The alarm wakes me, and I reluctantly get up to wake Lizzy. We both look hilariously dishevelled, and I know that I am still very, very tired. As the corridor fills with people we sit on the steps to Lizzy's room, each with a hairbrush in hand hacking away at Lizzy's hair. We're still there when the stream of people begins to thin.

From the door opposite us a guy with fair hair steps out and starts up the corridor. I guess that he's in his early twenties. He's gorgeous, but a bit of a mess. He looks as exhausted as I feel, his hair is all over the place, and his pilots shirt (black, with two gold bars on the shoulder), is crumpled. I feel Lizzie dig an elbow into my ribs.

'Dibs on the Blondie.' She says, and I laugh. The guy glances at us for a second, before walking off. I throw my hairbrush into her room. She does the same with hers and we start walking up the corridor in the same direction everyone else.

'I thought you were saving yourself for your boyfriend.' I say.

'Pah, you know I don't care about him. He was just hot, fun, and a good kisser.'

'Good at anything else?' I ask, knowing the answer.

'Shut up.' She says, and elbows me again. Lizzy is very different from me like that. She's had heaps of boyfriends, reeling them in annually using her good looks and charm. Her long, wild blond hair, tall thin frame and exotic amber eyes made it easy for her. She has a waist and boobs and the sort of figure models dream of having. She's the pretty one of the two of us.

Me? I'm medium height, with pale skin. It would turn honey coloured in the summer, but going to the beach is not an option anymore. I have eyes that are a green and gold hazel. I cut my dark brown hair short, because it's practical. With my lack of curves and frame that I would otherwise describe as lean, I look kind of boyish. That's okay though. Flirting tires me.

'Whatever. Just remember that dallying with the opposite sex isn't exactly encouraged here.' I say. 'So, did you look at the map or something?' I ask, changing the subject to something that actually matters at the moment. I am very hungry.

'Nope, I'm just following the crowd.' She says. I shrug. Lizzy's usually right in situations like these.

The dining hall is massive. It's filled with people from every profession on the base. Engineers, pilots, cadets, officers, air traffic controllers, medics, scientists, soldiers, and a million and six others that I can't name. And this must only be the meal for the day shift. There are long metal tables that I imagine are meant to seat twelve, but about sixteen are crammed onto each. So many people in one room.

There are two cafeteria lines that people are moving along, sloping food onto metal dinner trays. I click my fingers in front of Lizzy's nose to get her attention, and drag her towards the line where I see most people. I assume the other one is for officers or higher ranking people; otherwise it would have a longer line.

Once we have lined up and served ourselves an assortment of sloppy stuff, we look over the tables.

'Look, that one's empty.' Lizzy says, pointing to the far corner. Her hope is my suspicion.

'There must be a pretty good reason no one's sitting there Lizzy.' I say. I spot a table filled with cadets. I know this because they are all aged in their early twenties, and are wearing their navy blue shirts with sleeves rolled up and hems untucked. 'There.' I say, pointing to the table. Lizzy nods and we squeeze onto the end of a bench.

We get a few weird looks from the other cadets, but that's because we don't fit the criteria. We're too young. After a while of ignoring us, one of the younger guys on the table pipes up.

'Why aren't you sitting on the table over there?' he asks in a sugar sweet voice. He has an American accent. I let Lizzy handle this one.

'Why aren't you?' she asks, with equal innocence.

The guy smiles. 'Touché. Why are you sitting here then?'

'You're all cadets, right?'

'Yes.' He says. Lizzy raises her eyebrows and inclines her head, encouraging him to use his brain. I see the very moment when he figures it out. 'Oh. Oh! It's you! We were told you'd be coming to the base this month.'

Lizzy holds out her hand. 'I'm Lizzy.'

The guy shakes her hand. 'Elizabeth Stohl, I know. I'm Dean. Congratulations.' He says. Oh, brilliant, they already know who we are. I cringe to myself. The other cadets at the table have now taken an interest in Lizzy. Especially the male ones. They are in awe, as per usual. I keep my head down in the hope that they won't notice me, eating my mush with intention. No such luck.

'And that means that you're Eloise Carroll.' Dean says, offering his hand. I finish my mouthful and shake it.

'Hi.' I say.

'So you're the youngest ever? And you saved Melbourne when you were fourteen.' He says, and shakes his head disbelievingly. The occupants of the table are now all staring at me and whispering to each other, along with some of the other tables. I can see that Rumours about Lizzy and I have been circulating for a while. Nobody knew how old I was in Australia; they all forgot about me ages ago.

I wince when he says saved Melbourne. I didn't. Melbourne was beyond saving. The damage had already been done.

'Seven thousand people died. A million were wounded. Melbourne wasn't saved.' I say. Dean looks disappointed at my reaction. Boo hoo.

'But, you noticed the armour. That was the first category two kaiju ever.' Says a man at the other end of the table. I don't feel like responding. Luck was the only reason I spotted the armour that day. And someone on Captain Coleman's crew would have noticed. I didn't come here to be reminded of everything I had already lost. I shove some mash potato into my mouth.

'Ignore her. She's hostile, modest and very good at lots of things. It's an annoying combination.' Lizzy says, lying but saving me from having to join the conversation. I look and see lots of people at surrounding tables have completely turned their bodies towards me to get a better look. One by one I glare at them. What are you looking at? They turn away, embarrassed.

I look over and do the same thing to the rest of the people staring. They turn away at lightning speed. Subtle. Except for one. At a considerably less crowded table of what I assume to be Jaeger pilots is the guy from across the hall. He was watching me too. But when I glare at him he doesn't snap his gaze away. He turns slowly back to his food.

I shove potato in my mouth again. Then, I leave the table, dump my tray on a table by the kitchen door and get the hell out of there.

I am not here to talk about my past.

I am not here to be marvelled at.

I am not here to be nice.

I am here to pilot a class five Jaeger with my partner, and kill those son-of-a-bitch kaiju.