When I woke on Sunday in a sterile white-grey room with an ache to rival being hit by a truck, Kellen, Jackson and Jess berated me for fighting Drew. They looked tired, worried and angry, and nothing they said made much sense to me in my painkiller haze. In my groggy state, I wondered only why the boys were there.

"Why did you fight him?"

"I don't know." I mumbled, unable to make my tongue work the way I wanted it to. "I've seen him fight before, I figured it would be easy."

"What?" Jess near shrieked.

Jackson clamped a hand over her mouth. Kellen glared at me angrily, like he couldn't find words to express how stupid I'd been.

I shrunk in my bed, looking at the IVs taped to my hand. "Drew's like a firework. There's a big flash and then there's nothing. If you stay out of his way and keep moving long enough, he gets tired and sloppy and easy to beat. At least, that's how he's always fought. I didn't want to be the one to forfeit."

"He knew." Kellen said through clenched teeth. "He's been doing endurance training for weeks in the gym. Let's go Jacks, we've got a mess to clean up."

As he stormed out, I noticed he wore no shirt under his hoodie, and I flushed; it was his naked torso that had carried me out of the fight.

-.-

Sunday afternoon, I had an uncomfortable conversation with my father about what happened. Or at least, what he thought happened.

"Your boyfriend was expelled," Dad said, then chuckled humorlessly. "I'm told your friends really did him over. Tell them thanks for me. Please tell me he's your ex now."

Some genius told him Drew was my boyfriend! Which meant that Nicole Kemper, daughter of Greyson Kemper, action-star and patron saint of domestic violence victims, was now a domestic violence victim.

I set him straight quickly. "We weren't dating. He just couldn't stand that I had a better ranking than him in martial arts club..."

"Nicole, I told you to be careful with that. You know boys are no good at admitting a girl might be better than them, and with you being my daughter... Christ, your mother's going to kill me for allowing you to be part of that club. She's right. Dance is less violent."

I wished I'd let him continue thinking Drew was a boyfriend. It was certainly better than the one good parent I had basically telling me to turn down my light because boys can't handle a strong girl. Nevermind the fact that my father was the reason I was so strong.

-.-

For three days Jess stayed at my side in the hospital. Surprisingly, Kellen and Jackson—not some subling—brought our homework to us. But I could barely focus properly on my phone now that I'd been allowed to have it, let alone Trigonometry and the Spanish American War.

"Jess?"

She looked up from her homework.

"Can you explain this to me?" I showed her the Fight Night update on hijINKs that I'd been staring at for almost half an hour. "Why did the Hellhounds lose points for fight night?"

Flushing, she closed her book. "The draw was rigged, Nic. There were only two names in the bucket."

"But... Jason called all the other names?"

"They switched the buckets before your fight," Jess' words seemed too far-fetched.

"Kellen went over to tell Jason to call the fight, because well, you were getting murdered out there."

"I was not!" I protested in annoyance.

"You were at the end. Anyway, Kellen noticed there was a second bucket under the table and he completely flipped out. He didn't even bother telling Jason to call it, he just went running into the ring like a crazy person. Everyone went nuts!

They were all yelling about interference and automatic loss. Kellen and Jacks told everyone about the second bucket. It was beyond, Nicole, I've never seen anything like that. The Triad had to run out of there. I think Drew got his ass handed to him."

"Oh." I understood what she was saying, but there was so much that just didn't make sense to me.

Why Drew? Why me? Why did Jason do it? Why was Kellen going to call the fight? It didn't make sense—him calling it would have gotten us a lower score than if I had lost.

Three weeks before, I was wishing my life could be the main story, the interesting kind that people wanted to hear. Now I wasn't so sure. Things were easier when I was Thunderbird Nicole. When I didn't question.

While it's true, Fight Night—a Hijinks event—was the reason for this mess, Thunderbird Nicole would have looked to the Trifecta for permission to step down from the fight. Thunderbird Nicole wouldn't have been too proud to admit she couldn't do it. Thunderbird Nicole would have happily accepted their order of defeat and let Drew throw her out of bounds.

Stupid, stupid Real Nicole, you messed things up. This is your fault.

-.-

In the weeks after the Fight Night debacle, I tried to return to being the Nicole that the academy knew. Back to being obedient and unquestioning. At least until I figured out the right way to proceed. So, I pretended certain things hadn't happened, or hadn't been said to me. I buried myself in classwork, and Thunderbird assignments.

It was a month and half before I had a mission that required anything physical from me. Even then, it was my choice to climb the side of the boat house and sneak into the loft window, having tailed a bunch of sophomore Hellhounds there. I couldn't very well waltz in the front door after them, could I?

The Hellhounds, as always, were doing an amazing job of hiding this big prank. I'd been tailing the group for days and had no clue as to what, where or how, only that planning had started almost a month ago. The sophomore girls stood huddled together, cooing over pictures of one of their pets on a phone. Pets? Who cared? I wanted to know about the good stuff! I held my breath when the Triad entered the boat house, hoping this would shed some light.

"Are we prepared for operation Cottontail?"

The waiting sublings quickly stood at attention, nodding in unison as Katia's gaze fell on them. Cottontail? Where had I heard that before?

"Status report." Vivienne clarified.

One of the girls flushed and cleared her throat. "All weapons are ready and in working condition, LC Levinson. Well, ninety-eight are...two didn't make it. Routes to all release points have been secured and readied.

"How many release points is that?" Katia's tone was bored as she drilled the girl that spoke.

"Um, General Katia, you're the one who told us who the ten targets were."

"Of course she knows that, you Nitwits! She was just checking that you're all on the same page. Seriously, Fur-brains, just go and be ready for the release command tonight. Like tonight, tonight, ok?" Vivienne's genuine teasing and silly name-calling had them all giggling as they left. "I swear, you guys are such goofs, I'm surprised you haven't stuffed your feet in real bunnies instead of your slippers. Goodnight."

The sublings scurried off but the Triad remained and I listened with growing curiosity; Katia grilled Vivienne and Hadley about their electronics squad. So, their big thing involved hacking something. But what, I wondered?

-.-

When I returned from my reconnaissance mission with my possibly important information they all waved me away and said they were busy. Busy?! Busy, my ass!

They were gathered around the TV in Leon's room playing a video game. Leon's visiting boyfriend and Jackson's flavour of the month were looking on, draped delicately over their mens' shoulders. Kellen had lazily, with what was possibly a beer in hand, told me he'd debrief me, uh, he meant, get my report tomorrow. I'd left there thoroughly annoyed as they'd all dissolved into a laughing fit at Kellen's words.

My summons from Kellen and Jackson came early morning when most students would be just waking up. Annoyed at being called so early, I threw my politeness out the window, and banged through their door. My gaze settled on Kellen—jumping up onto the kitchenette counter. I ignored the way my delirious brain noticed both he and Jackson, who was doubled over cackling in his doorway, were shirtless.

"What's up, Private Kemper?" Kellen asked, trying to act as if it were normal to conduct meetings half naked.

"Apparently you, on the counter." I raised an eyebrow at him; his attention flitted between me and something behind me.

I looked back to see Jackson standing, his laughter finally settled to an amused chuckle. He held a little ball of fluff that he waved at Kellen. "Kellen? You scawed of wabbits?"

Then I noticed the small bunch of rabbits hopping over each other to escape Jackson's room. "Operation Cottontail!" I cackled as it finally made sense. I bit back a smirk as I examined how jittery Kellen was, and mockingly said, "Maybe if you all weren't too busy to listen to me last night, you'd have known this was happening."

He didn't address anything I said, instead glowering at me and the small cloud of bunnies slowly taking over the room. "Get those things out of here."

"Right now, we have a bigger problem than bunnies in your room."

"Get them out of here!" He said again, an edge in his voice as two bunnies hopped closer to him. He might even have been hyperventilating as he stood, as if standing would put more space between him and them.

"Kellen?" I inquired; this was officially past amusing and was somewhat concerning.

"Please get them out of here and come back." He leaned away from me as I scooped up the two stray fluffs. "I am severely allergic to rabbits."