Night of the Alphas

Chapter 38

I stumbled into the militia's cafeteria. My actual clothes felt uncomfortable in comparison to the soft hospital pajamas I had been wearing the past few weeks. But it also felt nice to be up and moving again, free of the constant attention the staff was giving me. My legs were a bit wobbly, but they no longer were covered in painful scratches.

Amanda visited me on the daily in the medical center, even after her long, hard shifts as a drill sergeant. She'd helped me become accustomed to walking and moving again. She also talked a lot. About her promotions while I was gone. About Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, and what Adrian was going through. She told me about how Major Evans was impressed with Adrian, and wanted her on the battlefield, despite Mr. Taylor's constant answer of 'No.' She said that the Edgers and Willow got along splendidly, and spent almost all of their time together. Sometimes, with a bit of a sparkle in her eyes, she would talk about the men's drill sergeant that she had gone out to dinner with a few times. I wouldn't talk a lot, I mostly just smiled and nodded. She had so much to say, and I wanted to listen more than I wanted to talk.

A few other people visited me, as well. Abel, Willow, and Serena were frequent visitors. Sometimes Jay would come in just to ramble, somewhat aimlessly, about whatever he was thinking about. I also rarely talked in my conversations with him. I started to warm up to his endless train of thought and childish logic. Alex visited once when I was half-asleep, and immediately seemed on edge when he entered my room. But he calmed down pretty quick, and we had a long, engaging conversation. Adrian came by the most, oftentimes with stuff such as paper and pencils, leftovers from dinner, or even extra blankets on cold nights, since the medical center was always freezing cold. We would talk for long periods of time, sometimes even into the early hours of the morning.

One night, Adrian was sitting on the end of my bed, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. She'd gotten a cup for me as well, but I wasn't the biggest fan of sweet things. She was wrapped in an old Afghan blanket and shivering. "How do you deal with sleeping here at night? It's awful."

"You kinda get used to it." I sipped on my hot chocolate, but put it down after tasting its intense sugariness. "Hey, I've been meaning to tell you, I think short hair looks nice on you."

"Hm?" She looked up, the blanket starting to slide off her shoulders.

"Your hair. It's nice."

"Oh, thanks."

She said it nicely, but I'm not sure if she really meant what she was saying. "Is something wrong?"

"Um, no." She played with one of her curls, pulling it straight and then watching it spring back up. "Okay, yes."

"What is it?"

"I just..." She sighed and placed her drink on the ground. "I didn't want it to be like this. But I needed it."

I tilted my head questioningly.

"You know I did this myself, right?"

"What, your hair? What's so bad about-" My voice cut off as her parents' conversation in the hallway came back to me. "...Oh."

She chuckled softly. "Yeah, well, it's in the past. And you can't change the past, all you can do is laugh about it."

"I don't see what's so funny about being stressed to the point of chopping your hair off," I said nervously.

Her expression softened. "It was hard taking care of a foot and a half of high-maintenance hair when I could hardly care for the rest of me. This helps me have the time and energy to care for the more essential parts of me, you know?"