Rites of Passage (8 page)

“Just get better, okay? The sooner you're back, the sooner we can stick together.”

“We'll see you at lunch tomorrow. Get back to the barracks as soon as they say it's okay,” Cross says.

Katie crosses her arms and looks out the window. “Now, I think I really should rest while I have the chance. And I'm sure you guys want to get back to be part of the company.”

I stand and look at Cross. There's no point in pushing anymore. “Ready?”

She nods. “See you, Quinn.”

Katie doesn't say anything, though. She just keeps staring out the window. The conversation is over.

 

The rain turns to drizzle as we trudge back across campus, squaring corners, our eyes locked straight ahead. It may be a Sunday but we won't be at ease on campus until we're recognized as full-fledged members of the Corps. And that won't happen for at least a few months. When Cross heads to the library to meet up with the rest of the company, I give her a little nod. I've still got one more stop to make, so I continue around the PG, then down the hill toward the mess hall.

The chapel is a redbrick building with window frames, columns, and a steeple all painted a blinding white. Once the school year starts up, every Sunday we're allowed to come to a service if we want.

I open the heavy wooden door and walk in.

“Good morning, Miss McKenna.”

The voice makes me jump, even though it's the quietest voice I've heard in days. The man who spoke is tall and portly, and has a mustache as thick as three fingers. He smiles through the 'stache, although I can't see his teeth behind the whiskers. He wears a long white robe with a red cross on the front and a rope belt tied at his waist—very Christ-like. I'm surprised he's not wearing sandals.

He's standing in a small open area in front of the sanctuary. “Why don't you come into my office?” He gestures to his left. Maroon carpet cushions my steps as I follow him through the open door.

I run a hand over my hair, trying to catch any stray drips, then shut the door behind me. A lamp on his desk lights the room with a warm orange glow. Every inch of the office and floor, other than a small walkway to get to the chair and the reverend's desk, is covered in stacks of papers and books. Pictures of Rev with cadets and soldiers, some on battlefields, some in dress blues with women in white dresses, cover all but a small portion of the walls. This is a man who clearly loves his job.

“Sir, thank you for meeting with this recruit, and for agreeing to be this recruit's mentor this year. It means a lot to this recruit's father, and to this recruit, sir.”

He chuckles, his laugh warmer than any I've ever heard from Dad. “Sit, Sam, and please, drop all that recruit stuff while you're with me. I'm Rev, you're Sam, and if we're going to be spending the year together, we need to be as relaxed as we can.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Rev.” Heat fills my face and I look away, focusing on the photographs on the wall. I'm standing before I even realize it, my hand reaching out to a picture of my father. “This is from a long time ago.” He's just a lieutenant in this picture, standing next to Rev. They're geared up, desert camouflage on, helmets and radios in place. Dad looks happy, his eyes shining, no gray in his hair, even then buzzed short.

“Desert Storm. A lifetime ago.” Rev leans back in his chair, linking his fingers and putting them behind his head. “We became really close during our tour.”

“Dad says some friendships never die.”

“He tells the truth. I'd do anything for him.” He clears his throat, his voice heavy with memory. “Now, let's get down to business. Think nothing of me being your mentor. Even if your father wasn't who he is, I would have mentored a female cadet anyway.”

“Thank you all the same.”

He unlinks his hands long enough to wave my thanks away. “So, do you have any concerns right off the bat? Anything we need to take care of? Your company treating you okay?”

I bite my lip and glance at the open door.

“I'm not Catholic, but consider this a confessional. Unless what you tell me demands my interference because it could harm you or another cadet, it stays between us.” His words hang in the air. Here, surrounded by cadets from years past as well as Rev's friends, and my father, the weight of what I'm doing slips off my shoulders. Rev, and the men on the walls, are men I've been around in some way or another my whole life. They are my father, my brothers, my friends.

“I'm tired. God, I'm so tired and it's only the first week.”

Rev nods. “The first week is exhausting. You're learning, surviving on a lack of sleep, adrenaline fueling every move you make. Now you're crashing. It's definitely understandable. You aren't the only recruit going through this—trust me.”

“And tomorrow is going to suck even more.”

“Ah, yes. With the Corps coming back today, there will be a new level of exhaustion. You'll be on display—all eyes watching to see what the females of Alpha Company are able to accomplish.”

“I know everyone's going to be watching me. I just . . .” The words won't come, though. How can you put words to something you are unable to fail at—no matter what? The ghost of Amos sits in this room with me and I won't let him down.

“May I tell you something your dad once told me?”

I sit a little straighter. “Of course.” Dad never tells me anything of consequence unless it's how to be a better soldier. I definitely want to hear what he told Rev back in the day.

“I was a very green reverend back in Desert Storm. When soldiers would come in wounded or crying and I just got too overwhelmed—he would always tell me I was looking at the problem wrong. ‘Rev,' he'd say”—Rev closes his eyes, a smile lighting up his face—“‘I don't know who said this but I'm going to claim it until someone tells me otherwise. It goes: you are not a drop in the ocean. You are an entire ocean in a drop.'”

My forehead crinkles up and I give Rev the same look I gave Amos when he gave me this dare. My
Are you flipping crazy?
look.

Rev laughs, a big laugh that makes him bend over and try to catch his breath. “I never knew what the hell that meant. But I've come to figure it out while working here. Each of us is capable of amazing things, Sam, if we just believe in ourselves. The ocean may seem overwhelming if we're looking at it from the shore. But if we've got the ocean all bottled up inside us, all the power we need to succeed—nothing can stop us. That's my advice to you. The Corps may not think it's ready for females, but you and your companions have the power to change that if you'll just believe it.”

We talk for a few more minutes, but my mind spins with words I can't believe my father ever said to anyone. Hard-ass Lieutenant Colonel McKenna being inspirational? Motivational? Philosophical, even? I won't believe it. Because if he was ever that way, why couldn't he be that way with me?

As I trudge toward the library to meet up with the rest of Alpha Company, the ghost of Amos and the shadow of my father lead the way, their big McKenna footsteps getting harder and harder to fill.

EIGHT

I'M NOT EVEN UP FOR GOING TO DINNER, THOUGH I'M NOT
allowed to skip the march down to the mess hall. When the campus bell tower chimes five o'clock, I trudge out of my room and get into place beside Kelly nanoseconds before the cadre come on deck. He smiles and gives a little nod of hello.

“Good evening, recruits!”

A day of rest from yelling seems to have helped Drill's voice recover and I stand a little straighter just because, trying to get the book-cover image of a shirtless Drill from the infirmary out of my mind. If I thought finding Kelly attractive was bad, wanting Drill would be a nightmare. “Drill Sergeant Stamm, good evening, Drill Sergeant Stamm!”

“Looks like we've got a wet walk down to mess this evening, but it doesn't matter. This will be the first time the Corps of Cadets sees you little Worms walking in formation so I expect eyes locked front, military bearing, and not one foot out of step. Is that understood?” He's walking as he says this, down the hall of the barracks, then back toward me.

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm!” The shout bounces off the walls and echoes around us, driving into my skull where I don't need any more distractions at the moment.

“Let's move out. Form up downstairs!”

We turn to the left, boots snapping as one against the tile floor. Then we're running, jumping, and sliding down five flights of stairs to the basement. Out the back door, rain puddles on the sidewalk, just another thing to run through. Then we leap up the outside stairs to ground level.

I'm breathing hard and sweating by the time we're standing in formation. I hold my arm out to the front to judge my space, then out to the side, to make sure everyone is equal distance. I will not be the one to screw up when the Corps gets to see us for the first time.

Corporal Julius fine-tunes someone in his squad whose name I still don't know. They've organized us by skill level in each platoon, so when we right-face and prepare to march, I'm staring at the back of Kelly's neck.

Drill's voice echoes around us, singing cadence to keep in step. “We like it here!”

“We like it here,” we yell back, though not nearly as nicely as Drill performs.

“We love it here!”

“We love it here!”

“We've finally found a home!”

It's then that I notice the crowd. It's hard not to when there are cadets everywhere. Some are in various stages of dress, standing on the grass despite the rain. Others are hanging out windows. I keep my eyes locked firmly to the front.

“A home!”

They can't be here just to watch a recruit parade down to dinner.

“A home!”

No. They're here to see Cross and me. The DMA females.

My hands in fists at my side brush the seam of my camouflage pants as I march in step with my company, eyes straight ahead, staring at the back of Kelly's perfectly shaped head. Drill is somewhere off to the left, marching beside us like he always does. The corporals are somewhere, too, watching for the slightest mistake to yell about.

“A home away from home!”

“Hey!”

Drill has timed it expertly, so that the last words of our cadence end right outside the mess hall. When we turn to face Drill, he's standing right in front of me, and while he's talking to all of us, his eyes are locked on mine. “Now, listen up, Alpha Company.” Drill's voice demands we pay attention. “You are on show—and you will be for a while now, it seems, thanks to the infamy of being the first company with female recruits in the history of the DMA. But you're a damn good company and I know you'll make me proud.” He gives a slight nod, still looking at me, then starts pacing again. I exhale the breath I'd been holding as long as he held the eye contact, and refuse to acknowledge the nervous lurch of my stomach. “The whole of the Corps of Cadets saw you march down just now. They know we're on top and I demand that we stay there. You are a company now. A family unit. You will be punished and praised as a unit. Is that understood?”

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

“Good. Now, you have exactly seven minutes to get in, eat, and be back out here in formation. You are not squaring your meals like good little recruits, you're chewing and screwing. Eat as fast as you can, then get the hell out. The cadets at the fine Denmark Military Academy want one evening where they don't have to eat dinner with Worms. Understood?”

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

“Good. Company, dismissed!”

My recruit buddies are gone before I can even blink. I try to move but a hand grabs my arm, holding me back. Cadre aren't supposed to touch us. I tense, but don't dare turn around. Instead, I snap back to attention.

“Just a second, McKenna.” Matthews's voice is syrupy sweet in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. It's just the two of us, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Corporal Matthews, yes, Corporal Matthews!” I yell it loud, hoping someone will hear and take notice, but everyone's inside by now, even Drill. All the cadets on the PG have vanished, too.

I want to force my arm out of his grip, but I'm not allowed to move. I keep my eyes locked straight ahead so I don't glare at him.

“I know you were at the infirmary today. And talking to Rev.” He laughs. “You're slacking already, trying to find ways to skate through the year. It won't work, you know.”

My heart pounds in my throat. Was he the one watching from the road? Was he following me? “Corporal Matthews, this recruit checked on this recruit's roommate, then went to a scheduled meeting with this recruit's mentor, Corporal Matthews!” I wish I sounded more sure of myself.

“You're just a stupid, weak girl.” He hisses the words in my ear. “Play innocent all you want, McKenna, but we're watching your every step. There won't be a second of the day when I won't know where you are and what you're doing. The best thing you can do is save yourself a whole lot of grief and quit now.”

I grit my teeth. His fingers dig into the flesh of my bicep. Tears sting my eyes and I try not to cry out.

“That's right. The sooner you figure out who's boss the better. Even your own brother can't save you here. It'll only get worse if you don't get the hell out of here. Understood?” He digs his fingers harder into my arm until I whimper.

It's all I can do to squeak out the proper response. “Corporal Matthews, yes, Corporal Matthews.”

“Now, you've only got five minutes left for dinner. You'd better hurry that hot little ass up.” He lets go of my arm, shoving me forward.

I let the momentum take me away from him and into the mess hall, as far away from Matthews as I can get. Alpha Company is already sitting down. I grab what I can eat with my hands—two hamburgers, skip the drink. The moment I sit down I start shoveling the food in even though the conversation with Matthews has left me feeling queasy.