Mud Puddles [Jim Hawkins x Reader]

Chapter 4

"A'ight Cadets, since yer now in yer final year it's time fer ye ta know about the graduation test." Sergeant Fernsby said to the squad one day. The cadets murmured between themselves. "Headmistress, the floor is yers."

Captain Amelia, the headmistress of the academy, stepped forward and everyone fell silent. She nodded in acknowledgement at Jim before speaking.

"One month from now you will all be embarking on a seven-day quest to a platform 50 000 klicks North North East, where eight flags are waiting." Another wave of whispers rippled through the gathering.

"Only eight?" Someone behind (Y/N) muttered.

"A captain is only as good as their first mate," Headmaster Amelia continued, "and I found the finest first mate while taking this exact test in my final year." Jim realised that she was referring to Mr Arrow: the stone man whom he had 'failed to secure' during their voyage to Treasure planet. The guilt still hung on his neck like a chain and he had spent many nights trying to forgive himself. Painful memories resurfaced for a moment, but he swallowed the leaden lump in his throat and it sunk to the pit of his stomach, fading back into his subconscious.

"Because of this, you will be in pairs--" Everyone glanced to their friends with eager eyes.

"--assigned by Sergeant Fernsby." The cadets collectively sighed, feeling slightly less excited for the upcoming test. Sergeant Fernsby was highly unlikely to place friends together.

"You will all have one month to prepare and ten days to complete the test. If you happen to dally too long and arrive after the tenth day, you will be disqualified from the graduation ceremony and will have to do this test again, next year. Am I clear, Cadets?" The cadets shouted in affirmative. "Then I will hand things over to Sergeant Fernsby. Good day, and good luck."

The headmistress then walked away and Sir stepped forward.

"As the 'eadmistress mentioned, I'll be assignin' yer pairs. Ye can't always work well with yer mates, so I'll be avoidin' puttin' yer together. Instead, yer'll be with one whose skill's work well with yer own. Don't bother whinin' 'cause all pairin's are final!" Sergeant Fernsby said, producing a piece of paper from his pocket. He then began to read the pairs out in a loud tone.

"Parsons and Lockheart, Wilkes and Kraft, Zygon and Trast-" (Y/N) tapped her fingers against her trouser pocket as pair after pair left the court. The amount of classmates left was continually dininishing and she didn't fancy the idea of her graduation hinging on the capability of a low-achiever.

Fernsby paused. Looking up, (Y/N) turned her head to the only remaining person in the line; the name that hadn't been called out. Even before looking she knew that it was him. They made eye contact and groaned, faces morphing into one of disgust and distaste.

"Hawkins and (L/N)." Fernsby finished, tucking the paper back into his jacket pocket.

"Sir, there must be a mistake!"

"Oh no, God no!" Jim protested. His big blue eyes frantically scanned the Sergeant's face to catch a trace of humour, but he was as stoic as can be.

"Sir, anyone else! Please, not him!

"I can't work with her!"

"There ain't no mistake, and me decision is final. Good luck." He turned his heel and marched away, leaving the dismayed cadets alone.

Jim and (Y/N) stared at his diminishing figure dumbfoundedly for a while before they turned to each other, both in shock.

"Wha-How? I... Ugh!" She managed to spit out, turning away from his gaze. She found it utterly unbelievably that Sergeant had thought them to be a "complementary team", especially after he had witnessed their feud first hand from day one! He probably did it for the kicks, she reasoned: it would undoubtedly be very entertaining to watch them at each other's throats for a full month.