“Pippin hasn’t been with the Canadians,” Chase said, instantly wondering if he had been.
“He has. In the rec room. Every night.” Riot shoved her sandwich into his mouth like a dog bent on swallowing something whole. What was she doing with him again?
“Why don’t you know where he’s been? Or wait”—Sylph’s eyes gleamed—“you sent him to spy on them. Didn’t you?”
“What?”
Sylph went back to her notebook. “Disappointing. But we’ll work around it.”
Chase popped her knuckles one by one. Pippin was hanging out with Tristan and Romeo?
“Speak of the devils,” Sylph said as Tristan and his RIO set their bags down at the foot of a tree a few yards away. “I can’t believe everyone is so infatuated with them. Exchange students,” Sylph said. “What a euphemism. Like Ri Xiong Di would even allow us to have an exchange program. I suppose they can’t hide the big one’s French accent.”
“They’re survivors, Sylph,” Chase found herself saying. “They’ve been through a lot.”
“Yeah. They look it.”
Chase couldn’t argue with her. Tristan and Romeo certainly didn’t act like they’d escaped with only their lives a week ago. Four underclassmen girls stood in a semicircle around them. Their titters and body language proved they were all in love with Tristan. Romeo, seemingly oblivious, kept trying to engage one of them in a thumb-wrestling match.
“Maybe we should be working with them to make the trials look amazing, not scheming behind their backs, Sylph.”
“The government board wants combat and skill. Not an American-Canadian alliance. No matter what General Tourn said. You are my wingman. They are the enemy. That’s the setup of the trials from what I’ve gathered from Kale. We have to outfly them, Nyx.”
Chase eyed Sylph. “Why do you hate them so much?”
“Hate implies emotional investment, of which I have none.” Sylph shut the folder and stood.
“Pippin said that one of us might get booted from the trials. That they only need two jets.”
Sylph acted as though she hadn’t heard Chase. “Fifteen minutes to class. Don’t be late. If you get put on restricted duty again, we’ll never have time to figure this out.” Sylph left.
Chase shook her head. “Sometimes I worry she’s not all there.”
“You struck a nerve, that’s all.” Riot reclined in the grass with his hands behind his head. “She’s scared. She doesn’t like them because they’re faster than she is.”
“Everyone’s faster than she is. She slows down every time she has to pull a maneuver. Maybe that’s what I should tell her when we’re ‘exchanging weaknesses.’”
“Please don’t. I like your face better without bruises.” He tried to take Chase’s hand, but she leaned back. Across the way, Romeo was hanging upside down from a tree branch. That RIO was a helpless, crazed flirt; she’d gathered that much. Tristan was harder to pin down. She stared at his dark hair, his easygoing everything. It felt like a front, but it was hard to say. She’d only glimpsed a few flashes of the more serious and driven side underneath.
Enough to want to see more.
The fear came back with her curiosity. He had so much power over her, and he probably didn’t even know it. All Tristan had to do was tell one person that she was the spawn of the military’s angel of death…
Why, why, why had he been waiting in the hall?
Tanner walked across the Green. He paused to talk to Tristan like they were old friends. Boy, this day just keeps getting better.
“Hey.” Riot pinched her ankle. “Want to meet up tonight? Boys’ locker room?”
“Ugh, no.” She couldn’t stop herself. “I think we’re played out, Riot.”
Riot sat up. “What’re you upset about?”
Chase had answers to that, but none that had to do with Riot. “Do you tell people when we hook up?” she asked, remembering Tanner’s disclosure in the hangar, back before JAFA burned and her whole world turned Canadian.
“Are you asking if I brag? Of course I brag. You should like that.” Riot’s frown zapped all the cute out of his face. “This is about the stupid Phoenix team. Everyone loves Arrow and Romeo. You too, I bet.”
“I don’t.” Chase was still staring at Tristan. Busted. She looked away in a hurry, catching Riot’s doubt. “I’m keeping an eye on them for Sylph.”
“Don’t be a skank, Nyx,” he yelled. He left, and every cadet on the green, including the Canadian contingent, was looking at her. She put on a small smile and lay back in the grass with her arms behind her head.
What a morning. The emotions that had been so new earlier—like waking up in a strange room—now made her feel like being stranded on a different planet. She’d fought with Pippin, found out that the trials might be reorganized, pissed off Sylph, and dumped Riot.
Then there was the X factor: she still hadn’t figure out what to do about Arrow.
To make matters worse, the loneliness that she hadn’t felt since before she’d come to the Star trickled over her. She wasn’t supposed to feel this here. She was supposed to be surrounded by peers, flying in one proud direction and striving for an end to the Second Cold War. Tears sprang forward, and she made herself whistle “Another One Bites the Dust”—that crazy old song Pippin loved to sing after one of her affairs flamed out.
Her faux nonchalance was heavy and hard to maintain.
And it crashed in a heartbeat.
Beneath the nearest tree, Tristan and Tanner watched Chase as one. Tanner appeared to be mid-swear, his back hunched sourly like a gargoyle. Chase sat up. They were talking about her. Clearly.
Tristan must have just told Tanner about her dad.
16
LETHAL CONE
Left Vulnerable