Page 29 of Honeysuckle
Figuring out the mystery that was Dean Tucker wasn’t on it.
“You like hot dogs?” Cael wandered up behind me in the doorway of the mess hall, keeping his distance but standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
“Sure.” I shrugged and started toward one of the tables. I slid into a seat next to him and looked at the bowl in the center of the table. “What the fuck is that?”
“Hot dogs,” Van chirped and leaned over the bowl, scooping out a heaping spoonful of noodles and wieners.
“It was Mitchell’s turn to make lunch.” Arlo stared at the bowl. “He only knows how to make Kraft Dinner and hot dogs, just…eat it.”
“It looks like toxic waste,” I muttered, taking the spoon from Van but handing it to Cael. I watched them all eat from the bowl like they actually enjoyed it before my eyes wandered, looking around for Dean, but his hulking frame wasn’t at any of the tables.
It was weird how often he missed meals but no one called him out for it. Yet if I missed one I’d be hunted down and hogtied. One by one everyone finished their food and left the table, either to help clean or to prepare for the afternoon's exercises. Eventually it was just me, picking away at the gross, swollen sliced pork with a grimace on my face. I forced myself to eat half a bowl of lunch before giving up and finally pushing it away.
“What? Is our food not good enough for you now?” Todd snapped from behind me as he walked by.
“Just not hungry,” I said, in a defeated attempt to keep the peace.
“Sure, or…” Todd leaned over the table. "You’re a picky asshole just finding reasons to cause trouble.”
“Listen, Todd, the only person causing trouble right now is you.” I turned my head to look up at him and sighed. “Please just fuck off.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask–why the hell are you here? You clearly don’t want to be. The only reason we can come up with is that you’re an inside man trying to ruin our season.”
“An inside man?” I laughed. “You’ve been watching too many Mission Impossible movies.” I sighed and pushed to get up from the table, but a set of hands shoved me back onto the chair. I snarled and they lifted quickly but the chair was surrounded by a few more of the lesser-known members of the Hornets. Baker, Taylor and Matthenson all hovered around Todd like some sort of half-wit gang, with their arms crossed and scowls on their dumb faces.
It was a win-lose situation. On the one hand, I knew all their names, and on the other, I was probably about to get my ass kicked by them.
“You’re going to tell us why the fuck you’re here, Logan.” Todd looked ready to fight no matter what I said—and that alone was enough to raise my hackles.
“You needed a pitcher.” I gave him the most basic answer with a smile, knowing that it would drive him over the edge.
“We had back-up. It had nothing to do withneed. Why the fuck are you here?” He repeatedly slammed his hand on the table.
“Oooh, some of you Hornets sting after all.” I looked him up and down. “You want to know why I’m here, Todd?” I rose slowly from the table.
“Wouldn’t have asked the question if I knew the answer, prick.” Todd stepped back as I swung my leg around and stepped toward him. The other three tightened the circle but showed no signs of action as Todd went on guard.
“I’m here because I picked out the biggest fucking meat head on our team and I beat the shit out of him so badly he rotted in a hospital bed for three days.” I dropped my tone and the words came out tight but smooth off my tongue, like knives to Todd’s seemingly tough exterior.
“Yeah fucking right,” Todd looked me over. “You’re the pussy that got laid out by a girl,” he said and I shoved him then,hard.He tumbled backwards into a table and scrambled to his feet.
He came at me with his hands raised but missed his swing and lost his balance again, slamming into Baker and needing their help to keep him upright. His anger boiled out of control, rage licking at his usually goofy features, and I could see him losing himself. The weaker their grasp on their static-charged emotions, the sloppier they got.
They needed to learn how to throttle their feelings; to use them in a productive manner.
When he lunged forward again, I didn’t hold back. I brought my hand back and drove it into his stomach as he reached for me, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him fighting for his next breath.
The other three weren’t having it though; they all jumped on the chance to make up for Todd’s shortcomings. Baker had slipped behind me in the jumble, and I could feel his arms slip beneath mine before I could move away. His hands dug into the back of my neck as he held me still. I wriggled to get free, but with my arms pinned upward I didn’t have the leverage as Todd composed himself and came at me again.
He pulled back and slammed a fist into my face. The old break in my nose lit up and brought stinging tears to my eyes. I kicked my foot out and shoved him back, but the other two were quick to take his place. I prepared myself for the pain but it never came. Dean wrapped Taylor up in a head lock and grabbed Matthenson by the scruff of his sweater throwing him backward.
“Cut it out!” He warned in a deep voice. “Get the hell out of here before I fucking have you all suspended!” He turned on Todd, who thought about throwing another punch, but Dean squared his shoulders and seemed to double in size, hovering over him in a menacing fashion I never knew Dean had in him. “You and I are going to have a conversation later about your weird need to mark your territory.” He pushed on Todd’s chest. “Now leave, and take Baker with you.”
He was contemplating taking on Dean, I could see it all over his features. Todd squared up, his shoulders nowhere near as large as Dean’s, and it was almost laughable. Dean watched him with vicious intent, not backing down for anything.
It was one of the few times he had actually looked like a captain since we’d arrived at camp.
“Yes, Cap.” Todd nodded, after a solid minute of silent glaring between them. “Come on,” he said, waving off Baker, and the grip on my arms finally loosened.
