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“Surprise, assholes,” came the loud and demanding voice of Sheena, causing Black Sheep to lose her balance. She’d been attempting to balance on one hand –for no real reason other than to prove to herself that she could– when the door had slammed open. Now, she was forced to look up from the ground as Sheena and Gray entered the dorms, a navy duffle bag slung over the latter’s shoulder, mysteriously clanking.
“Hello to you, too,” Antonio’s voice rang from his bed, where he and Jean-Paul were looking at the small artifacts Cleo had asked them to replicate as part of her last few tests. Around them, the herd had thinned. Where there had once been 40 students, now only 20 remained, and six in their room. Black Sheep turned to see Mimebomb in the corner, quietly reading, though she knew he was listening. He was always listening.
“What’s this about, Sheena?” Black Sheep asked, standing up and crossing her arms. They were almost at their graduation date and the last thing any of them needed was a reason to get held back a year.
“Calm down, Lambkins ,” the American laughed in her ‘I’m enjoying this way too much’ kind of way that drove Black Sheep up the wall, “it’s the end of the year, we’re all at the tops of our classes, and, most importantly, I’m bored. We’re having a party.” As if on cue, Gray dropped the duffle bag onto his bed with a distinct thunk, and unzipped the top to reveal its contents. Various bottles and cans shifted inside, looking just as out of place with each other as the students were.
“Gray, what even is that?” She asked, looking up at her friend. Because that’s what they’d become in the year that they’d known each other. Friends. Good friends, even.
“Don’t worry,” he grinned with his usual laid-back grin, showing teeth the way a dog does before it bites, “just something to keep everything interesting.”
“Where did you even get it?” She tried again.
“We’re in crime school,” Sheena cut in, plucking one of the bottles with a cork stopper from the bag and using her sharpened claws to open it with a pop. The scent drifted out and Black Sheep almost gagged, “they couldn’t really expect us not to do some petty theft while we’re here, right?”
“Cleo and Maestro each have staches of wine, brandy, and whiskey delivered every once in a while,” Gray explained in a much more generous way as Jean-Paul went over to inspect the wine, making a face of approval after taking a sip, “Coach has a stash of beers in her office and Bellum keeps tequila and pre-made margaritas in the lab.”
“Those words mean nothing to me,” she said sternly, reminded once again how little she actually knew about the real world. One of these days it was going to make her snap.
“It’s just different words that all mean alcohol,” he explained patiently, and she wasn’t sure if she was thankful for him taking the time to explain or mad that, even though she doubts it’s how he meant it, his words made her feel yet again like she was the little sister of the group, the one that weaseled her way into the group and everyone just let tag along.
“What he’s trying to say,” Sheena cut in yet again, “is that we’re going to have a good time tonight.”
What Black Sheep, and she assumes everyone else on the isle, tended to forget was that, above all, the new recruits were still teenagers. Kids. Kids with hormones and bad ideas and petty rivalries who were missing out on their real lives and cooped up on an island with nobody but each other.
“We’re playing truth or dare!” Sheena announced abruptly. The group had moved outside onto the beach, trying to tell each other to be quiet whenever they heard faculty members walk by but ultimately ending up louder than they had been in the first place. At this point, Black Sheep wasn’t even sure if the staff cared.
The boys around her all cheered as if it were the best idea they’d ever heard and pushed each other out of the way to sit on the blankets that they’d brought out with them. She moved over too, much slower, and sat down next to Gray, careful not to spill the can of what Antonio told her was called rosé.
“I don’t know how to play this game,” she mumbled to him, trying to school her features into not giving away her inexperience.
He was much less cautious. “Oh…” His eyes were wide and looking into them she knew he was a thousand miles away, “shit, okay, okay,” he looked between the other members of their group, all equally giggly and inebriated, “it’s pretty simple, really. Someone asks you if you want to do truth or dare, and then you either answer a question truthfully,” his accent seemed so much thicker than it had been an hour ago, “or you do a dare.”
“How do they know if you’re lying, though?” She asked, not really knowing why.
“Guess we’ll just have to trust you, then,” he grinned, bopped her on the nose with the lip of the clear bottle he was holding, and faced the group. “Who first?”
“Me!” Antonio said with more enthusiasm than Black Sheep had ever seen him with, “Mimebomb,” he addressed their silent friend, who was the only person except for Black Sheep who wasn’t already completely without their senses, “truth or dare?”
The mime made a big show of thinking about his response, true to himself as ever, before exaggeratedly drawing an X over his heart and holding up his right hand. Truth it was.
“Um,” Antonio thought for a second, clearly at a loss for ideas, before turning to Jean-Paul and discussing. Black Sheep just watches with wide eyes, never seen this process before and eager to see how it ends. Finally, Antonio resurfaces. “What was the last word you spoke out loud?”
It's such a weird question, and she doesn’t know why he would ask it, but for some reason, it really gets the rest of the group intrigued. Mimebomb takes another second to comically tap his chin before going through the whole pantomimed process of lighting a match, tossing it on the ground, then staring in mocking horror, waving his arms around, and mouthing fire!
Gray lets out a sharp laugh next to her, tearing open a bag of chips that also came in the duffle bag. She doesn’t know how he got them, junk food is a very big no-no on the isle. “I have to know the story behind that sometime.” The mime just taps his nose cheekily, saving it for another day.
He points to Sheena, who says “dare” without a second of hesitation. Instead of wasting wondering what to ask, Mimebomb steps immediately into action. He tugged his uniform, then pointed at Sheena with one hand, Gray with the other, and crossed them. Switch.
Even Jean-Paul let out a chuckle, much to the annoyance of Sheena.
“Fine,” she mumbled, getting up to head behind a tall-ish rock nearby, “but only because I know I’ll look better in his suit than he does.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, kitty,” Gray laughed, ever the class clown, as he followed a similar path behind a bush, “you’ve got some big shoes to fill, is all I’ll say.”
In all fairness, Sheena did look good. They’d all brought their weapons with them (standard protocol) and as she experimentally did a few moves with the crackle rods, mostly just to make fun of Gray, even Black Sheep had to admit that she was pulling it off.
Gray’s attempt had… less luck. As it turns out, even the elastic fabric used in their suits only stretched so far.
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, trying to get the Tigress mask on with the claws and failing spectacularly, “I think that Tigress should consider going with the deep v-neck look. It’s flattering.” It wasn’t.
“You look Pierce Brosnan at the end of Mamma Mia,” Antonio pitched in thoughtfully, pouring two small glasses –had Sheena called the shot glasses earlier?– with what looked like water but smelled like piss.
“Who?” Gray asked at the same time Black Sheep said “what?”.
“You know,” Antonio looked around, asking for backup, “Mamma Mia? The movie? At the end where all the dads come out in the jumpsuits too?” He half-heartedly did a dance move that Black Sheep thought was supposed to be in reference to disco.
Mimebomb nodded eagerly, joining in with what looked to be a pre-choreographed routine. Even Sheena smirked, quietly asking Jean-Paul if that was the one with “the dads” whatever that meant. Black Sheep made a mental note to add that to the ever-growing list of things to ask Player about.
Eventually, they all settled down, and she felt keenly aware of the fact that Gray’s knee was pressed against hers, and even more aware of the fact that he seemed completely oblivious to it.
“Alright,” Sheena said, shifting on the ground, clearly trying to adjust to the new suit. After a second her tiger eyes found Gray, and she lazily pointed a crackle rod at him, tapping the button just to make sparks dance on the end, “Graham,” she said in a sugar-sweet tone, “truth or dare?”
“Hmm,” he thought, tapping his chin with the claws before realizing that was a big mistake, “I’m feeling particularly share-y, I think. Truth.”
“ Boring, ” Sheena rolled her eyes and leaned back onto a hand. Black Sheep could see the mischievous cogs turning in her head. She’d always excelled in Maelstrom’s Psychological Warfare classes. “Okay, how about this one: body count. Go.”
It was quiet for a second, but she felt like she had to say something.
“Like,” Black Sheep looked worriedly up at Gray, “like murder ?”
It took all of two seconds before they all started losing their shit. So much for keeping low-profile. Even Mimebomb was wiping away fake tears and tossing them over his shoulder.
“What?” She demanded. She could cream any of them in hand-to-hand combat, outmaneuver any of them on a stealth mission, and walk circles around any of them in practical knowledge about anthropology or geography. All that being said, she’d never felt more like she wasn’t meant to be here. Like she was the weakest link in the chain, the runt of the litter that was better left for the cold than with the pack.
“She doesn’t mean like a hit-man body count, Lambkins,” Gray chuckled, clearly trying to tone it down for her pride and her pride alone, “it’s like, well, I mean,” suddenly his face was flushing and he looked to the group to help him out. Jean-Paul raised a bemused eyebrow, Antonio averted his gaze, and Sheena just laughed harder. Eventually, it was Mimebomb who explained with a gesture. Well, three gestures. Three very explicit gestures.
“Oh,” was all she said, her face flushing as red as her hair.
She looked down at the ground, not ashamed at herself, really, but just embarrassed enough to avert everyone else’s eyes for a hot second. She felt a comforting, familiar hand rest on her shoulder and she leaned just a bit into Gray’s touch. She didn't miss him holding up his other hand to show a number that she deliberately avoided seeing.
There was a low whistle from one of the other boys.
“Okay,” he said cheerfully, clearly trying to put the mood back where it was. He reached over and grabbed the two small glasses that Antonio had been pouring, handing one to her and keeping one for himself, downing it in one go. “Black Sheep,” he addressed her, then more familiarly, “Lambkins, the darling of V.I.L.E. Truth or dare?”
She tossed back the drink, and it tasted about as bad it smelled, but she appreciated the burn running down her throat. It matched her cheeks. “Truth.” She didn’t know if she could handle another embarrassment and it seemed like a dare was a faster route there.
“Well,” Gray said, pitching his voice high and bobbing his head, “who do you like? ” And that sent the group into yet another bout of laughter that she didn’t understand the root of. She politely smiled and let out a huff of air, begging the universe to not let them notice that she didn’t get the joke they thought was so funny.
“For real, though,” Gray said when they’d all calmed down, “full honesty,” he squinted at her jokingly, “I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Full honesty,” she said, glad to finally be able to say something she understood the meaning of.
“What’s your real name?”
That piqued everyone’s interest. Even Sheena, who’d been feigning boredom and glancing at her nails perked up at that. Names were a commodity on the isle, something that many people eagerly traded away at the first chance they got.
But not her.
Not Black Sheep.
She’d never been given that luxury.
Leave it to Gray to ask her the one question she couldn’t answer.
She couldn’t go through the experience of the odd one out twice in a minute. She couldn’t do that again. She was the strongest of all of them but she couldn’t.
So she ran.
She didn’t really plan to end up there. The helipad was one of the less heavily guarded places on the island, but it was also one of the most easily spotted. She felt like a sitting duck, waiting for someone to make a noise so she’d have another reason to run away yet again. She would be talking to Player if she hadn’t left her phone in the dorms. Instead, she was left alone with her thoughts, of instant replay memories of acting like the child they all already thought she was. She was mad at them for thinking that, but she was even more upset with herself for proving them right.
It took him all of five minutes to find her.
“Thought I’d find you up here,” Gray’s Australian accent poured into the silence, swallowing it up. She cast a quick glance at him, but did nothing more, returning her gaze to the horizon that blurred with the dark sea.
“Oh?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to her, “where else would you go?”
She just arched an eyebrow half-heartedly.
“Best view on the island,” he explained, gesturing to the ocean to prove his point, “‘course you’d want to go where you could see the furthest away.”
She smiled a bit at that, but kept her legs tucked close to her, kept her fists curled and ready to swing.
“It’s not your fault,” he said after a moment of silence, “none of it. I mean, you knew that already, but I just wanted to let you know. None of us are judging you,” he reconsidered, “okay, maybe I can’t speak for them. But I’m not. So what, you got a codename first? Just means you were ahead of the game, as usual.”
“It’s not just that,” she mumbled, finally looking up towards him, “I mean, I didn’t understand half of the things you guys were saying down there. It’s not something I’m used to, not knowing things.”
“Whatever,” he smiled lopsidedly, “you grew up different. I always knew you were in a league of your own.” Playfully, he ruffled her hair before she shooed his hand away. It felt nice, having the reassurance, but still demeaning. Still the tag-along little sister.
“You know you belong with us, right?” He asked, a touch more serious than they had just been, “You know that even if you don’t get our movie references or some jokes fly over your head, we’re still a team. We went in together and we’re going out together.” He stood up, extending a hand to her, asking her to go with him, “what do you say, operative Black Sheep?”
She didn’t take more than a second to take it, pulling him in for one of those boy-hugs she’d seen some of the other guys exchange. It felt right, like showing appreciation without getting too deep into emotional or even friendly territory.
They walked back to the beach together, and even as they sat back down and let the festivities continue, she felt more at ease. More secure.
Gray was right. Maybe she didn’t get all the jokes or understand all the slang. That was fine.
She was in a league of her own.