Death Game

Chapter Twelve

In the cold hours before dawn, Teyla woke. She thought she heard the quiet sound of the jumper’s engine, but when she jolted to wakefulness it wasn’t there. It was a long moment before she remembered where she was, and why there was not the breathing quiet of Atlantis’ ventilation systems.

She was in Pelagia in the palace, and Atlantis was far away. The night was silent. There was the distant sound of a dog barking in the city, the rustling of the palm leaves in the garden below. Other than that, there was no sound.

John Sheppard stood beside the window, the moonlight gleaming off the white bandage on his brow, though his black shirt blended with the shadows. Whatever had wakened him, he did not perceive it as a threat. A threat would have showed in tension in every line of his body, in that questing expression he got, like a hound on a scent. Instead, he looked almost relaxed, leaning against the window frame, looking out into the night.

Teyla sat up, running her hands over her face to banish sleep from her eyes.

He looked around sheepishly. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said. His hair was mussed and the back was sticking up even more than usual. “For some reason it’s kind of hard to settle down when you’re not sure if you’re a prisoner or not.”

“You are worrying about Rodney and the rescue team,” Teyla said.

“They would have been here by now if they weren’t in trouble themselves,” John said, shaking his head. “It’s been thirty six hours. There’s no way Elizabeth hasn’t long since sent a team, whether Rodney dialed Atlantis or not.”

“You think they ran into the Wraith cruiser?”

He replied, tight lipped. “It makes sense. I think they’re in trouble.”

Teyla nodded gravely. Of course he was imagining his people in terrible danger, perhaps dying, while he was helpless to save them. While he did not even know where they were.

“We’re going to have to get ourselves out of this, and that’s going to involve making friends with these people,” John said. “There’s no way we can get from here to the gate, a couple of hundred miles of desert, with locals hunting us. And if the others ran into the cruiser, we’re going to have to get some local help finding them. When we see this king, I’m going to talk Atlantis up big.”

“Make Elizabeth proud,” Teyla said with a small smile.

“Yeah, that. I’ve seen men down in hostile country before.” He did not look at her, only out across the sleeping city. “If the locals are against you, you’re screwed. If they give you a hand, you’ve got a chance of getting your people back.”

Bits of things clicked together for Teyla. “And that is why you love a good cup of tea.”

“What?” he glanced around at her.

“You said it at our first meeting.” Teyla sat crosslegged on the bed. “When you came into our tents with Colonel Sumner. He thought we were a waste of time, we Athosians. Too primitive to be of any use to him. And not worth the effort when I said we did not trade with strangers. And you said that you were not a stranger, that you liked Ferris wheels and things that went very fast. So I asked if you would join us in a cup of tea. I could see Sumner’s disdain written all over him. And you gave me a very strained smile and said you loved a good cup of tea.”

“Did I say that?” John turned around, leaning back on the window. “I don’t remember.”

“You said that,” she said.

“I guess I did.” He shrugged. “Guys like Sumner, they don’t get it. They can’t imagine that anyone would want to live differently than they do.”

“There is one way, and that is the way of your people,” she said.

“Nah. They’re the same way to people at home.” John sat down on the windowsill. “There’s one way, and it’s the way of God and the United States Marine Corps. There are four kinds of people in the world — Marines, families of Marines, people not good enough to be Marines, and people who are too stupid to want to be Marines. I’m not saying all the Marines are like this. They’re not. Ford wasn’t. But you get these guys and they don’t see anything else. They literally can’t imagine any other kind of life. They don’t know anything else they might do or be that would be worth anything. If you took away being a Marine they wouldn’t be worth anything to themselves.”

“You are not like that,” Teyla said.

He shrugged again. “I’m Air Force, and it’s a little different. But you get those guys in the Air Force too.”

“Why are you not one of them?”

Teyla had expected he would ignore the question, but perhaps the darkness of the room and the lateness of the hour encouraged honesty. Or perhaps he was beginning to trust her a little bit.

“Never drank the Kool Aid, I guess.”

There was this girl. That’s a good way for the story to begin. There’s always a girl, and that’s always a reason. Her name was Mel, and she sat in front of him in Introduction to US/Soviet Relations the first semester of sophomore year. She had short, short hair with a little ducktail in the back, and you could see the back of her neck when she bent her head to take notes, pale skin and that ducktail. Auburn hair, not really red. Blue, blue eyes. The kind of trim, athletic body that girls work really hard for, the body of a fencer. She was a fencer. He heard her talking about it with one of her friends. She was hoping to make the Varsity squad next year, she was that good. And that was saying something. There was a guy on the Varsity squad who was going to the Olympics in Seoul next summer unless he blew it.

Anyway, there was this girl, Mel. Melissa Hocken. He couldn’t catch her eye in class and say something witty because he sat directly behind her. He couldn’t sit next to her because she always sat with her friends. And there were about 200 people in the class because it was one of the big poli sci courses that fulfilled interdepartmental requirements.

John tried following her after class, trailing along with his backpack, hoping she’d go to the cafeteria or something. But it was a 9:00 class, and all he discovered was that she had a 11:00 in life sciences.

There was this girl, and that was really the start of it. That was really the reason, not anything else.

His mom called him on Monday night two weeks into the year, wanted to know if he’d come home that weekend. A long drive for almost nothing, even if she meant the house in Tahoe. “What for, Mom? You saw me two weeks ago.”

“I need you to come this weekend, John,” she said, and he thought her voice sounded funny, like she’d been crying. “I’ll see you on Friday night.”

And because it was his mom he went, even though he might have had plans. He didn’t have plans, not yet, but he might have plans by Friday. Hell, he might have asked Mel out by then. Or at least talked to her. It was a theory anyhow.

He got into Tahoe late, nearly midnight. It was a seven hour drive. The lights were on and she was in the kitchen. It was spotless, tile topped counters scrubbed clean. “Where’s Dad and David?” he asked, and she put her arms around him too tight.

“David’s gone to bed. And I don’t know where your father is.”

John patted her awkwardly, let go. Something wrong, something wrong.

She held him at arms length, hair set in perfect waves, tipped and streaked just like Crystal Carrington on Dynasty. “Your father is divorcing me.”

It was a really old story, not much to tell, actually. An affair, of course, but not with a bimbo like you’d expect. She was a torts attorney, thirty, brilliant, with a JD from Stanford and an undergrad from Harvard. They were going to get married. Linda was so much smarter, so much more of a go-getter. She wasn’t some old fashioned boring type who played tennis at the club and supported the symphony. She was partner track.

And beautiful, of course. Sitting at the genuine antique mission table with its hand embroidered runner, hearing the whole story, John knew his mom wasn’t beautiful. She kind of had been, in the wedding picture circa 1963, but that was twenty four years ago. She was fifty one, the same age as Dad. She dieted all the time, she did Jane Fonda, she used Esteé Lauder and she’d had a face lift last year. But she was dull, dull as old silver. He loved her anyway, because who wants their mom to be a blast? But she was dull. She mostly talked about tennis and wine tasting benefits for the symphony and what he and David were doing in school. She wouldn’t know a tort if it bit her.

“He didn’t want me to tell you. He wanted to do it himself. But I couldn’t keep it from you boys.”

David was fifteen. It would be hard to keep it from David, in the same house. Surely David already knew.

“It’s going to be ok, mom. It’ll be fine.”

She gave him a brave smile. “Of course I will be. I haven’t worked since we were married. He’ll have to pay alimony, and I’ll get one of the houses. This one, I hope, rather than the Austin house. And David…he’s got to pay child support. And he’ll pay it through the nose. It’s you I’m worried about.”

John just stared at her.

“You’re nineteen. He doesn’t owe you a thing. He has no legal obligation to pay for anything for you ever again.”

There was this girl. That was what it was really about. Monday after class he walked up to Mel and said, “You were really smart, what you said about Prague Spring. I agree that our response should have been different, and it’s a good idea to examine the difference in our reaction to Prague Spring from the Berlin Airlift in light of our commitment in Vietnam.”

Mel looked at him suspiciously for a second, then put her head to the side. “Do I know you? Who are you?”

“John Sheppard,” he said. “I sit behind you. That’s probably why you don’t see me. Because I’m behind you.”

“Oh.” She looked at him again as if he were some sort of interesting specimen. “You see what I mean about Johnson’s political constraints?”

“Absolutely,” John said. “I mean, this was totally about not wanting to tie the hands of the next president, and given the domestic situation at the time I’m not sure he could have made a military commitment to help the Czechs even if he wanted to.”

“A constraint Truman didn’t have.”

“Right. Different time, different sitch. If it hadn’t fallen apart right on top of the disastrous Democratic convention in Chicago…”

Mel was smiling at him. That was why he dared. “Do you want to get some lunch?”

“I have a class…” she said.

Duh. He already knew that. And it was ten in the morning. “I mean later. At lunchtime.”

She shrugged. “Ok.”

The thing with his Dad blew up at fall break. They were supposed to go skiing, but it was just him and David and Dad. Friday night they skied. It was ok. Nobody talked about anything.

Saturday they skied in the morning, and when they stopped to get lunch John went to take a shower to warm up. He put on a turtleneck and went to go meet Dad and David in the restaurant.

Only there was a woman there. She was pretty, with long brown hair like Brooke Shields, and she didn’t look much older than him. She was sitting at the table, holding Dad’s hand on the napkin. She’d never had a facelift, and she looked like a cat in cream in a leather coat and red velvet prairie skirt.

David looked sick. And also scared.

He came over to the table. His dad looked smug. “John, I’d like you to meet Linda.”

She gave him a warm smile.

“So you’re the bimbo,” John said with a jaunty smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Congratulations. You’ve screwed your way into a lot of money.”

His mom cried on the phone. “John, you can’t do this.”

“Mom…” Everything was like ice around him, a kind of cold fury that made everything cleaner and clearer.

“John, he’s furious. You can’t do this. You have your future to think about. Don’t you understand that you have out of state tuition at UCLA? There’s no way I can pay that out of the alimony. John, you have to behave.”

She might as well have been talking to a block of wood.

He ran into Mel on Thursday, a day they didn’t have class. He almost didn’t recognize her. She was in Air Force uniform, tight skirt and jacket, sensible black heels, a cap pinned on her head.

“Woah, Mel!”

She came over. “I’m in ROTC. Thursday’s drill day. We have to wear our uniforms all day.”

“Dude.” She looked like some old picture of a WAC or something out of World War II. Nobody could actually do anything dressed like that. Especially carrying her backpack in her left hand.

She saw where he looked and frowned. “We can’t wear backpacks when we’re in uniform. We have to carry them. Are you going to give me a hard time too, John? Because I’ve heard it all and I’m pretty tired of it.”

“Me? No. Not me.” He shook his head. “It’s totally cool. I mean, whatever you want to do with your life…”

“Because I love killing babies,” Mel said. “That’s my big ambition. I want to go find some babies somewhere in the world to kill.”

“I didn’t say that!”

“Yeah, well, you looked it.” She put her other hand on her hip and looked at him. “Just toss your liberal guilt right here. I’m totally responsible for Apartheid. And Colonialism. It was me. I did it all.”

“You’ve got a chip on your shoulder,” John observed.

“Yeah, well. You get asked stupid questions twenty times a day every Thursday. Try walking across the quad with people yelling Fascist at you.”

“So why are you doing this?” This being the gesture at her circa 1965 outfit, little cap and all.

“Because I want to be an astronaut.”

“Serious?”

“Serious.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Like a real astronaut? Like Sally Ride and Judith Resnik?”

“Yeah.” She grinned back. “And you know your stuff. Most guys couldn’t name two female astronauts.”

“Sally Ride, first American woman in space. Judith Resnik, killed with Challenger. Dude I’d like to meet is Michael Collins. And I’d pretty much pay an arm and a leg to meet Chuck Yeager.”

Mel blinked at him. “I had no idea you knew anything about space. You’re not…”

“A geek?”

“A geek.” She grinned. “You look like a prep.”

“I’m not a prep.” John wasn’t sure whether or not to be offended.

She looked him up and down, untucked button down shirt, rumpled khakis. “You’re nineteen years old and you play golf. You’re a prep.”

“Ok, maybe so. But…”

“And you’re a poli sci major. Geeks don’t major in poli sci.”

“It’s for law school,” John muttered. “It’s one of the statistically best majors for admission.”

“You want to be a lawyer?” Mel asked skeptically.

Nobody had ever asked him that before. He was surprised he knew the answer. “No.”

Mel put her hand on her hip and looked at him. “Then why are you doing it?”

John shrugged. “I guess because my dad wants me to.”

“And that matters a lot to you?”

“It kind of did.”

November first there was no deposit into his bank account. $350 on the first of the month. That was the deal. It had been for the last year and a bit. The first. On the dot.

John walked away from the ATM, reading the slip over and over. He still had almost $200 in the account. With no beer and pizza he could manage until the end of the semester. He still had some money on his dining card.

And then what? The registrar expected $6,526 on January 4. Books were going to run a couple of hundred at least.

“I am so screwed,” John Sheppard said to no one in particular.

Thanksgiving was pretty bleak. It was him and his mom and David at the Tahoe house. Dad had gone on a Panama Canal transit cruise with Linda.

“You have to talk to your father,” his mother said.

“I don’t.” John stared into the stuffing.

Her voice choked, and he looked up. “John, I don’t have the tuition. I don’t have it. Our joint accounts are frozen pending settlement. When I met with my lawyer on Monday he said your father says he’s not going to pay it. That he’s not going to pay for your school at all because of the way you’re acting. And he doesn’t have to. Don’t you understand that? You’re nineteen. He has no legal responsibility for you like he does for David.”

John looked up. “He’s treating you like crap.”

“I don’t want to hear that language at the table.” She looked more like her old self when she said it, but with dark bags under her eyes where she wasn’t bothering with the makeup.

“Mom, he’s wrecked your life!”

She had always been frivolous. He’d always been kind of bored around her, since he got too big for kids’ games. She wasn’t interested in anything he cared about, and she was scared of skiing and hated golf. She couldn’t have named two women astronauts on a bet. But there was a stark kind of dignity in her face. “That’s already done, John. But I am trying to keep him from wrecking yours too.”

He took a deep breath.

“If you have to drop out of college you won’t be able to go back. Not for years. Lots of people say they’re going part time and get a job, but it doesn’t work, John. Things happen. Things come up. And they never finish. You have too much potential to waste that way. You have too much future.”

He felt cold. “You’re saying I should suck up to that…” He substituted an acceptable word to avoid a lecture. “Girlfriend of his for money.”

His mother reached across the table and put her hand over his. “I’m saying you should do whatever you need to do to get your tuition.”

“Maybe you can get financial aid or something,” Mel said.

“In the next six weeks?” John looked at her across a dining hall breakfast.

“Aren’t there emergency loans?”

“Capped at $800,” John said grimly. “I already looked. That would leave me with nearly six thousand dollars still to find.”

Mel grimaced. “Out of state tuition?”

“Out of state tuition. My legal residence is in Nevada.” He toyed with his scrambled eggs. “Aren’t you paying it? I thought you were from Arizona.”

“I’m on a full ROTC scholarship,” Mel said, taking a long drink of her coffee. “My rich Uncle Sam is paying.”

Maybe they would be better with more ketchup. “It takes two years to establish residency,” John said. “So if I drop out and work, I’ll be eligible for in state tuition in spring 1990. To get federal financial aid I have to be unclaimable on my dad’s taxes for two years, so I’d be eligible in fall 1990.”

“Two years out of school at least,” Mel said. “Don’t you have any rich relatives or something?”

“Other than my dad? No.” John looked across at her jaunty little hat. “Maybe I should just drop out and enlist or something. It would answer the question of where I’m going to live in six weeks anyhow.”

Mel shrugged. “You’d be better off trying for a ROTC scholarship.”

“I thought you had to be a freshman and apply when you got into school.”

She shook her head. “You can. That’s what I did. But you can crash into the Professional Officers Course at the beginning of junior year. You have to do boot camp the summer before, but if they want you, you can get a scholarship then. Then you’ve got two years of the POC before graduation, keep your grades up and your nose clean, and you get your commission.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Four years active duty, ten years reserves. Minimum.”

“And be an astronaut?”

Mel grinned. “Not likely. That’s more of a mid-career move. With poli sci instead of a sciences degree you’d probably be a paper pusher.”

“I’d rather be a fighter pilot.” Four years of that didn’t sound too bad.

She actually laughed. “Yeah, and I’d like to flap my arms really fast and fly around in circles! You have to get top marks on the AFOQT to even get qualified for TAC. That’s tactical aircraft, the most desirable designation for a cadet. I’m TAC.”

John raised an eyebrow. He’d thought she was sharp. “I thought girls couldn’t fly fighter planes.”

“Women can’t fly them in combat situations. It’s prohibited by Congress. But how long do you think that ban will last?” Mel looked at him over her coffee cup. “I’m twenty. It’s not going to last my whole career.”

“So can I take this test…thing?”

Her face sobered. “I don’t know. They gave it in October. I’m not sure they’re giving it again this semester. And we have to have our summer camp paperwork in by the beginning of break.” She shrugged and put her cup down. “You could ask Lt. Col. Raymond. He’s the detachment commander. I’ll go with you if you want. It can’t hurt to ask, can it?”

He sat in an empty classroom by himself the week before exams, listening to the clock tick, answering questions. After all the talk about it, John had thought it would be hard. But he was good with standardized tests, and some of the questions were really obvious. Ok, the military protocol ones weren’t, because he hadn’t been doing two years of this stuff like Mel had, but the math and history and science were easy. And the situational questions were really totally obvious. He turned the paper in and went to catch Mel for lunch.

“Ok?” she asked.

John slouched into a chair. “Yeah. It was just a test. I went in expecting the Kobayashi Maru.”

“You are a geek,” Mel said, unpinning her sandwich from the little frilled toothpicks.

“Yeah well.”

“I mean that as a compliment,” she said. “You have an inner geek. Underneath your preppish exterior.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“And you’re brooding again.”

“Sorry.” He gave Mel a forced smile. “I was just thinking that even if this works I still have to figure something out about the spring semester. I’m betting this whole scholarship thing depends on being a full time student in good standing.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“So I’m still going to have to suck up.” John closed his eyes. “Or just walk away.”

“And who does that hurt?” she asked gently.

“My mom.” He waited a second, a thought bubbling through. “Sucking up just hurts me.”

“Then I think you know what to do,” Mel said.

“Dad?” The phone connection sounded scratchy. No reason it should.

“John.”

He swallowed. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

There was a long pause. “That’s not good enough.”

“What?” John moistened his lips.

“I said that’s not good enough,” his dad said. “After the things you said to Linda. I’m sorry won’t hack it.”

He’d never considered this. He’d never imagined it. He was his dad’s son, a chip off the old block. His dad had been proud of his grades, proud that he was good enough to play halfback in high school. They did stuff together. They were tight.

Something constricted in his chest. “Dad?”

“You called her a bimbo and a whore. You had the whole lodge listening while you called her a slut, a home wrecker and a high class call girl. She cried for days. She said she’s never been so embarrassed and hurt in her life. I’m ashamed to call you my son.”

“What the hell did you think would happen when you brought her there?” John choked.

“I wanted you to meet her. I wanted you and David to see what a wonderful person she was. I wanted you to understand why I love her.”

“What about mom?”

There was a silence for a moment. “Your mom and I haven’t had a lot in common for years.”

“So what?” John demanded. “I mean, so she doesn’t like to ski. You had to dump her because Linda likes to ski?”

“Your mom is a nice person,” he said. “But she’s pedestrian.”

“Pedestrian?” From wherever it was he was talking from John could see his knuckles white on the receiver. “You’ve been married for twenty four years, and suddenly you decide she’s not good enough? You’ve got to trade up?”

“It wasn’t fulfilling me personally anymore, and that’s the way it is. Your mom accepts that this marriage is over. You need to, too.”

He couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t think what to say. There weren’t any words in his head.

“Someday, John, you’ll reach the point in your life where you realize that it’s time to shake things up. That you’ve taken on responsibilities that are nothing but burdens. That you’re not getting a good return on your investment.”

“We’re just bad investments to you.”

“You boys are good kids. But life’s not about having kids. It’s not that fulfilling for men. Motherhood may be some kind of biological imperative for women, but men don’t really get anything out of it. You’ll understand that someday.”

“I see.” He was surprised his voice was perfectly even.

“You will. You’ll get it when you’re forty. That’s why I’ve told you to always use a rubber. Don’t get some girl knocked up and get stuck with a burden you can’t get rid of. Lots of girls are after bright young men.”

“Yeah.”

“I expect you know that already, right, John?”

“Oh yeah.” As if. Why was it so freaking cold?

“Listen, you come apologize to Linda. I want you to tell her how sorry you are, and I want you to make it good. And then if she agrees to it, I’ll pay your spring tuition. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

His dad chuckled. “Chip off the old block, John. You’ve got a hard nose, just like your old man. You’ll grovel and beg if it will get you the dime. Don’t blame you. It’s smart. It’s always smart to show your neck when you’re the beta dog.”

“When do you want me to come?”

“Day after Christmas? Think you can drive to Sundance? Linda and I are planning Christmas on the slopes.”

“Sure,” John said. The weather might be bad. But he’d have to go anyhow. It couldn’t be that bad. “I’ll see you, Dad.”

“Knock, knock.”

John looked up from where he sat on the floor of his room, surrounded by coursepacks.

Mel stood in the doorway wearing a little black sweater. “You busy?”

“Studying.”

“I see that.” She came in and shut the door behind her, came and sat down on the floor, moving papers around to make room. She held out a package. “I brought you a Christmas present.”

It looked pretty big, wrapped up in red paper with holly leaves on it. “Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band Live, the complete collection? Oh man, I’ve been wanting this so much!” For a moment that was the only thing on his mind, how great the present was. And then… “I didn’t get you anything.”

Mel shrugged. “I figured. You can’t afford it right now, not knowing whether you’ll even be here next semester. Don’t worry about it. I just thought it might cheer you up.”

“It’s great, Mel. It’s just what I wanted and I didn’t think I should get it because… But it’s just what I wanted. There’s some great stuff on here. Really great.”

She smiled and leaned over, turning the LP boxed set. “I thought you’d like the live versions. I know you’ve got a bunch of albums, but this is really complete.” She was sitting right next to him, and when she leaned forward he could see the edge of her bra, the slight rounding of her breasts.

“You’re really great,” he said. John took a deep breath. “You’re kind of my best friend right now.”

She looked thoughtful. “You’re a really good friend too, John.”

“I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

His shoulder touched hers, and it was just a turn of the head to kiss her, to feel her all warm and soft and startled. Curious. Assessing.

And then she drew away, a sad expression on her face.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

Mel shut her eyes and when she opened them again he thought he saw tears there. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t know that you… I thought we were just friends and I didn’t mean to make you think that…”

“What’s the matter? Is it somebody else?” She’d never said anything about a boyfriend. Maybe she had a boyfriend back in Arizona. Maybe she was having this long distance thing and she’d just never mentioned it and …

Mel took a deep breath. She looked like he thought he had on the phone with his father. “I don’t want you to hate me.”

“I won’t hate you,” he said. “I mean, if there’s some guy in Arizona or at another school…”

“I’m only into girls.” Her face was white.

“Oh.” He opened his mouth and shut it again. “But you don’t do lesbian things. I mean I don’t see you hanging around with the student group or taking women’s studies or…” He ran out of things that he thought lesbians might do.

“Because I’m in the Air Force!” Mel shouted at him. “John, do you have no sense? Do you have any idea what would happen if I got caught?”

“You’d lose your scholarship? A dishonorable discharge?”

Mel grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Having to repay four years out of state tuition is least of my worries. Try two years in Fort Leavenworth as a sex offender for crimes against nature. It’s a prison sentence, John. If you actually get caught after commissioning.”

“Then why the hell are you doing this? This is California…” There were a lot of lesbians in California. That kind of went without saying.

“Because I want to be an astronaut. And the way to be an astronaut is through the Air Force. I want to be an astronaut more than anything else in the world, and nothing is going to stop me from getting there.” Her voice was low and intense. “I’m TAC. I’m good. And I’m going to make it.” Mel blinked. “And now I’ve told you. I’ve put it all in your hands. I never tell anybody.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody,” John said.

She looked at him, and there was something familiar in that quirk of her mouth, an expression he’d seen in the mirror. “Good way to get back at me for turning you down.”

“I’d never do that. I’m your friend.”

“Seriously?”

“No, never.” He patted her hand awkwardly. “Never. I promise. I’ll never tell anybody. We’re friends. Friends stick together. There’s got to be something in life you can count on.”

“Yeah.”

Mel still looked like she was going to cry, and he hugged her. Not you know, boyfriend hug. Just friend hug. “You can count on me.”

“I do,” she said. She saw something in the papers around her, reached for it as he let go. “What’s that?”

“Oh. My scores.” He would have taken it, but she’d already opened the envelope.

“Jesus, John.” Mel unfolded it, skimming all of it. “You’re in the 99th percentile on the AFOQT. Do you have any idea how rare that it?”

“It means 99 guys out of a hundred do worse,” he said.

“It means you’re going to get approved for camp,” Mel said. “Lt. Col. Raymond will take you for sure. You’ll get a scholarship next fall if you want it. It means you might get rated TAC.”

“It’s kind of cool, isn’t it?”

Mel looked at him keenly. “It hasn’t sunk in, has it? With all the shit you’ve got going on?”

“I guess not.”

“This is the last time you grovel,” she said. “You go make nice this semester, and you’ll never have to grovel to your dad again. You won’t have to worry about paying for school, and you’ll have a job when you graduate. You can tell him off if you want to. Like, in May.”

“Yeah.” It ought to make him feel better, but it didn’t.

“And you’ll be twenty in May, right? It’s not like you’re a kid. He can’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah.” That would feel good in May, probably. It just seemed like a lifetime away. A lot further than the day after Christmas.

Mel put the paper in her lap, took his hands. “Look, John. We all make compromises with life. We have to. I have to suck it up and not date if I want to be an astronaut. And you have to suck it up and deal with your dad one more semester. Or we can walk away. That’s the choice. We can walk. But you and me, I think we’d rather fly.”