@VaporLover29
omg u r so bad. But agreed!
@NeverCeaseNeverSour
Matt loses 3 hotness points for dating her. +10 if he dropped her off the Hancock
@invisiblegirlfriend
I bet she kicks puppies
@hot4heroes
Bridgette literally doesn’t care about WarNats AT ALL! If she did, she’d join the community and share her precious insider details. Instead she hoards them all for herself. Bitch.
@SillyMouseTrap
maybe she has an incurable disease and he dates her out of pity? Seems like something he’d do. Can’t think of any other logical explanation.
@futureWarriorQueen
her face burns a hole in my heart
@WNlyfer
HATE HER!
WHEN I REACH THE BOTTOM OF THE SLIDE, I crumple into a giant blue floor pillow, the strap of my bag tangling around my neck. Joy leans over me, hands on her bare knees, head cocked to an annoyingly condescending degree. “You all right there, killer?”
“Fine. I’m fine,” I groan, though it takes me a ridiculous amount of effort to pull myself up off the landing cushion. We’re standing in a cramped underground room—no bigger than an elevator shaft—dimly lit by a single blue bulb above. A silver door with a screen and panel of buttons stands before us, just waiting to reveal my dream world behind it.
“We’re still about a half mile from headquarters,” Joy says. “This entrance is one of the farthest ones out from the loop, so we’ll need to walk for a bit. Hopefully you’ll have some time to compose yourself.” She scans my trembling body judgmentally, and I clench every possible muscle to appear like I’m in control, though it’s not easy, because my heart feels like it’s full of rocket fuel. Joy places her palm on the screen, and after a red light reads her fingerprints, she taps in a key code on the buttons below. As the door slides open, she looks back at me and says, “Now, don’t faint or anything, okay?”
I hold my breath, ready to take in everything before me. What do these underground tunnels actually look like? WarNats have theorized everything you could imagine, dreaming up moving walkways and integrated robot assistants and booby-trapped paths like something out of Indiana Jones. In reality, I’m greeted with a plain concrete hallway, but I still pull out my grail diary to write down every detail of what I’m witnessing, from the length of my slide down here (thirty-three seconds) to the paint color on the walls (baby blue). I mastered the art of writing while walking during a Girl Scout scavenger hunt in fourth grade, during which I found all twenty-six nature items in record time.
“What’s that?” Joy asks, peering down at my furious scribbling as we make our way.
I clutch my diary to my chest, face burning up again. “Nothing.”
“Oh, it’s definitely something.” With zero effort, she snatches it from my hands, flipping through years of hand-written notes, drawings, and diagrams. She chokes on a laugh, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “Holy…”
“Careful!” I plead, grasping for my most prized possession, but her super strength easily keeps me at bay.
“This is…”
“Amazing?” I suggest defiantly. “Incredibly comprehensive?”
“I was gonna say ridiculous, but you’re not wrong about the comprehensive part.”
Huh? What’s ridiculous about writing down every single detail of something you love? Isn’t that called having a hobby?
Joy lands on my section about Blue Streak, which is not hard to do since it’s probably more than a third of the book. “Whoa,” she breathes, her face dropping its mocking expression. She looks at me with a sudden sadness I can’t quite place. “You’re, like, really into this guy.”
“Of course I am—he’s the best,” I insist, snagging back my diary. “Besides, everyone has a favorite.”
“I don’t.” Joy shrugs without a care. “I didn’t even really pay attention to Warrior Nation until like two months ago.”
This throws a dagger in my heart, and I’m stopped in my tracks. “I’m sorry…what?”
She spins around, curvy hip cocked to one side. “Is there a problem?”
“Uh…yeah! You’ve been recruited into this chapter and you don’t even know anything about them? Their history…their lore?”
She swings her arms out. “It’s not a big deal, Claire. I’ll figure it out. They gave me some sort of pamphlet to read—”
“A pamphlet?!” I screech, my frustration bouncing off the concrete walls. “You can’t fit decades of heroism into a trifold. I mean, look at this!” I hold up my bulging diary for emphasis. “This is every scrap of info I’ve collected since I started following Warrior Nation, and that’s only seven years’ worth.”
“Calm down,” she commands, turning back on her heel. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
I laugh. “Doubtful.” I run to catch up with her, staring down the false confidence in her stride. “How can you be so casual about this? Do you even know what you’re getting into?”
“God! Enough!” she groans. “I thought you were cute up on the roof, what with your sad little fists ready to defend your birthright or however you built it up in your mind, but I never would’ve brought you down here if I’d known how annoying you really are.”
“How did you even fall into this anyway?” I persist, ignoring her comment. “There are people way more obsessed than me who have literally killed themselves to become Warriors, pushing their powers to the limits to prove their worth as heroes. You’ve never heard of people accidentally drowning or electrocuting themselves for this? Jumping off buildings, throwing themselves into fights? The audition-fail videos are all over the internet.” She keeps walking, eyes straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed. “But not you. You didn’t have to do a thing! You’re walking into one of the greatest organizations ever and you don’t even care. What, did you just happen to chat up a Warrior recruiter one day and make them fall in love with your smile or something dumb like that?” I shake my head. “God, I hate pretty girls! Everything is just handed to you.”
We’re almost at the end of the hallway, bright blue doors painted with the Warrior Nation logo waiting for us. The swirling silver “W” and “N” curl around a navy-blue shield, an image that is practically tattooed on my brain. Seeing it here, in this context, helps shift my frustration slightly; I won’t let some girl ruin this moment.
“Look,” Joy says, standing between me and the door. “I didn’t ask to be chosen for this. I had different ideas for my life, but I woke up one day to discover I could lift an SUV over my head. And now I’m here, and you can be sure that when I commit to something, I give it my all. So write that down in your damn diary.” She spins around, blond hair flying, and pushes open the double doors.
Whatever, I think as the doors close behind her. If she thinks she can jump into this world blind, then best of luck. But I’m not relying on chance. I’ve spent every day since I was ten preparing for this, and I am ready.