And now she was looking directly at me.
“Midshipman Parker,” she said.
My spine straightened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come with me.”
A few heads turned. More whispers followed.
I stepped forward, keeping my face calm.
Behind me, I heard someone mutter, “What did she do?”
I knew the voice.
Bradley Knox.
Second-class midshipman. Confident. Popular. Loud in the way insecure people often were. He had been one of the first to call me weak during Plebe Summer. One of the first to laugh when I stumbled. One of the first to shove me outside that social event while his friends recorded it.
I did not look back.
Captain Hayes waited until I reached her side, then turned and walked toward the vehicle. I followed two steps behind.
The ride across campus lasted less than three minutes, but it felt longer.
She did not speak.
Neither did I.
