Rites of Passage (28 page)

Huff finishes his set and puts the bar back in the cradle. When he sits up he grins. “Hey! How's the noggin?”

I feel the lump on my forehead and wince. “Sore.”

He stands, glancing at Drill, who hasn't taken his eyes off me or moved. “I think I'm going to call it quits tonight, Stamm. I'll see you in the morning, okay?”

“See ya,” Drill says, his eyes still locked on mine.

Drill is across the room and he's hugging me as soon as Huff is out the door. “Are you okay? Jesus, Mac, they were
frozen.
”

“I'm fine,” I say. I repeat it when his arms squeeze me even tighter. “I promise.” I say a silent thanks to Huff for giving us a few minutes alone, broken rules or not, and lean my head against Drill's chest. He's warm and solid, just like I remember, and I don't want to let go.

“I saw you trying to help Katie. Saw you fall. Everything happened so fast.” His jaws are clenched.

“I know who threw the snowball that knocked me out.” It's what I've been dreading telling him. I keep thinking he'll take off, beat the crap out of the cadet who did it, and then get in a world of trouble. But I can't keep something like this from him and I certainly can't tell Jonathan.

He leads me to the bench and we sit down. “Who?” He's talking in his dangerous voice again, his eyes turning from concerned to pissed so fast I can barely keep up.

I choke on the name at first and have to clear my throat to try again. “Lyons.”

“Second-in-command Lyons? Your brother's best friend?”

I nod. “Jonathan must have known this was going to happen. He's been in on it since the beginning.”

“That's a huge leap, Sam. I could see Lyons in some secret society. But your brother letting people hurt you?” He shakes his head. “I don't buy that.”

“You don't know Jonathan like I do,” I insist. I want to explain how it all makes sense now. Jonathan pulling away from me this year, trying to use the phone call over Parents' Weekend to get me to quit. He's been with the Society all along. But before I can, Drill pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. Without hesitation, mine come up around his shoulders. In a flash of movement, he's lifted me onto his lap and I straddle him, every inch of my body tingling and craving to be just a little bit closer.

We hover on the brink of what's next, just like we did over Christmas. My fingers ache to pull his face toward mine, to feel his lips against mine, to see what would happen if we finally decide to take the plunge.

He breathes first, pulling me closer. But instead of kissing me, he rests his head on my shoulder. His heart thunders beneath the skin and I put a hand on his chest to feel it. I let my lips press lightly once, then twice, against the smooth skin of his neck.

“I'm worried about you.” His words come in a rush of wind and I'm not sure he's actually said anything until he continues. “I don't want anything else to happen to you.”

“I'll be okay,” I breathe into his skin, urging him to believe it. I couldn't leave now, even if I wanted to. It's gone too far to turn back.

“You'd better get back to the infirmary.” The hand that's not keeping me pressed to him slides up and down the length of my spine.

“They're releasing me back to the barracks tomorrow.”

“I know. I'll send someone to meet you. I don't want you alone.”

I tense, pushing against his chest to sit up and meet his eyes. “I can take care of myself.”

“Matthews and Evers are just pricks, but I thought Lyons was a stand-up guy. If he's involved with this, there's no telling who else might be.” Jonathan's name hangs between us, unspoken. “I need to talk to Rev and Tim.” He moves me gently, waiting until I'm steady on my feet before standing himself. “I'll walk you back.”

“Okay,” I say, though it's not okay at all. I don't want a babysitter, but the Society's taken their game to the next level, and I'm not sure I have a choice anymore.

 

“What do you mean you're not going to be there?” While I was in the infirmary and after Katie left, Matthews moved Bekah into my room. At first I was happy, but now every day seems to begin not only with Matthews yelling but with a fight of some sort between Bekah and me.

“I have track—”

“Team building, right? Well, it's getting ridiculous.” The pounding in my head hasn't stopped in the week since the iceball, though the nurse assures me every day when I'm forced to report for sick call that I don't have a concussion. It's fine with me as long as I'm still able to do what I need to do during company time. Which is what Bekah isn't doing.

“Kelly and Wilson aren't going to be there either.”

“Oh, they've joined the track team, too?” Their absences scare me more than Bekah's, but I can't explain that to her—I don't know how much she knows about Evers, the Society, and their new initiates.

“Of course not. They have a study group.” She's halfheartedly ironing her camo pants to the point where I want to jerk the iron out of her hand and do it myself.

“For someone who studies so much, Kelly sure does have shitty grades.”

“I thought you guys weren't talking anymore. Isn't that why you're in such a bitchy mood all the time?” She's digging, searching for information, but I'm not going to give it to her. Not if she's just going to report back to her boyfriend and he's going to use that information against me.

Leaning back against my wall locker, I close my eyes. The truth is, I'm pissed because for the past week with her here, I haven't been able to sneak away to the armory. Drill and I have had no free time to talk about what he's found out about Lyons. There are cadets after me and yet I'm the one left in the dark. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, you need to get over it. You're the one who said you didn't want to date him. You can't be upset if he starts finding other friends, Sam.” She picks her pants up and shakes them out, totally undoing the creases she just attempted to put in them.

I hold out my hand. “Here, I'll fix them.”

“Thanks.” She smiles gratefully. “And don't worry about tonight. Matthews won't be there either, so it should be pretty easy.”

I have to grip her pants to keep from dropping them. “What? Where's he going to be?”

She shrugs. “Evers just said it would be an easy night on deck so it didn't matter if I didn't show up.”

I wish I had time today to email Jax and see what's going on. It's not going to happen, though. Not today. I grab the can of starch, my hand only shaking a little bit.

 

Seven hours later, head throbbing and arms trembling, I hold myself in the lower half of the push-up position waiting for Drill to call an end to the smoke show.

“Feel the pain, Alpha. Feel it,” Drill says. He walks to the end of the deck and hits the light switch, plummeting us all into darkness.

Ritchie groans next to me. Even without Matthews and Julius here to make it horrible, this smoke show is by far the worst we've had all year. But with Drill it's different. He's not trying to tear us down, he's building us up for something.

“You got this, Ritchie,” I grit through clenched jaws. My heart flutters, not even enough strength left to fight.

Instead of the typical hard-core I-want-to-kill-you music we've had so far, the next song starts out with a helicopter. The piano and a single singer come in next. I raise my head, looking through rivers of sweat but there's nothing but darkness.

“Close your eyes.” Drill's voice is quiet now, the worst type of voice he can have.

I do as he says.

“Listen to the words,” Drill says directly behind me. I adjust my back to make sure it's as straight as possible even though he can't see my push-up form in the darkness.

“Lift your left hand in front of you.”

Shifting my weight to do as he says, I let out a cry. There's no way my one arm will hold me after the last hour. The song has moved from Parris Island training to the fields of 'Nam, singing of dead friends and darkness.

“Scoot over, Mac.”

I do as Drill says, shuffling to my right, then raising my hand again. He's beside me now, in push-up position just like the rest of us.

“Alpha, lower your left hand onto the hand of the recruit buddy to your left. Lean your shoulder into him. Let him support you.”

And just like that, Drill is there, a rock to lean against. I lean into his shoulder, easing some of the pain. I support Nix to my right, his body heavy on my shoulder. We all shake, we all sweat, including Drill, who did every exercise with us tonight.

“Now listen to the words of the song. You are Alpha. You eat together, breathe together. You live together and you die together. Never forget that. Feel the weight of your recruit buddy. Know that you are holding him up. Feel the weakness in your own muscles. Know that you would not still be up if your recruit buddy wasn't helping you. This year is all about you becoming a unit.” His last words about unity echo the chorus of the song.

My eyes sting, and Nix, who never cries, no matter how bad the smoke shows get, sniffles to my right. I'm not alone in this moment and Drill is fully responsible.

“Thank you,” I whisper as the music fades.

He leans closer to me. “You belong here. Don't let anyone tell you different.”

When the song ends, Drill shifts, giving me a chance to get my balance back before standing up. A few seconds later, the light comes back on and I shut my eyes against the intrusion.

“On your feet, Alpha,” Drill barks, but he reaches down to help Nix up.

Then he reaches down and offers me a hand. “Help your brothers up.”

Soon we're all up, standing in a semicircle around Drill. We pant, arms around each other while waiting for our next instructions.

He begins speaking, so quietly that we have to lean in even closer to hear him. “I'm original Alpha—was in Alpha Company as a Worm, just like you. I was corporal cadre for Alpha last year. Alpha is in my blood, just like it will be in yours if you make it through the rest of this year. So listen up. You've got study hall in ten minutes. I've got to be quick.” As he talks, he looks each of my recruit brothers in the eye. “You've been judged this whole year—by your cadre, by the cadet colonel, by the commandant himself. And even though no one has recognized you as cadets yet, you've made me proud.

“Now I've got a mission for you. If you succeed, you will be legendary among all members of Alpha Company, past and present.”

There's excitement in the group and we all lean in closer. Are we breaking into barracks? Stealing the local university's mascot? What crazy thing is he proposing we do? Because looking at the faces of my recruit buddies—we're going to do it, whatever it is.

“It's February. Now is when things are going to get easier on most of you—the upperclassmen will let up a bit, there will be less hazing on the PG, less . . . everything. It's meant to get easier as the year goes on, not harder.”

“You said most of us, Drill. What do you mean?” Nix doesn't get it. If I could see the good in everyone like he does . . . well, I'd probably be on my way out the door by now.

“Mac's year is only going to get harder from here on out. She's got a chance, boys, a real chance of being a model recruit and cadet at this academy. She's squared-away, works hard, doesn't complain. But there are people here who don't want her to succeed. You've got to take it upon yourselves, as fine, upstanding members of Alpha Company, to make sure those people don't get in her way.”

Before I can protest, he continues. “I'm not saying she needs babysitting, or saving, or taking care of. But you do need to watch her back.” Drill leaves no room for argument. “So, fellas, this is your mission. Assign roles, make guard schedules. Let me know if you need anything. You've got to keep Mac under your watchful eyes twenty-four/seven. Help her survive the school year. Is that understood?”

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm!”

I grit my teeth when the others respond, glaring at Drill to make sure he knows I'm pissed.

“Nix, Ritchie—you seem closest to Mac. I'm putting you two in charge.”

“What about Kelly, Drill? He should be involved in this.”

Drill shakes his head. “I'm putting you two in charge. Kelly, Wilson, and Cross are to have no knowledge of this mission. Is that understood?”

I feel the curiosity flow around the circle, but they won't ask. They'll follow orders because Drill has earned our respect. I try to catch his attention, but Drill just gives me the smallest of nods. He's found something out.

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm.” They both respond and squeeze my shoulders. I try to shrug them off but they don't budge.

“Obviously, Mac is not going to help,” Drill says, a smirk on his face, though he's not upset and he doesn't mean for his words to hurt. “You're going to have to take it upon yourselves to figure out her class schedule and make sure she's not alone on any walks across campus. If you do this—if you see her through and make sure she finishes this year—you guys will have earned your place in Alpha Company.” He clears his throat. “Now, helicopter showers—in and out as fast as you can. We've been at this long enough. Mac, a minute. Everyone else, dismissed.”

Nix and Ritchie hang back while everyone else runs to their room to get their shower kits. We've got five minutes to shower and be at our desks studying.

“You guys are dismissed. I'll make sure she's okay right now.”

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm!”

He raises his head, looking at a spot across the hall. I move there with him, but he doesn't say anything yet. Recruit buddies pop out of doors, head to the bathroom, and leave the hall free once again.