Rites of Passage (22 page)

“You need someone right now.”

“Well, it can't be you.”

He looks hurt. “Kelly's in town, right? I'll call him, let him know. Maybe you can spend the rest of break with him.”

“No,” I choke out. I don't want to spend the rest of break with anyone.

“He's your recruit buddy. He'll take care of you.”

It's not Kelly that I want to take care of me. But what other choice do I have? It's not like I can ask Drill to take me home to
his
house.

Finally, I agree. “Call him. And thank you.” It's only a whisper, but it's the best I can do.

When I move to go past him, he steps into my way. He reaches down, his thumb brushing away a tear on my cheek and I close my eyes, holding as still as I can. His hand stays there, resting against my jaw just like before. Before my world came crumbling down and the thought of breaking the rules seemed huge and amazing. Now I'm scared that if I breathe I'll fall apart right here. “If there's something I can do . . .” He lets the words drift off, dropping his hand and wincing like it hurts to stop touching me.

“I'll be okay,” I whisper, not trusting my voice to do more than that.

TWENTY-TWO

KELLY HAD BEEN A SOMEWHAT WILLING PARTICIPANT IN
keeping my mind occupied, running with me twice during the last couple days of break and taking me to the local theater to watch some action movie. I'd kept the secret of Dad's disappearance from him, though. Ever since the smoke show when Matthews hit him, he's been . . . off.

When the pounding starts at 0530 on the first Saturday in December, I jump to the ground from my top bunk. Going through the routine is much easier than waiting. Waiting for a phone call from Mom, for a fleeting glance from Drill, for the next attack from Matthews and the Society.

Katie mumbles but I bust my butt, tying my running shoes.

“Hurry up, Katie. I'm not waiting.”

She mumbles again and I glare at her for a second. She turns over, covering her face with the blanket, when I finally open the door and head out to the wall without her.

Kelly rubs his eyes next to me, his shoes not even tied. “What the hell is going on?”

“Recognition?” I whisper back. According to Jonathan—before he stopped talking to me—recruits are recognized as cadets sometime around Christmas. After that, things change a little bit—we get phones in our rooms and we're allowed to have computers. We get to stop walking in the gutters. It's going to be heaven. And it's the only thing I've got to look forward to right now.

He shrugs, still trying to wake up.

“Where is everyone?” Drill reappears on deck and counts the meager number of us who have shown up. He walks slowly down to the other end of the hall and back, stopping in front of me.

“McKenna? Where's your roommate?” He hasn't talked to me alone since Thanksgiving. He keeps his eyes locked on mine and I have to force the shadow of a smile from showing. He's kept the secret of my dad's disappearance for a week and in moments like this I can almost pretend it's not happening at all.

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, this recruit's roommate is still in this recruit's room, Drill Sergeant Stamm.”

“Will you go get her?” It's not an order, more of a request. Kelly's head turns a little as Drill takes a step back, addressing all of us on the wall now. I'm scared if I look at him, he'll be able to figure out that I've got a crush on our drill sergeant. “Everyone whose roommate is not on the wall in sixty seconds will be marching tours this weekend instead of going to the football game. Is that understood?”

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

It takes five minutes, but finally we are all out on the wall. Bekah is grumbling and Matthews stands possessively close to her, protecting his best friend's property, I guess. She's gotten out of the two smoke shows we've had since Thanksgiving, even when she's not at a team event. I guess dating an upperclasshole has its perks.

“I know what you're all thinking. It's what everyone is wondering about right now. Recognition.” Drill sounds tired, like he's been up all night, and his hands are curled into fists.

My heart speeds up. Could this be it? Could we finally be getting some freedom? But if it is, why does Drill look so pissed?

“But it's not going to happen. At least not right now.” Drill's eyes fall on me and he shrugs. “Some of the upperclassmen feel that all of the weakest cadets have not been weeded out yet. That there are still some here who should not hold the title of cadet. You won't get recognized until after Christmas.”

For the first time since Hell Week, my recruit buddies and I break military bearing and groan.

“What?” Kelly says. “That's bull, Drill.”

I glance at Matthews. He's loving every minute of this.

“I didn't say it wasn't. What I said was that this is the consensus of the Corps as a whole.” Drill looks down at his hand, rubbing a spot on his ring finger. In just a few short months he'll wear one of the DMA class rings. It should be the happiest moment in his time here besides graduation, but he doesn't look happy about it right now. “That doesn't mean you won't be recognized into Alpha Company, but that's something else entirely.”

“Is there anything we can do? Any way we can change the Corps' mind?” Kelly pleads.

“Motivational marches are always an option, but they won't help. Not this time.” Drill's eyes fall on me again and the next sentence he says is just for me. “This was a directive from the cadet colonel. You would have to move mountains to get it changed.”

“So, it's
her
fault,” Wilson snarls. He's wanted me gone since day one.

I shrink into the wall, wishing I was invisible or that Dad had instilled in me a spine that could stand up to this. Sounds like the corporals might finally get their wish. If Wilson turns on me, others might follow. If I don't have anyone in my corner . . .

“I never said that.” Drill's voice is harsh, leaving no room for doubt about where he stands. The Corps as a whole might not want me here, but he does. I shake my hands out at my sides to get some feeling back into them even though I'm supposed to be holding still.

“You didn't have to.” Wilson's New York accent comes out when he's angry. “Can't we just ditch her? Get her the hell out of here?”

It's the first time any of my recruit buddies is brave enough to say it to my face. I expect Kelly to speak up but he remains silent. His jaw works overtime, clenching and unclenching.

I glance to my left but he won't meet my eye and suddenly I'm glad I didn't tell him about Dad. The silence goes on so long I can't stand it anymore. “I'm not leaving. I don't care what you guys say or what you try to do. I deserve to be here just as much as any of you. I've worked just as hard.” I don't mention that they're not riding Bekah as hard as me, or that she's missed out on most of our training, not to mention all the smoke shows I've endured without either her
or
Katie. Maybe that's the problem, though—I'm making it on my own and the boys can't handle it.

“I didn't sign up to be here when the Corps gets watered-down,” Wilson says. “The others are sliding through. It's only a matter of time before you start slacking off, too. If you three make it, they're going to have to let other girls in,” Wilson argues. “Then we're going to be jogging and doing modified push-ups just to make things easier for you.”

“Cut the crap, Wilson. You know the cadre are riding Mac harder than the other two,” Nix says, standing on the other side of Kelly. I want to give him a hug.

I can't believe Drill is letting us do this, but I'm not backing down now. “Let's forget for a second that I've done every damn thing we've been asked to do. Girls have just as much right to be here as you, Wilson. Besides, I pushed more than you during the last smoke show and I'm pretty sure I've never puked on deck before.” Drill's standing against the opposite wall, watching me, his head cocked to the side as he listens. He smiles a little as I finish. Well, I'm glad someone's enjoying this.

“Pack your bags and leave, McKenna. Let the Corps stay true like it used to be.”

I don't respond to Wilson this time. Blood pounds in my ears and I don't care anymore that I'm supposed to be standing at attention. I turn and look at Kelly, wanting, no
needing
him to stick up for me. But he doesn't.

Kelly continues to stare straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw tense.

“All right, all right. Get it back under control,” Drill says when it's obvious Kelly isn't going to say anything. “I just needed to inform you of the change. Don't expect Recognition before Christmas. You probably shouldn't even expect it after Christmas. It's easier to not get disappointed that way. Just continue on. Show the upperclassmen that you deserve to be recognized. Now square yourselves away and get ready for PT.”

 

Our five-mile run finishes at the obstacle course again. My lungs burn, the December air creeping inside and not letting go. My body feels like it's freezing from the inside out. I pull my hands over my mouth and nose, struggling to slow my breathing and get a few lungfuls of warm air.

“We're working on the obstacle course again today,” Drill says once the stragglers have caught up. “We've got two weeks until Christmas break and after that it'll be snow-covered until March most likely. Each recruit will go through the course three times. We'll be timing each run. Your cadet colonel is here to make sure you're each putting your best effort forward.”

I bend over, putting my hands on my knees, still breathing hard, and not looking at Jonathan. I certainly didn't expect a hug from him, but
some
recognition that he sees me or an acknowledgment that he's worried about Dad, too, would have been nice. Winter air stings my lungs and huge clouds of mist float up every time I exhale. Pulling my hood up, I straighten, trying to focus on the task ahead. There's no way I'm going to win, but I've got to prove to them that I belong here.

“You okay?” Kelly says, jogging over to me.

I take a step aside, putting some distance between us, still pissed about before. “I'm fine.”

Bekah stretches an arm up in the air. “What the hell are you doing over here, Kelly?”

He looks stunned at her anger. “I'm just checking on Mac.”

“I'll check on her. She doesn't need your help.” For once I'm grateful for Bekah's no-bullshit take on life.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you messed up, dude.”

He looks at me, the teal eyes that I liked so much at the beginning of the year full of concern. “Mac?”

I shake my head. “If you don't know what you did, don't worry about it.”

“I'll tell you, dick. You left her for broke back there on the wall. Her recruit buddies were rioting against her and you just left her there to take it on her own.”

“Wait a second,” he says, looking from Bekah to me and back again. “No, that's not what happened. She always says she can do this on her own . . . that she doesn't need to be protected . . .”

“That doesn't mean you don't stand up for your
friend
,” Bekah fires back.

I expected to be abandoned by some recruit buddies. I expected upperclassmen to be against me from the start. But for Kelly to turn on me . . . I didn't see that coming at all.

“Just leave it, Bek. It's not worth it.” I glance at him once more, just to make sure he understands I'm talking to him. “
He's
not worth it.”

“Cross, McKenna, you're with me. Kelly, hurry up and go with the company,” Matthews yells from where he stands with Jonathan and our adult supervisor.

I keep my grumbling to myself and run over to where he points, jumping up and down to keep myself warm. At least over here I don't have to deal with Kelly anymore. Bekah gives me a shrug and I just roll my eyes. A whistle starts the first recruit on the course and I watch as Wilson stumbles on the first obstacle.

“Listen up, Worms,” Matthews sneers.

I immediately slide into parade rest, but Bekah stands at ease, having more guts than I ever would.

“Colonel McKenna and I have been discussing your physical fitness levels this morning. He watched you both throughout your run and he raised some concerns about your ability. So, when you come back from Christmas break, PT is changing. Instead of being with the company, you'll be going to remedial PT. Until you're physically fit, we don't want you hurting your precious little selves in company PT. Is that understood?”

I can't believe it. I'm in better shape than half my recruit buddies. So is Bekah. Now we're being put in remedial PT? I look from Jonathan to Matthews, then back to my brother.

“You have a problem with that, McKenna?”

Bekah elbows me in the side.

“Corporal Matthews,” I say, loud enough for Jonathan to hear. “This recruit is wondering if there are any other recruits in the company being put in remedial physical training, Corporal Matthews.”

“Of course not. Everyone else is where they need to be. Everyone else has proven themselves. You haven't.”

I clench my hands into fists at my side. We have and they both damn well know it.

“Do you understand, McKenna?” His eyes dart to Jonathan and back at me, but at this point I don't care that I'm breaking all protocol.

Telling me I'm not prepared when that's all I've done for the last year—putting me in a PT class for losers? How the hell can I understand? Bekah should feel the same, but she's nudging me with her elbow again and I know I've got to say something.

“Corporal Matthews, yes, Corporal Matthews.” The words come out quiet and dangerous.