left, toward the orchard, and the shortcut through it toward the wilderness. My path took me straight past the small hangars where Jerkface parked his hovercar.
I stopped there in the darkness, eyeing his bay. The front door was closed this time, but the side door was open, and I could see the car inside. It took me all of about half a second to come up with another really terrible idea.
Looking around, I didn’t see anyone watching. Darkness had come early tonight, the skylights moving away, and the orchard workers had already gone home. I was far enough from the front gates of the base that the guards there shouldn’t be able to see me in the gloom.
I slipped in the side of the small hangar and closed the door, then lit my light-line for a bit of illumination. I found a wrench on the wall of the small shed, then pulled open the hood of the blue hovercar.
Jerkface could walk home tonight. It would only be fair. After all, I had to walk home—and tonight I would have to do it while lugging a large, car-size power matrix tied to my back.
16
I woke up the next morning groggy and sore, with a face full of stuffed bear. I groaned, turning over, my muscles aching. Why did I hurt so much? Had I . . .
I bolted upright and flipped on my light-line bracelet, peering out of my cockpit bed. The light illuminated my little kitchen, a pile of mushrooms waiting to be sliced, some rocks I’d placed as seats there, and . . .
And a car’s power matrix, the size of a small nightstand.
It lay where I’d dumped it after lugging it all the way to the cavern. I’d been so worn out after that, I hadn’t plugged it in, but had climbed right into bed.
I groaned and flopped back, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. I’d been so angry last night that . . . well, I hadn’t been thinking clearly. Stealing the power matrix had seemed like a great idea—but now the holes in my clever plan were stark.
Gee, I wonder who vandalized your car, Jerkface? Could it be the only one of us who wasn’t at dinner, and who had immediate and powerful reasons for wanting revenge on you?
When it became known that I’d destroyed another cadet’s property, I’d get tossed out of flight school so fast, I’d get whiplash. I groaned again, a sound that was unhelpfully mimicked by Doomslug, who had snuggled into a spot on the dash.
Why? Why couldn’t I stay focused? Why did I have to let them get to me? Beowulf or Xun Guan wouldn’t let themselves be goaded into acting this stupid!
I felt sick as I trudged to Alta that morning. I didn’t even have the will to try out the power matrix. As if there were anything I could do to prevent my doom at this point. Why couldn’t “rational Spensa” and “determined Spensa” get together for a battle briefing once in a while?
I fully expected the MPs to be waiting for me, but the guards at the gates just waved me through. Nobody stopped me on my way to the classroom. Jerkface came in while I was settling down in my seat, and he didn’t so much as glance at me. Cobb limped in and started class like normal.
At one point during a break, I managed to catch Jerkface’s eyes. He met them and didn’t look away. There was a challenge in them, yes. But how was I to read this? Was he waiting for some specific point to turn me in?
As the day progressed, and we practiced using the light-lances on moving targets, I started to wonder if maybe he wasn’t going to get me into trouble. Maybe . . . maybe he was taking the warrior’s way. Rather than running to the admiral for help, was he planning his own vengeance?