AWKWARD. That's the best way to describe the atmosphere.
Ringer sits on Tank's old bunk – I should probably stop thinking of it like that and just call it Ringer's bunk – and cleans her rifle. She doesn't talk. She hasn't said a damn thing since this morning. Maybe that's her way of coping, like Poundcake.
Usually Zombie and I would head to extra practice right now, sometimes with Nugget in tow, but tonight he tells me that we're going to stay in. Make sure the new member feels welcome. Something about the way he says this, the way his eyes flitter to her folded form on her bunk, sends my stomach up in flames. It's a strange feeling, one that I'm not accustomed to feeling – well, not as Croak, at least.
And I fucking hate it. Such bullshit. So what if Zombie's making goo-goo eyes at the new girl? Who wouldn't, honestly? She's badass! She's pretty! She's scary! Boys like that shit!
Get ahold of yourself, Croak. Jesus. You act like you own the guy. You treat him like a piece of crap half the time. You're the first girl he's been around in a while, so naturally he was gonna be drawn to you. Now he has an option, and he wants the newer choice. That's life. It sucks. Aliens invade. People die. Zombie likes Ringer. The world will keep spinning into deeper shit. Oh well.
I sit beside Teacup, shining my boots with too much ferocity while she dangles over the side of my bed. She's watching Dumbo and Oompa play cards; she's already declared that she gets to play the winner.
Flintstone has laundry duty tonight. He's folding a jumpsuit when Ringer slides off her mattress, slinky legs strolling across the floor at her leisure. He drops the cloth, practically drooling as she walks past. She's not wearing anything special, just the same night clothes Teacup and I wear: t-shirt and undies. But he's foaming at the mouth like she's a juicy steak and he's a starved dog.
Well, that's one thing I don't mind Ringer taking: Flintstone's sexual advances.
Nugget, who is helping Flintstone, doesn't notice. He continues to fish out socks from the deep basket and pair them.
Ringer approaches Zombie's bed. "You're the squad leader. Why?"
His eyes flicker over her form briefly before returning to her face and answering, "Why not?" There's a slight curve to the corner of his lips like he wants to smile.
I turn my gaze back to my boots. Who gives a shit what they're talking about? Not me. I've got more important things to worry about. For example: is this hard-ass mud going to come off?
Dumbo and Oompa have stopped their card game. Teacup has sat up and turned around to face the pair. Poundcake is sitting up in his bunk. Flintstone's hands are resting on the laundry basket, his lower lip tucked between his teeth. Nugget is peeking over the edge of the basket, curious to watch the scene unfold.
Despite my internal ramblings, I can't help but listen in. I won't turn around and look at them though. If I see him give her the heart eyes one more time, I'm going to lunge across this bed and choke him.
"You're a terrible shot," Ringer says.
"I have other skills," Zombie assures her. "You should see me with a potato peeler."
"You've got a good body." Flintstone lets out a light laugh under his breath, but it's cut short when he sees my back straighten. He sends me an uneasy look as she continues, "Are you an athlete?"
"I used to be," Zombie says. There's a hint of sadness in his voice, similar to the longing he had held when telling me about the things he missed.
"Football," Ringer states.
"Good guess." Zombie says. I knew that.
"And baseball, probably." She adds.
"When I was younger." I didn't know that. The heat in my stomach boils over and slithers up to lick at my cheeks. My hands clench into tight fists. I can feel my nails digging into the tender flesh of my palm. I don't bother easing up.
Ringer changes the subject. Thank God. "The guy I replaced went Dorothy." I notice she never really asks direct questions. Everything sounds like a statement. Her voice has no life to it. It's as dead and cold and unwavering as her eyes.
"That's right."
"Why?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes," she says, even though it really doesn't. If you go crazy, you go crazy. "I was the leader of my squad." Ah. Of course.
"No doubt," Zombie says, voicing my very thoughts out loud.
"Just because you're leader doesn't mean you'll make sergeant after graduation."
"I sure hope that's true." Zombie says. I find myself frowning. He's actually not a bad leader. He cares about the people in his charge. Why shouldn't he make sergeant?
"I know it's true. I asked." I see her go back to her bunk. She bends over to grab a towel. When she straightens, she sees Flintstone checking her out. A slight hint of annoyance passes over her icy features. As quickly as it's there, it's gone. Just like her targets this morning.
She turns to face all of us. "A few things," she says as she throws the towel over her shoulder. "If anyone in this squad touches me, I'll kill them."
Ringer looks around, as if to make sure we all understand. She meets my eyes. I don't blink. I don't give her any acknowledgement. I just stare. She looks away.
"Okay," Zombie agrees. "Noted."
"Also, when I'm in the shower, off limits. Total privacy."
"Of course. We do the same for Croak." Zombie reveals. I can almost picture him gesturing toward me. Ringer's eyes slip back to me again and then flash away. "Anything else?"
Ringer pauses. She slowly shifts her weight to her left foot. "I like to play chess." She finally says. "Do any of you play?"
"No," Flintstone immediately answers. "But if you're up for some strip poker-"
It happens before anyone can do anything. Flint's on the ground, holding his throat, gasping. Ringer is standing over him, a blank look on her face.
"One last thing," she announces. "No demeaning, sexist, pseudo-macho remarks."
"You're cool!" Teacup blurts out from beside me. I send her a glare and she quickly shuts up. Good choice.
Zombie's bed creaks as he stands. "That's ten days half rations for what you just did," he tells her. I fight the urge to snort. As much as I'm not Ringer's biggest fan, Flintstone had that coming.
"Are you writing me up?" There's no emotion in her voice. It's like she doesn't care.
"I'm giving you a warning."
I roll my eyes. Of course he is. Wouldn't want to upset the new girl or make her not like Zombie.
Ringer flips her bangs out of her eyes. "I'll remember you going easy on me when they make me 53's new squad leader." Then she goes into the bathroom. A minute later the shower comes on, and everyone goes back to normal.
"Are you okay?" Nugget asks Flintstone with concerned eyes.
He nods slowly, hand still at his throat. "Damn," he says in a slightly garbled voice. "Bitch hits hard."
"Don't call her a bitch!" Dumbo quickly says. "You're just upset because she called you out on your bs."
"Yeah," Teacup agrees. "Ringer is cool."
"She's something all right." I mutter under my breath. I finish with my boots and throw them onto the floor, shoving my feet into them and tossing the rag across my bed.
Oompa stares down at me from his bunk. He lost the card game, so now he has to wait for Dumbo and Teacup to battle it out. "Where are you going, Croak?"
"None of your fucking business." I snarl, snatching up my rifle.
"Easy there, Private." Zombie sounds from his bunk.
"Shut the fuck up, Zombie. Don't even talk to me right now."
Flintstone lets out a raspy laugh. "What's got your panties twisted, Croak? Jealous of the new girl?"
My nostrils flare. "I am not jealous of her."
He smirks. "Of course not." He leans against the side of his bunk. "You should fight her, Croak. Or shower with her. Or fight her in the shower."
"Flint!" Zombie warns before I can say anything. "Stop." He looks at me cautiously. I turn away from him stubbornly. "Leave her alone."
"Oh, come on, man. Don't act like you wouldn't love to see that." Flintstone crosses his arms over his chest. "My money's on Ringer. All she's got to do is the hammer-fist hold and she'll win because Croak can't do it."
I'm shaking. I've never been this angry before. My whole body feels hot. I flex my fingers repeatedly, re-clenching into a tighter fist each time they curl.
"I can just see it now: Croak, soaking wet-"
"Flintstone, stop." Zombie orders. He's standing now, edging his way over to me, blocking my path to the door. "Croak," he says calmly. "Put the gun down."
"I'm fine." I say, shoving the rifle against his chest with more force than necessary. "But if it makes you feel better, here. Take it. Go fuck yourself with it. Whatever."
"What is your problem?" He asks. He actually sounds hurt.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I spit through clenched teeth. "Get out of my way."
I try to move around him, but he raises his hand. "Where are you going, Private?" His tone and eyes are sharp.
"Why the fuck do you care?"
"I'm the squad leader."
"Yeah, for now. But with the way you let her walk all over you, I won't be surprised if she's in charge by tomorrow morning."
He raises an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
I give him a frosty sarcastic smile. "For sure." My face drops into a deadly glare. "Now move."
"Private, you're going to stay in the barracks tonight."
"Don't tell me what to do."
"I will." Zombie steps a little closer. "Want to know why?" He leans my rifle against the closest bunk. "Because right now, I'm the squad leader. I don't give a damn if Ringer gets made it tomorrow. Right now I'm in charge." He licks over his lips, eyes breaking from mine to look over at my bunk. "Get in bed. You're staying in tonight."
"Why?"
"Because I don't trust you to be unsupervised when you're angry." He jerks his chin to the side. "Go."
"No."
"Private, I gave you an order."
"I know."
We glare at each other for a few moments. Zombie crosses his arms. "Private, I'm not going to tell you again: you're staying in tonight."
"What are you going to do?" I snap. "You gonna make me? Gonna pick me up and throw me in? I'd like to see you try it. If you touch me right now, Zombie, I swear to God I will break that pretty little jaw." I cross my arms. "Let's see how well you give orders then."
Nugget makes a little noise in his throat and dives onto Zombie's bunk. Teacup and Dumbo have ceased their card game. Poundcake's face has gone pale. Flintstone's mouth is hanging open.
Zombie's eyes tighten at the corners with agitation. "Are you threatening me?" He asks, taking another step closer.
I take a step closer of my own. We're nearly chest to chest. "Not threatening." I say. "I'm promising you."