5

“Oh yeah…” Aisola snapped her long, slender fingers. “Kam, you were a dasher before you joined the military, right?”

“Yep.”

“And he never misses a chance to brag about it,” Easton rolled his eyes.

“Actually, I’m extraordinarily humble.” I gave him a wounded look.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will.”

“Can this marriage be saved?” Emmanuel said sarcastically. “Dash races it is. Move it, unless you feel like running in your uniform and risking the devil-fiery wrath of Commander Oro.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I don’t know. I think Easton should do it. Give us all a nice laugh.”

“Shut up, Kam.”

Aisola shook her head, her short hair swaying in the breeze. “You guys are absolutely hopeless.”

“That’s a funny way to pronounce awesome,” I said. “But thanks anyway.”

“And there you go, further proving my point.”

We all started jogging towards the prep rooms. They were small, cramped, and uncomfortable, but at least we all got our own locker and stalls. Apparently, in most of the other squads, they just changed in their bunks and just avoided looking each other for a few minutes. But we, the cool ones, in Squad 891, always went to the prep rooms. We have a girl in our bunker. Show some respect.

William and Paul were very unhappy with the unofficial rule, but didn’t argue in fear of the axe that Aisola probably still had hidden somewhere.

Less than three-point-five-eight-nine minutes later, we were all out on the state-of-the-art track, stretching and deciding whether or not to play teams.

“I think we should make Kam carry the weights if we play solo,” Emmanuel tossed up. “He has an advantage.”

I snorted. “Please, you could dump an elephant on me and I’d still leave you in the dust.”

“That a challenge? Because I would really like to watch that.” Aisola lifted her leg behind her back and stood there, perfectly balanced. Impressive.

“If you can somehow find and give us an elephant, I would gladly do it,” I offered.

Easton and Emmanuel simultaneously rolled their eyes.

“Kam, you’re such a flirt,” Emmanuel said, making that tsk-tsk sound he knew I hated. Something about his comment rubbed me the wrong way, and copper brown eyes that I vaguely recognized flicked through my brain. I couldn’t place them, but a bizarre electric-shock feeling whispered down my bones.

That had never happened before. I had gotten electrocuted once, (don’t ask) but that was just painful. This feeling was cozy and inviting, and it wrapped warm tendrils around my chest.

I shook it away and glared at Emmanuel. “It’s not flirty to show some respect for the lady in our midst.”

“Oh, brother,” Aisola moaned, jogging in place. “This “lady in your midst” could beat you dry if she wanted too.”

This was probably true. I decided to change the subject.