Rites of Passage (12 page)

Trying to sleep is useless. My mind won't quiet down long enough to even try and Bekah hasn't come back to her room yet—she would have stopped by to tell me all about her night if she'd returned. Our after-hours gossip session has become a nightly thing when she misses company time. I lace up my running shoes and sign out on my board, though I'm hoping no one will be awake to see it. I keep the door unlocked behind me so I don't have to fumble with a key when I get back.

The computers are humming away when I enter the lab, but the room is empty. In the dark, I head to the back corner, out of sight of the door, just in case. I know campus is patrolled, but I don't know how often or by whom. Better safe than sorry.

Two emails wait for me. I click on Mom's first.

 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Hi . . .

Hey Sam, just a quick note to see how you are. I miss you. Are you okay? Before he left, your father told me to stop worrying, but you know me. I know what Amos went through during boot camp and what Jonathan has gone through at the DMA. I just want to make sure you're good.

Mom

 

My fingers shake as I punch the keys, the words on the screen blurring as I fight off tears. It's more than she's said to me in a month and my first instinct is to spill everything. Instead, I shoot off a quick reply, telling her the big fat lie that everything's fine here. She doesn't need anything else to worry about.

I click to the next email so I can get out of here before someone sees me after lights-out and reports it to the cadet colonel himself.

 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: ???

Well, as usual, Liam found a way to ruin things. LOL.

If you need anything, email me, but don't do details. Email isn't
that
safe, as you saw tonight.

I'm here to help, okay? More soon.

Jax

 

I send her a quick thanks, knowing this will most likely be the end of it. They want me out. The sheet she gave me is nothing new. And, getting involved with civilians in my Worm year, even if they're claiming to want to help me, is playing with fire. There will be time for friends and complicated relationships next year.

TWELVE

THE ROOM IS SO QUIET WITHOUT KATIE HERE THAT I CAN'T
sleep. She'd recovered from the blister and participated in company time the last few weeks, but after training tonight, her ankle hurt so bad that Bekah and I had to take her back to the infirmary. She's talking about quitting now, and I'm trying to figure out if I should encourage that or try to get her to stay. That's the only reason I'm awake at 0015, stretching out my aching legs. And, that's the only reason I hear the knock on my door. It's mouse-light and at first I think I must be dreaming. But then it comes again and I wonder if Bekah is just getting in.

I crawl out of my bunk, muscles protesting every movement.

“McKenna.” The whisper is hushed and I shuffle over to the door.

I open it just a crack—if the cadre know anyone's up, there'll be hell to pay. I squint into the brightness of the light I've let into my room. “What?”

Kelly grins beneath face paint. A black knit cap covers his hair. He pushes into the room and closes the door behind him. “Get dressed. Let's go.”

“Go where?”

“Motivational march.”

“You're insane. I'm exhausted. Not to mention I've got to get my room squared away.” Our rooms are all the same, two beds in a bunk, two wall lockers, foot lockers up on top of them to save space. Desks are bare, books on a bookshelf, but no computer, no phone, no television. We have the same blankets and everything is uniform. Katie left her stuff scattered all around the room after the PT session and I'm going to have to clean everything or we'll do extra push-ups thanks to me.

“Come on, you don't want to miss this. Besides, we need your help with the TP. We'll get it from the rest of the barracks. Just grab the rolls from this one, okay?”

Jonathan warned me about MMs. Fun as hell, but equally likely to get you in a world of shit. I can't turn down the first one of the year, though. Part of the “fun” of military school is being part of a group, a family, and doing risky things with them. How can I turn down a group bonding opportunity like this?

“Give me five minutes.”

“Meet us out back. Hurry.” He slips out the door and closes it as quietly as he can.

I grab the camouflage uniform out of my closet. We get to wear PT sweats tomorrow so I've got some time to clean them if we get dirty tonight.

The BDUs slide on easily, like they were made for me, and I slip my KB into my back pocket, not wanting to be caught without it, even on an MM. Boots laced up, I pull the wool hat down over my hair and slide out into the hallway.

It doesn't take long to grab all the toilet paper. In the dark the rolls in my arms are a bright beacon—anyone could see me. I head down the opposite stairs from where the cadre bunk and step as quietly as I can.

Out back, most of the company is waiting. Bekah stands next to Kelly and Ritchie and I huddle up with them. “Where's Wilson?” He's the only one in the company who can't seem to get on board with us being here.

Bekah shrugs. “He didn't come. And don't start feeling bad. He's an ass. He doesn't want to come; you don't get to feel guilty.”

“Yes,
Mom
.” I smile at her. “Glad to see you. We've missed you at training.”

“I'm sure you have. But track duties called. Then these guys made me sneak into the other dorms with them to steal toilet paper. That's gross, right? I think that's probably gross.”

I can't help but grin. “It'll be awesome. You'll see!”

“Come on, guys. Let's go,” Ritchie says, grabbing Bekah's arm. She glances once at Kelly to urge him with her, but he's waiting for me.

“Way to go, Mac,” Kelly whispers, grabbing some of the rolls of TP and putting them in his backpack.

Nix grabs the rest. “Here, put this on.” He hands me a round container that looks like shoe polish. Leftover face paint from Declaration Day.

I feel a surge of pride as I realize they're accepting me as one of them, that they planned on me being a part of this. “Where are we going?”

“Back to House Mountain.” Nix looks like a laughing jack-o'-lantern with his crazy grin. “Gotta leave a sign for the cadre, let them know Alpha really does lead the way! Maybe this'll give us a solid lead for Company of the Year.”

“Good thinking.” I follow Nix, Kelly, and the rest down the stairs. We move easily into a pace that will keep us moving for the next thirteen miles.

Everything looks sinister at night. Across the street, the trees reach out for us, pulling us into the darkness of the forest. Shadows play with my depth perception and night noises echo around me. I can't tell where anything is coming from.

The company slows to a crawl near the top of the mountain. Nix whispers something to Kelly, and Kelly nods and turns to me. “Campfire up ahead,” he says. “We've got to go off trail. Stay to the left and we should miss whoever is up here.”

At first, my eyes play tricks on me, the shadows dancing, but then I see a distinctive orange glow. I follow Kelly off the path. He pushes past a branch, and it whips back in my face, stinging my cheek and bringing tears to my eyes.

“Shit!” I hiss, clamping my teeth together to keep the word as quiet as I can.

Kelly is at my side in an instant, stopping me. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just stings.”

“Sorry.” His voice is low, hushed so whoever is at the campfire won't hear us. His hand on my arm sends comforting warmth through me.

It's that, and only that, that makes me break. For the first time in six weeks—six weeks of feeling like scum as guys older than me, bigger than me, screamed in my face—I feel like I can trust someone. Kelly won't judge me. “It's okay. I'm just tired is all. Everything is worse right now, you know?”

The others keep hiking, their footsteps sounding out in the darkness. He doesn't move, though, just looks at me, his face shaded black from the war paint. In the moonlight and shadows, it's just us with the woods and the starlight for company. His hand comes to my face, cupping my cheek, his thumb tracing little circles as tendrils of warmth shoot down my neck. “You never give up. You don't let the cadre get to you. I know you're tired, but I think you're amazing.”

I take a step away from him and laugh it off, trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze, but it's impossible. “Come on. Everyone's worked really hard. You beat me at tons of stuff during Hell Week and you're always at the top when we train.”

“But you didn't stop.” There's an accusation to his voice, like I should have begged for mercy, or at least his help, at some point. An expectation he wouldn't have had if I was male.

“Please,” I say, suddenly annoyed, not sure if I want him to treat me like a girl or like one of the guys. Somehow I want both, even though it's impossible here. “If I start crying every time something happens to me, I'm going to be the laughingstock of the DMA.” And who's to say he doesn't think of me the same way. Really, other than the fact that he's stuck by my side since the beginning, I don't know anything about him, and maybe he really does see me as some weak little girl, someone who needs to be watched over. Maybe he isn't being a recruit brother at all. Maybe he's assuming I can't hack it, and is coddling me until I quit. I wipe at my eyes again, pissed that my emotions are betraying me. “I'm fine. Please don't tell anyone I freaked out, okay?”

He steps toward me again, and this time I don't move, just look up at him. He reaches for me, his hands on my waist before I even know what's going on. “You can trust me, you know.”

I close my eyes and just stand there for a minute. “I know.” What we've gone through, what we're still going through—I feel closer to him than I have to any guy before. But in this place, thinking like that is dangerous, and what we're doing right now is dangerously close to being against the rules.

“It's not that,” I say, taking a step back. And it's not. At least, it's not
all
of it. I can't let him touch me. If I let that happen now, let myself depend on someone else to get through this, I'll never truly be part of the DMA. I'm glad it's dark so he can't see me blush.

He tries to laugh it off, but I can tell I've hurt him. Rejected him. I wish I could explain the whirlwind of emotions spinning in my gut right now, but I can't even identify them enough to say what they mean.

“Tell me if you need anything,” he says, stepping away, and it's like he's sucked the air from my lungs as he turns back toward the trail.

For a minute I can't move and then he's already a dozen yards away. I hurry to follow the glow of his flashlight. He's not waiting anymore but I don't have enough energy to devote to figuring out if I really just screwed up. I follow, keeping the glow of the fire to my right, plenty far away.

House Mountain has a clearing on top—the one we'd been on during Declaration Day doing buddy carries. It's maybe the size of a football field and can be seen from every angle on campus. Despite the worry over Kelly, I can't help but smile. Ten Alpha Company recruits have already started, lining up rolls and rolls of toilet paper. They must have gotten them from every bathroom on campus; there are hundreds of them.

“McKenna, grab a few rolls. Second Platoon's down on the lower end of the field. We're making the biggest
A
we possibly can. Wide, tall, just huge.” The voice comes out of the darkness and I've got no idea who says it, but I grab a couple rolls and head down anyway. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can get back to my room and be alone with my sudden confusion.

Kelly, Nix, and Dove are already working on the right-hand side of the A so I get to work on the left along with Bekah and Ritchie. As long as we're not caught out here we won't get in trouble—one of the unwritten rules of the DMA. MMs, like sneaking around campus stealing uniforms or marching up the hill to show the entire town who rules the school, is definitely an approved activity by the cadre. Do something stupid and get caught red-handed, though, and we'll be pushing until graduation.

“Hey, McKenna. I'm here to help.” Another recruit buddy, Clark, grabs a roll of toilet paper from the pile and throws it in a big arc up the hill. He's built like a steamroller and must weigh about two hundred pounds. “I'm not gonna lie. You and Cross are pretty damn impressive. I had bets you'd all be out the first day and
definitely
thought you'd never make it this long. The corporals are riding your asses more than the rest of us combined—you especially—but you just keep on keepin' on.”

“Thanks,” I say, glad it's dark out here so he can't see how red I'm sure my face is. He holds his hand out to me, something shiny and round in it. I grab the can, looking at the name of the beer in the light of the moon. “Oh, I don't really drink.” It sounds lame and I know it, but if I get caught drinking, I'm out of here.

“We're recruit buddies,” Ritchie says, walking toward us with a beer in his hand. He's the tallest guy in our company by about three inches, but all skin and bones. His military-issued glasses make him seem a bit like Harry Potter. “No one's going to rat you out, Mac.”

I grin at the nickname Kelly gave me that seems to be catching on, happy for the moment just to belong. I think of Kelly's hand on my face, of the hurt look in his eyes when I pulled away. I think of the words spit at us in the river on Declaration Day, of the pressure of being the only recruit, the only female, in classes with upperclassmen. And suddenly a beer doesn't sound so bad. What the hell
.
I pop the top and take a swig.