Tank's replacement will come the next day. Reznik told us his name is Ringer, which makes everyone else really excited. Reznik names people rude things, like Dumbo after his big ears and Oompa because he is fat, but he named Ringer Ringer, so Ringer must be amazing.

"What's a Ringer?" Nugget asks, walking to Zombie's bunk. There is only fifteen minutes of free time left and the squad is still jumping with joy over the new guy we haven't even met yet.

"Someone who you slip into a team to give it an edge," he tells him. "Somebody who's really good."

Zombie already knows my opinion on a new member of the squad-- I don't like it. Our squad is terrible with the exception of me, who's quick on my feet and decent with a gun, and Poundcake, who is the best sharp shooter around.

Zombie told me everything would be fine, that I just didn't like anybody in general. Then he tells me he hopes the new kid is much younger but able to hold his own so Zombie won't have to fight him for me. Ridiculous, I told him. He'd never stand a chance.

"Marksmanship," Flintstone guesses. "That's where we're weakest. Poundcake's our best, and Ghost and I okay, but you and Dumbo and Teacup suck. And Nugget can't even shoot."

"Come over here and say I suck," Teacup shouts. She quiets down with one look from me, though sometimes I want to send her after Flintstone just to see what happens.

Ringer doesn't show up the next morning. It's not upsetting-- he can take however long he wants. He also doesn't show up for the morning laps, or breakfast. We finally meet him at the firing range, where he stands, shoulders poised and gun ready. Reznik stands off to the side, pushing buttons that make the targets pop up.

One, hidden behind the tall grass. Bam! Ringer takes him out before he's even fully up. Another one, off to the side, bam! gone. When Reznik sees us coming, he speeds up. Hits as many buttons as possible and with each target that pops up, Ringer takes them down before they're even all the way above the tall grass.

Flintstone whistles lowly. "He's good."

Nugget shakes his head, seeming to understand something far before the rest of us. "It's not a he," he says, then races across the yard towards Ringer, who is apparently not a dude.

Ringer turns around. Pale skin, dark eyes, pin straight black hair. Nugget is right about the girl thing, though I could have told them that by the hourglass figure she has. Something burns in my stomach as I stare at her but I shove it deep down. No need for that anymore.

Teacup wrinkles her nose, staring at Ringer with distaste. "Ringer is a girl."

"Apparently," I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. She has the kind of face that makes you want to punch her-- or maybe it was the way Zombie stared at her like she's the best thing since canned peaches.

My stomach burns and this time I can't get it to leave.

"What're we going to do with her?" Dumbo is freaking out.

Zombie grins in response and my stomach twists. He's so happy.

"We're going to be the first squad to graduate."

__

The first night is awkward as hell. I don't even bother staying in the bathroom after my shower because I know Zombie won't want to talk now that Ringer is here. Just wanna make sure she fits in alright, Ghost, he tells me on the walk back. You almost broke Flint's arm on your first day, remember?

"Ringer and I are nothing alike," I whisper back harshly, stomping forward and away from him. He seemed irritated by this, eyes staying on the side of my head when I sit down to shine my boots. That's where I stay, seated next to Teacup who watches Dumbo and Oompa play a heated game of Go Fish.

The entire barrack is silent. No one knows what to say or do, or even where to look. If Ringer is anything like I was, beware. One comment from Flintstone and I snapped. Let's hope he's learned and will keep his mouth shut. 

Ringer is seated in Tank's old bunk, her new bunk, cleaning her precious rifle. She's obsessed with the thing, not that I can blame her. We live in a world where there is nothing but us and our weapons and those we must use the weapons on. That rifle she holds is the difference between life and death and she knows it. 

Zombie sits at the edge of his bunk shining his boots when Ringer reassembles her gun and puts it into her locker. She goes to his bunk and stands in front of him with her arms crossed. My finger presses hard into my boot. It won't make it shinier, neither will throwing it at Ringer's head, but I'm sure both would make me feel better.

"You're the squad leader," she states. Zombie raises a brow like obviously. "Why?"

"Why not?" He challenges.

Teacup sends me a smile. She's been wanting a fight sense Tank exploded and hopes Zombie and Ringer will give her one. Or maybe not Zombie and Ringer-- me and Ringer. It's not my fault you guys eye fuck all the time, Ghost. Brat. 

 "You're a terrible shot."

"I have other skills." Zombie crosses his arms over his chest. "You should see me with a potato peeler."

Idiot.

"You've got a good body." Flintstone laughs under his breath but stops short at my icy glare. "Are you an athlete?"

"I used to be," he answers. 

"Football," she guesses. 

"Good guess." 

"And baseball, probably."

Oompa clears his throat dramatically, eyes on me. He must see it in the way my lips are curled up into a scowl that Ringer better stop commenting on Zombie's body or I'll snap. Zombie glances to me, then back to Ringer, who changes the subject. 

"The guy I replaced went Dorothy," she says. It's my turn to glance at Flintstone now. He's still staring at the interaction happening a few feet away but he doesn't seem irritated at the mention of his dead best friend-- maybe because he doesn't know he's dead.

"That's right," Zombie answers. 

"Why?"

He shrugs. "Does it matter?"

She nods. She knows it doesn't. We all know. "I was the leader of my squad."

Oh, of course. 

"No doubt," Zombie says. Back to my boots. Finger arched, knuckle burning. 

"Just because you're leader doesn't mean you'll make sergeant after graduation."

"I sure hope that's true."

"I know it's true. I asked."

She turns on her heel and goes back to her bunk for a towel. She pauses at the door heading to the shower. "If anybody in this squad touches me, I'll kill them."

"I'll spread the word," He says.

"And when I'm in the shower, off limits. Total privacy."

"Course," he replies. "We do the same for Ghost and Cup." She looks back at me, then to Zombie. "Anything else?"

She pauses. Then, "I like to play chess. Do you play?"

He shakes his head. Turns to us, "Any of you guys play chess?"

"No," Flint calls back. "But if she's in the mood for some strip poker—"

I don't flinch when Ringer sends the side of her small hand to Flintstone's throat. I barely look up. Flintstone deserved it, like usual, and Ringer needs to show that no one should fuck with her, like I did. 

Ringer stands over him and glowers at us with eyes filled with nothing and everything all at once. "Also, no demeaning, sexist, pseudo-macho remarks."

"You're cool!" Teacup blurts out, and she means it. It makes me tense up. Even Teacup likes her. 

"That's ten days half rations for what you just did," Zombie tells her, trying to show who's boss. It's adorable. 

"Are you writing me up?" 

"I'm giving you a warning."

She nods, steps away from Flint, brushes past Zombie on the way to fetch her shower kit. "I'll remember you going easy on me," she flips her bands, "when they make me 53's new squad leader."

Press the polish into your boot, Ghost. Focus on the shine. Focus. On. The. Shine.