Call Me Cadet

Chapter One

August 13, Junior Year

Table 37. The worst possible table to ever be assigned to. It wasn't that it was the furthest away from the lunch line. Or that because it was the furthest away that you subsequently had to go last for food, as Mrs. Tina ran the entire operation with her petite iron fist.

Nor was it the fact that it kept Connor from sitting with his friends at table 12. No, it also wasn't because the table you got was the table you were stuck with the entire year.

For Connor Flint, it was why he had to sit at that table. B. Wells High was a little irregular. Instead of punishment by detention or expulsion, Principal Butters, all food jokes aside, had found a more interesting way of punishment. Extradition.

Or that was how he took it anyways. He certainly hadn't been the coolest kid so far his previous two years in high school, but as a twelver he'd made it to the top 33%, and that had to count for something, right?

Oh, just give it up, Connor. What has popularity ever gotten you?

Shut up, Jack. Plenty, if you haven't noticed.

Connor looked over at his friends. Some of them, like Sammy Turner and Grant Knowles looked at him with empathy. Others, like Vance and Vanessa Biryukov, twins, avoided his gaze entirely.

You mean those posers who let you take the heat?

You know if I was given a second chance, I'd do the same thing all over again... Plus, those posers used to be your friends.

Not for years now. Kinda hard when you're a disembodied voice, ya know?

Butters had found the perfect way to keep students in line. Students hated nothing more than the smearing of the lines of self-segregation that they imposed on themselves. So why not do it to them as their punishment?

Art kid gets caught with pot in the bathroom? Throw her to Table 21, filled with all the preachers' daughters and overly zealot nature of the Bible Belt boys. Star Varsity player starts failing PreCalc, possibly ruining his chances of ever making Miss U? Give him to Table 32, filled with math nerds and quiz bowl kids. Effective and brutal.

Do you hear yourself, Connor? I mean, snooze.

"Ahem." Connor turned at the very loud grunt to notice her for the first time. Her, Connor thought to himself glumly.

"Are you going to just sit there all lunch period, pining over not being with your friends, or are you going to get some food?" she asked, gesturing with her thumb toward the emptying line. Her gray hair a huge contrast to the mocha color of her skin.

He blurted the first thing that came to his mind at that moment. "Why is your hair gray?"

"For the same reason you're a sell out."

Connor glared, but she appeared unfazed, returning the look measure for measure. A tall boy, who was obviously somehow related to her, rolled his eyes and pulled her back a step. "I think she meant to say, 'Hi, my name is Jordan, and this very delectable piece of man-flesh beside me is my brother Morgan.'"

I like him, Jack commented.

Jordan shook her head and walked away as she said, "Whatever."

Letting out a puff of air, Henry turned back to Connor and waggled his eyebrows at him. "Sorry, she can hold a bit of a grudge."

As the three others sitting at the table rose to follow Jordan, they all avoided Connor's gaze, much as his friends had done. Morgan pointed each of them out in turn as they walked by. "Short and skinny is Jewish Kyle, he's a wiz-kid when it comes to anything with computers. The quiet giant is Moose. Don't ask him questions that require more than a yes or no. He probably won't answer if you do. You've already met Jordan, my cousin, and then there is me, Captain."