Our elation over the prank and the opening of the war didn't last long. There was an assembly called at 10; something which never occurred before the first day of classes, and most definitely never on a weekend. Those of us who had executed a stealth mission in the early hours of the morning could hazard a guess.

Headmaster Sorensen paced on the stage, while we all filtered into the auditorium, looking less than his normal self. He was an older man, salt and pepper hair, piercing blue eyes and eyebrows that made it appear that he was always angry. At odds with his appearance, he was the kindest, most compassionate, though authoritative person I'd ever met in my life. His mood today was clearly off, and I had a feeling it had to do with my part of the previous night's prank.

Approaching the podium he glared out at us all. "Do you know," he bellowed, waving a roll of fabric at us, "that I got a call this morning from the groundskeeper regarding the state of the school flag?" He was borderline purple, he was so angry.

In the front row, Kellen looked at Katia, almost as if he were wondering if she had done something.

"Do you know what I found when I went out there to check on it?" He unfurled the flag, revealing lacy babydoll pajamas taped over the school crest. The student body gasped in shock, and a wave of snickers washed over the room. Jess pinched my arm and I twitched, flicking my eyes quickly to her to catch her shocked expression, as I tried not to shrink down in my seat.

"What were you thinking?" Headmaster Sorensen addressed the entire student body, unsure of who might be the culprit. "Be glad all new students have already arrived, and this is not the representation or first impression of the Waterbridge Academy their parents got!" After a few flustered attempts at saying more, he balled the flag up and tossed it aside, gesturing at the counselor, Ms. Penzant, to continue.

She gently took the microphone from him and turned to face us, "In light of this event, there are some issues I need to address with you students..." She continued for what seemed like forever about sensitivity and gender and how some students—male or female—might be uncomfortable with things like tiny lacy sleepwear.

Jess pinched my arm again and then continued to do so throughout the lengthy lecture, making me regret my actions. In the night, it had seemed funny, but with the way the Trifecta all sat rigidly, I knew that if they found out it was my doing, I'd be dead.

Surprisingly, no punishment came from the school; they didn't want to make everyone pay for one person's actions. We were dismissed for what was bound to be a long day of school club recruitment activities. Outside the auditorium, students scattered for the gyms, fields, or designated classrooms. Throughout the hallways, cell phones announced the arrival of a new hijINKs update.

-.-

The strong sterile smell of sanitizer and the ripe body odor of the boys sitting beside me on the bench that edged the blue padded floor burned my nose. But as gross as it was, it was a somewhat comforting smell. As were the sounds echoing in the large high-ceilinged room; the slap of flesh hitting flesh, grunts and sharp kiai, rhythmic thumping of running and the thwack of hands hitting wood and feet planting heavily into mats, the squeak and snap of rebounding spring floors.

I'd missed the gym and how full of life it always was; gymnasts, dancers and martial artists sweat and bled their art on these floors. As I'd just done, flinging my sparring partner, Mark, around in greeting. Happy to catch my breath, I sipped my water and watched the new crop of gym users mingle with the old, excited to show off their skill.

It was no surprise the freshmen who came to sign up for martial arts club were all boys. Still, I kept an eye on them, watching how they moved, how strong they were, and, as much as the implication bothered me, how cute they were. I could hear CSM Kida's voice in my mind, reminding me that cute worked to get the freshman girls on our side.

I kept an eye on the gymnasts on the other side of the gym, as well. With fascination, I watched, as a small girl ascended the silks hanging from the ceiling with ridiculous speed and then twirled down gracefully. I could see Dev, the head of recon for the Thunderbirds, watching her in a way that would have been creepy if I didn't know he was hoping to get her for our side. Coach Campion, however, didn't know, and shooed him away when she caught sight of him ogling the younger girls. 

It was how we recruited our new crop, sizing them all up at the various club and team sign ups that happened in the couple days before classes started. All over campus, Thunderbirds and Hellhounds were trying to secure the best, strongest, quickest, quietest, smartest new people on the sign up lists for their army.

Mark's elbow poking my side called my attention back to the martial arts side of the gym. "The girls really like the blonde."

Several of the gymnast girls had gathered to watch a fit blonde boy throw some exciting tricks that took a fair amount of strength to master. He had bad form, but we could work on that. I was more interested in the brown-haired boy that came in with him—stockier and with better balance, his low center of gravity and the power behind his movements would make some of the year's events a nightmare for us if we left him to the Hellhounds.

"Marky," I drawled. "Go say hi to Blondie."

I slid off the bench as the second boy did an impressive roll into a back handspring to right himself after being thrown backwards. I wasn't the only one approaching him after that, but I had the advantage. Grinning widely, I threw my shoulders back and crossed the mats, making sure to avoid every flung limb and body as gracefully as I could.

Both boys stopped sparring to watch me dancing between the other bodies. "You have to show me how to do that! You're so good at it! Everytime I try, I end up flat on my ass." I glanced briefly at Mark, who was smirking at my act. "Hi Mark, who're your new friends?"

"Nicole, this is Patrick," he gestured at the blonde, and several girls nearby mouthed his name and giggled. "And this is Daniel."

"So, Daniel." I placed a hand on his shoulder like Jess always did when she wanted to make someone feel special. "You gonna show me how to do that?"

I smirked at my Hellhound opponent as Daniel launched into a lengthy explanation, taking every opportunity to touch my hips or waist as he showed me how to position my body. When Blondie-Patrick offered to throw me so I could test my 'new' knowledge, I knew they would both be Thunderbirds.

"Nice job, Nic." Mark smirked as the newbies trailed us to the benches. "It sucks about losing half that point."

"Jess said the General's not mad about it." I shrugged, thinking of the text she'd sent me earlier.

"Were you two on that mission?" Mark asked as he picked up his things. 

"Can't say, Marky." I shook my head and shouldered my gym bag. "Now maybe you could explain to the newbies before you confuse them anymore. And go shower, because I'm not getting in a car with boys locker room stench."

"Fine!" Mark laughed as we headed for the locker rooms. "Can you say if you know who did the flag thing? Bet Fitzpatrick's going to cancel them."

I hoped not. I imagined the year would suck if I was going to be ignored by my team because of the Trifecta's wrath.

"Wait, what about a car?"

I smirked at Mark's confusion and paused in the doorway to the girls' showers. "I was thinking we'd show these boys the places in town the Thunderbirds get to eat at. As for the flag fiasco, apparently the General said it was worth it to see Katia's meltdown. Now go!"