Rites of Passage (33 page)

I walk over to him and he pulls me down onto his lap. I fit perfectly, his arms wrapped around me to keep me close. “Kelly and Bekah are sneaking out and going to Wintergreen.”

“I heard. Lyons rented a condo at the ski resort. You're sure they're going?”

“Bekah told me earlier.” Though time has dragged most of the year, now I don't have enough of it. I thought I'd at least get a chance to tell Kelly I know and beg him not to sign on to what the Pandora Society wants him to do. “I need to talk to Kelly.”

“I don't think that's a good idea. The less they know you know, the better right now.”

I resist the urge to argue. I know he's right. “I guess. Do you think Jonathan's really involved?”

“I hope not. I really, really hope not.” He pauses. “If I'm following Jax, I won't be able to protect you. Your recruit buddies are going to be watching, but they don't stand a chance against the Society. The only people I trust are
my
recruit buddies, but there are only so many of them.” For the first time since everything started, he looks scared. “How am I supposed to make sure you're okay?” His hands grip my shoulders, thumbs trailing along my neck.

“They'll all be at the meeting, right? I'm going to be the safe one tonight.” And as much as I want to call it off, we can't back down now. We have to figure out who is involved if we're going to take them down.

Rev whistles as he enters the chapel and I stand up. The ghosts of Drill's hands are still on my shoulders, giving me strength I wouldn't have otherwise.

“I'll be okay. I'm more worried about Jax tonight than anything.”

“I'll take care of Jax. Huff will watch over you.”

“I don't want to keep him away from—”

“Give him some credit. It may be our junior year, but some things are more important than getting drunk, even when it's the only time the entire faculty looks the other way and lets us do it out in the open.”

“Thank you. For helping me. Even when I act like I don't want it.”

One corner of his mouth turns up. “You're Alpha, Mac. You're one of my recruits. And you're . . .” He takes my hand but doesn't step closer. It seems safer this way, less intimate, although I still feel the need to be close to him, even though I know I shouldn't. “If you were anyone else . . .”

I smile sadly. “If I were anyone, you wouldn't give me a second thought.”

Drill squeezes my hand, a last hurrah before we go to battle. “I think we'd better go out at different times. Stay and talk to Rev. Call D.C. Your mom and dad should be back by now, right?”

Talking to Mom might be just the thing to keep me on track. Besides, knowing Dad fought and survived gives me the strength I need to do the same.

“Wait until Ritchie gets here before you leave. I don't care if you miss class or not.” Drill looks at me for a moment before he opens the door to Rev's office. “Be safe tonight.”

THIRTY-THREE

JAX KNOCKS ON MY DOOR TEN HOURS LATER, A DRESS BAG
in her hand. “I know you said you'd go in your dress blues, but that's ridiculous. You've got the chance to wear civilian clothes, and if you're going to prom, you might as well dress up for it, right?”

“You really didn't have to.” I haven't worn a dress since Dad finally got Mom to back off on making me a girly-girl like her, but when she unzips the bag, I can't help but smile. The dress is the color of arctic ice, a blue that matches Drill's eyes to a tee. The fabric is shimmery and silky and will reach the floor when I put it on. I don't even ask how she knows my shoe size, but the two-inch heels she hands me are incredible. “It's perfect. Thanks.”

“Hey, what are friends for?”

I want to tell her I don't know, that I've never really had a friend like her before, but I can't get the words out and it doesn't seem like she's waiting for an answer anyway.

“Where's the infamous roommate?”

I lock the door behind us, just so we get some warning when Bekah reappears. “She got a pass to go into town to get her hair done. I declined her invitation to come along.”

“She still distancing herself?”

“Ever since the shooting it's gotten worse. With Kelly, too.”

She shakes her head but doesn't respond. Instead, she shakes the dress out and holds it up to me.

I can't stop the eye roll. “Are you sure you have to do this?” Maybe she's got a bad feeling, too, and just needs a push to cancel the whole plan.

“Please. It's a high school dance. What could go wrong?”

I don't even bother bringing up the drunk driving, pregnancies, and fights that tend to happen at normal high school proms, because this isn't a normal high school. This is the DMA.

“Get dressed, McKenna. I need time to do your hair.”

“My hair? Really?”

She laughs. “Relax. For one night, just relax.”

I try to do what she says, and relax. Business as usual. Everyone goes to prom.

 

The armory, where we first swore our oaths to the DMA, is all decked out for the party. Streamers hang from the ceiling; strings of lights line the walls. A giant replica DMA class ring stands in the corner. One by one, the juniors, looking sharp in their dress blues, and their dates stand under its arch and smile for the photographer.

Music thumps through the speakers and bodies press together on the floor. Most of the guys in Alpha Company have dates from their hometowns or local high school girls they've met at games throughout the year.

I spend the first hour of the dance leaning against the wall, watching Drill and Huff scanning the group and moving around, talking to their friends and celebrating. But after a while, Nix gets impatient babysitting a wallflower and pulls me out on the dance floor.

“We're at a dance, Mac. At least attempt to play the part, okay?” But his eyes are on Kelly, and even dancing, I constantly scan the room.

Matthews and his date are practically having sex on the dance floor, though he looks at Bekah frequently. None of the faculty uses their chaperone status for anything other than catching a show. Bekah dances with Wilson, though Evers dances close, keeping an eye on her. She looks stunning in a floor-length green dress with a slit almost up to her hip. Her hair falls in perfect curls around her face, the rest in a trio of braids that weave like a snake down her back. Even though we're not talking anymore, I hate to think how the Society is going to try to get rid of her once I'm out of the picture.

“You doing okay?” Ritchie says, trying to be quiet but yelling over the music. He and Nix have been alternating babysitting duty for the last hour.

“Huh?” I pull my thoughts away from Bekah. “Oh, yeah, I'm fine,” I get out, but I pull away, fanning myself. “I need a drink.”

“I'll come with you.”

“Stay. I'll be right back.” We've been dancing for two hours and no one's disappeared yet. Maybe Jax got the date of the meeting mixed up.

Away from the press of the crowd I can breathe a little easier. It's hot as hell inside and I grab a napkin off the table to wipe the back of my neck. When I feel a hand on my side, snaking around to my stomach, I jump.

“It's just me,” Drill whispers in my ear, dropping his hand to his side. He turns to grab a cup and fills it with punch. “You look amazing.” His gaze keeps moving down to my dress, though each time his eyes come back to my face. He runs a hand from my shoulder to my fingers, making me shiver.

My heart races as I take in the sight of his uniform. He looks good too. It's hard to swallow and I glance back at the people dancing. “Someone's going to see.” The words come out breathy and for a second I'm not sure I even said them.

He leans into me, grabbing a grape and popping it in his mouth. The heat of his body sends me into a tailspin. “Let them.”

“Stamm,” a voice says.

Drill freezes. I wish I could disappear.

“Stamm,” Huff says again.

His eyes half closed, Drill sighs and pulls away just enough that I can slide to the side and breathe some cooler, less Drill-filled air.

“They're on the move. You need to go.” Huff looks nervous, glancing from Drill to the packed dance floor just a few steps away.

“Make sure she gets back. Make sure Ritchie and Nix are outside her room. If anything happens to her—”

“It won't. I won't let it. I care about her, too. Now, go, before you lose them completely.”

“Get back to your room. Stay safe.” Then he's gone, off to fight my battle for me.

 

Back at the dorm, I try to swallow away my fear. Ritchie heads to his room to change into PT gear, grab a blanket, and park outside my room for first watch. I change into camo and sit at my window, trying to keep my leg from bouncing completely off.

Out on the PG, just a few people are around. No one is walking in straight lines, though. How the commandant willingly lets this happen is beyond me. It's amazing what private schools can get away with.

Where the hell are you, Jax?
The clock has ticked slowly past midnight, then one. She should be back by now. I need to be doing something—searching barracks, looking for a way in to Jax's mysterious tunnels to rescue her—but the watchdogs outside my room won't even let me go to the bathroom without an escort.

I cross my arms on the sill and lay my head down, looking at the PG sideways and imagining everything at the DMA tilting over over over until it collapses into a pile of chaos. Then I close my eyes.

A noise from somewhere behind me makes me jump, my heart in my throat. I grab the closest thing to me, my KB, and hold the history of the DMA out in front of me like a sword. “Who's there?”

“It's me, Sam.”

“Shit, Jax. You scared the hell out of me. What time is it? Did I fall asleep?”

“It's just after four. Where's your computer?”

“I don't have one. It's against regs.”

“Fine, let's go.”

I can barely make sense of what she's talking about. “Go? Go where?”

“Tim's house, I guess.”

“Why?”

She holds something up in her hand—a small flash drive the size of her thumb. “I got it.”

The list of Pandora Society members.

I grab my hoodie and pause only long enough to lock the door before we run outside, Ritchie and Nix following close behind, thankful that it's still the middle of the night and we'll be able to get to Tim's house without anyone seeing us.

Soon, at least, we'll know who we're dealing with.

Jax looks worried, but she's smiling, eager to take the next steps in our battle. “Boy, have you decided to bite the toe off a big fucking lion.”

THIRTY-FOUR

THREE DAYS AFTER JUNIOR RING, THUNDER CRACKLES
across the sky, exploding over Stonewall Hall. The rain that's plagued us for forty-eight hours has left the campus a muddy, soggy mess. Drill's been off deck every evening this week, busy with Tim as they sort through the list of names we got. Over three hundred in all, but no DMA students. It's way worse than that.

The list reads like a who's who of military brass. Matthews's dad is front and center at the top of the list, not that it surprised any of us. We don't have anything on the students here other than our “possible Society members” list. And there's no way we can tackle the big list—not yet. There are too many heavy hitters for us to go throwing accusations, even with the proof we've got. We need to start small.

Another clap of thunder makes me jump. “Crap. Weekend Warrior is going to suck.”

“About that . . . ,” Bekah begins.

I haven't had the courage to ask her about Evers yet, but I'm going to tonight. “Let me guess. You'll be at a track meet.”

“All weekend long. It's an invitational.”

“Why not just tell your coach you can't go?”

“I got a scholarship to come here because of track.”

“It's a military school. Your coach will understand. You just want to hook up with Evers all weekend.” She doesn't have a quick comeback like I expect and I turn to her. It's my opening. “Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“It might not be . . . paradise . . . anymore.”

I keep my “I told you so” to myself and pick my pen back up, acting like I don't care. It's a surefire way to get her to open up.

“Fine. He got in a fight with Matthews and Lyons after the dance.” After the Society meeting. “They're not hanging out anymore. He's getting really moody.”

I'm sure he is. Drill's assumption that he's getting kicked out of the Society must be right. And if he's out, that puts Bekah in a dangerous place. She's turned her back on me but I can't stop worrying about her. I reach for my shoes to keep myself busy.

“What are you doing?”

“It's almost company time. Just preparing for the inevitable.”

She glances at her watch, then bites her lip. “Crap. I've got to go to a study group.” She throws a book into her backpack and hoists it on her shoulder.

“You're kidding, right? I mean—”

The knock on the door is so conveniently timed it's not funny. Kelly pokes his head in, looking at Bekah. “You ready? Wilson's waiting.”

“Yeah.” She doesn't sound happy, though, and for the first time she drags her feet as she leaves. “See you later, Mac.”

At least Kelly has the decency to look a little embarrassed as he and Bekah sneak off, again missing company time. But if they're gone, maybe Matthews won't be here for the smoke show. Maybe that means Drill is finally back.

“On the wall, Worms!” Matthews and Julius yell five minutes later, running up and down the hall, kicking the trash cans into our rooms and letting the doors slam shut. Guess I can't be that lucky.

 

I don't know how long it's been, but we're all at our breaking point. Matthews orders us onto our backs, heads off the floor, legs hovering six inches above the ground. “Still haven't gotten rid of your dead weight, Alpha. I know you think she's one of you but she's going to do nothing but hold you back! The rest of this year, and even in the coming years.” Matthews screams over the music; he's been yelling so much tonight he's almost as hoarse as he was at the end of Hell Week. “She's going to hurt you every step of the way. Look at what she's cost you already. You are the only class in the history of the DMA to not be recognized as cadets before Christmas! And now it's almost the end of the fucking year! It's pathetic. That's
her
fault!”