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CAP NO GOWN
I t was the end of term. And the end of an era for me at The Academy. It was June. The sun had chased the clouds away, and everyone was basking under the glow of another graduation of stunningly prepared CITs and cadets. I made the transition from the CIT program to CAP (Cadet Academy Program) with very little fanfare from the Academy and zero acknowledgment from my peers, who considered me to be a shoo-in. (They weren’t wrong.)
My friend Jess from GAP, a handful of Lizzie’s mean-girls, and Taz and half his gang made the cut. Those who didn’t received a formal graduation ceremony and headed off to Ivy League, West Point, or an unspecified military post, with a handshake and well-wishes from The Academy. The cream was heading to “Es-Ef” to celebrate. I was invited along but declined for a few reasons: one, I was a year older so always felt like everyone’s big sister. Two, I wasn’t allowed outside the premises unescorted by my mentor. Three, my mentor was returning from an ongoing mission in Mexico City. And wanted to see me.
This, in a text on my new cell phone. Yep, I was finally the proud owner of one of those. But it was monitored. I know—shocker. I was only allowed to call Academy personnel (if I had problems), Ranger (if it was an emergency), or home. And that was limited to two times per week for ten minutes. Mikey and I split the time fifty-fifty.
I wanted to and didn’t want to see Ranger in equal measure. “The Incident” followed by the “The Big Apology” and the “Big Reveal” got things awkward—awkward-er between us. Because I, of course, had a million questions about my mother and his father, but he couldn’t or wouldn’t talk about it, which made me angry all over again. Which made him angry at me for being angry with him.
Sigh. Always the same with us . . . one step forward, two steps back.
He took his steps back into Missions, while I proceeded forward with my CIT training. Now that that was over, I suppose my mentor wanted to check in on his mentee.
My stomach was a nervous rumble all day, but Ranger was a no-show with a no-apology on Saturday. So Sunday I didn’t wait around for him, planning a day with Stewart and Mikey. Unfortunately, that didn’t include swimming on account of my healing skin needing to avoid chlorine. So while Stew and Mikey swam, I hit the oxygen chambers. We were going to meet up for lunch and then play ping-pong in the rec room.
Ping-pong grew into a mass tournament that I had to sit out of on account of my ribs protesting the ratcheting up of skill level. Could nobody play for funsies around here? This grew into everyone making plans to ferry to Angel Island. No one had to get up in the morning for class because graduating CITs and cadets enjoyed a full week off before beginning the new term. So excursions, that didn’t include me, were planned.
The familiar feeling of being left out of the normal washed over me. But I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself this time. I felt sorry for Mikey. He’d been living in California for almost two years and still hadn’t been to the beach. So I got even by cheating on my monthly plan, allowing Mikey to call Andrew every night. What was my mentor gonna do? Take my phone away? I had no one to call but him. And he wasn’t calling me , so I wasn’t calling him .
Monday morning dawned, and with it clouds fat with rain and still no word from the “bozz-man.” Mikey was getting whiny. I was getting angry. I threw off my covers, on my trainers and a hoody, grabbed headphones and my cell (in case he called) and headed out into the kind of day that fit my mood. My intention was to pound out some aggression on the wet flagstone, so I avoided the semi-conscious Mess Hall. Instead, I loped past the great Gothic inspired Howard Hall, and just made it past the clubby-looking GAP building when I decided the pounding in my side was outdoing the pounding of my aggressions.
Gah. By the time flagstone hit sidewalk, I was doubled over, gripping my side. Stupid. I leaned over my knees, breathing in mist. A helpful CIT offered his assistance, which I declined but should’ve taken. Shoot. I could barely move without pain radiating up my side and back into my lungs. So I used my handy-dandy cell to call Smitty, Ranger’s favored SAP (Service Academy Provider). He had him programmed into my phone. Ten minutes of soaking up wet fog, and my chariot arrived.
Well that excursion was an epic failure . As we zoomed back across campus, ambling CITs dodged around us, and I tried hard not to feel embarrassed. I thought how when Ranger got back, I was gonna tell Mikey to turn it on for him. He totally deserved it. And I was talking about both of them. We arrived at the glass and stone facade of my building, and Smitty inquired about my health and whether I needed assistance. I declined with a cheery “thanks for the ride” before stepping out, gingerly.
Hopefully, Mikey had already roused himself and was ready for breakfast. He still had class. Looked like I would spend the day in my new fortress of solitude—the botanical garden. As I squeaked down the hallway, I felt him behind the closed door, his presence being even heavier than the solid oak that kept us all safe and contained.
My heart picked up again, and my stomach did a weird flip that I attributed to the excitement one feels when seeing someone of importance in their life that they hadn’t seen for a while. And then I thought about the words that just popped into my head: someone of importance in my life . There were just a handful of people who could fit that bill—Ranger was one of them.
I was in the doorway now and could hear him yucking it up with Mikey, who sounded so jubilant I half expected Mariachis to come trumpeting out of the closet. A smile sprang to my face unbidden. I punched in my code, forgetting I was mad and in pain, and cracked the door to see two dark-headed boys wrestling around on the floor. They both stopped mid-roll, Mikey on top of Ranger like a short stack and a big stack. Something flickered around in my consciousness for half a second before it got ate up by Ranger’s expectant eyes finding mine.
I fought a smile and lost. The way he was looking at me—dark, haggard face brightening by the sight of my arrival. He flashed his teeth and his dimples came with.
“Well, looks like the Kitty-Kat decided to come home out of the rain,” he greeted.
I didn’t think my smile could grow anymore. I commandeered it into obedience. “You’re late,” I accused, stepping in coolly and closing the door.
His eyes zeroed in on my hand. I dropped it from my side, and his smile followed suit. “Unavoidable,” he said.
I must’ve still looked unconvinced because he followed that up with: “I took the red-eye home after a very glamorous, very long, very boring party at the Presidio last night. I pretty much left the party and got on a plane to come here.”
“Oh,” I replied.
Mikey hopped on Ranger’s back and landed a loose slap on his cheek. “Yower face feewls wough.” He began rubbing his hand back and forth against his cheek.
Ranger chuckled. “I feel rough.”
Something stirred in my chest. “You look rough,” I announced around a smile, advancing forward to join the welcome party.
He made a face at me. I decided I liked that face: a little rueful, a little playful, maybe a whif of self-consciousness. I slouched down carefully and sat across from them Indian style. We stared at each other for a long moment . . . until I couldn’t any more. I always lost staring contests with Ranger.
“Hey, Katie, feewl Wanger’s cheek. It feewls wike sandpapuh. Remembuh sandpapuh?” Mikey continued sawing his hand across Ranger’s jaw.
I laughed. “I sure do. I spent two whole days sanding down Andrew’s old crib for you because Mama wanted to paint it white.”
“Feewl it.” Mikey grabbed my hand and brought it to Ranger’s face.
Ranger was lying on his side, one hand propping up his head. He looked like he could go down any second, but suddenly his eyes were more alert. A flicker of something akin to hunger flashed in those infamous blues before he rearranged his features into a wry expression. Something wobbled around inside me. I wondered how tough things got for him down there, how dangerous his mission was. I never used to wonder. I rubbed my palm across the scruff of his jaw, enjoying the rough texture before feeling along the sharp edge—good measure. And then I snatched my hand back.
Gah! What am I doing?
Ranger’s lips curled into a knowing smile before he let out a sigh. He ran a hand through his hair and hoisted himself up. I noticed his hair wasn’t so close-cropped now, a little wave giving it some new definition. He was a couple of weeks late for his haircut, and a couple of months late fulfilling a promise to me about a Mikey field trip.
“I should probably go shower and hit the sack,” he announced, almost as if he were admitting defeat to the power of sleep.
“Okay.” I felt the immediate letdown that Mikey voiced.
“Don’t go yet, Wanger! Pwease!” He gripped Ranger’s power arm, and Ranger performed a bicep curl with Mikey attached. “You just got hewer,” Mikey reminded him face to face, his giggles morphing into a whine.
Ranger dropped Mikey back down. “I know, buddy. But if I don’t leave now, I might pass out on your bed. Then where would you sleep tonight?”
You could almost see a light go on in Mikey’s head as he came up with a resolution to all our problems. “You can sweep on my bed, and I’ll sweep with my sistuh.” He spun around to me. “It’s okay. Wight, Katie?”
I was just about to go along with it when Ranger suggested, “How about you can sleep on your bed, and I’ll sleep with your sister?”
Mikey howled at that one. “You’wer way too big to sleep with Katie, but we could problee fit, if we don’t wiggle awound too much.”
I laughed like it was a joke but couldn’t look Ranger in the eye all of a sudden, in case it wasn’t.
Ranger withdrew his arm from Mikey’s hold. “Actually, buddy, I really do have to go. I have to get some shut-eye because I have a couple of important meetings later today and tomorrow. But . . .” He let that linger in the air, until I lifted my gaze back up to his. “I have a surprise for you. And your sister.” He shot me a smile, and I drew in a sharp breath of expectation.
Mikey’s mouth comically dropped open. “A supwise? For me? ” His forefinger hit sternum. “Is it Batman sheets?”
Ranger huffed out an amused chuckle. “Nope. Even better.”
“Is it one of those Spiduh-Man web-slingers that you wear on your hands?”
“Nope.”
“Is it one of the—”
“How about I just tell you, in the interest of saving time?”
“Okay, Wanguh!” Mikey’s face beamed joy. He was staring up at Ranger with unabashed hero worship.
I felt a pang, remembering my other brother doing that exact thing to another elite cadet. The one I tried very hard not to think of everyday.
“How about I tell you half, since you’re a half-pint?” Ranger teased.
“ What ?” Mikey scowled. “No way, Jose!”
“Way. You’re getting half now and half tomorrow . . . that way it’s like two surprises.”
“Okay, Wanguh!” Mikey quickly agreed and then began doing the pee-pee dance.
“Tomorrow . . . I’m taking . . .” Ranger dramatically drew out the suspense, “you and your sister out on a little”—he picked up Mikey and shook him like mad—“ field trip! ”
“Yay!” Mikey threw his arms around Ranger’s neck, attaching himself like one of those carnival monkeys with the Velcro hands and feet. “Thankyou! Thankyou! Thankyou!” he screamed in delight.
My face melted at this sight. I managed to pick myself off the floor without wincing. “Yes. Thankyou.Thankyou.Thankyou,” I seconded, going in for my own Ranger hug.
I was so grateful I didn’t even care that he didn’t hug me back.