Who the hell would send an email congratulating me and then telling me to leave? Probably some upperclassman’s idea of a joke. I click “Delete” without even responding.
Over by the television, Kelly scoots down and makes room for me on the couch between him and Cross. “I checked on Quinn. Sprained ankle. She should be back in a day or two.” He smiles. “So that’s good, right?”
“That’s great. Thanks.”
He turns back to the screen.
I lean over and whisper, “I feel like all I do is thank you for helping me. The obstacle course, getting me out of the river, now this.”
He smells like soap when he leans toward me. “Guess that means you owe me, huh?”
It takes me a second, but I lean away, getting comfortable on the couch and trying to breathe normally. It’s hard to think, especially when he’s sitting this close, his presence so comforting, but that would only lead down a road I can’t travel. Drill made sure we knew dating anyone on campus is strictly forbidden and I certainly don’t need to add a complication to the mix of recruitdom. According to the laws of the DMA, we’re brothers and sisters—we can help each other and take care of each other, but hooking up would be just a little awkward.
Besides, I refuse to be that girl. The one who could’ve made it, and who gets booted over a stupid fling, a never ending walk of shame. Everybody’s out to get me, and to fail over something like that? No. I won’t do it.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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SEVEN
THANK GOD WE’VE GOT A FULL SUNDAY TO REST BEFORE classes start, even if we do have to be up and in uniform for reveille formation at 0700. After first mess, where I eat three plates of waffles, hash browns, and eggs, Cross and I run back to the barracks to sign out. SOP—Standard Operating Procedure—requires us all to sign out on the whiteboard outside our rooms.
Now everyone knows when we’ve left, where we’re going, and when we plan to return. That’s not creepy at all.
The rest of the Alpha Company Worms are all in the library again, watching another military movie and staying out of the rain that’s settled over the DMA. Their cinematic choices are going to get old really fast.
Cross and I begged off due to exhaustion and no one asked any questions. It’s not entirely a lie, but we didn’t want anyone to follow us to the infirmary. They’ll all wonder if we’re weak. If we’re cracking.
Outside, the rain drenches my camouflage, but at least my feet stay dry in combat boots as I walk through the gutters on the way there. We’re moving slower than normal as we walk up the hill toward the edge of campus. My muscles scream from Declaration Day, and Cross doesn’t seem to be doing much better.
The infirmary is a little white building across the street from the main part of the DMA. Before we go in I glance around. Hopefully, no one saw us come this way.
I open the door and we enter the small waiting room.
“Can I help you?” A small woman with whiteish-blue hair and a blue sweater—despite it being August in Virginia—sits behind a desk. Cross and I push our way through rows of chairs and tables piled high with magazines. Boxes are stacked to the ceiling along one wall, letters and last names on them.
The nurse puts her finger in the middle of a romance novel to hold her place. The man on the cover has no shirt on and his face bears a strange resemblance to Drill. She has to ask again before I remember why I’m here.
“We’re looking for my roommate, Kaitlyn Quinn.” I wait for her response, trying to keep my gaze off her book.
“Quinn,” the woman says. “Room seven. Up the stairs, third door on the right.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I take the steps two at a time, the stairs shaking beneath me. “Katie?” I say as I knock on her door. It’s slightly open and I push it the rest of the way. When Cross gets in, she shuts the door behind us.
“What are you guys doing here?” She wipes at her eyes and pulls the blanket up around her shoulders.
“Are you okay? You just disappeared yesterday.” Cross sits on the edge of the bed and I make my way to the chair next to the window. Outside, I can just make out a cadet standing across the street looking at the infirmary. It’s raining too hard to tell who is watching us and there aren’t any blinds to pull down. I take a step away from the widow.
“Twisted my ankle at the top of the rappel. I told Kelly yesterday.”
“Who brought you here?”
“M . . . Matthews and another upperclassman.”
“Matthews?”
“Yeah. You know how he was at the top of the rappel, making sure we all got down? When he saw me twist my ankle he was nice enough to bring me here.”
She’d just been standing next to the tree when I went down the side of the mountain, yesterday. How had she twisted her ankle doing nothing? “Matthews was nice? Right. There’s no way I’m buying he played knight in shining armor.”
“It’s not like I could have finished the activities. My ankle was killing me.” She glances at the window, then back at me. “Why are you here, Sam?” She sounds defensive.
“We were worried about you. Do you want help getting back to the barracks?” Cross asks.
“They told me to stay off it for a few days.” Katie turns her head to look out the window again. Rain streams down the glass now, and the view that she would normally see of the DMA parade ground is completely obscured.
“So stay off it in the barracks. You’re going to miss everything.” It’s not just that, though. If she stays here, she’s showing them how weak she is.
“Look,” Cross says. “I know it’s hard, and it kind of sucks right now. But it’s going to get better. You should just—”
“It’s easier here. If I were there I’d feel like I had to do more than I should.” It’s a good excuse, almost solid.
“Short quit. Yesterday in the river. The cadets started calling us names and she just decided she couldn’t take it,” I say. “If you’re going to try to finish out the year, you need to come back. We’ve got to stick together.”
“I just need to rest my ankle for a day or so. I’ll be back up there tomorrow when classes start, okay?” She’s not budging. Her jaw is set firm and she’s not changing her mind. Even though she’d hated Hell Week, she’d never once talked about not wanting to be there.
But Katie wouldn’t last if Matthews started spitting on her or yelling at her like he did me. She’d crack. “Did Matthews threaten you or something?”
It’s a small hesitation, but it’s there just the same. “No . . . of course not.”
“Matthews doesn’t treat us as hard as he treats you, Sam. It’s crazy how much pressure he puts on you,” Cross says, sounding at least a little sympathetic, then turning to Katie. “But that’s no excuse. We’ve got to work just as hard. Everyone’s watching us this year and we can’t slack off at all,” she says, for the first time hinting that maybe Katie isn’t pulling her weight.
“I can’t help that I got hurt.” Katie sits a little higher in the bed and winces.
“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.” She 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 turns and looks back out the window. The conversation is over.
The rain turns to drizzle as we trudge back across campus, squaring corners, 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 w
on’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 red brick 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, 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.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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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 where rain puddles on the sidewalk, just another thing to run through. Then up the outside stairs to ground level.
I’m breathing hard and sweating by the time we’re standing in format
ion. 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, though 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?”
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