(Justin's PoV)

    "Mail," Lt. Jason called, immediately causing all of us to perk up.

    "Already?" I said to myself. We had only been here nine days. How could anyone have known the address? It would have taken a week, at best case scenario, to send someone the mailing address, and at least another week for them to send something back. This particular piece of mail would have likely taken even longer since it was a package. Whoever sent it must have had to do research to see where the 63rd platoon was being sent.

    Lt. Jason examined the mailing label. "It says it's from a girl named Audrey Dennison."

    Figures, I thought as I stood up. I should have known. That girl is always on top of things.

    "Here you go Clayton," Lt. Jason handed the package to him.

    I stopped dead in my tracks. "Clayton?" I said, confused. Clayton looked just as surprised as I was. "Audrey sent something to you?" I asked, feeling strangely unsettled.

    "I guess," Clayton said with a shrug. He started to peel off the packing tape.

    It didn't make any sense. She had written to me a couple times while I was at Basic Training, but she had never sent anything like a package. I had been friends with her since first grade. As far as I knew, she didn't even know Clayton all that well.

    He opened the box. I didn't need to know what was inside. Whatever it was, it was between her and Clayton. It was none of my business.

    Still, I was curious.

    He pulled out a stack of papers covered with shapes and numbers. "You've gotta be kidding me," he said flatly. He pulled out more papers. "It's math. All math."

    On the ground I found a sheet with Audrey's out-of-character messy handwriting.

    Mr. Justfine told me he would fail me if I didn't send you this. It's all of the homework for the rest of the year. He "expects it done if you manage to make it back alive." His words, not mine. I'm sorry. Also, try to be careful while in battle.

                                        --Audrey

    I read the note to the others so they would know what was going on. Several guys were snickering, while Logan and Trevor were doubled over on the floor laughing.

    "It isn't funny," Clayton snapped. He shoved the papers under his bed and folded his arms. He got into his bunk and continued to sulk.

    "It's not that bad," I tried to tell him.

    He scoffed. "Easy for you to say. You love math."

    "Well yeah," I responded. "It's black and white thinking. There's always one right answer. No matter how you go about solving it, there's still always one right answer."

    He plugged his ears and began singing. "La la la la, I'm not listening."

    I rolled my eyes. "At least it's Geometry. That's easy. I was doing that in seventh grade."

    "I was doing that in seventh grade," he mimicked. "Not everyone's a genius," he huffed. He lied down and rolled over onto his side.

    Why did he have to be so dramatic about everything? I can comprehend complex quantum physics theories, but I will never understand the mind of Clayton Host.

    Although it was comforting to know why Audrey sent that package. I wasn't happy Clayton was upset, but it was nice to see the world making sense again.

(Matteo's PoV)

    We all walked back to the base, exhausted from another day of fighting (even though we really didn't do anything).

    "Trevor," Daniel stopped him before he could climb up to his bed. "You're supposed to take the first guarding shift tonight."

    Trevor grimaced. "Shit, you're right."

    "Sorry," Daniel sympathized while taking his pocket calendar out of his bag. "Let's see, today is-"

    "March 31st," I finished for him. I had been thinking about the date all day. Today was Emmy's birthday. Her 15th birthday to be exact.

    "Yeah," Daniel replied. "It's hard to believe we've only been gone for two months."

    Logan nodded. "I know. It feels like it's been forever."

    "Yeah, no kidding," I added. I had to write to Emmy, I decided. I didn't care that I hadn't heard back from her since we arrived in China. I hated how the distance made the waiting period between letters even longer. It wasn't fair. It hadn't even been two weeks since I wrote to her last, but none of that mattered. Plus, it was her birthday. If I didn't tell her she was loved, who would?

    Grabbing my pencil, I began to write.

    Dear Emmy,

        Happy 15th Birthday! I know by the time you get this, your birthday will have already passed, but I just wanted to let you know I was thinking of you. Well, you're always on my mind, but today especially. I miss you so much. I really hope you're doing okay. Everything's fine here. I  love you.

                                        Love,

                                            Matteo

    I folded it and put it inside of an envelope. Will followed me as I went to go put it in the mail stack. "Have you heard back from her yet?" he asked.

    "Well no," I responded. "But I-"

    "Clingy," Connor fake coughed.

    "I'm not being clingy," I snapped.

    "Sure," he said, unconvinced. "You're just doing the old fashioned version of double texting."

    My hands clenched. "It's not like that."

    "Oh, I forgot," he feigned innocence. "You're just trying to be a good boyfriend."

    That comment stung worse than his "clingy" remark. My stomach tightened and my throat went dry. I went over to my bed and sighed.

    "Matteo, what's wrong?" Will asked.

    "I'm a horrible boyfriend," I said, although I wasn't sure how clear it was since I had my hands covering my face.

    "Don't listen to Connor," he advised. "He's just trying to get on your nerves. You're not being clingy-"

    I took my hands away. "It's not that," I told him. "I've been lying to her. I've been pretending like everything's fine, when it's not. I haven't told her about the fight or the storm." I could feel myself growing short of breath as I spoke. "We promised to tell each other everything, but I can't. I'm afraid of scaring  her."

    Will thought for a moment. "I don't know. To be honest, I'm really bad at this girl stuff. I guess just try to think about what she'd want."

    She didn't like broken promises, I remembered.

    But her anxiety. Her paranoia. She can barely talk in front of her classmates without feeling like she's going to suffocate. The seemingly most minor things can onset a panic attack for her. Just imagine if she actually had an actual thing to worry about. Not just worrying about some abstract, intangible idea. She'd be a wreck if she knew what was going on. And even worse, I couldn't be there to help her, (not that I would be much help anyway).

    I had to keep a secret, for her sake.

(Tristan's PoV)

    "Who's that from?" Gavin asked, peering over my shoulder.

    "Kierra," I replied. "International mail takes longer. It's been about two weeks since I last wrote to her."

    "Oh yeah," Landon remembered. "Wasn't that the letter where you said the word 'girl' like 80 times in the same paragraph?"

    "Only seven," I retorted. I picked away at the seal of the envelope until it opened. Inside were several small pieces of paper. I cocked my eyebrow in confusion as I began to dump the contents out. The edges of the papers were jagged and they had letters on them. As I got a closer look, I could make out my own handwriting. "What the heck?" I thought out loud.

    Gavin and Landon both shrugged. Landon picked up a piece and examined it. "It has the word girl on it," he observed. "Maybe it's from your last letter."

    In the middle of the pile there was an index card with Kierra's signature chicken-scratch on it.

    Next time, if you're gonna write to me, at least send me a decent letter!

    "What's her problem?" I wondered.

    "Didn't you say she was an ultra-feminist," Gavin pointed out.

    "Yeah, but I do that kind of stuff all the time," I told him. "She's gotta be used to it by now."

    "I don't know then. Maybe she's jealous," he suggested.

    I burst out laughing at the thought. "Of Holly?" I exclaimed. "I could never actually be attracted to Holly. She's even more of a stick in the mud than Kierra. And anyways, even if I was, why would she care? It's not like it would affect her."

    "Beats me," Landon said.

    I went over to my bag to grab a paper and pencil. "I guess I'll just write her a 'decent letter' this time. To smooth things over."

    "I'm sure that'll go great," Landon said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

    "Trust me," I replied as I began my message.

    Dear Kierra,

        You were right. I shouldn't spend so much time telling you about members of the opposite sex and instead tell you about the war itself. So here it goes:

        I'm a gallant war hero. I've been saving people left and right. All of the leaders say I'm the best soldier the army's ever seen. I would've won a medal by now, but there are no awards high up enough for me.

                                    From,

                                        Tristan

    Landon eyed the paper before cracking up with Gavin. "Gallant war hero?"

    "It's believable," I told them. "And I'm sure she'll love it. I didn't say the word 'girl' once."

(Will's PoV)

    Just don't think about it. I began to sketch several small lines on my paper. Don't think about it.

    I sat at the edge of my top bunk, secluding myself in order to try to clear my mind. I closed my eyes momentarily, but I kept remembering terrible scenes. The horror had permanently ingrained itself into my mind. We hadn't even been here a month and we still had experienced way too many things that no kid--no person--should ever have to go through.

    Our only protection was a simple barricade. The only thing between us and the other side is a field. Guns are fired constantly, but it's different from basic training. These shots were fired with the intent to kill.

    Seth Tyler had walked out on the battlefield just because he didn't want to live any longer. He was the only death from our platoon so far, but the ones from the guys on the other side weren't pleasant either. There were guys that would charge onto the field as if that was all they had to live for, just to get gunned down by an armed teenager, And for what? Some stupid war.

My mouth went dry and my breathing became heavier as I continued to draw.

It was all stemmed from a war. A war about power, land, and pride. It sickened me that leaders' egos were valued more than human lives.

I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't keep my mind off it. It wasn't right. Don't focus on it, I told myself. My handwork grew faster and soon my sketching turned into scenery. A calm landscape. No bullets. No blood. No bodies. Just trees...and grass...and plants, all covered by sunshine. Like it was when we first arrived. The way this place should be.

    Beautiful, I admired. Not the skill, but rather the content. Why can't everything be like this? I wondered.

    It was a hopeless wish though. If I had learned anything, it was that perfect worlds only existed in pictures.

(Daniel's PoV)

    "Zis is incredible!" We heard Jean-Paul exclaim. He was standing next to Marcus behind a large package.

    "What's that for?" I asked.

    Marcus beamed as he opened it. "My parents sent me a care package for my birthday. Well my birthday was Sunday, but you all know how mail works." He began sifting through the contents. Unlike the one Clayton got, Marcus' was filled with food--not a piece of homework in sight.

    "Lucky," Clayton muttered.

    "Do you want some?" Marcus asked, extending out a cookie. Before we could respond, he continued. "I'm serious, I've got tons--way more than I need. We could make a mini party out of it." He raised his voice. "Everybody is welcome to have some!"

    In no time at all, Marcus Finch became the man of the hour. Everybody crowded around him to get their hands on some sweets.

    Jean-Paul hugged Marcus after finishing a bite of chocolate. "Zis is ze cheap chocolate and I don't even care. I love your famille, I swear. I hate MREs so goddamn much."

    Fair point, I thought as I helped myself to some animal crackers.

    "Red Vines," Trevor said triumphantly before taking a bite out of one.

    "What the hell can't they do?" he and Clayton finished in unison. They looked at each other in astonishment.

    "Favorite way to say 'red wines' in a German accent?" Clayton asked.

    "Red Vines," they responded. They broke into laughter quoting a Starkid musical they had both seen.

    Holly entered the room, visibly annoyed. Her ponytail was falling out and she was carrying a heavy stack of papers while trying to write on it at the same time. "Do you guys ever shut up?"

    "We're just hanging out," Gavin explained. "Talking...eating some food."

    "You can have some if you want," Marcus offered.

    She rolled her eyes. "I don't need anything. And you know, you could be doing something productive like getting ready for tomorrow's fighting," she added matter-of-factly.

    "Cuz that sounds like a wonderful time," Gavin said sarcastically.

    "At least it's useful," she shot back.

    I couldn't understand why she always seemed to be so angry at us. Sure we could be annoying, but that felt too trivial to be the whole reason.

    "Just keep it down," she ordered before leaving.

    We stood still for a few seconds until she was out of earshot.

    "Why does she have to oppose any type of fun?" Clayton wondered aloud. The other guys laughed in agreement.

    "Oh," Marcus remembered. "I should save something for Tristan since he's on guard duty right now." He ran over to his package to grab a bag of chips.

    We all started to form into groups by our bunks.

    "He's so nice to do this," Matteo said.

    I nodded. "Yeah, definitely."

    "There is no way I would have shared my food if I got some," Clayton admitted.

    "Well you didn't," Trevor pointed out. "All you got was math homework and we're perfectly fine with you keeping that to yourself," he teased.

    I don't know what it was about good food, but it seemed to take your mind off of things, war included. Holly did have a point about us needing to focus more, but hanging out with the guys and eating candy was nice--much more relaxing,