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deck.
Chase’s whoops permeated the humid night air as he shot off the diving board
for a cannonball.
    “Man, I don’t get that guy,” Xander said.
    Adam understood Xander’s comment. He wanted to know how
Chase had managed to shake off the events of the evening and be caterwauling in
the pool with his buddies by midnight. All of the soldiers faced death on a
regular basis, both as a target and taker of life. For most, the responsibility
weighed heavily. They were prone to seeking isolation and quiet in their off
hours. Some went to a monkish extreme like Xander, but Chase took it to the
opposite degree. Adam shrugged in response to Xander’s comment. He had his own
head to wade through without delving into Chase’s too.
    “Where are you two lovebirds headed?” A shout came from the
pool deck. “Get your butts over here. We have many beers with your names on
them.”
    Xander ignored the catcalls and continued next to him in
silence. Adam felt his responsibility as team leader. He was a model for both
missions and downtime.
    “Going to spar,” he called back, but did not slow down his
gait. He hoped the others would take the hint and give them privacy. Impromptu
matches often became rowdy competitions with money thrown down. He wasn’t in
the mood. He sought quiet and concentration for sparring with Xander. His hint
didn’t take. He heard the sluice of water and the slaps of wet feet on concrete
as Chase and crew exited the pool. “Shit, we got company,” he muttered to
Xander.
    “Let them watch.” Xander shrugged. “Unless you’re scared of
losing your authority when they see me wipe the floor with your pretty face?”
    “My money’s on Adam.” Someone’s voice carried through the
night air.
    He continued walking toward the gym. He was anxious to feel
the cool bite of air-conditioning and get started before the audience grew
larger.
    “Adam’s good, but Xander could best him,” Gavin said.
    “No shit?” Amazed murmurs filled the air. It sounded like
some of the college-aged kids were home visiting for the summer.
    He wasn’t surprised. Xander kept to himself and rarely
fought. He stayed in shape running the trails alongside the Potomac. If he ever
left the Program, he could open his own martial arts training studio. Most of
his cohort knew of Xander’s prodigious and mad-scary skills. They took one look
at his blank, icy-blue eyes and knew to stay back at least fifty feet. Only
Adam got close and caught rare glimpses of Xander’s emotions and offbeat sense
of humor.
    When necessity forced Adam to leave his mom and move back
into the Beltsville compound at age fifteen, he’d met Xander, who had arrived
two weeks later, escorted by his heavy-handed, demanding father. They’d been
stuck together as dorm mates, both outsiders. The room remained as quiet as a
morning following a snowstorm for the first three months of living together.
The two boys spoke only when necessary. Adam hadn’t been sure Xander even knew
his name.
    But then his quiet roommate had done the unexpected. Xander
had covered for him when he’d taken an unauthorized off-campus jaunt to visit
his younger brother and mother. But he’d been caught and both boys had been
slapped with kitchen duty and an extra five-mile daily run as punishment for
lying. One morning while up to their armpits in carrot peelings, a strong bond
of friendship formed. Sure, they’d never gone girly and shared their innermost
thoughts. Xander didn’t know Adam had a younger brother. No one did. And he
only had hints of Xander’s early life with his dad. They operated on more of a
need-to-know basis.
    Adam eyed his friend with a sidelong glance as they reached
the gym’s steel doors. He shook off his maudlin thoughts and swallowed the
anger that the administration wanted him to match and mate. Usually there was a
choice, or Shep went about it more stealthily. Part of him was relieved his mom
was no longer alive to see him strong-armed into matching.