“Give it back,” she said.
“Whatcha gonna do about it, Taz? Aren’t you on
probation already for fighting in the quad?”
She was, and it was the only reason she hadn’t already
smashed his smug face in. “You mean for that time last
week I beat you so bad you ran crying for your mama?
Awfully brave now that you know I can’t do it again, aren’t
you?”
One of the thugs covered up a laugh with a cough and
Pedro sent him a deadly glare.
“You wish, niña pequeña,” he said. “You’re so little you
can’t even reach high enough to-”
He stopped mid-sentence, and a look of apprehension
crossed his face. Taz frowned in confusion, and then let out
a yelp of surprise as she felt herself being lifted off her feet
and plopped unceremoniously onto Up’s shoulders.
“Is this high enough for you?” he drawled.
Pedro and his crew turned tail and ran. Taz chortled in
delight and hung on for dear life as Up gave chase and most
of the quad turned to watch. They yelled together, a
wordless battle cry, as their prey headed straight for the
Academy dumpsters.
Up’s combat boots felt heavier than usual as he left the
Admiral’s office that night, the mirth of the day’s events a
distant memory now. He wasn’t heading in any particular
direction, but soon found himself in the gym. It was nearly
deserted at this time of night, except for Taz, of course. She
stood with her back to him and one of the practice
ceremonial rifles in her hands. She was muttering to herself
as she alternately spun, tapped, and clumsily shouldered it.
As he approached, the rifle fell with a clatter to the floor.
“You’ve got to find your rhythm,” Up said, and she
jumped.