The Soldier

CHAPTER ELEVEN

 We sit at the lunch table, munching on messy chicken (that is called spicy Buffalo wings), and carrots with bleu cheese and ranch dip.

Leslie takes a sip of her soda from a straw, the caramel color showing through it, then goes back to eating while playing a Hologram checker game against me.

I move one of my red pieces to the upper- right corner so that her pieces cannot take it away. She grins at me, and I smirk back, taking a drink of my ice-cold water.

"So, tell me, June," she says, putting her hands behind her back. "What do I get if I win the game?"

Raising my eyebrows, I scoff, "If you win?" I chuckle, moving a red piece to her side so that she has to knight me as a king.

She scowls as I place a game piece in a corner away from me that's she'd taken away from me earlier, and says, "Well, it doesn't look like I'll win."

That's when hands place themselves on my shoulders. I go stiff.

"June" a coo from a voice I dread. "We haven't talked a pinch since our last days at the Len Learning Center. How are you?"

I don't like Jon. I want him to move his hands. If he doesn't...

Lindy plops her tray down next to Leslie, forcing my friend to move over.

I can't believe I used to be friends with these people.

Oh, well. I'm not going to let them get to me.

In the most polite way I can muster, I ask Jon, "Can you please, move your hands off my shoulders? It's making me uncomfortable."

Jon takes them off as if he just noticed his actions. "Oh, my bad." he apologizes, copying what Lindy did to Leslie on my side.

Not bothering to say anything, I take a small bite out of carrot. I'm just going to try to pretend Leslie and I are still the only one's here.

Leslie must be thinking the same thing. She moves her third-to-last black checker piece from my lower left one. Replying to her action, I move my king over two of hers, taking them out. Smirking, she brings the last black checker piece near the corner of mine, and rainbows it, eliminating three of mine. I grin at her, taking another sip of cold water.

"So, Jon," I hear Lindy say, her taunting words spilling out of her thin mouth. "Remember when she used to talk to us. She was so cool. Now, she's just... lame."

I threaten to stop the game, but my conscious stops me instead. There's no "real evidence" that they're talking about me. I force myself to ignore it.

"Yeah, she used to be so awesome." Jon agrees. "Now June's a b-"

He never finishes.

In a swift movement-before I can even blink- Leslie's hands are clutching his jaw, digging her nails in to the tender of his skin.

"Leslie, don't!" I protest, but it's too late.

Lindy slams the middle of her arm fast against Leslie's shoulder, causing her to let go of Jon.

Lindy's grabbing my best friend by her long ponytail, dragging her down, and repeatedly punching her in the face.

Do something, June! My mind screams.

Jon joins, holding Leslie as Lindy begins to pound her stomach.

My best friend spits in her face, grinning. "Is that all you got?" she sneers.

By now people are watching.

The image of Cassandra flashes in my head. - Her head slamming down on the gym floor, her ribs cracked, the blood pooling out of her mouth. The way she looked at me. The students and coach-standing there; just standing there- doing nothing. The medics taking her away. A horrified look on her face, her hands reaching out for me desperately.