Stranger by Sherwood Smith Page B

guys his age with a sword or hand-to-hand. But he tolerated rather than enjoyed working in a team, and the Rangers relied upon teamwork. She remembered Sera commenting, “Anyone who’d want to be a prospector wouldn’t make a good Ranger.”
    Ross’s glossy black hair hid his face as he worked. Mia was hovering anxiously, as if it were her test. From the way he twitched every time she moved, he didn’t like people lurking in his peripheral vision.
    What turned someone into a prospector, traveling alone in the dangerous world? Trading, she could understand. Traders were usually families, people you’d trust to have your back. Like your fellow Rangers . . .
    Ross put down his chalk. “I’m done.”
    â€œAlready?” Jennie hoped he hadn’t given up halfway through.
    Mia snatched up the slate. “I knew it,” she exclaimed in glee. “If this was a decathlon, he’d be a real challenge for us.”
    â€œMia’s right.” Jennie examined the awkwardly written numbers. “When it comes to math and physics, you could teach the class yourself.”
    Ross gave her a doubtful glance.
    â€œSeriously. And if you’re handling explosives, you have a head start on chemistry. I’ll help you catch up on reading, writing, history, and literature. Maybe biology, depending on what you already know.”
    She had to lean forward to catch his muttered, “But reading. Aren’t I too old?”
    Jennie shook her head. “Absolutely not. You watch. By the end of tomorrow, I’ll have you reading entire sentences.”
    â€œYou can do that?”
    â€œ You can do it,” she said firmly.
    Ross took a deep breath, those amazing lashes lifting. He touched the line of writing on her teacher’s slate as if the words themselves were precious. For the first time since she’d begun Ranger training, Jennie remembered the joy that had first drawn her to apprentice to Grandma Wolfe—the joy of teaching someone who loved learning as much as she always had.
    â€œWelcome to school, Ross,” Jennie said. “Now, let’s go outside. We always start the day with drill. Ever done any fighting?”

8
    Ross
    THOUGH MIA HAD SAID JENNIE WAS HER FRIEND, ROSS had assumed the teacher would be an adult who would make him feel ashamed of how much he didn’t know—or worse, laugh. He hadn’t expected another teenage girl, let alone a nice one. Let alone a pretty, nice one.
    And they were as different as two people could be. Mia’s skin was light, while Jennie’s was nearly true black. Mia’s hair was clipped into a raggedy bowl cut, while Jennie wore hers in a lot of little braids decorated with colored beads. Jennie was taller than Ross, Mia shorter. And Jennie was much, much curvier. But he liked how they both smiled: Mia in sudden wide grins, and Jennie with her lips barely parted, and the left side a little higher than the right. They kept smiling at him.
    Like everything in Las Anclas, Jennie had been a surprise. A pleasant one, this time, but Ross was unnerved by how hard it was to predict what would happen in this town. At least with the scavenger gangs that roamed the desert, he always knew where he stood.
    The students outside had split up according to age and size. The younger kids wore padding and masks.
    Jennie called out, “Ten-and-unders, follow Laura.” Ross noticed the girl’s cat claws as she beckoned to the kids. “Mia? Want to practice with us?”
    â€œI have to get back to work,” Mia said hastily. “Pick you up at lunch!”
    He joined the warm-ups, though he had to sit out the ones that required the use of both hands. The others eyed him curiously, and the guy with the ponytail gave him a suspicious stare. Ross had seen that look when he had accidentally wandered onto another prospector’s claim. He wondered what he’d done to annoy him.
    â€œSeniors, line