"No wonder you were gone that night."
Priscilla's expression cleared.
It all made perfect sense now.
She thought about the girls who had been talking behind Claire's back, opening her mouth but ultimately keeping it to herself.
Claire was simply too outstanding; people were bound to scrutinize her every move. Priscilla figured Claire wouldn't care about idle gossip anyway.
She had grown up surrounded by halos of praise and envy. She had probably heard it all before.
Claire casually tossed Priscilla a vacuum-sealed packet of spicy jerky.
Hudson's counselor was apparently from the South, and the regional delicacies he gifted were absolutely mouthwatering.
This one was spicy beef jerky, and there was also a packet of fiery BBQ bites.
In reality, Mr. Landry had made them himself.
The man was an incredible chef.
He used to sell them secretly on his Facebook page.
He claimed his mother made them.
Otherwise, he would feel too awkward charging his coworkers.
"Is this really for me?" Priscilla's eyes lit up. Real meat!
"Yeah."
Priscilla accepted it without a second thought. "I've been craving something like this! Thanks, Claire!"
Claire waved her hand dismissively. "Don't mention it."
Holding the snack, Priscilla suddenly remembered their roommates complaining
about Claire hoarding food.
She hesitated for a moment before deciding not to open it right away.
She wrapped it in her jacket and carried it back.
It wasn't that she didn't want to share with the others; she just didn't know how to navigate the awkwardness.
Claire had given her the food, but clearly had no intention of treating the rest of the room.
Priscilla felt it wasn't her place to distribute it to the others.
Claire didn't care what Priscilla did with it. The rest of her survival training proceeded without a hitch.
With Hudson serving as a brutal cautionary tale, nobody dared to step out of line. Hudson's fate was just too horrifying-nobody wanted a crushed groin.
Besides, Chief Instructor Hawk, Van, was an absolute tyrant. His regimen was relentlessly strict.
The students were too exhausted for anything else.
In previous years, there were always whispers of summer romances between instructors and trainees.
This year, absolutely not.
With Van breathing down their necks, the instructors didn't even dare crack a smile at the girls.
The male students were equally on edge.
It was famously dubbed the most
bet
brutal bootcamp in history; anyone
surviving this cohort was
combat ready.
Yet, when the final day arrived, the students were genuinely heartbroken to leave. Despite the grueling discipline, they had forged deep bonds over the past month. Moreover, underneath all the yelling, the instructors had taught them invaluable survival skills.
Their hand-to-hand combat sessions, for instance, were intensely practical.
Driven by sheer terror of their instructors, the students mastered the forms flawlessly.
During sparring, a few students could actually hold their own against the professionals.
Claire, who already had a solid background in self-defense, wasn't intimidated in the slightest.
She fought her instructor to a
standstill, and even managed to
him flat on his back when he p
dropped his guard.
Of course, he might have been going easy on her because she was a girl.
But her skills were undeniably impressive.
As they said their goodbyes, many of the girls sobbed uncontrollably, while Claire remained perfectly calm.
Priscilla had taken the seat next to her.
"Claire, aren't you sad to leave?"
"I am," Claire answered honestly.
But regardless of her feelings, the month-long
Cabinda University was their coal
bootcamp was d
battlefield now.
"Then why aren't you crying?" Priscilla sniffled, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
"Tears won't change anything. It's just a temporary goodbye anyway. They'll be at the freshman welcome gala."
It was true-the university had extended a formal invitation for the instructors to attend the party.