I leaned my head against the bus window, slumped in my seat as we made our way back to the hotel. I was replaying training in my head, trying to remember if I’d seen people who were worse than me. There had been a few. I saw one guy fall flat on his face after trying to throw a single punch. The curly-haired guy had knocked several people over while trying to work with a spear.
My stomach growled loudly, and I closed my eyes briefly. The protein bar had somehow made me hungrier. I wasn’t sure I even had the strength to get out of this seat. I lived here now.
Julian stood and faced us as the bus jerked to a stop. “Is there a Clara Pratt on this bus?”
I blinked, surprised, and slowly raised my hand. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Come with me a sec.”
I stood, ignoring the protests from my body. I gripped the edge of a seat as I stepped into the aisle and took a moment to steady my shaking legs.
I couldn’t think of any good reason why a team leader would want to see me. Were they letting everyone who had been eliminated know tonight? I swallowed down mounting panic as I made my way off the bus.
Julian led me into the hotel, pausing for a moment in the lobby like he wasn’t sure where to go. He headed into one of the meeting rooms, the one where I’d picked up my folder. It was nearly empty now, only the tables and a few empty boxes left.
“So.” Julian pulled out his phone as he turned to face me. “We got an email from your father. He says he did not sign a consent form, and he wants you home right away. And no one answers at the number you gave us.”
My body went cold. I couldn’t feel my feet on the ground anymore. I realized suddenly that the air conditioner was really loud in this room. I could hear it buzzing.
“We’re sort of in a gray area with you guys who are minors,” Julian continued. “The army started letting seventeen-year-olds sign up without parental consent after the first scrab attacks in the States, but we’re not the US military, so . . .” He looked at me sympathetically. “We have a bus to Dallas leaving tomorrow at noon.”
The world tilted and my legs gave out. I crashed to the carpet as a sob escaped my mouth. I was crying. Not pretty, sniffling crying, but choked sobs and tears streaming down my face.
“Hey, it’s OK,” Julian said, his tone alarmed.
I shook my head, because it was not OK, and I did not appreciate him telling me it was. He didn’t know how hard it had been for me to escape. How proud I’d felt for getting out. If I let Dad yank me back now, I’d never get out again. Not in one piece, anyway.
“How long until you’re eighteen?” he asked. He knelt down next to me on the ground. “Maybe you can call him and talk to him?”
I let out a short, angry laugh and lifted my head to meet his gaze. He was obviously startled, maybe by my tear-soaked face, or maybe because I looked like I wanted to murder someone. “I’m not calling him.”
“OK.” I liked how he didn’t try to press the issue. “But I’m going to have to put you on that Dallas bus tomorrow.”
I shook my head. “I’m not getting on that bus.” Even if they wouldn’t let me on a team, I wasn’t getting on that bus. I didn’t care about my growling stomach, or the fact that I had no money and no place to sleep after tonight. I wouldn’t go back.
Uncertainty flickered across Julian’s face. It wasn’t normal for a girl to be this hysterical about the prospect of going home. The wheels were already turning in his head, trying to figure out what I didn’t want to go back to. If I said it, if I told him the truth, he might let me stay.
But I’d never found quite the right words for that, so I held out my left arm and placed the fingers of my right hand on each of the four round bruises that Dad had made a few days ago.
“I’m not getting on that bus,” I said again, holding his gaze.
I moved my fingers, and he stared at the spot where they’d been. He looked at me and then quickly away.
He grabbed his phone from the floor and swiped at it.
“Oh no, I deleted it.” He swiped a few more times. “Too bad, I seem to have deleted it from my trash as well. I guess I never got it at all.”
Relief flooded my veins, and I had to blink away a fresh round of tears. I wiped my hands across my cheeks and smiled at him.
“Thank you.”
He returned the smile. He had a heavy, dark brow that made him look like he always had something serious to say, but his smile was sweet, almost innocent.
I pushed my bangs out of the way with an embarrassed laugh. “I guess I don’t even know if I made it, right?” The humiliation was starting to break through the panic. I was on the ground. My eyes were probably red and puffy. I’d just told him my darkest secret.
“Wellll . . .” His face broke into a grin again. I wished my nose would stop running. “Don’t tell anyone I did this.” He tapped on his phone a few times. “I remember you from the sparring, I’m pretty sure you . . . Yep. You’re in.”
I let out a short laugh. The world was tilted, and I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. Maybe I’d passed out and was dreaming of a world where I was going to put an ocean between me and Texas. “Seriously?”
“Yes. Actually, Grayson has you marked on here.” He squinted at his phone. “Oh! You’re the one who jumped Edan outside the hotel.”
Honestly, I didn’t mind that this was how people knew me. There were worse things to be known for.
I laughed again. My body felt about a hundred times lighter. “Yeah, that was me.”
“He made a note that you were in, unless you did really horribly at the tryouts. And you didn’t do really horribly.”
“Only a little bit horribly?” I wiped the last of my tears away.
“Only at shooting. No guns for you.”
“I’m good with that.”
“You were assigned to my team, actually. I’m taking one of the young teams.” He smiled at me. I didn’t think I would mind being on his team at all.
He jumped up, offering me his hand. I took it and let him pull me to my feet.
The world went black around the edges, and I stumbled, bumping into his shoulder.
“Whoa.” He grabbed both my arms, which I was pretty sure was the only thing keeping me from falling back to the floor. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah.” I blinked until the world came into focus again. Julian was staring at me, brows knitted together. The smile was cute, but maybe the concern was cuter.
No, that was not what was important right now. Growling stomach. Fainting. Priorities.
“I just didn’t eat today . . . Well, a nice girl gave me half a protein bar but . . .” I shook my head, my thoughts finally falling back into place. My legs felt solid on the ground again.
“All you ate today is half a protein bar?”
“And I didn’t eat anything yesterday, so . . .” I laughed to hide my embarrassment. There was just no way this interaction could get any worse at this point.
“What?” His concern was growing. “Why wouldn’t you eat anything yesterday?”
“I don’t have any food. Or any money to buy some.” I said it evenly, like I didn’t want to dig a hole in the ground and stick my head in it.
“Oh my god. You could have told—” He cut himself off. “I was about to order an obscene amount of Chinese food for some of the team leaders. You’re having some.”
I wasn’t even going to pretend to protest. “Thank you.”
“I’ll need to pick it up because they don’t deliver, but I’ll run you up to my room real quick first. You can wait there.”
“Your . . .” I let my voice trail off. His room? I desperately wanted food, but I was not in the habit of following strange guys into their hotel rooms. Even if they were one of Grayson’s team leaders.
“Oh!” His face lit up with understanding. “Right. Sorry. I should have said. Some of the guys are already up there. And Grayson and Madison are headed that way too. So it won’t just be us.”
I smiled, relieved that he understood my hesitancy. “Great.”
He steered me to the door, his hand on my arm like he was afraid I might swoon again. We took the elevator up to the top floor, and he led me around the corner to the last door. He swiped his card and pushed it open.
“After you,” he said with a smile.
I stepped inside. It was a suite, with a little living room and kitchen area, the door to the bedroom ajar to my left. Two vaguely familiar men were in the kitchen area, both typing furiously on their phones. Team leaders. They looked like most of Grayson’s team leaders—muscular, early twenties, white, shoulders tense like they expected something to jump out at them. The one with shoulder-length brown hair tied back in a ponytail glanced up at me and did a double take.
“Can I use your bathroom?” I asked Julian quietly, very aware that my eyes were probably red and my cheeks splotchy.
“Sure. It’s through the bedroom.” He pointed. “I’m going to order the food. Anything you want? Or don’t like?”
“I don’t like seafood,” Ponytail said. He seemed to be deliberately avoiding my gaze, in that way guys did when they didn’t know how to handle a girl’s tears.
“Wasn’t talking to you,” Julian said, rolling his eyes and throwing a smile my way. The guy made a face at him.
“I eat pretty much everything.” Especially right now.
“One of everything, got it.” He grinned as he pulled his phone from his pocket.
I walked through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The damage wasn’t quite as bad as I thought—my mascara was waterproof, and I wasn’t wearing eyeliner today—but my eyes were red and puffy, and I had pink splotches on my cheeks.
I splashed some cold water on my face and fixed my ponytail. It was obvious I’d been crying, but I’d just have to live with it.
I emerged from the bathroom to find the two leaders on their way out of the room. Ponytail held the door open with one hand, peering from his phone to Julian.
“They’re all down at the bar. You sure you don’t want to come?” he asked.
“Nah, I’m starving. Tell them I ordered plenty of food if they want to come up later,” Julian said.
“He’s too young anyway,” the other team leader said from the hallway.
Ponytail laughed. “Right. I forgot you’re a baby.”
Julian shot him a mildly irritated look. Ponytail moved away from the door, and Julian caught it before it closed, flipping the latch so that it stayed propped open. I felt like it was done for my benefit, and I smiled at him when he turned back to me.
“Grayson and Madison are on their way.” He walked to the kitchen counter and pulled tea bags out of two mugs of water. He let them drain, and then, oddly, popped them in the freezer.
“I ordered the food,” he said. “It’s too early for the dinner rush, so it should be fast.”
“Thanks.” I slid my hands into my pockets, trying to appear less awkward than I felt.
“Sit,” he ordered, pointing at the couch.
I lowered onto one of the cushions, tucking my leg beneath me. My body nearly groaned in response. I was so hungry I’d barely noticed how tired and sore I was.
“You did a good job at sparring today.” He leaned against the counter next to the refrigerator, cocking his head as he examined me. I felt like a puzzle he was trying to put together. “You had combat class in high school?”
“Yes.”
“Did you graduate early?”
“No.” I pretended to be fascinated by the magazine on the table in front of the couch. “I have one more year. I figured I’d take the GED later. If I don’t die, I mean.”
He let out a short laugh. “Sure. Stay alive first, GED second.”
“How did you get to be a team leader? Do you know Grayson?”
His eyebrows lifted, like he was surprised. “Uh, yeah. Our families have been friends for a long time.” He said it like I should have already known this.
A headline floated through my memory——and I realized that I probably should have known exactly who he was.
Also, it made perfect sense that he dated a girl who looked like Madison.
He opened the freezer and took out the tea bags he’d put in there a couple minutes earlier. “Perfect, they’re cool.” He walked toward me. “Lie down.”
“Why?”
“My mom used to do this when her eyes were puffy. Lie down.”
I did as he ordered, stretching my legs out and letting my head fall back on the pillow.
“Close your eyes,” he said. He gently placed a tea bag over either eyelid. “There. Just stay like that for about ten minutes.”
“Seriously? Tea bags?” I reached up, moving one of the tea bags to the side so I could see him.
“Yes. My mom swears it works. Something about the caffeine. And she would know. She cries a lot.” He gently pushed my hand away and replaced the tea bag.
“Why does she cry a lot?” I asked.
“She’s just . . . prone to hysterics.” He laughed a little. “But this is helpful, right? I was going for helpful.”
“Very helpful. Thank you.” One of the bags started to slide off my eye, and Julian caught it before I did. He was perched on the edge of the coffee table, right next to me, and he leaned over and moved the bag back into place. The tips of his fingers brushed against my forehead, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. I felt exposed suddenly, lying on his couch unable to see him. I didn’t know what to do with my hands.
“Did you join alone?” His voice was a little softer. His fingers lingered on my forehead for longer than necessary before disappearing. “Any friends come with you?”
“No, just me.”
“You must have been scared.”
I was more scared at home, but I didn’t expect him to understand that. “So where are you from?” I asked.
“New York.”
Right, because he knew Grayson and Madison.
“You’re in college?” I guessed. “Or you were?”
“I did one semester at Columbia before I left to help Grayson plan all this.” I heard the table creak. “Will you be OK for a few minutes? I’m going to go grab the food. It’s just across the street.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“OK, I’ll be back.” Footsteps padded across the carpet, and then the door opened and closed.
I left the tea bags on for a few more minutes, then tossed them and took a look in the mirror. Honestly, my eyes were a bit better.
When Julian returned, he had three huge bags of food. He heaved them onto the counter.
“I thought you were kidding about ordering one of everything,” I said.
“Well, not everything.” He put the bags on the counter. “But one of everything that sounded good. Grayson may be small, but that guy can put away some food.” He started unpacking the boxes and handed one to me. “Here, have a dumpling now. I’m worried you’re going to faint again.”
I took it without argument, and Julian offered me chopsticks and a fork. I took the latter, speared a dumpling, and took a bite. I had to restrain myself from stuffing the whole thing in my mouth.
Julian took one for himself and cocked his head as he chewed. “Eh. OK.”
I took another bite. “It’s the best dumpling I’ve ever had.”
A smile spread across his face, but his face still held a hint of worry. I didn’t feel any relief about telling him about Dad. Was I supposed to? Was this supposed to feel good? It just felt like Dad was still in control, forcing me to share things with strangers that made me look weak instead of strong. He was still on my back, dragging me down.
Julian opened the other boxes, revealing an assortment of meats and rice and noodles. He handed me a paper plate and we loaded them up and sat on the couch. I dug into the orange chicken.
The door swung open, and Grayson stepped inside, dressed in black pants and a button-up shirt, his tie loosened around his neck.
“Hey,” he said to Julian. “Did you—” He stopped when he spotted me on the couch. “Hello.”
It was not exactly a friendly hello. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it was clearly a question, directed at Julian. Grayson’s eyes slid between us.
“You remember Clara,” Julian said. “I asked her to come eat with us, as a thank-you for beating up Edan.” He grinned at me. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
“I didn’t beat him up. I just . . . tackled him a little.” I returned Julian’s smile, relieved at his easy cover-up.
“She scared the shit out of the poor guy,” Grayson said, typing something into his phone as he talked.
“The poor guy shouldn’t rob people,” I said. Julian laughed.
Grayson snorted. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Also I told Clara that she made it,” Julian said.
Grayson made an exasperated noise. “Julian, you’re not—”
“She promised not to tell anyone!” Julian interrupted.
“I won’t,” I said quickly.
“Act surprised tomorrow when you get your letter,” Grayson said.
“My roommate never showed up, so there’s no one around to see it anyway.”
Grayson piled food on his plate and sat on the other side of the couch. “Perfect.” He shoveled food into his mouth with chopsticks in one hand and held his phone in the other. “Julian, I need you to sort out these ground teams they keep messaging us about. You took the best notes.”
“I’m getting to it.” Julian took a bite of an eggroll.
“Julian.”
“I’m getting to it! It’s only”—he twisted around to peer at the clock on the wall—“four o’clock. Give me, like, thirty minutes. I’m going to eat, and Clara’s going to tell us all the gossip.”
I looked up in surprise. “Gossip?”
“Yeah. What are the other recruits like? How’s the mood?”
Grayson lowered his phone. He was interested in the gossip too, apparently.
“Oh, um, I don’t know,” I said. “People seem excited, I guess. I haven’t hung out with people much. Except Patrick.”
“Patrick?” Julian repeated.
“Yeah, we met on the Dallas bus. He’s really nice. Most of our bus was older people, so we connected.”
“I’m sure he didn’t mind connecting with the pretty girl,” Julian said, one side of his mouth lifting. Grayson looked at him sharply.
I tried not to react to the fact that he’d just called me pretty. I focused on scooping up a forkful of fried rice. “Well, he’s gay, so I don’t think he was thinking about that.”
“Oh,” Julian said. Was he relieved? I was probably imagining it.
“Patrick said he joined because it was the right thing to do, to help people,” I said. “I sort of thought that’s why most people joined.”
Grayson smiled. Julian grabbed his phone. “Patrick . . .”
“Choi.”
Julian scrolled through something on his phone. “Choi, Choi . . .”
“Do not tell her if he made it,” Grayson warned.
“I won’t! I was just checking my notes.” Julian put his phone back on the table and waited until Grayson returned his attention to his plate. He shot me a grin and a thumbs-up.
I quickly ducked my head to hide my smile.
The door opened, and Madison St. John blew inside, changed from the perfect workout clothes I’d seen earlier into shiny black leggings and bright green crop top, three-inch heels on her feet.
“Those fucking motherfuckers are still outside, and I swear to god, Grayson, I am not”—her eyes skipped over me—“in the mood today. I will lose my shit if I have to do another interview. Who is that?” She said it all in a rush, and it took me a moment to realize the last part referred to me.
“Clara, Madison,” Julian said, with a hint of annoyance. “Madison, Clara.”
She planted her hands on her hips and turned her attention back to Grayson without acknowledging me. “Did you hear me?”
“The people three doors down heard you, Maddie.”
“I’m not talking to those bastards again today.”
“Fine.”
She winced and stepped out of her shoes, shrinking considerably. She was only a couple inches taller than me, maybe five foot eight. “These fucking things are killing me.”
“Why are you dressed like you’re going out to the club?” Julian asked.
“I invited a few people over to my suite.” She speared a piece of beef from a carton and popped it in her mouth.
“We have to be up early in the morning,” Grayson said in a warning tone.
“I’ll sleep on the plane.”
“Did you call back the Times reporter?” Grayson asked.
“No. What did I just say about interviews?”
“Call him back, please.”
“No, I shan’t.”
“He has a deadline. And the MDG spokesperson has given him about ten quotes calling us insane mercenaries.”
“MDG does know that they’re also kind of mercenaries, right?” Madison said. “This seems like a pot calling the kettle black situation.”
“Perfect. Call Bill and tell him that. We need to get our side out there. Just one more, Maddie.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m so tired of all these goddamn reporters.” But she dug her phone out of her pocket and angrily poked at it. She held it up to her ear. “Hi, Bill!” Her tone changed drastically, switching to the perky tone I’d heard at her interview earlier today. “Sure, I can give you a quote.” She walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.
“Don’t mind her,” Julian said. “She’s not very friendly on her best days, much less when she’s had to talk to reporters all day.”
“She’s friendly!” Grayson said. “It’s just buried deep down.”
“Deep, deep down,” Julian said.
The bedroom door opened again, and Madison stuck her head out, still on the phone. “Julian? Can you come talk to Bill a minute?”
He jumped up. “Sure.” He had to pass by me on his way, and he reached his hand out like he was going to put it on my shoulder, then seemed to think better of it. I might have tensed without even realizing it. I cursed my stupid traitorous body.
He tucked the hand into his pocket, a hint of embarrassment crossing his face. God, he was even cuter when he was nervous.
He disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me alone with Grayson. I took another bite of chicken. My stomach had filled up faster than usual, and it was close to bursting. I put the plate on the table in front of me.
“Do you think everyone is like Patrick?” I blurted out. “I mean, they joined because they genuinely want to do the right thing.”
Grayson barked out a laugh. “No.”
“No?” I repeated, surprised.
“Of course not. Does everyone join the military because of a burning desire to defend their country? No. That may be part of it, but they’re also thinking about free college and health care and everything else that comes with serving in our armed forces.”
“True.”
“That’s not why you joined?” Grayson asked.
“Uh, well . . .” I tugged at a string on the end of my shirt. “I’m not sure I joined for the right reasons.”
“This isn’t The Bachelor. There are no right reasons.”
I laughed and met his gaze again. His eyes made him seem less intimidating than I’d expected. They were blue, like always, but the screen had never captured how kind they were. Maybe it was intentional, a way to put people at ease, but he looked at me like he genuinely cared what I thought.
“What was your reason?” he asked.
“I just wanted to escape.” The words came out quietly. “I wanted to get away from home.”
“There are a lot of other ways to get away from home,” he said.
“Yes. But this takes me overseas, and there’s a stipend . . .” I shrugged, embarrassed.
“You think everyone has noble intentions for everything? Half of the reason I’m here is to prove everyone wrong.”
“Prove everyone wrong about what?”
“About me. About the technology my company invented. About my entire generation. People think we don’t care about anything.”
“But I bet the other half of your reasons are noble.”
He lifted one shoulder. Yes was the obvious answer.
I thought of Dad, who never considered that I’d join. Who said you will DIE with such conviction, like it was the only possible outcome.
“It’s not such a bad reason,” I said. “Proving everyone wrong.”
Grayson smiled. “No, it’s not.”