Free Range by J.A. Huss Page B

heavens from almost every building on campus.
    Except when it's cloudy. Like today.
    It's a bad omen, I think. When the peak is hiding, it's a day for fighting. That's the old cadet school superstition. Cloudy days mean bad days and this certainly seems to be holding true for me now.
    I check my timeclip as Aren ushers me across campus. I have fifteen minutes to get out of here or I won't make it on time, but since he's dragging me towards my dorm, and I need to pick up my bag anyway, I just follow along.
    He stops at my door and waits for me to unlock it, then opens it for me and waits for me to enter before closing it behind us.
    "Junco—"
    Shit, he's not wasting any time with the talk.
    "—I get it, you're a private person, you need your space, and I don't think you're cheating."
    I wait for it. There's a but coming.
    "But I can't cover for you anymore. He knows, Junco. He knows you're doing shit somewhere else when you leave."
    Aren stops as I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder, then break for the door. "So what? He hasn't paid any attention to me all freaking year, Aren. He does not care. I promise you, nothing is gonna happen."
    He grabs me by both shoulders and shakes me. Hard. "He does care, he is paying attention, and Junco, this is attention you do not want, take my word on that."
    And here it is. Another cryptic message about my father that creeps in when he's not getting his way and I'm doing things he doesn't want me to do. "Unless you give me details, I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told you last month. I don't care."
    He drops his hands and lets me pass.
    "Fine, then. But when all this shit hits the fan, don't blame me. I tried to warn you, I tried to stop you, but you're only interested in Gideon and whoever that guy is you're meeting down in Dallas."
    I turn and look at him now. It surprises me that he knows, but I should've seen it coming, really. Aren's a resourceful guy, he's got more power than I do around here because he's not a cadet, he's a captain in the RR Defense.
    "Have you seen my father, Aren?"
    "You know I only speak to him on the comms."
    "Right, the comms. Since when does my dad use comms in his everyday work? Answer me that? Because I've lived with the man my entire life and while he's always had one available, he never ever carried one around on him. We never had one in plain view at our house and he used them sparingly and with discretion. So what the hell is going on?"
    He's shaking his head at me before I even finish.
    "Fine, then I'm outta here. See you Monday."
    "I won't be here Monday, Junco."
    "Whatever, Aren." I stop again and turn. "You think that'll work on me? Threaten to leave campus so I'll do what you say? No, it won't work."
    He's got nothing to say now and I walk out.
    My flier is waiting in the prearranged spot and I get in and then sit back for the ten-minute ride down to the planet pad where I will catch a suborbital to Dallas.
    Nothing I'm doing is secret. I've done it seven times since the school year began, and each time I take the flier to the pad, hand over my official passport, and hop that sub to Texas.
    If my father was interested in what I was doing he could've stopped me any time he wanted.
    The sub ride is quick, Dallas is only about eight hundred miles away, so it's a hop, really. I think about him all the way there. His face is so familiar to me now that I can see him in perfect detail in my mind's eye.
    The sub touches down after twenty minutes of flight and I gather my bag and disembark down the long ramp that takes us into the Dallas Celestial Port.
    He's waiting for me, in the same spot he always stands, looking at his comm, reading it, watching it like a screen, or whatever he does with that thing. And when he looks up to check the arrivals, I find the happiness in his eyes.
    He is truly happy to see me.
    John Hando is the most beautiful man I've ever laid eyes on and I don't care if my father wants to string me up on a rack, I'd never stop