Soldier's Choice by Morgan Blaze

said.
    “Yeah, that’s the word. Or terrible.” He sat down beside her. “Don’t worry. I won’t be insulted if you take a pass.”
    “I’ll  think about it,” she said. “Looks like just considering a sip of that would be enough to wake me up.”
    His genuine laughter startled a smile from her, and she concentrated on the blank paper instead. She couldn’t afford to start hoping again, when she knew there was no chance. “Okay, I’ve got something,” she said without looking up. “Here goes.”
    She started sketching, a rough figure of a man in sunglasses standing on a road. After a minute she wondered if Georgia would know this movie—it had come out before even Luka was born, but she’d watched it with her brothers more than once, and by herself a few more times. It was a great movie. Still, she figured at least it would keep the girl guessing.
    She sketched a second figure, taller, wearing a zippered jacket and holding an old-school portable TV. Then a cloud above him, a suggestion of rain. Finally she realized the room had gone completely silent.
    Frowning, she looked up. They were both staring intently at the paper. “Um,” she said. “Isn’t anybody going to guess?”
    “Wow,” Georgia breathed, with something close to reverence. “You’re really good. Reese, she can draw Tom Cruise!”
    “And Dustin Hoffman,” he said.
    “Yeah, I didn’t know what the old guy’s name was. But… wow. ” Georgia grinned at her. “It’s Rain Man,” she said. “And it’s awesome. Can I keep it? Will you sign it for me?”
    Luka blinked. “You want me to sign it.”
    “Of course! You’re the artist.”
    Her chest tightened, and the threat of tears pricked her eyes. “All right,” she said slowly. “Let me finish it, though.” She bent to the sketch, avoiding their gazes as she added a few trees, fleshed out the figures, and shaded the cloud. As a final touch, she drew a poker hand above the cloud where the sun would’ve been.
    She hesitated, and then scribbled Luka Dawson hastily in the bottom right corner.
    Dawson. She was a Dawson, not an artist. Not worthy of Reese Mathers.
    Why was she still here?
    She pushed the sketchpad toward Georgia and stood, struggling not to break down. “It’s all yours,” she said. “And I have to go.”
    “Luka?” Reese stared at her with concern flooding his face. “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I just…I’ve got things to do.” If she didn’t leave soon, she was going to lose it. “I’m sure I’ll see you around,” she said. “You too, Georgia. Thanks for the game.”
    Reese got up. “Wait. I’ll walk you out.” He glanced at Georgia. “Will you be all right alone for a minute?”
    “I’m thirteen, Reese,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not going to climb into the cabinets and drink drain cleaner. Promise.” A fresh smile surfaced as she said, “Bye, Luka. Thanks for the awesome picture.”
    “You’re welcome.” She managed to sound normal, but the lump in her throat grew bigger. “See you later.”
    Without waiting for Reese, she headed out of the kitchen.
    He caught up to her at the front door. He didn’t touch her, and she was grateful for that. She might have screamed if he did. “What happened?” he said in a low voice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
    Yeah. The ghost of her rotten reputation. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just have to get home, before my brothers do something stupid like come looking for me.”
    “I could come with you,” he said.
    Her heart froze. “Why?”
    “Your paintings. I want to buy one, remember?”
    Oh. That. “Look…it’s just not a good time right now,” she said. “I guess I could take pictures of them for you. Will that work?”
    The clear disappointment on his face almost broke her resolve. “All right,” he said. “I’ll give you my number, and you can text them to me.”
    She nodded, took her phone out and entered the number as he told her. “I’ll send