Chapter 2 - Lassard

After he'd realized Lassard was coming, Thaddeus Harris moved faster than I could have ever imagined.

"Gimme that bowl," Harris growled, using his head to indicate the desk. I placed the bowl on the desk and he dumped the fish out of his hand. Birdie fell into the bowl, immediately turning onto its back and staying at the top of the water. He placed it close to the note about feeding the fish, precisely where it had been before it had toppled over.

"Go turn off the light," he indicated, pointing at the switch. I did so, causing the room to go pitch black as he deftly pulled the curtains back into place and used their ties to put them back into place. Now the office was barely lit up by the moonlight and the orangey glow of the academy's scattered outdoor lights. I pulled my hat back onto my head as I heard Harris bump into Lassard's desk as he moved from behind it.

"Now, let's get out of here!" he grunted. "No time to lose!" I was still adjusting my eyes to the light when I felt his slimy hand wrap around mine and pull me out of the room. By the time I remembered the fishy reason for his hand's sliminess, we were out in the hallway and the door was locked behind us.


"Why, hello, Commandant Lassard," Harris warmly greeted, tipping his hat to the older gentleman, who looked tired but concerned about something as he made his way up the stairs. We'd made it out of Lassard's office without detection and were now walking side by side as we met up with Lassard on the landing for Harris's floor. "How are you this evening?" Harris asked Lassard, his voice oozing with sweetness.

Lassard looked at Harris and then me with confusion.

"Is this a cadet?" Lassard asked, peering at me while blinking rather fast. "I don't recall our hiring a new instructor."

"No, she's definitely a cadet," Harris said, irritation lacing his voice. "Don't you remember, Sir?"

I didn't like the patronizing tone of Harris's voice. We'd just killed Lassard's pet and screwed around in his office and Harris was annoyed? I felt the urge to roll my eyes.

"It's not that," Lassard began, stammering a bit. "It's just, she's not dressed like a cadet. And it's quite late to be dressed so… formally."

"It's a dressage drill," Harris immediately replied. "Standard procedure. Just going around to various dorm rooms and giving students a short time to get ready—gotta be ready for anything; you know how it is."

"Ah," Lassard said with a smile of understanding, as gullible as an 8-year-old. "Well, then, I shan't hold you back. Carry on, Captain Harris." With that, he prepared to continue walking, but then Harris said something surprising.

"It's Lieutenant now," Harris muttered, reaching his arm up to rub the back of his sweaty neck. "Lieutenant Harris."

"What?" Lassard said in an airheaded way, turning to look at Harris. "But you rescued that cadet, and shot that robber and—"

"Yes," Harris replied, "but well, the world works in mysterious ways." He shrugged, attempting to appear casual about it.

"It most certainly does," Lassard admitted. "In fact, I am back here this evening due to some very strange circumstances that have resulted in my forgetting to feed Birdie."

"That is strange, Sir," Harris replied, eating up Lassard's every word. "Have you ever forgotten before?"

"Not something of this importance," Lassard admitted. He looked quite ashamed of himself and shook his head. Now his eyes looked defeated.

"Right. I'll let you take care of that then," Harris said, flashing Lassard a little smile. "Good night, Sir."

With that, Harris strode past Lassard, who was not yet done talking. I didn't know what to do either way, so I followed Harris's lead, staying a couple of steps behind him. Huh. Apparently Lassard didn't recognize me, referring to the cadet in the incident as a that.

I turned my head one time to notice Lassard looking back at us quizzically before continuing on up the stairs.


Harris and I strode across campus, finally able to take our time and get back to the dorms. I for one couldn't wait to change out of the formal uniform.

I couldn't wait to change, to get back into the clothes I'd brought with me—oh my God, where was my duffel bag?!

I stopped in place just after we'd crossed under the streetlight I'd had to do jumping jacks under less than two weeks ago, my face pale and stomach feeling like a bottomless pit.

"What's with the holdup?" Harris snapped irritably, keeping up his pace. I stayed frozen to my spot, realizing where my bag was—I'd left it there.

"My duffel bag," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I felt nauseous. Now Harris halted, squaring off his shoulders before turning around to face me.

"What about your duffel bag?"

"It's in his office."


"The hell is wrong with you?" Harris murmured angrily, throwing his good hand up in the air. He pointed at me, nostrils flaring, clearly enraged. "All you had to do was remember to bring your damn bag with—"

I stared at his empty hand, realizing something just as troubling.

"Where's your baton?" I asked him.

I'd never seen anger turn to outright shock so fast. Harris's face turned as white as mine had certainly been earlier, his eyes wide with the ugly realization. How would he explain that away?

"You were supposed to get that, Carnegie!" he suddenly raged. "I put the damn bowl back, fixed the curtains, locked the door—can't you handle anything?!"

"Don't you dare blame me for this!" I yelled, throwing up my arms in disgust. "If you'd told me to grab that stuff before telling me turn off the light, I could've seen—"

"Shh!" he exclaimed in a harsh whisper. "You tryin' to wake the whole damn campus?!"

"Fine, but I'm not taking the blame for forgetting your baton," I replied, crossing my arms, my voice now at normal volume.

"I got one good arm!" Harris snarled, stomping toward me angrily as he pointed at the sling, his voice as loud as a whisper could be. "How the hell was I gonna do all that and carry all our shit?!"

"All that matters is how we are gonna get it all back," I began, trying to be reasonable. I supposed that expecting a relatively incompetent cop like Harris to grab our stuff in one hand was too much. "Now, the good thing is that my name isn't in or on my bag. There's no way anyone will know it's mine."

"What about my baton?" Harris asked. "I'm the only one who carries a baton."

"Have you not been in his office lately?" I asked. "Can't you just pass it off as that?"

"I haven't," Harris said, considering, "but that old coot's been losing his mind for the last fifteen years. I think I could convince Lassard that I'd met him there lately. Good thinking, Carnegie."

With that, he patted me on the shoulder. I gave Harris a grim smile but my plight was not yet fixed.

"What about my clothes?" I said. "I only have two pairs of sweats, and one of them is in a bag in Lassard's office."

"I'll figure out some way to get them back," he muttered. "Use your other pair in the meantime."

"But they're dirty," I said. "It's going to be obvious that something's not right."

"You let me worry about that," Harris said. "As your squadmaster, I'll probably have to call you out on it. Just be prepared to get chewed out."

"I thought we were over this game playing," I said. "Mullers and Stiner basically know that we like each—"

"Are you shittin' me?!" Harris squawked, his eyes flashing dangerously. "You can't be talkin' about this. Cadets and instructors sleeping together is not acceptable behavior."

I glared at him, my arms still crossed.

"Oh, but having sex across Lassard's desk and then killing his fish is?"

Harris sighed heavily, defeated by my counterargument.

"It's been a long night," Harris groaned. "I'm tired of arguing." He gestured dismissively. "You wanna ruin my reputation; you go ahead."

I rolled my eyes but quickly changed my stance as two female cadets left the woman's dorm and headed right towards us on the sidewalk. We couldn't talk about this any longer.

"Good night, Lieutenant Harris," I muttered, as his mouth fell open with suspicion, still unaware of the approaching cadets walking up behind him. As soon as he heard the clicking of shoes behind him, though, his expression went back to normal.

"Alright, Carnegie," he replied, continuing past me. "Now, get back to your dorm on the double or you'll have twice as much work next time."

"Right," I said irritably, rolling my eyes at his insistence on talking down to me. The two female cadets walked by us, talking excitedly with definite mentions of Harris. Ugh. Whatever.