Rites of Passage (16 page)

I don't bother telling him Matthews would probably love to get me alone—that the Society would be proud of him, too. “Thanks,” I say, glancing around once again before heading out the door and taking a left toward the barracks.

“You sure you're okay?” Kelly is taking the steps two at a time to keep up with me and I force myself to slow down. We're not supposed to be talking, but there's no one around.

I whisper, “Yeah, everything just kind of catches up to me sometimes.”

“I know you're worried, but change doesn't happen overnight, Mac. Give them time. Once they see how amazing you are, they'll want you here just as much as I do.”

His words drift over me and they're nice to hear, but I can't let anything risk my position here, or his. “Kelly, we can't do this.”

He drops his gaze to the ground, breaking military bearing for a second by putting his hands in his pockets. “I know. It's just . . .”

“Nice. It's nice for me too, but—”

“We've both got goals here and dating's just going to get in the way of them.” He shrugs. “Another time, maybe.”

“Maybe,” I say, though I know nothing other than a stray kiss in the chapel will ever happen between us now. “Thanks for understanding.”

He laughs. “Thanks for having the guts to say something about it. I know you're right, but I didn't want to stop.”

I nudge his shoulder. “You're a good friend, Kelly.” We walk in silence for a bit longer, but something about Matthews's conversation won't stop repeating itself in my mind and now that we've gotten over the non-relationship stuff, I need his opinion. The bell tower hasn't chimed the hour yet so we still have a few minutes. “You ever heard of anything called the Society?”

“No. What are you talking about?”

“I don't know. Nothing.” I kick a rock, frustrated and disappointed that he can't help. “Just something I heard.”

“Where'd you hear it?”

“Matthews. I've heard it from him twice now. He's got to be talking about some group, but I've never heard of it.”

“Maybe we'll learn about it after we're recognized?”

“Yeah. Maybe.” But it doesn't sound right. The way Matthews said it, it sounded like the whole Corps wasn't involved. He made it sound evil.

FIFTEEN

“SIRS! GOOD MORNING, SIRS! THIS IS THE OUTSTANDING
Alpha Company, sirs! Today is the twenty-third day of the tenth month in the year of our Lord twenty-fourteen. Uniform of the day is low quarters, Winter Class Bs, garrison cover. Upperclassmen, you have twenty minutes to fall out. Freshmen, you have fifteen minutes to fall in.”

I stop yelling and take a breath. Morning calls are another one of those weird duties recruits have to do, like we're fricking human alarm clocks. Upperclassmen in royal blue robes start exiting their bunks and heading for showers. Some still have their eyes closed. The one who opens the door next to where I'm standing rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

I keep my gaze straight ahead. Holding my arms straight down at my sides, I walk at attention to the other end of the hallway.

“Looking good, recruit,” a cadet wearing only boxers calls out as I walk by. They're supposed to wear robes, but after my first time doing morning calls, I've already realized they don't all follow the rules. The one who just addressed me heads to the bathroom, giving me a glimpse of a sculpted back decorated with a tattoo—thick lines that could form a circle except for the skulls that break their circuit. The letters
P
and
S
run vertically down the middle, and a square sits dead center in the design.

“I don't know, Evers. She could stand to shake her ass a little bit more.”

It's then that I realize that the boxers-only guy is the cadet from the first day and the one who got Matthews to single me out during rifle drills. I move my eyes away from the tattoo and force myself to look straight ahead. Shit.

Evers turns, stopping in front of me and blocking my way. “Please. This one's a tease. She's going to show it off but I'm sure she won't let us touch.”

My face reddens and I break out of my straight line to move around him. At the other end of the hall, I stop, sweep my right foot behind me, and do an about-face, turning around to look down the hall again. Thankfully, Evers goes into the bathroom and lets the door close without saying anything else. I've dropped Jonathan with two punches before. Evers might require a few more hits, but if I'm fast, I think I could take him.

Once I yell the same information again, I head back to where I started. As more upperclassmen come out, I slightly cross my eyes, not wanting to focus on the half-naked bodies all around me.

“McKenna, what kind of music do you like?” The voice is quiet, coming just from my left. The one who wasn't happy I woke him up.

I ignore him and keep looking straight ahead. We were warned never to talk to the upperclassmen. This could just be a trick to get me in trouble.

“It's me, Huffman. Stamm's friend, Alpha Company flag bearer and self-proclaimed shitbag,” he says under his breath.

My cheek twitches. No one would call themselves a shitbag unless they were serious. Cadets who fit the name around here really own the title, though. They don't iron their uniforms, come to formation late, and skip PT.

“I'm not one of those lame-ass tools who's going to rat you out. If you tell me what kind of music you like, I'll play something for you. Besides, the parade's tomorrow. You need to relax before you go on display.”

God, I'd kill to listen to some music right now, but there's no way I'm getting caught in this trap.

“Fine, let's do this: I'll say some bands and you just blink really hard if you hear one you like, okay?”

Blinking isn't against the rules, though, so what can it hurt? I close my eyes, and keep them shut for longer than normal, then open them again to show him I understand. I just hope no one sees him leaning out his door to talk to me.

He starts with country and after two or three names, switches to rock. When I don't blink at any of those he makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Boy, you're a tough one.”

When he finally mentions one I like, I blink and then open my eyes really big. Amos used to blast his music in the car when we'd go for long drives together.

“Well, well, well. What a surprise. I wouldn't have pegged you for a rap girl, but okay. Here goes.”

I hear his door close behind him and soon the loud bass of my favorite song is blasting through the basement. I allow my face to relax just slightly, but have to make a conscious effort to keep myself from nodding along with the beat. For a moment, I'm somewhere else—riding shotgun with Amos on the autobahn, not stuck here, in a world where no one wants me.

When I'm done with my next round of morning wake-up calls, I park myself back in front of Huffman's door. He's just coming back from the shower and gives me a wink as he passes by. “I may be one of the few, but I'm glad you're here, McKenna. I think you and the rest of the females will make life around here more interesting. Let me know if you need anything.”

I blink really hard and continue listening to the music for the few minutes I have left.

 

Jonathan tried to beg off from today's meeting. Apparently he's got a lot to do before Parents' Weekend. I wouldn't let him, though, and run to the chapel after first block is finished.

He slides his phone into his pocket. “I only have a minute. You've got to be kidding me about the KB.”

I lower my gaze to the floor. “We were on an MM—”

“Don't tell me. The less I know, the less they can say I'm helping you out. And as far as the KB . . . I can't get you one.” He at least has the decency to sound a little remorseful.

“What do you mean you can't get me one? Only upperclassmen—”

“If I help you with this, they'll think you can't do anything on your own—that I'm going to bail you out every time you get in trouble. You'll have to find another way.”

“It's not like I can ask Matthews for mine back.”

“Well, you're going to have to think of something. And you'd better not ask any of the cadets in your classes for one.”

“What? Why not?” But I can tell by the disgusted glare he aims my way that he's heard something about me.

“You could ruin a lot more than your year here if you're screwing an upperclassman.”

“If I'm
what
?” For a second I forget that he's the cadet colonel and wind up to hit him. He grabs my fist in his hand, though, twisting my arm behind my back. I cry out. “I'm not! I'm not! Jonathan, let me go.”

“All I'm saying is that it better stay that way. The things Lyons is hearing about you guys is getting worse. If any of them are true and you're hooking up with cadets—” He drops my hand and I shake my arm out, backing away from him.

“You know what? Don't worry about the KB. I don't know what made me think that you'd actually want to help me. No, if it makes you look the slightest bit weak, you're not going to do it, are you? Never mind that I'm your sister, that I'm doing the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. No, Colonel McKenna has to be a hard-ass, just like Dad.” I push the door open and walk out, ignoring the command of my cadet colonel as he demands I stop.

When I get to the computer lab I log in to my email, ready to give my mom an earful—well, eyeful—of Jonathan's latest asshole move. She's beaten me to the punch, though.

 

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: About Parents' Weekend

Sammy,

I can't come this weekend. Sorry.

Mom

 

I stare at the computer screen for way longer than I need to, reading the lines over and over again. She knows how important this first Parents' Weekend was for Jonathan. She's got to know how much I'm counting on her. But once I headed down the military track, I was never her top priority.

I log off without even bothering to respond. Whether she's here or not, I've got a long night ahead of me preparing for tomorrow's parade. I might as well get started.

 

“Are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you just going to shine your boots all night?” Katie's in the barracks tonight, for once. She's starching both our uniforms so that we can iron them.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you look like someone killed your freaking cat or something.”

I spit on the tip of my boot, rubbing it into the polish to bring out a shine that even Matthews won't be able to critique. “It's nothing.”

“You're lying.”

“So what if I am?”

“Look, I know I haven't been around much. I don't mean to keep getting injured—”

“There's a difference in being hurt and sliding through freshman year.” I want to take my words back as soon as I see the hurt on her face. “I didn't mean that. I'm sorry. . . .”

“Of course you did. You don't think I know I'm not doing as much as the rest of you?” She grabs the iron out of her footlocker and plugs it into the wall. “I know I'm missing training. You and Bekah have more friends than I'll ever have. I'm going to recharge this weekend. I'll be at a hotel, eat real food, watch some television, and then I'll come back and be ready to be part of the company.”

I don't even bother responding. The fact that she gets to see her parents . . . I can't even.

“What? You don't think I can?”

“It's not that. I'm just having a shitty day.” I rub my boot much harder than I should. The shine transforms to a dull polish. I've ruined it. “Shit!” I throw my boot across the room and it thuds against the wall locker before hitting the ground near Katie's feet.

“What's going on, Sam?”

“My mom's not coming.” I scrunch up my face, barricading the tears before they can fall.

“What?”

“She's not coming to the parade, to Parents' Weekend, to any of it.” My mom's chosen her hatred of this place over me. I can't win, no matter what I do.

“God, Sam. I'm sorry.” She presses down on the iron, the smell of hot starch filling the room, reminding me of mornings at home when Dad would get his uniform ready.

Standing, I reach for my boot and put it away in my wall locker. I'll deal with it in the morning. “It's not worth getting upset over,” I say, though the shaking in my voice probably makes it hard to believe. “I'm going to go take a shower.”

I grab my bath caddy, sign out, and walk quickly to the bathroom. At least in the shower I can let the tears fall.

 

Katie's sleeping like the dead two hours later when I sneak out of the barracks and head to check my email, hoping maybe Mom will have sent another one to explain her earlier message.

Sam, I can't come this weekend. Sorry. Mom.

No reason why. No
Love
at the end.

The lab is dark and I slink to the back to my normal computer. But when I log in, there's no new email from Mom. Just Jax.

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: RE: RE: PW

Saturday morning. 2am. Bell tower by chapel. Come alone. (God, that sounds dramatic, doesn't it?)

I know your mom's not coming for the weekend. Sorry about that. I do have some info to share, so come, okay?

BTW, you've got them all stirred up about your KB. What the hell happened?

J

 

I shoot back an email agreeing to meet. Maybe when I'm with her I'll be able to pretend to be human for just a few hours.

SIXTEEN

I CHECK MY BELT BUCKLE ONE MORE TIME BEFORE
heading out. Today is my second time being inspected by Jonathan and the commandant. And it's the Friday of Parents' Weekend. I can't afford to screw up like I did last time. But who knew the command sergeant major was going to make me drop and do push-ups on my way to inspection? I've wrapped rubber bands around my shirt stays—little pieces of black elastic that connect our shirts to our socks beneath our pants to keep the hem from coming untucked—just to be sure.