Page 138 of Vicious Butterfly
I got my ass reamed out by Officer Carter, even though I didn’t do anything other than go where I was directed, and I’ve spent the past two days in detention. At least Kane was there, but he was all fucking cagey and wouldn’t tell me what was wrong with him. He was quiet, stabbing his shovel into the earth,tossing the dirt with enough violence to catch the supervising officer’s attention, almost earning another day of detention.
Although by this point, is Kane ever really out of detention? He makes it his mission to piss one or more officers off daily. But it was none of my business, so I left him alone. When we were released, he threw his shovel down and stormed off, caked in mud and sweat. I grabbed his shovel before Officer Carter added another day to his sentence.
He’s in the same mood as we skate onto the ice. It’s Friday, and we’re playing Pacific Air Force Academy. It’s not just Kane. Rhys, Torin, and Gideon are in pissy moods, too. Have I missed something? Or are the five of us so emotionally immature that we’ve been handling our shit alone all season?
It’s probably the latter.
Whatever. That’s why hockey is perfect for us. We can work out our problems on the ice. Their captain does the equivalent of sauntering on skates to the center line, stick resting against his thighs.
Magnus is a big blond dude. I don’t think he knows how to smile. If he does, I’ve never seen it. But he probably has a lot on his shoulders. His family owns banks. You don’t get out of a legacy like that.
“Hey, Savage. Ready for this beatdown?”
They’re good, but they’re not winning this game. At least five of us are out for blood. We play our best when we’re like that.
We’re ready for some much-deserved victory beers after the game. It’s nice to be out of hockey gear and in civilian clothes, a luxury I haven’t experienced in almost a month. These hockey outings are one of the few times we’re allowed to leave out of uniform. When I’m finally out of North Point, it’s sweatpants for life for me. The five of us and a few of the other guys from the team approach the Charge of Quarters desk.
What the fuck? Where’s Dylan? He’s usually here on a Friday night—one of our fellow upperclassmen. Someone who’s not too particular about interrogating us as long as we sign out through the digital logbook. A rock sinks to the pit of my stomach as the NCO comes into view. I’ve never seen him before, so he may not even know who we are. Not all of them are sticklers, but he looks like a stickler with his military fade and ramrod posture. Something tells me he’s not gonna be as lenient.
None of us is in uniform. We’re the hockey team after a victory, why would we be? But don’t think he gets that, if his frown is anything to go by. Our laughter comes to a halt as he rakes disapproving eyes up and down all of us. I adjust my posture without thinking. Not a full ceremony snap to attention, but I stand taller, squaring my shoulders. All of us do, except Kane.
“Where are you headed, cadets?”
“The wind-up for the hockey team, sir,” I say. “It ends at zero hundred hours.”
He nods. Shocking. I thought it would be a lot harder than that. “Go ahead and sign out then.”
We release a collective exhale, and Torin goes first, typing his name into the iPad. Gideon is next. Rhys. Then me.
“Looks like you have a restriction, cadet,” Sergeant Stick-Up-His-Ass says.
“What? That’s impossible.” But he’s right. It’s there in red.
Status: Restricted.
Yeah, I had detention, but they usually tell you if you’re also restricted.
“Any chance you know why?”
He shakes his head. “You’ll have to take it up with your TAC officer. But you’re not leaving until this is cleared up.”
My TAC officer is Carter, who hates me right now.
But I’m the hockey captainis on the tip of my tongue. He’s sooo not gonna give a shit.
“We don’t need to go,” Becks says.
“Yes, you do. Go. I’ll get this figured out.”
Becks is a fucking mother hen sometimes. He doesn’t want to go without me.
“I’m fine,” I insist. “I’ll … catch up on correspondence.” That’s code forhave phone sex with Tate. “I mean it. Have a beer for me.”
He nods.
“Wait,” Kane says. “I haven’t signed out yet. Maybe it has to do with our detention.”
But when Kane signs in, he’s free. I’m the only one trapped in this hellhole.
