Chapter 16

A/N: My sincere thanks to AM83220 for his narratives and steadfast support. And to CocoSushi, whose magnificent storytelling and generous nature made OC Arianna Lovejoy's presence in this story possible.

Simon sat restlessly on his bed, elbows on his knees, still fretting and worrying after a thousand pushups. He'd barely broken a sweat. Maybe two thousand? No, no, that would still leave him worried. He had managed to talk to Arianna Lovejoy once now and had a chance of doing so again, but he was scared of messing it up somehow. He wanted Arianna, needed her, idolized and admired her.

I got this close. She's looked at me, talked to me. She wants to talk to me again. I have to make this work. And I gotta hide it that I'm eleven, somehow. Saw what Jennifer did. We had sex for one night and a day and then she left for good, because she couldn't be with a little kid. Arianna would turn her back just the same.

That's the biggest risk. Otherwise, I don't know, maybe I have a chance with her. Possibly. Oh, man, I hope she sees something in me. I can't stop thinking about her.

What else was there to do besides wait and wait until next Sunday, when he was going to talk to her again? Daydream about him and her doing things together that Simon had recently done with Kate, then Jennifer, then a few other beauties he'd met? Simon was experienced there, but he didn't know anything about actually winning the favor of a princess. This was entirely new to him.

Someone knocked at the door, making Simon jump.

"It's unlocked," Simon called.

"Hey, man," Steve said, opening the door. He entered and quickly closed it behind him. "Simon, I- we need to- I gotta tell you about something with Ralph."

"What is it?"

"He's freaking out," Steve said quickly. "A couple of the little ones were playing out on the quad and Ralph- he started screaming at them. He made them start pushing and stuff. They seriously didn't do anything, they were just playing, man. And Ralph was gonna fuckin' kill 'em or something!"

"Anything else?" Simon asked.

"Yeah, I-I ran out there and stopped him."

"What?" Simon exclaimed.

"I know, I didn't- I don't know why I did that," Steve said, pacing around nervously. "I just told him to knock it off, you know, going after the little guys and stuff. I got him to stop it. I'm scared he's gonna do it again. I dunno if I should've done any of that, man."

Simon stood up and went over to Steve, gently giving him a reassuring hug. "Listen," he said. "I'm gonna talk to Ralph about this. Maybe I can find out what's going on with him."

"I dunno if I should've done that," Steve said again. "I really- maybe I shouldn't have."

"You did the right thing, Steve," Simon said firmly, looking the other boy in the eyes. "I'm proud of you."

"You are?" Steve asked in awe. "Really?"

"Yes. Really. You did great. Now take this, uh, nature magazine and do some reading, understand?"

It was a cleverly-disguised pornographic magazine Simon had bought through Freddie Gomez, that enterprising salesman, and Steve took it like he'd been handed a gift from the king himself.

"You really want me to take this?"

"Yes. I've read it a couple times. You'll like it. Great pictures."

"I bet," Steve grinned. "Thanks."

"Don't be afraid to stand up like that again if you need to," Simon told him. "I don't care if it's Ralph or anybody else. Don't be afraid to do the right thing."

"Okay, man," Steve said. "I will. I'll do that, dude."

"Good. Now go relax. Do some reading."

"Sure thing. And you'll talk to Ralph about it? It really scared me, man. I didn't like it at all. He was gonna kill those kids."

"I'll talk with him," Simon promised. "I'll find out why he did it. And I'll talk to Peter and get him to warn the other little ones so they're careful around Ralph until we figure out what's the matter with him."

"Okay," Steve nodded, assured at last. "All right. Listen, I-I was so worried I'd made a mistake or something. This helps. So, uh… thanks. Thanks a lot."

"Sure thing, man. Come by anytime."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Steve, the twelve-year-old weightlifter, was in his element as he powered his way joyfully through Shoulders and Abs day. The harder he made each set of each station, each exercise, the happier he became. His body practically sang with delight as he worked out for an hour virtually non-stop, accepted without question by the 11th and 12th grade boys currently populating the room. There were over a dozen of them in here right now, many of them high-ranking cadet officers.

A Varsity Soccer player called Robert Elwin, the battalion executive officer, walked by Steve with a casual nod. "Sup, man."

"Sup."

"Hey, when you're done doing laterals, don't forget to wipe down the bench you were using for dumbbell presses."

"Sure."

Elwin started to go on, then stopped again, peering at Steve curiously. "Hey, you new around here?"

"Yeah," Steve said, going for the shortest, most casual answer. "I started in the summer. I lived on an island for a while and then I came here."

"Oh, shit, you were in that group that crash-landed on that fucking island?" Elwin asked, his eyes widening in amazement.

"Sure was. It was cool, you should try it sometime."

"Wicked," Elwin laughed. "Don't lemme keep you, new guy, I got buddies waitin' on me. We'll talk sometime."

"Sounds good, dude."

After continuing his laterals, knocking out the last set with forty pounds per hand, Steve made sure to wipe down the padded bench behind him, wanting to stay in the good graces of the older boys, who all clearly assumed he was one of them. He went over to the shoulder press and started his first set with over 200 pounds, and was thoroughly enjoying himself when something Elwin and his buddies were talking about caught his attention. They were maybe ten feet away, taking turns with a medicine ball, doing squats while they held it.

"…no chance I could afford to keep going, even if I never got caught," Elwin lamented.

"Dude," the senior with red hair said, "you went there? You actually went to Desele's?"

"Yeah, man, just once. It was right before I checked in here, like, a day before. So, a little over a week ago."

"How the fuck could you do that and not tell us?" the blond demanded. "Come on, I thought we were friends!"

"I just got scared!" Elwin protested. "I was afraid that if I told anybody I had plans to see what Desele's was like, word would spread and I'd get fucked. You know, by getting snitched on and not by one of the hot babes at Desele's place."

"So who'd you fuck?" the redhead asked. "If you really went there, tell us about the chick you fucked."

"Mallory," Elwin said dreamily. "She taught me things I'm still figuring out, man. I bought her for the whole night. I was in there for hours."

"She blond, redhead?"

"Brunette," Elwin answered. "She's got a body like a fucking model, man. Like a porn star or something. God, I wish I could go back."

"Well, why don't we all go?"

"It's not like that, man," Elwin cautioned. "Seriously. It's expensive to keep buying those girls for enough time to really enjoy yourself. And they ever get wind that you're from Bunker Hill, and not PMI, they'll call the Commandant so fast we'll be outta here before we know what happened."

"Seriously? I've heard stories about that place for years. How can you actually go there and then say we can't?"

"Hey, man, I'm saying I can't go, either. We'll either get caught or run ourselves broke by going too much, and then we'd still get caught. We're better off just fucking girls at home or in town."

"Yeah, okay," the redhead sighed. "Goddamn. Was it worth whatever you paid? Tell us that."

"Oh, yeah, man. It was worth every cent. Every babe they got there is a 10, 11, or 12 out of 10. I mean. It. I just wish I could go back. If I could, I'd take you guys with me."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Patterson knelt at the edge of the Olympic-sized pool, looking across the 9th lane to the other side 50 meters away, his sole focus and objective.

Come on… come on… blow the damn whistle.

It was time to get going. Patterson's body needed physical exertion, as much of it as possible and as often as possible, just to keep from going crazy. He probably had the makings of some super soldier and/or athlete, but right now Patterson didn't care. He just wanted to jump into that 660,000-gallon pool and-

FWEEEEET!

Patterson's reaction time, honed so finely on the island, meant he sprang forward and was in the water in all of half a second. He threw himself into it, propelling himself through the warm water almost effortlessly. The breast stroke was nothing. Patterson could do this all day, all night. Tryouts had started, what, half an hour ago? Forty minutes? All the other boys were showing some degree of fatigue, but Patterson couldn't get enough. He pressed harder still, swam faster, actually trying to tire himself out at this point.

Almost as soon as he'd started, it seemed, Patterson was on the other side of the pool. He reached up, slapped a hand on the tile, then threw himself into the backstroke. Once again, Patterson was done well ahead of everyone else.

It wasn't even close. Patterson had them all beat by such a wide margin, the older boys were beginning to look at him with a mix of disbelief and annoyance. They were impressed, sure, but they were also frustrated that a sophomore was doing this. The younger boys, on the other hand, kept throwing glances at Patterson, hoping to pick up on whatever he was doing so well. And the other 10th graders were divided between admiration and frustration.

Why are they all so slow? Patterson wondered yet again. This isn't that hard. And the tougher Coach makes this, the better it gets. I can do this. Anyone can do this.

"Freestyle, all of you!" Coach Kelman shouted.

Patterson was happy to get new orders. He just wanted to swim. He needed it. He couldn't run or hunt in the wild jungles of the island anymore, so this would have to do.

It wasn't a bad substitute. Coach steadily drew out the session, adding one lap after the next. He changed it up every so often, had the boys do breaststroke, backstroke, freestyle, and butterfly in rotations. Interestingly, Patterson felt fine even after doing over a dozen laps. Coach had different boys enter and leave the pool, and eventually it dawned on Patterson that some of them were taking breaks, not being pulled for lousy performance.

But I feel fine, Patterson thought. I need the exercise. I need it.

So he kept going, pretended he didn't hear. He performed 50-meter lap after 50-meter lap, feeling happier the harder his muscles had to work. The butterfly, once the one he'd struggled to do the most, was suddenly his favorite. What fun this was!

Eventually, though, Coach started yelling at him. Patterson surfaced at the starting end of the pool and realized everyone was staring at him. A small pack of Lower School cadets, including Peter, were looking at Patterson in awe. Mikey was clearly amazed; he'd even moved out from his usual spot behind Peter to get a better view. The other boys trying out were clustered up, too. Will Strasser, James Burkhalter, Sam Thompson, Frederick Langston, David Black- everybody.

"Uh, what's happening, guys?" Patterson asked, looking around. He looked up at Coach Kelman. "Did I make it?"

"You just did more about 1700 meters total," Coach said. "Set a school record for distance and for the 50-meter time on freestyle, backstroke, breaststroke and butterfly."

"I did 1700 meters?" Patterson breathed. "That wasn't even that bad. Can I do it again? Did I make the team, Coach?"

Coach Kelman shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, Patterson, you made the team. Now get outta there before you turn into a fish or something."

"I'd really like to do all that again, Coach. I need the workout."

"You don't look like you need it, dude," Sam Thompson cracked from nearby.

"You've been going at it for an hour almost nonstop," Coach said. "You need a break."

"No, seriously, Coach, I'm good!" Patterson insisted. "I can go and do all that again, watch-"

With that, Patterson leapt out into his lane again, forgetting everything except him, the water, and the joyful singing of his powerful muscles as they actually got to do something for once. Just like when he'd gone out swimming on the island, strong against even the most powerful currents, Patterson didn't mind the challenge. He loved it, needed it, relished every second of it. This was better than just a workout. This was heaven.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Against his better judgement, Gabriel wandered into the Snack Lounge in the basement of Black Hall during one of the brief gaps between classes. As short as those gaps were, they allowed you time to get a surprising number of things done, if you managed your time well. Even the basic daily routine of Bunker Hill encouraged learning time management, although, like all of the positive lessons the school offered, it was debatable as to whether the cadets internalized it.

After using some stored quarters to buy a pack of Peanut M&M's, Gabriel went to lean against the wall near a row of ground-level windows, watching a small cadet of about 12 or 13 work on a vending machine. He was crouched next to it, one arm almost entirely inside the door, entirely focused on reaching around, trying to grasp something.

"What're you doing?" Gabriel called to him curiously.

"I want my goddamn candy," the kid said matter-of-factly. "Fucking thing stole my money."

"How much?"

"Enough for two bags of M&Ms," the boy answered. "Stay away from this one. It'll fucking rob you."

Gabriel resumed eating his Peanut M&M's, and the other boy craned his neck to see inside the machine better. He swore again as he got too close and knocked off his own glasses. He picked them up and went back to work.

"Are you sure you won't be late to class, doing this?" Gabriel asked.

"Nah, I can run fast."

Just as Gabriel was about to say something else, Freddie Gomez entered the Snack Room, flanked by Wally Frank and Randall DeLoria. The former was businesslike and not too bright, as usual, while the latter was laughing at something Gomez had just said, clearly trying to ingratiate himself with his leader.

With no more Jack Merridew, the barracks pecking order had shifted, and Freddie Gomez was making a grab for a higher rung on the ladder. So, too, was Randall DeLoria.

"Hey, hey, look at Polski here," Gomez said to his friends, wandering over. They barely glanced at Gabriel.

"Go away," the thin boy said.

"DeLoria, check this out, man," Gomez said. He put his right hand against the kid's head and pushed, knocking it against the glass with an audible thunk. Frank laughed appreciatively, and so did DeLoria, albeit awkwardly.

"Get the fuck off me, bitch!" the kid with the glasses said.

"Not so fast," Gomez said, pushing the kid's head against the glass again. "Look what I can do." He moved closer and used his hips this time, bumping his groin against the kid's head. Thunk, thunk, thunk.

Frank laughed like it was funny as hell, DeLoria was forcing laughter but doing a better job, and the kid was swearing violently.

"DeLoria, man, you take a turn," Gomez said. "C'mon. Cadet Corporal Gomez says you gotta."

"Is this- can you really order anybody to do this?" DeLoria asked uncertainly.

"You wanna hang around with me, you better," Gomez warned. "Go on. Push his fuckin' head against the glass. Do it like this, like I'm doing." Thunk, thunk.

"Jeez, Freddie, I dunno, man-"

"Christ!" Gomez sighed. He snatched the kid's glasses off his face. "Now you're pathetic and blind."

"Give those back!"

"I will when I want to," Gomez said. The kid made as if to punch him, but Gomez held up the glasses. "Ah! Better not or something might happen to these, kid." Thunk, thunk, thunk-

Gabriel pushed off the wall, and time seemed to slow. He crossed the room in only a few quick strides, put his hand against Freddie Gomez's left shoulder, turned him, then shoved him. Hard. He staggered back fell back against Frank and DeLoria, who seemed to be seeing Gabriel for the first time.

"Hey, new guy," Gomez said, gathering himself and moving forward, chest out, "you do that again and I'll fight you. You understand? And it's only going one way, I promise you."

Standing very close to the other boy now, Gabriel was surprised to find he felt little, if any fear. What he felt was anger at the stupid, arrogant behavior guys like Gomez displayed to prove how 'tough' they were, and how they seemed to just get away with it, day after day. Gomez had once held a couple of inches over Gabriel, but now the two of them were virtually the same height. Gabriel put his hands on his hips and said simply, "If you wanna mess with him again you're gonna have to kill me."

Gomez scoffed, looking at DeLoria and Frank, who also crossed their arms and laughed skeptically. He turned to Gabriel. "You think you're some kinda tough guy, don't you? Better be careful, new kid. I got a lot more friends around this place than you do."

"Get out. I'll throw you out of I have to."

"Jeez, you wanna act any tougher?" Frank demanded.

"This guy thinks he can take all three of us, man!" DeLoria said in disbelief.

"I tell you what I think," Gomez said, looking at Gabriel. "I think-"

BRRRRRRRRING!

"We gotta get to class, Freddie," Frank said.

"Yeah, I know," Gomez said reluctantly. "We were just leaving anyway. C'mon, boys. This chump ain't worth our time." He turned to leave, then pointed at Gabriel. "You- you should watch yourself. Nobody fucks with Freddie Gomez."

Gabriel stood there as if rooted to the spot, hands on his hips, staring Gomez down. The other boy tried to sneer but couldn't quite do it. He ultimately waved to his buddies and left, taking them with him.

"Hand those glasses back!" Gabriel called, surprised at the strength and force of his own voice. It boomed out into the hallway and there was no doubt the three boys heard him. Gomez came back and threw the glasses hard at Gabriel, but he just caught them with one hand, never even taking his eyes off Gomez. Wow, how had he done that? He'd always had the worst hand-eye coordination in the world. Always, that is, before the island.

Gomez noticed how easily Gabriel caught the glasses, and for a moment a flicker of uncertainty crossed his face. He recovered, scoffed again and walked out.

"He's gonna remember you now," the small boy warned.

"I don't care," Gabriel said honestly. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Shit like that happens all the time."

"Not anymore," Gabriel decided. "I'm stopping that."

"You can't be everywhere."

"I can do something," Gabriel said.

"See how you like it in a few days," the kid said. "Freddie Gomez is real popular in the Lower School. He really meant it. He's got more friends than you do."

"I'll worry about that," Gabriel said, handing the kid his glasses back.

The kid worked his arm out of the vending machine, and sure enough, he had two bags of M&M's. Gabriel noticed and the kid grinned.

"Fucking assholes like Gomez won't stop me. I'll be fine." He put the glasses back on.

"How do you say your name?"

"Sikorski, like Sick-Orski," the kid said. "of Free Poland."

"Free Poland?"

"The real Poland," the boy went on. "Not those fucking Soviet boot-lickers." He smiled, brushing at his auburn hair.

"There's no People's Republic in Poland anymore," Gabriel said, recalling his studies of foreign affairs prior to the 'eventful' attempted trip to Japan. "They gave up after they saw what happened in Romania."

Sikorski looked at Gabriel for a moment, visibly impressed. Then he smiled. "Ah, whatever. Thanks, man. That's the first time I ever had somebody stand up for me around here. See you."

ΩΩΩΩΩ

The last few nights, Ralph had dreamed of having Claire any way he wanted. He liked it best when he just took her without saying a word, and the fact that she loved it made it so much easier to enjoy himself. The sensation of complete dominance, of her helplessness (even if she wasn't resisting anyway) beneath him while he held all the power, the animal sensation of mating… it was heaven. Problem was, Claire wasn't here, and Ralph, as much as he had used her without caring, found he kind of missed her. He missed the wants and needs she satisfied, anyway, and the distraction from the irrepressible fury he had for everyone and everything that had led, somehow or another, to Jack Merridew raping him.

Every day, Ralph lived with what Jack had done. Every day, he shoved that knowledge to the back of his mind and focused on the total domination he had over every girl he'd fucked this summer, the way he'd even tried to rape Claire and then found out she loved him playing the big alpha like that. The happy memories of fucking those girls helped, some, but Ralph was still angry. He still found cadets failing to do their jobs, failing to measure up. The tiniest cadets fled like quail when they saw him coming now, and that little jerk Mikey had even hissed and bared his teeth one time, preparing to attack like some miniature savage, until Peter quickly pulled the smaller boy away.

Come to think of it, Mikey had been backed into a corner at the time. Ralph had found him coming out of a bathroom and lectured him over not washing his hands. Mikey, caught in a small, boxed-in space with no easy way out, had instantly lowered himself and shaped his hands into claws. It was funny. Ralph was gonna make Mikey and Peter pay for their stupidity and incompetence, their sloppiness as cadets, but he kind of respected Mikey's spunk. The little dude never talked to anyone but Peter, and occasionally Mr. Perfect, the ever-successful Simon, but he was tougher than he looked.

On his way to go swim for an hour after Biology class, Ralph spotted Luke and John, sporting identical high-and-tight haircuts, grins, and some of the buffest bodies of any guys their age around here, coming down the hall toward the locker room sopping wet, tossing a pack of cigarettes back and forth. They were chatting casually about action they'd gotten over the summer, or claimed to have gotten, and offered a none-too-formal greeting to Ralph as they passed by.

"Yo, hey, Ralph."

"Sup, Colonel."

"Stop!" Ralph called to them. "Come back here, now."

"What's the matter?" Luke asked, shrugging. "Oh, hey, you want one?"

"No!" Ralph barked, snatching the offered pack.

"Hey, man!" Luke complained. He lunged for the pack. "Give it back! I just bought-"

Ralph put one open palm against Luke's chest, right between those pecs he was so goddamn proud of, and shoved hard. Luke dropped like a sack of potatoes and knocked his head on the tiles.

"Whafuck!" Luke half-shouted.

"Hey, what's that for?" John demanded.

"Get up," Ralph ordered.

Visibly angry, but also visibly scared, Luke scrambled to his feet.

"How about you try standing at attention, jerkoff?" Ralph snapped.

The two boys went to the position of attention.

"That's better! Now, possession of contraband, huh? I think I'll take those stripes you guys just got. Corporal's a little high up, don't you think? You'll figure your fuckin' lives out while you're marching ten tours each this weekend! I promise you that!"

"Hey, man, c'mon!" Luke griped. "We didn't do nothing 'cept buy a pack, you know how many guys do that around here?"

"I'll get to them once I'm done with you!" Ralph shot back. "Eyes front! Shoulders back! Chest out! You'll stand up right or I'll just add more demerits! You know what? Take five more, both of you, for disrespecting an officer."

"Aw, Ralph-"

"What did you call me? You wanna try for more?"

"No, sir!" the two chorused.

"How about you stand there and act like you've got a little fuckin' discipline?"

"Yes, sir!"

"You think I should have you guys busted?"

"No, sir!"

"Too fuckin' bad," Ralph said without a trace of sympathy. "Now, I'm gonna stand here. You're gonna push. If I don't like your form, you'll do another exercise. I can add plenty, guys. I got all day."

"Ralph?" another boy called, coming up behind him. "Hey, man, can we talk?"

It was Simon. Always Simon. That meddling, usurping little bastard, that smug sonofabitch. He was wearing a sky blue pair of swim trunks and cut quite a stunning figure in them, suntanned and buff as he was. Water glistened on his hardened muscles and dripped from his wavy locks of brown hair. Clearly, he'd just been swimming, too.

"Get outta my sight," Ralph warned. "I mean it. Get lost."

"What'd Luke and John do?"

"None of your fuckin' business; I'm handling this."

"We just had a pack on us, Simon," Luke whined. "He's going at us like some kinda drill sergeant and-"

"You don't even know what a drill sergeant is!" Ralph barked at him. "Shut up!"

"Ralph, can we talk a minute? Privately?"

"No," Ralph said, his face and his voice hard. "You say whatever you wanna say right now."

Simon nodded. "Okay. Well, all these guys did was have a pack of smokes on them, right?"

"Yeah?"

"That's not that bad. They just got promoted and I bet it'd mean more to them if you just made them throw the pack away. These are good guys. They'll learn more if-"

"How about you don't try to do my job anymore?" Ralph hissed, baring his teeth hatefully. "You've done that enough."

"Luke, John, just go," Simon said quickly. "I'll take any punishment Ralph wants you to do. Get outta here."

"Thanks, Simon," they both stammered, beating a hasty retreat.

"You're gonna be sorry you did that," Ralph promised, folding his arms imposingly over his chest.

"Ralph, I gotta talk to you," Simon went on.

"Why? I don't wanna talk to you. Or didn't you notice that yet?"

"It's about Steve."

"What's your boyfriend told you?" Ralph demanded harshly.

"Well, he said you really laid into a bunch of little guys for tossing a ball around and bumping into you the other day. It really scared him. He said that's not like you, and I agree with him. You're a good guy. What was that about?"

"Listen to you," Ralph hissed dangerously. "Laying the groundwork. Steve's on your side, Luke and John're on your side, the stupid little guys are on your side. It's all going like you want, or that's what you think."

Simon raised his hands, palms out. "Hey, Ralph, I don't think that's fair. C'mon, I'm not doing anything behind your back. I just wanna talk, honest."

"Fuck you," Ralph told him. "Beat it."

"Ralph, I just wanna talk. What's the matter with that?"

"It's a fucking trick and I know it," Ralph told him, poking him hard in the chest. "You know just what I mean, Chief. Got my job on the island, didn't you? Well, you're not getting it here. Go shove your schemes up your ass and stay outta my way."

"Ralph-"

"I mean it. Get out of my sight before I really get mad."

"Okay, I'm sorry I upset you, Ralph," Simon said, carefully moving past to the locker room. "Gimme a few minutes and I'll shower and go. Okay?"

"Whatever," Ralph glared. He stormed past Simon and into the locker room, sending Luke and John, who had were standing there in their underwear, comparing biceps, scrambling off toward the stalls to finish getting dressed.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

After dinner on Thursday, Simon, Patterson and Steve all got together to work out in the weight room. It was mostly empty by the time they got there, aside from maybe half a dozen sophomores and a few seniors. Steve was still a little nervous about hanging out with Simon, whom he idolized and would gladly follow anywhere, and Patterson, whom he respected the hell out of. The three of them made a fantastic workout group, though, and all three were coated in sweat as they gave their bodies the exercise they desperately needed.

Steve accidentally sat on his balls at one point, which hurt way worse because of how much bigger they'd grown on the island. Simon took one look as Steve had sat straddling a bench and suddenly doubled over in pain and busted up laughing. Patterson tried to tell him off but ended up laughing, too. Steve, who found it hard to be mad at these two when he was so desperate to be accepted by them, just sucked it up and forced a grin. He even laughed some too; it was a little bit funny, at least.

While they were sitting on two of the free-standing benches, Simon and Steve on one and Patterson on the other, taking a much-needed break, Simon brought up something that interested Steve right away.

"Guys," Simon said quietly, "I'm worried about Ralph."

"What's the matter with him?" Patterson asked. "I mean, I know he's been kinda tense."

"It's way worse than that," Steve said, shaking his head.

"Steve's right," Simon went on. "Ralph's mad as hell half the time. It takes nothing to get him angry. I tried to talk to him but he's convinced I'm after his rank. He goes around yelling at everybody for anything. It's not right and it's not like him." Simon sighed. "He's messed up. I just don't know what's causing it."

Steve thought for a moment. "Maybe he needs to get laid."

"What makes you say that?" Simon asked.

The blond boy shrugged one muscular shoulder. "I don't know about you guys but no sex is not working for me. I jerk off three times a day and I'm still going crazy. I can't stand it. It makes me tense, I'm trying not to get mad at people for random stuff- seriously, I think it's that he's not getting any pussy anymore."

Patterson laughed. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Steve blushed a little. "I don't know what you mean, man."

"No, he's got a point," Simon said thoughtfully. "I'm having a rough time, too. We all need to fuck girls now, and we all know why. It's affecting Ralph just like us, except it was way worse for him on the island. But he's really convinced I'm after his rank, and he takes everything personal. Whatever his problem is, I'll bet not having sex is making things worse."

Steve perked up, realizing a good time had come to share his important discovery. "Guys," he said quickly, "let's go shower. When we get back to Patterson's room, I wanna tell you something. I found out about this- it's cool, trust me."

"Since when did my room become the designated hangout point?" Patterson asked.

"Since you started inviting both of us to come by and hang out with you anytime," Steve cracked. "Since we became your best friends, you fucking nerd."

"Jeez!" Patterson protested, staring incredulously at Steve. "You gotta just call me out like that?"

ΩΩΩΩΩ

It was Sunday again. A whole week had blown by like it hadn't been there in the first place.

Arianna's heart thudded in her chest as she dressed once more for a run on a warm, sunny day, letting lots of skin show- the better to ensure she snagged Simon while he was still single and not seeing some common girl in town. Her prince, she was thrilled to see, came along exactly on time, and he was indeed clad in nothing but a pair of running shorts. His chiseled, suntanned upper body was a work of art, and Arianna gazed in awe, peeking out from behind a tree.

When Simon got close and started looking for her, she showed herself, carefully gauging him for his reaction. His eyes widened, his pace slowed, but his heartrate clearly went up. That was good, very good indeed. Arianna knew she had to look a little awestruck. Simon was magnificent, and that sheen of sweat gleaming on him made it a constant effort not to just stare at his abs, his arms or his chest.

Oh, he's not just a hunk, Arianna thought joyfully. He's beyond that. He's perfect. And he's so sweet, so polite. It's like a way hotter version of Jack that isn't a complete jerk. So, just what I want, which is natural. I am a princess.

"Hey, Arianna," Simon said. He bowed his head. "My lady. Forgive me, but the sight of your beauty and radiance is almost too much for me."

Arianna smiled, delighted that he was going along with her prince-princess dynamic. She had always wanted it to be like this the first time she met a guy she really liked.

"Simon," she told him, "it's good that you were here on time."

"I could not keep royalty waiting. I am at your service, my lady."

"Very good, Simon. You know some manners."

"Yes, Arianna. I promise I will only be on my best behavior. It would be a privilege to speak with you."

Arianna began walking under the shade of the trees, and Simon fell into step beside her. She pretended not to notice him sneaking peeks at the skin her runner's outfit left showing. He wasn't entirely unlike Jack, but then, boys this age were bound to be this way. He could be forgiven. She was sneaking peeks at his superb looks while he wasn't paying attention, so it was fair.

"How is your hand, Simon?" Arianna asked, keeping some bearing as she asked a question she truly wanted to know about. "Is it healing?"

"Yes, my lady," Simon answered. "I'm exercising a little differently now with my hand hurt, but I'm doing well. My hand will be healed again soon. Another week or so."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I am grateful you didn't come to any harm because of my mistake."

Oh, God he's hot, Arianna thought, her cheeks heating as she stared at Simon's chest. I gotta keep up the princess thing. Think of something. Quick.

Luckily, Simon began to continue cautiously, discussing how humbled he was to be speaking to her, and how he was hoping to learn more about her interests so he could, in turn, be more courteous to her. Arianna gave polite, informative responses, letting Simon learn of her refined interests in art, in music, in the fine things in life. She wanted to admit to a pretty severe weakness to hot, muscular boys with no shirts, but that would have been too obvious.

After they'd walked together for a while, talking quietly and listening to the birds singing in the trees, Simon cleared his throat. "Arianna?"

"Yes, Simon?"

"Would you care to go see a movie with me this Sunday?"

OhYESplease!

"Where were you thinking we might go?" Arianna replied, careful to control her voice.

"The King of Prussia Mall, my lady," Simon replied. "There's a movie you may like they'll be showing, and… if… uh, if you'd like to have dinner… um. So, would you care to go with me, my lady?"

"You've learned how to speak to a princess after all," Arianna marveled. "It was so crass how you asked me the last time."

Simon said nothing. He merely waited, the picture of attentiveness.

Actually finding a hot, polite boy who didn't mind her "I'm a princess" attitude was something of a shock to Arianna. She'd had plans to play hard-to-get for a while to come, but she liked Simon too much for that. He was a perfect catch from the looks of things. Indeed, his looks were stunning! Arianna wasn't just attracted; she could barely keep from staring. He was polite, extremely good-looking, intelligent, eloquent, born to a wealthy and sophisticated family… what wasn't to like? He was practically tailor-made for every "What I Want In A Prince" list Arianna had ever thought up.

I can't appear too eager.

I can't say no to those pecs.

Don't you hate it when boys stare at you?

Well, yes, but it also means I'm attractive. What I actually hate is when they stare and can't be subtle about it, like Simon is.

Simon's perfect. Say yes.

I better say no. It's too soon. He needs to hear "no" a lot more to test him.

Say yes already.

No.

Yes!

"Nes," Arianna blurted.

"Huh?" Simon asked.

"When is this movie you had in mind?" Arianna asked carefully.

"It's at three."

"You will be at my front door in full dress uniform, white gloves, at two. We'll need time for Mr. Travis to drive us there. If I offer you my hand, you may kiss the back of it once. You will be a perfect gentleman at all times."

"Of course," Simon replied. He looked at her hopefully. "So you'll go out with me?"

"And you better wear a shirt," Arianna added. She blushed. "Uh, I mean pants. Not just jeans! You're too distracting. For- the guys! I mean it! You better dress right or I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"I wouldn't ever dress or act inappropriately around a princess," Simon replied carefully.

"We'll go," Arianna decided, trying to recover and play hard-to-get again. "But you better impress me."

"I will, Arianna," Simon promised her with one of his charming smiles. "I promise. You'll have a great time."

Arianna gave an arrogant toss of her head, drawing his attention to her flowing, majestic black hair. "We'll see." After a few moments, her curiosity got the better of her. "So when did you start working out so much?"

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Simon's heart hammered in his chest from the moment he caught sight of her during his run, to their entire conversation over the past few minutes, to right now. He'd never been so nervous in his life, yet he had to be cool, calm. He couldn't get caught looking at her legs, her waist, or most of all, her chest, yet that running outfit was so attractive, so enticing… what gave better cooling and freedom of movement also was extremely pleasing to the eye.

Better still, Simon was learning rapidly that behind the veneer of arrogance (granted, it was probably not just a veneer) was a spectacular girl. Someone fun, interesting, smart and articulate. Only two conversations in and Simon was sold. He thought he'd idolized her before, and that had been a whole other life. He had been so on the mark and yet had known so little. This girl was in a league all her own.

The way they conversed so carefully, so courteously, all the while sneaking peeks at each other and trying to ogle the good stuff for as long as possible without getting caught, was truly fascinating. And nerve-wracking. Simon would eyeball her legs and soon after notice her gazing at his chest or his abs, or both. He made a point of never 'noticing,' and he couldn't shake the sense she was doing the same. It was crude, crass, but it was also irresistible. Simon simply could not take his eyes off this girl. And the more he talked to her, the more he loved even just the sound of her voice.

But now- now she had accepted his attempt to ask her out. Jesus, he'd offered all he had! There was nothing behind his quickly-constructed façade of having some idea of how to ask a girl out or what you did on a date. Simon was utterly lost, and he just had no idea what he was supposed to do now that Arianna was interested in going. Struggling to hide his panic, Simon focused on breathing normally, walking normally.

"Simon?"

"Huh?"

She smiled. "I said, when did you start working out so much?"

"Oh, uh, when I was eleven," Simon lied. "I saw some really fit high school guys at the beach a few times, and I asked my parents if I could get some exercise equipment. I have a private gym now."

"It must be an excellent one, Simon," Arianna remarked.

"Yes, it certainly is."

She likes me, Simon thought with excitement. A lot. But I have to impress her. I have to show her how strong and cool I am. More runs like I was doing, more workouts. Anything she'll like I need to do.

I bet she'd be amazing in bed. And everyone knows she's a v-

Stop that! Don't think of her that way!

Look, you've both been staring at each other's bodies for almost half an hour. If this goes well, what are you and her gonna end up doing? What do you wanna do with her right now?

That doesn't mean I need to think of her as an object.

Those legs, man, that waist… everything about her is just right. Everything.

I need to be respectful.

Yeah, just like how she respects you with your shirt off. You've seen how she looks at you.

I know.

Simon shook off his conflicted thoughts in time to see Arianna stop, slowly put her hands behind her head, close her eyes, and lean back slightly as she stretched, creating a view so stunning it could've been on a calendar. Arianna could easily become a model before she was out of high school, an icon of beauty. Simon stared at her, head to toe, eagerly using every second he had while her eyes were closed. He managed to look casual when she opened them again, so he definitely hadn't been caught. Lucky that she liked stretching like that.

"Simon," Arianna went on, "what kind of girls do you like?"

"You," Simon blurted. He blushed and hastily continued, "Yeah, so, I mean, like, you gotta know what you like. And I like girls that're smart, who're beautiful, and it's great if they're athletic 'cause we can do that kind of stuff together."

"How many girlfriends have you had?"

"A few," Simon answered. "I actually was with this girl back in New York that I kind of idolized. It was fun but it didn't work out."

"Why not?"

"We just weren't right for each other," Simon said, wishing things had been different between him and Jennifer.

"Well, that's just her loss," Arianna declared. "You'll find someone else."

"Yes, I'm sure I will," Simon replied, surprised at the vehement way Arianna had said that.

"You're looking for the right things, Simon," Arianna told him. "I had hoped you'd have some standards."

"Well, it's hard not to like what I see. I mean, see what I like. I mean- I mean I know what I'm looking for." Simon cleared his throat. "Uh- yeah."

"Are you always this well-spoken, or am I making you nervous, Simon?" Arianna asked, looking at him with a hint of a smirk on her face.

"No, I just- uh, you know, sometimes this heat, it gets to me."

Arianna laughed, a merry, delightful sound. She gave Simon another one of those… looks. It was a curious combination of amusement, assessment, interest, and something else.

This was different from the two of them checking each other out while pretending they were doing no such thing. It was… like she was watching him, like he was watching her. Looking for answers to all kinds of secret questions. Am I doing well? Does he like me? Did he see me staring at his abs? Did he like that joke I made? I wonder, what did his other girlfriends think of him? How was he when he was alone with them?

Simon had no way of knowing that's what she was really doing, but he had exactly the same questions, had been eying her at times wondering those same things. Was it really possible they were both trying to figure out answers to virtually identical questions? Was it possible they both found each other just as attractive as Simon knew he found her? He wanted to ask but didn't dare. So after a wonderful, pleasant twenty more minutes, he walked with her back towards her house, gave her a bow, said it had been a privilege to speak with her again, and headed back towards the barracks.

As happy as he was, Simon tried not to break into a run. He'd just gotten himself into something he couldn't bear to screw up, but he knew he would if he didn't ask for help. So as soon as he was back in the barracks, Simon bolted up the stairwell and headed for Patterson's room.

ΩΩΩΩΩ

Patterson was at his desk reading, the door to his room half-open, when he heard Simon's voice at the door.

"Hey, Patterson?"

"Yeah?" Patterson replied, half-turning from the desk. "What's up?"

"I-I gotta talk to you, man," Simon stammered, visibly upset. He walked in and turned around, stopped, came back and paced around restlessly. "I gotta talk. Gotta- oh, man, I gotta ask you some things."

"Hold on, take it easy," Patterson said, instinctively using the same voice he did when one of his brothers came to him with a problem that had clearly upset them. He got up and walked past Simon to close the door, then steered Simon over to his spare bed and sat down beside the younger boy, who was staring, wide-eyed, at nothing in particular, his brow sweaty, breathing hard.

"I'm not… not sure where to start," Simon told him. "Oh, man. Oh, man."

"Easy," Patterson said gently. "Okay, is it trouble? Are you in any trouble?"

"No," Simon replied, his voice tense. "I just- I'm okay. I'm- just scared."

"Okay. What's got you scared, man? Talk to me. You're okay here. Everything's all right. Just breathe and talk."

"I asked Arianna Lovejoy out," Simon confessed. "I asked her out and she said yes."

"Hey, man, that's great!" Patterson said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling, the disappointment he felt, as happy as he was for his friend.

If Arianna was saying yes to a date with Simon, she was moving even further away from ever thinking about dating Patterson. He'd longed for Arianna for so long, wished he could have a chance with her. This was just a leftover of that pointless yearning. But Patterson pressed his thoughts toward being delighted for Simon's success. The fact that he didn't stand a chance with a girl like that didn't mean he couldn't cheer for a good friend who did.

"I-I don't know why she said yes," Simon went on, laughing nervously. "Uh, I kind of just made it up, you know, a movie and dinner. She said yes. Why'd she say yes?"

"I don't know exactly," Patterson admitted. "She must like you."

"But does she like me enough? Should I work out more? Am I funny? Does she like history or reading or books I don't know about? What if I make a joke and she doesn't like it? What if she doesn't like the movie? What if-"

"Slow down, easy now," Patterson said calmly, as soothingly as he could. He gently put both hands on Simon's well-muscled shoulders. "Simon, she said yes because she wants to go out with you. You can't know what's in her head but she likes you, man. Don't overthink it."

"But- but I've never gone on a date!" Simon blurted desperately. "I dunno what you do! I just guessed, I figured she'd say no anyway!" Simon put his head in his hands and moaned. "I'm so scared, man. I got this far and I'm gonna screw it up. Arianna could date any guy in the world. She could drop me the second she decides I'm boring, or not fit enough, or anything."

"That hasn't happened yet," Patterson replied. "You're overthinking it. Easy, remember? Take it easy. Breathe. Breathe. Come on."

Simon nervously drew in a breath, let it out. He did it again, slow, and some of the tension went out of his shoulders.

"I'm just so scared," Simon repeated, now in a calmer voice. "I've never been on a date. All I've done is fuck girls. Arianna- oh, man. Can I tell you some things about her? I need to tell someone. I can't get it off my mind."

"Sure. Talk. Tell me anything and it won't leave this room."

"I wanna sleep with her," Simon confessed. "I don't mean it, like, she's beautiful and I wanna take her home. I mean, she is. She's so beautiful! I just- I got this urge to, like I'm an animal, I gotta mate. And she really, really makes me want to. It's like she's not just beautiful, she's perfect, like in every way! I've talked to her twice and I'm crazy about her! But I can't stop looking at her body and wanting to see her clothes off. I don't know what's the matter with me."

"Nothing is wrong with you, Simon," Patterson said firmly. "You might be eleven but you're a teenager in everything but your age. You're supposed to want to have sex with girls. We're wired to do that because we're supposed to have children to keep the species going. Arianna's a beautiful, smart, amazing girl. I'd be surprised if you didn't want to sleep with her. I'd be surprised if you weren't crazy about her. Every guy at this school is."

"All they look at is her ass, and that's not the point," Simon insisted. "She's got nice everything, but- what I mean, is that she's better than that. She's as amazing as, you know, like, as a person, as her body is. Does that make sense?"

"Sure it does. And I think that's part of why she's always been so popular with the cadets. They want her for that even if they just think about her body."

"Am I doing something wrong, though? What I'm thinking about?" Simon pleaded. "I swear I respect her. It's not like that's all I think about."

"No, I believe you," Patterson assured him. "It's completely healthy. You wanna sleep with Arianna and it's totally okay that you do. Just don't wear that on your sleeve when you're around here. But, I'm gonna be honest, man, were you dressed like this when you talked to her?"

"Yes. Both times."

"I'm pretty sure she's attracted to you, too, dude. Probably really attracted. Sleeping with you has probably entered her fantasies at this point even if she's not ready for it."

"So, I can think about her, like, me and her, and stuff?"

"Sure. Go right ahead. She's probably daydreaming about you with your shirt off right now, anyway."

"You think so?"

"Listen, man. Arianna may play hard to get, even with guys she likes- maybe especially with guys she likes- but she's got a weakness, and that's hot guys with big guns and tight abs."

Simon swallowed nervously. "Tight abs?"

"Yeah. It's the one thing Jack thought he knew about her that he was absolutely right about. He talked about her all the time on the island and that was about the only thing he was right about. Never occurred to him that she hated him because he was a stupid jackass."

"So you think I have a chance with her? Seriously?"

"You've got a body any girl would love, and you're a smart, really nice guy. You're underestimating yourself, man."

"I don't know anything about dates," Simon went on. "I mean it. Nothing. I'm gonna screw this up!"

"What's the problem?"

"Everything! I don't know how to date her! I just know how to fuck her!"

Well, enjoy that when it happens, Patterson thought, and briefly he was overcome with envy. Even if Simon couldn't see it, Patterson knew enough of Arianna to know that Simon was practically perfect by Arianna's standards, tailor-made for what she liked. And while it was virtually certain Arianna was a virgin, she might change that for the right guy, and the fact that Simon had gotten to a date with her this fast said a lot about what she thought of him.

No, no. That's not right. Simon's a good guy. And again, you'll be better off, Rob my man, if you just go and be happy for him instead of wishing for what you can't have.

"Hey, man. It's not that bad. So what you want, what you need, is for me to tell you about dating, right?"

"Well… um… yeah. And you know I lied to her. I said I'm fifteen."

"We'll worry about that later. One thing at a time."

"I need to know about dating. Anything you can tell me. I can't mess this up."

"Then hang out in here as long as you want, man. I'll tell you all about it."

A/N: 5-10-2020.

And another chapter is done! The scene depicting Freddie Gomez and "Gabriel Philips" (Piggy) is based off of a scene that really happened. It's rare for bullies to ever find someone standing up to them like that. They tend to back off when it happens, though, since they're after an easy target. They don't want to really work for it.

Freddie Gomez, Wally Frank, and Randall DeLoria all have their names pulled in part from the 2008 video game Fallout 3. Their namesakes are Freddie Gomez, Wally Mack, and "Butch" DeLoria. Ironically, the only one whose name I imported entirely, Freddie Gomez, is a real nice guy and not at all the bullying type. His personality in this story is based much more off of Butch DeLoria's.

Simon has by this point committed himself to lying to Arianna about his age, and given what a small place even a relatively large boarding school like Bunker Hill Military Academy is, there is no way Arianna will not discover that Simon lied to her. It'll be a matter of how he responds once she confronts him that will decide a lot.

The Academy is, harsh as it is to say, better off in my opinion without Jack and his followers. Changed as they were by the island, they would have just gone on to make life worse for plenty of people and to influence others to think their way was the right one. Simon and the other survivors mostly just want to get on with their lives. Sure, that means there's no big movement like The Wave going on, but it's also a little more peaceable to write about!

Reviews are welcome.