CHAPTER 11

MORNING COMES TOO SOON, AND I exist in a fog as I drag myself through day two of what is becoming my new morning routine: throw on any clothes because everything looks exactly the same, circle around the coffee pot like an addict looking for a fix, make it to the door just in time for Sever to arrive. This time, we’re all here when he throws open the door. He almost looks disappointed when he sees Sim standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed over her chest and jaw set in defiance.

Today, though, after he calls roll—and collects our borrowed tablets—he doesn’t take us into the main house but instead stops us on the road out front. Team Matrix joins us shortly after, and as they file out of their house, Sever sports a look of pride. Today, we’re the wonder kids, and Team Matrix are the slackers. I tamp down my own swell of pride. I don’t want to be proud of something so ridiculous as making it out of the house first.

“Ready for your morning run?” Matrix calls out once our two groups merge into one. She asks the question like she’s asking how we slept. But given how I actually slept, I’m hoping the five-mile run is more successful. My legs are still stiff and sore from yesterday. The next five miles are going to suck.

Instead of complaining, I take off at a jog when Matrix blows the whistle hanging around her neck and follow the rest of the recruits down the pseudo-suburban road. We follow the same path we followed yesterday, which is just a strip of pavement that stretches for what might as well be forever. Best I can tell, the road leading away from the houses has no beginning and no end. Like God, it is the alpha and the omega. It is where Infinity exists now. Pun totally and ridiculously intended.

We’re barely two miles in when my breath becomes a raw, sawing circulation of burning air in my lungs—I know exactly how far we’ve gone because of the bright orange flags with bold black numbers planted on the side of the road. Legacy trots up next to me and turns to jog backward in front of me. I’m lumbering along trying not to fall on my face, and she might as well be floating gracefully over the asphalt for all the effort it’s taking. Just the person I wanted to see right now.

“Having trouble, princess?”

I pretend I’m ignoring her, but the truth is, I couldn’t reply if I wanted to. I’m too busy trying to catch my next breath and the one after that. I’m living breath to breath, step to step right now, and she’s not worth the energy it would take to respond.

“I don’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for you.” She’s trying to goad me, I know that much. What I don’t know is why.

I do my best to look past Legacy toward the halfway point approaching on the horizon. We’re almost to the marker where we’ll get to turn around and head back. That knowledge feeds my tired muscles, and I start to feel like I just might make it. Until Matrix blows right past the marker and the handful of recruits leading the pack run right by it, too. Something in my expression must get Legacy’s attention because she turns to look. And laughs. “Looks like they’re bumping us up to six miles today. Sucks for you.” Then she jogs ahead to join the group at the front.

“Embrace the suck.” Maverick appears at my side. His message isn’t exactly what I want to hear, but his tone is encouraging. I think he genuinely means to be helpful.

“Embrace the suck,” I repeat in shallow puffs as he jogs almost in place to keep pace with me. Am I really going that slow? “Thanks.”

He nods and moves ahead, leaving me alone somewhere between the front runners and Bug, Houdini, and the rest of the stragglers.

Embrace the suck. I repeat it in my head, then again and again. By the time Matrix—and Legacy—reaches the three-mile marker and turns around, I’m chanting the words over and over. It’s my new mantra, and by the time Maverick laps me on his way back, I’m starting to believe I can actually embrace the suck. I smile at him as he goes by, but I suspect my smile is more of a grimace at this point.

Then there’s Ghost, heading my way, having already rounded the last mile marker as well. He raises his hand in a wave on his way by, but circles around behind me so now we’re running together. “Hey, partner.”

“What… are… you… doing?” I pant. Embrace the suck. Embrace the suck.

“Running with you,” he says, his tone matter of fact. He’s adding extra mileage to his run just to stay with me.

If I weren’t putting all of my energy into not collapsing in the middle of the pavement, I would be flattered. Finally, I make it to the three-mile mark and turn around. Ghost tries several times to make conversation with me, but I’m physically unable to manage anything other than grunts in response. A million years later, we arrive back at the main house.

The front door is open, and I stumble through, into the air conditioning. Not that it was hot outside. The early fall weather is prime for distance running. If you enjoy that sort of thing. I prefer A/C and activities that are altogether more sedentary. Just like yesterday, I use what little steam I have left to propel myself into the training room where I promptly collapse into a heap of embraced suck. Ghost drops down next to me.

“I did it,” I whisper to no one and everyone.

“You did.” Maverick’s voice is quiet above me as he holds a cold bottle of water in front of my face. I sit up to drink and try to ignore the annoyance that flashes briefly across Ghost’s face. Is he mad that Maverick brought me water, or that he didn’t do it first? Either way, it doesn’t matter, because as soon as I take the water from him, Maverick is gone.

The rest of the day is much like yesterday: we study mnemonic techniques some more, have some one-on-one practice time, break for lunch, and then we’re back for combatives training. I do better today, and I don’t bump into Maverick once. Though, I do spend the entire session acutely aware of his exact location in the room, even if I do avoid looking directly at him. Without my overactive nerves and budding attraction to him engaged, I actually manage to take Ghost down twice and even get him in a rear choke hold.

When the day is over, and I’m dripping with sweat, I drag myself back to Sever House and through a long, hot shower in hopes it will help relax my overworked and out-of-shape muscles. I sit down on the bed to brush my hair because I just can’t bear to stand any longer, and when I finish, I lie back. Only for a few minutes, I tell myself as my eyes slide shut.

When I open them, it’s fully dark outside and the room exists in shadows cast by the bathroom light I must have left on. Sim isn’t in the room, so it can’t be too late, but it’s late enough that the sun isn’t even a memory in the sky outside the window. My stomach grumbles loudly, a reminder that I haven’t had anything to eat since the sandwich I made myself for lunch.

I slide out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. I splash water on my face while I’m in there, but it does nothing to chase away the groggy feeling I’m always left with after a nap that goes on too long. I’d probably crawl right back into bed if I wasn’t so hungry. Instead, I force myself to leave the room and head down to the kitchen, which turns out to be empty. Voices drift into the room from the direction of the living room and the game room, but I’m blessedly alone. I scope out the food quickly and settle on the first thing that sounds halfway appetizing: a frozen burrito.

I unwrap it and throw it in the microwave, and then I watch it spin on the glass turntable, mesmerized by the rotation. Two minutes and thirty seconds later, I’m the proud owner of an almost hot burrito and a cold bottle of water, which I devour quickly after saying a short prayer of thanks. With food in my stomach, I finally start to shake the grogginess. I follow the sound of voices into the game room.

At least half the house is here tonight. Houdini, Hazard, Legacy, and Shadow are semi-circled around a large television screen with controllers in their hands and some sort of war game on play. Sim and Prodigy are going toe-to-toe in a serious game of chess, and Maverick and Bug are bonding at the pool table. I gravitate toward them without really meaning to, but I can’t take my eyes off Maverick, and I guess my feet follow where my attention is pointing.

“Hey, Infinity,” Bug greets me cheerfully. I wave back, then grab a stool at the pub table in the corner and pretend I’m only interested in the game. “Want to play winner?” he offers.

I laugh. “Have you seen me play? I should probably play the loser, so I’ll at least have half a chance.”

“You’re not that bad,” Maverick says. My cheeks warm at the almost compliment.

“I didn’t sink one ball last night!”

“True,” he agrees and goes back to his game.

A few minutes later, Maverick sinks the eight ball.

Bug hands me his cue and says, “I’m going to call it a night. I’m not use to getting up at stupid o’clock.”

Then it’s just Maverick and me. And six other recruits. He racks and breaks, and we start in on the world’s most awkward game of pool ever. I’m acutely aware of the people around us, and I guess Maverick is, too, because we barely speak beyond the obligatory, “your turn,” and in my case, “oops,” when I accidentally knock the cue ball right off the table. Twice.

I do manage to sink a couple shots before Maverick runs the table on me. Not the ones I was aiming for, but I’ll take what I can get. When the game finally ends, Hazard and Shadow are still at the video games and show no signs of stopping. There will be no chance for private conversation with Maverick like last night. And now that the game is over, I don’t have any reason to stick around. I don’t want to look clingy, hanging on his every move. Better to make a quick escape now and save face. I hand Maverick my pool cue and head for the door, calling a light, “Thanks for the game,” over my shoulder on my way. And so ends my Tuesday. It’s a far cry from sitting at home doing Trig. I’ve only been here two days, but I’m years away from the girl I was last Tuesday. Will I ever have a normal evening again?