Rites of Passage (36 page)

“I'm not sure. I hear things, you know? Sometimes when people come into the chapel, they don't even realize I'm here.”

“Lucky you,” I mutter, wishing he would get to the point.

“There have been whispers all day.”

“Come on, Rev. Please.”

“Your brother's being drummed out.” The words come in a burst of air.

“What?” I can feel the color drain from my cheeks and I shiver. Nix comes to stand next to me. I lean into him.

“You're a smart girl. Your brother took the rank of a major player—if not the
leader
—of the Pandora Society here at school. They want your brother out and they have the power to do it. The official ruling will be fraternization with a female recruit.”

I can't breathe. Jonathan's being kicked out of the DMA because of me. It's all my fault. “Bekah wouldn't touch Jonathan.” But she has hooked up with other upperclassmen. It wouldn't be a stretch to say she'd been with Jonathan, too.

“You and I know the truth doesn't really matter right now.”

“What about her?” His look tells me all I need to know and I reach out to steady myself on the table. “She's out, too, isn't she?”

Rev sighs, the heart of the matter finally coming out. “After this evening, you're the only McKenna here. The only
female
here.”

 

Nix is helping me up the stairs to deck when Drill opens his door.

“Nix, up on deck. McKenna, in here,” he says. When Nix is gone, he closes the door. “You heard about Jonathan and Bekah?”

“Yes.” I feel like I'm moving through a dream. Everything is happening in slow motion.

“I think it's time for you to leave,” Drill says. “Your brother is out. You understand that, right? You might've thought he wasn't on your side, but whatever he was doing, he was walking a careful line with them. He was the
only
thing keeping you safe. Without him here, I . . .” He jerks his hands into the air, like he's out of options.

“Don't give up on me, please.” My voice shakes and I hate it. I hate the whole damn situation.

He reaches for my hand and pulls me close. “It's not worth you getting hurt again.”

I feel like I'm on the losing end of our argument, but I can't back down. “Your sister went through West Point and made it. You think that would have happened if there weren't girls before her to pave the way?” He looks more defeated than I've ever seen him. “I might not be able to win,” I say, “but they'll know the end is coming. That it can't go on forever. They can't control everything.”

He sighs, dropping his hands to his sides. “I knew you wouldn't quit—it's one of the things I love about you. But I had to try.” He brushes past the word, like it's something people say every day. Drill moves toward the door, but keeps it closed while he continues. “We'll keep up the guard on you. No going anywhere alone, no more late night training sessions.” He puts a finger on my lips when I start to protest. “No. We'll worry about PT next year. There's too much at stake now for you to worry about something that petty. You've got to watch your back. Every second. Every day.”

I try to put on my face everything I'm feeling right now. The gratitude, the love, because I don't know when we'll get a chance to be alone again. If we'll get a chance. The Society has upped their game. Who knows how far they'll go now?

 

Four hundred people—cadets, professors, and other bigwigs at the DMA—in two lines wearing dress blues is an intimidating sight under normal circumstances. By the time Bekah got to me, her whole body was shaking. I wanted to tell her I wasn't mad at her anymore. That I was sorry for everything that had happened. I was so worried about what was coming next, though, that I just watched as she passed me and walked out the gates of the DMA for good.

Now, with a pain in my chest I can't quite get a hold on and knees that are threatening to give out as the sun goes down, I wait for the second cadet of the evening to get drummed out.

I'm assigned the last position by the gate, probably so I'm the last thing Jonathan sees. A way to rub his failure in his face. The drums have been beating for the last ten minutes as Jonathan makes his long walk to the gate of the DMA. Each time he passes a cadet, one of his brothers for the past four years, they turn their back to him, refusing to acknowledge him or even look in his direction.

I can't think about how I feel. I cannot let myself care about this right now. This summer there will be plenty of time—if I survive until then. The clouds above me have been moving in all day, a solid, menacing presence that rumbles low and deep. I stand at attention but I can't keep my hands from shaking.

When Jonathan steps into my line of sight, I put my hand on the stone pillar for support. He walks hunched over, the weight of a rucksack, Army-issued, hanging on his shoulders. He wears jeans with holes torn in them, and a white T-shirt. His eyes blaze with anger when he reaches me.

“Jonathan . . . ,” I whisper. There's no way I can fix this.

“Go to hell, Sam.”

“I never meant—”

“You and Amos always had to be better than me. He jumped right into the Army when he could. I can't help that I'm not the oldest, but I'm the one who wants to follow in Dad's footsteps. Amos
quit.
” He spits the words like he's disgusted to even say them. “And, you. You can't be a Ranger like Dad. Why the hell did you have to come here? What's it going to prove if you survive?”

I shake my head. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“I won't graduate from the DMA. West Point will never take me since I got drummed out of here. I busted my ass for
four years
to make a name for myself. And you come here and ruin everything in nine months.” He leans in toward me. His teeth are clenched and his voice is a quiet hiss in my ear. “I hope they kill you.”

He turns and walks through the gates without looking back and I can do nothing but watch. He's my only brother now.

And the Society has made me lose him, too.

THIRTY-NINE

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THINGS HAVE CHANGED?” FIVE OF US
cram into Rev's already overly full office the first weekend in May and it's stuffy, hard to breathe.

“They're not done with you yet.” Jax sighs and Kelly nudges her in the side, encouraging her on. “They're not going to just let you finish the year. They're going to do one more push to get you out now that Bekah's gone. They're going to hijack the Worm Challenge.”

The room is silent and Rev's old clock
tick-tick-ticks
until I want to scream. But I sit there for a full minute staring out the window before I speak. “How?”

“I don't know.” Jax looks at the floor. “The normal channels have gone silent.”

Drill runs his hands over his buzz cut. “Look, I know this must be hard—”

“You have no idea,” I whisper. It's all I can say without breaking down. If I speak any louder, all the crap that's been building up is going to force its way out. I can't let them see me cry.

Rev clears his throat and stands. “Dean, why don't we give you two a few minutes? Jax, Kelly, can I get you guys a cup of coffee?”

“Sorry, Sam.” Jax puts her hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I know how hard you've worked for this.”

When they're gone, I reach for Drill's hand and my fingers slide between his easily, like they're meant to be there. “Is it weird that I've never called you Dean?” I like how his name sounds on my lips.

He lifts my hand a little, resting it on his leg and tracing circles on my skin. “We need to figure out what we're going to do. I'll go get your stuff from Stonewall if you want . . . to go home. . . .”

It sounds so easy. Packing up and leaving. Getting the hell out of the DMA. “Is that what I should do?”

“I don't know. I really don't. I want you safe—that means gone. I want you to beat the bastards—that means staying.” He leans forward, resting his head on my shoulder. “This year has been a nightmare,” he says, then continues hastily. “But I didn't say that. I don't criticize. I'd hate to lead the Corps.”

“I think you'd be a great leader.” I mean it with all my heart. “And I'm not just saying that because you're you.”

“Well, if it's up to me that will never happen. But thanks.”

“Why aren't you a member of the Society? You seem like their ideal candidate. Good soldier, strong, squared-away. Way better than Evers and Matthews.”

“Not true. Most secret societies, at least the ones who rule by intimidation like the Pandora Society, are for people who want things a certain way. They've been at every military school and through all branches of the military. You may be born into it because your dad or grandfather was in it, but you've still got to prove you belong. And for this one, you do that by hurting fellow cadets to make a core group stronger. Everyone else is cast aside. I don't work like that.”

“I'm glad you don't.”

“I didn't apply to be a drill sergeant, you know.”

“No, I didn't know that. What happened?”

He shrugs. “Got called into Colonel Lee's office during cadre week. I think he knew what he was up against with females coming in. Maybe he even knew something about the Society—though he probably won't admit it. But he needed someone near you females who wasn't wrapped up in the Corps' image—only in giving everyone a fair chance to succeed.”

“Well, I'm glad he chose you.” From day one I've known I'd do whatever he asked of me and this . . . whatever we have . . . makes it hard to think for myself rather than think of Alpha first. But I can only put off my decision for so long. “If I leave after all of this, after everything they've done, I'm throwing it all away. Every step I've gained toward acceptance, toward being part of the DMA—it'll be gone.” And I would fail.

“Yes.”

“And if I go, what I've gone through, what Bekah went through, what
Jonathan
went through, will be pointless.” He squeezes my hand and I lean against him, resting my head on his shoulder.

“You could still expose the Society. Still give the board of directors something to think about.”

We'd spent weeks looking at the list: cops, bankers, military brass, members of the board of directors, and Matthews's dad.

“Tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you want.”

He laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling in amusement. “No you won't.” Then he gets serious again. “It's your choice. I'll back you either way, but this is a decision you've got to make.”

I stand, unable to sit still, but pacing doesn't help either.

“I'm going to step out. Give you some time to decide, okay?”

Nodding, I reach for his hand and squeeze. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Believing in me.”

“You make it really easy. If you choose to continue, we'll come up with a plan. We'll help you make it.” He plants a kiss on my forehead before walking out, closing the door behind him, and leaving me alone to make a choice that could cost me my life.

I want his words to be true. That with their help, I'll survive the Worm Challenge. I
need
his words to be true.

I just don't know if they are.

FORTY

“ALL RIGHT, ALPHA,” DRILL SAYS ON THE SECOND SATURDAY
in May, the day of the Worm Challenge. “When you finish tomorrow morning, you will all have earned your place here at the DMA. You've gone through a lot this year, but you've stayed strong. Now, this is an eight-hour challenge.” He's dressed all in black, his arm muscles tense and stretching his T-shirt. The black drill sergeant cap is pulled down low over his face, covering his eyes in shadows.

My legs shake as I stand on the wall next to Kelly and Ritchie. “Breathe, Mac,” Kelly says. Our truce has turned into an uneasy friendship.

“You'll start in pairs, hiking the thirteen miles up House Mountain. At the top, you'll be given an orienteering map, compass, and flashlight. You'll have the remaining time to solo-navigate your way down the mountain, stopping in at three checkpoints. The final step will be completing the obstacle course.” He crosses his arms, just putting on a show. We had our real meeting in secret last night. The one without Wilson where Alpha voted to forgo any chance of Company of the Year to protect me. “If you want your time to count toward the Company of the Year, you've got to cross the finish line before 0700. Are there questions?”

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, no, Drill Sergeant Stamm!” We're the only ones on deck, but as soon as we go outside, the Society will be watching.

“Good. Then pair up and meet me outside.”

Kelly nudges me, though we'd worked this out last night, too. “Mac?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Partners.”

He hovers close, waiting for me.

“She'll be right out, Kelly.”

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm.” Now that he's been ordered, he won't disobey. He runs to the edge of the stairs, his combat boots thumping against the ground. We count the thuds as he jumps to each landing until he's down in the basement and we're alone.

Drill strides toward me purposefully, grabbing my arms and pulling me close. His lips hover millimeters from mine, and his eyes look like they're begging for permission. “Here's the cell phone.” He pulls it from his pocket and checks to make sure it's on. “I've turned the GPS on. Everyone knows their roles.”

I nod and reach for the phone, but he moves his hand near my hip, letting the phone drop into my pocket. “I don't want anyone to get hurt. . . .” I let the words trail off.

“My friends and your recruit buddies will stay back unless there's a problem. Jax will watch your progress. She's hacked into the phone. If you stop moving, she'll start recording. If they try to make a move, we'll get everything they say and then we'll beat the shit out of them.”