Rites of Passage

by Hensley,Joy N.

  Matthews lets out a growl at being called off by Drill. “Leave, McKenna. Now.” He pushes down on me as he stands up, and I sink to the floor, collapsing under the weight of being one of the first females at the DMA.

  Breathing hard, I struggle, trying to get my hands under me. Kelly reaches out a hand and I grab it, standing up and breathing out a sigh of relief.

  As soon as I’m steady, Matthews is there again, his hot breath sluggish on my neck as he whispers. “Remember, McKenna. The DMA is a dangerous place for females. Watch out.”

  Drill speaks next, so close by that Matthews winces and takes a quick step back. “Showers, everyone. Study hall in five minutes! Matthews,” he says, more quietly as the rest of my recruit buddies turn and run. Matthews is still too close for me to move without running into him. “At my door. Now.”

  “Yes, Drill Sergeant,” Matthews spits out. He glares at me for a minute before taking a step back, giving me just enough room to slide by. Drill waits until I’m at my door before he moves away from me, his eyes on Matthews the whole time.

  I slip into my room and close the door behind me, collapsing on the bed in a heap of sweat and exhaustion. The only thing I want to do right now is crawl into a hole. Drill had to call Matthews off because he thought I couldn’t take it. He thinks I’m weak.

  But that’s not the worst of it.

  God forbid you get injured during a training incident or that the Society decides to do something . . .

  Matthews threatened me outright. Not just that he was going to make my life miserable, but that there’s some kind of Society that might go so far as to hurt me. I’ve never heard of them, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.

  And if they’re something Matthews knows about, it’s not likely that they’re anything good.

  I slam my Military History textbook shut during Wednesday night’s study hall. There’s no point in staring at the pages when the dates swirl together, making rivers and contrails on the page.

  “Not going well?”

  Kelly sits across from me in the library, struggling over his algebra textbook. His foot has been touching mine for seven minutes and right now I don’t have the strength to even try putting up a fight. It’s been two days since the smoke show but I’m still so sore it hurts to move at all. “I’m just confused,” I say.

  “By dates and battles? That doesn’t seem like you.”

  I toss my pencil down, giving up the study hall as a loss. “Okay, how about exhausted? That seems like my excuse for everything lately.”

  He’s looking at his homework, though, not really listening. “Your roommate back from the infirmary yet?”

  “Who knows. She might as well move in there. It’s been two weeks this time. Sounds like a nice break.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he says, raising his head to look at me. “You’re not one to slide through.”

  “Then maybe I should join a sport; Cross hasn’t been to company training since the beginning of September. She’s got an excuse every night.” I’m trying not to let the fact that Cross missed Monday night’s smoke show bother me, but it’s hard to ignore that I seem to be the only female in the company right now.

  “Okay.” He puts his pencil down and steeples his fingers in front of his face, leaning on his elbows. “Therapy time. Why are you here? I mean, I know your brother is cadet colonel and your dad went here. But, what made you come?”

  I stare at him for a long second. Liam. Jax called him Liam. It suits him. And somehow when I think of him as just plain Liam, it’s like he’s just a regular guy, someone I can talk to.

  “Honestly?”

  He looks up from his book, scooting his chair closer. Now it’s not just his foot touching mine, but his leg. His lips twitch when he sees me swallow hard. “Of course.”

  I pull my foot away from his—the closest thing to rejection that I can dish out right now. “It was a dare.”

  He drops his hands and leans in so he’s partway over the table, his voice quiet and conspiratorial. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I can’t keep the grin off my face. “No. I’m not. My oldest brother Amos gave me the dare two years ago when girls at the DMA was just an idea.” I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear and study the table. “I kind of have a problem with saying no to dares.”

  He smiles so big I see a second dimple that I’ve never seen before and I feel my resolve to stay away from him wavering. The shhh from the librarian when he laughs makes me start, too. I haven’t laughed like this for weeks. It feels good.

  “That’s a pretty major dare, Mac.”

  I shrug it off. “We’ve done worse,” I say, though I’m not sure that’s true now that I’m here.

  Kelly looks like he wants to say something, and then squints instead.

  “What? Go ahead. Say what you want to say.”

  “Well, the point of going to a military high school, other than being put here by a judge, is to stand out, you know? To thrive, rise through the ranks, and get into a military university. I mean, you’re good, but I just can’t imagine them letting you be a drill sergeant, much less the cadet colonel. You’re a girl.”

  I look around, acting shocked and checking to see if anyone overheard. “A girl? Are you serious? Who told you? How did you find out?”

  He grins and blushes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant . . .”

  “I know. I’m not the most popular person around here. I figure if I toe the line and keep my name clean, though, I can finish strong, even if I don’t get the chance to prove I have leadership potential.”

  “So your oldest brother, the one who gave you the dare—where is he now?”

  Gritting my teeth, I pick up my pencil and press it hard into the paper, tracing over words I can’t even read through the tears that are suddenly there.

  “Mac?” He leans across the table, his fingers brushing mine. He doesn’t hold my hand, but he keeps it where it is, lined up with mine, pinky to pinky. I think about pulling away.

  I shake my head, blinking quickly to keep the tears back. I promised Dad and Jonathan. I swore I’d keep it a secret. But I can’t. I need someone to talk to about it—that’s something neither of them will ever be able to understand. Maybe I have more in common with Mom than I thought. “He killed himself on R & R. Last Christmas.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Mac. I didn’t mean—”

  “We’ve kept it real quiet. Dad doesn’t want anyone to know, you know? A McKenna weakness like that wouldn’t be too great to broadcast.” I spit the words out, still pissed that Dad could think Amos was weak at all.

  He pauses, like he has more questions about Amos. I look away when he meets my eyes, his face full of pity. It makes me want to get up and leave, and I think he knows it. “So . . . what’s it like being in classes with cadets instead of recruits?” He’s eyeing my pages of notes. “Awkward conversation change, I know. But I don’t have any idea how to respond to that.”

  “It’s okay. No one knows how to respond to it. I’ll take topic changes any day.” When my hand shakes, he moves his just a bit, so his pinky and mine are crossed. I swallow and pull my hand away, putting both of them in my lap to keep from chewing my nails. It takes me a minute to even remember what he asked and I have to clear my throat to make my voice work. “Classes. They’re weird. I don’t say a word in Military History—I think Matthews would eat me alive. In all the other classes I keep quiet as much as I can and let the upperclassmen do all the talking.”

  “And they let you in as a Worm? Knowing you were a sophomore?” To his credit, it doesn’t look like the lack of hand-holding bothers him too much.

  “As long as I complete recruit training and Worm rites of passage, they don’t care.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, giving me that dimpled smile that might make me melt if we were anywhere but here. Then he clears his throat and picks up a pencil. “Now, about this math homework. Damn multistep equations
. I hate them. Ever wonder why there are letters in math? It doesn’t seem right, does it?”

  “Need help?” I’m not an ace at math, but algebra I can handle.

  “Nah, I’ve got to figure this out on my own.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ve got to get another book. But when I get back, it’s my turn to ask you a question.”

  His eyes get really big and he feigns nervousness. “I don’t know if I’ll survive until you get back. If it looks like the numbers have killed me, you may have to use mouth-to-mouth to resuscitate.”

  Laughing again, I push the chair away from the table and stand up. “You wish.” I grab the book off the table and head back to the stacks. I know what I want to ask him—we never have gotten a chance to talk about Jax. I’m dying to know how they connect and why she’d reach out to try and help me.

  I run my fingers over the spines of the books, looking for another one that might help me make sense of the Military History homework. There are two that look promising and I grab them, about to turn the corner. The sound of voices stops me in my tracks. They’re hushed but the closer they get, the clearer they are.

  “What I’m doing isn’t working. Her roommate basically lives at the infirmary now. I nearly killed her the other night. Shit, I’ve seen guys crumble with a smoke show half as bad.” It’s Matthews. I’d recognize his voice anywhere. I slip away from the voices and around the end of the bookshelf so they won’t see me when they walk by.

  “The Society meets next week. We can’t change our course of action until then. The other female?” This voice could belong to any one of the faceless cadets I don’t know.

  “We’re going to get to her another way,” Matthews says to the invisible voice and follows it up with a laugh. I stay where I am until their voices fade away, then take a step backward, sliding as quietly as I can down the aisle and into the main part of the library. If they see me here, there’s no telling what they’ll do. Breathing hard back at the table, I pack my stuff as quickly as I can.

  Kelly looks up from his text book. “What are you doing? Everything okay?”

  I glance around, hoping Matthews isn’t still in the vicinity and shake my head at Kelly. “I need to head back to the barracks.” That’s twice I’ve heard about the Society this week. Could this have something to do with the bets to get us out of here?

  He stands up and starts packing his stuff. “Did you get the book you need?”

  It takes me a minute to figure out what he’s talking about. “Nah, I’ll find something online.”

  He shrugs. “Time for a study break anyway. I’ll head back with you. I’m about as sick of algebra as I can get and you know the cadre. They don’t want you girls walking around alone.”

  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.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  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 my morning call, another one of those weird things recruits have to do, like we’re fricking human alarm clocks, and take a breath. I keep my eyes straight ahead as 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. Two lines stretch from top to bottom, cutting the circle in half, 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 but I continue walking, breaking out of my straight line to go 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, but if I was 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-procl
aimed 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.”