“He did what?”
“I went to him last week. I asked him about what happened with JAFA, hoping that if we had an open conversation about it, I wouldn’t be so uneven in the sky. I took a big risk and told him about my freezing up in the air, and I even admitted you’ve been helping me. That’s when he told me to keep my distance from you.”
“I’ll kill him.”
“Why? Isn’t that the exact thing he said to you?” The simulator light played on his cheeks, brightly coloring Tristan’s sudden sadness. “So many people died,” he said. “My teachers and friends. I don’t even know who made it. Who didn’t.”
Chase touched his chest. He looked like he was about to turn to stone, and she wanted to keep him with her. She sat closer. He reached for her face but pinched her ear instead, like he’d done in the infirmary.
“Why do you do that?” she asked.
“Seems like a safe place to touch you when I…feel like I have to.”
She knew that feeling. It was the one keeping her hand tight on his chest. He had a way of making her lean in. Encouraging her to talk and listen. It made her feel the rush of what she wanted to do with him like it was brand new. Like she’d never kissed anyone before.
“Harcourt.”
Kale appeared over the back of the simulator chair, making her jump even closer to Tristan. The brigadier general’s eyes narrowed. “Take a walk with me. Now.”
28
FUR BALL
Cross-Eyed in the Fray
Kale marched her to his office without a word. Despite the ominous nature of their meeting, Chase filled with a sense of familiarity in the small, warmly lit room: the coffee scent that almost seemed painted into the furniture; the overgrown, weepy-armed plants; and the line of old muskets on the wall that she always wanted to throw against her shoulder and take aim.
Kale surprised her by sitting in the squishy leather chair—her chair—and picking a mug off his desk. “Have a seat,” he said.
The only other chair was behind his desk. After a pause, she sat in it, marveling at the new angle of the office. The Stars and Stripes on the opposite wall had never seemed more prominent. Chase aligned her thoughts on how she’d defend her friendship—it was a friendship, wasn’t it?—with Tristan, but her order left her as soon as Kale spoke.
“I hear you’re fighting with your RIO.”
“What? How…” She grabbed the top of her legs and squeezed. “Who told you?”
Kale rubbed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Damn it, Sylph!” Chase’s hands turned to fists and pounded. “I’m going to ki—”
“You’re going to do as you’re told and be thankful you have someone like Grenadine watching your back.”
“Yeah. Thankful,” Chase grumbled.
“I’ll ask you two questions, Harcourt. The first—do we need to have a joint meeting with Doctor Ritz?”
“No,” Chase said. “I can deal with Pippin.” Her words came out a little harsh. A little mobsterish, and they seemed to hang in the air and brag her overconfidence. How could she make up with Pippin? Every time she tried, she only made things worse…
“Your second question, General?”
“What’s wrong?”
Chase stared at Kale. He was lying back, revealing neck whiskers that were even grayer than his wavy hair. She’d been angry at Kale on her way to his office, but all that evaporated when she saw how tired and beaten he looked. “Can I say ‘everything’?” she asked.
“You can, but you’ll have to follow up with specifics.”
“How do I do that?” Chase felt slightly explosive. “Why does everyone assume I’ll just spill my guts so easily?” It might work when she was under the spell of Tristan’s challenges and too-blue eyes, but with everyone else—Pippin and Kale—she was still closed-down Chase. Nyx. Tagline: Off-limits.
Through Chase’s lip-biting silence, Kale sipped his mug. Finally, he deposited it on the edge of the desk. “It’s been a day, hasn’t it?”
Chase peered into the mug, ready to find the hard stuff. “Is that…are you drinking milk?”
“Whole milk. That’s how you know I’m on the edge.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Your father digs right into me.”
“We have that in common.” She sniffed the mug, but it really was milk. “General?” She dug for the words and felt red and raw. “He won’t take your command away. I mean, he can’t just up and fire you. Can he?”
“He could. It was a bit of a joke that I got this post in the first place. I wasn’t star material before I got the Star, so to speak. But your father insisted. He wanted me here, and everyone takes his postings very seriously.”
“Mind if we call him Tourn? When you say ‘your father,’ it makes me feel like turning around to see if you’re talking to someone else.”
Kale nodded slowly. He understood. He always seemed to understand, and she held on to that feeling. Chase shuffled some pages on his desk. “I’ve heard stories about what the Star was like before you came here. Hundreds of rules. Inspections and dress codes. No fun.”
“When I came here, I found an academy of promising cadets who were too young for military restrictions. They were warring with each other. Flyboys versus the ground crew. Seniors preying on freshmen. Nasty attitudes and backstabbing. I made some unpopular changes. Instituted more relaxed policies. Heck, I even let you kids swear.”
“I love it here.” Chase found tears rather close. “They won’t get rid of you, General. Not after the Streakers are approved. You’re…cool.”