Rites of Passage (7 page)

“Alpha Company, fall in!” Drill yells. Once we're in position he continues. “Congratulations. You are now officially Worms of Denmark Military Academy.” He pauses for a minute, our cheers too loud for him to continue. “At this time you will fall out to the barracks where you will shower and be at ease. Lights out at 2300 but you are not to square the halls or walk in the gutters the rest of the evening. Is that understood?”

“Drill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm!” The reward we've been given for doing the impossible today doesn't seem like much, but the grins from my recruit buddies say it all—we've earned this.

“In your racks you'll find instructions on how to log in to your email as well as the rules for calling home. Five-minute limit on phone calls. You will line up outside Corporal Matthews's door to get the phone. Thirty-minute limit on the computers in the science building or in the library. Movies are available for your viewing pleasure in the library as well. You may not sleep in your racks until lights-out and as usual, doors must be propped open if you are in your rooms during the day. If you do leave, don't forget to sign out.” He pauses, his eyes scanning the recruits and falling for a minute on me before moving on. “Good job, guys! Alpha company: fall out!”

The fallout is more of a fall over as we try to force our muscles to move once more.

Kelly waits for Cross and me before heading up to the barracks.

“Did you see Quinn after the rappel?” She's nowhere down here on the riverbank—we females are easy to spot.

He shakes his head. “I don't know if she made it down. She was still at the top when I went over the edge. Matthews stayed with her.”

Not like that would have been encouraging at all. “If she didn't do the obstacle, would they have kept her out of the river part? Or do you think she quit?”

“She's your roommate. She say anything about quitting?”

“She was tired this morning, just like all of us.” But then I think of Short, who I didn't ever expect to quit.

“We'll find her. Maybe she's at the infirmary,” Cross chimes in.

“Great. That's the last thing we need to be seen doing—going to the infirmary.” If upperclassmen see us walking in there, they'll think we're trying to get off easy.

“I'll go check on her,” Kelly says. “Just let me get cleaned up first.”

“Thanks.” I'm with him—I can't wait to get clean.

“God, I need a shower,” Cross says, picking up speed to a light jog. “See you guys back at the barracks.”

“Hey! Don't use all the hot water!” I run after her, and Kelly does, too.

 

I didn't know it was possible to have so much mud on my skin and in my ears. But finally, after fifteen minutes, the scalding water runs clear into the drain. I dress in PT gear and stand in line to call Mom. When I approach, my recruit buddies stop whatever they were talking about. Wilson, a recruit from first platoon, glares at me.

“What's your problem?” I'm too tired to sugarcoat anything. It's going to take every ounce of strength I have just to ask Matthews to borrow his phone.

“You shouldn't be here.”

“Oh, come up with that one on your own, did you? I've held up just fine this week.”

“You needed help on the rope climb. You couldn't get out of the river on your own—” He sounds like a tiny little Matthews. “Girls shouldn't be here. I didn't sign up for a watered-down version of the DMA.”

“I'm pretty sure my time in the obstacle course beat yours, and I think I saw Matthews pull you out of the river, too, right?”

Nix, who just came up behind me, steps out of line and stands toe-to-toe with Wilson. “Back off, dude. She made it through just like the rest of us. She didn't get anything easier than we did.”

“Whatever, man.” Wilson gives me one more look of disgust. “I'll make my call later.” He turns and walks back down the hall.

“Next,” Matthews yells as Ritchie leaves his room, wiping at tears on his face.

I look away from him quickly. My lip trembles. “Corporal Matthews, this recruit would like to call this recruit's mother, Corporal Matthews,” I say when he asks who I'm calling.

“Well, isn't that sweet. Why don't you ask her to come get you now that you've made your point?”

He hands me the phone and I dial the number. She picks up on the third ring.

“Hey, Mom. It's me.”

“Sam?” Her words are hesitant, like she doesn't believe I'm actually calling.

“Yeah. I just wanted to tell you I made it through Hell Week.”

“You're okay?”

Matthews sits at his desk, arms across his chest. He's wearing camouflage pants with the brown undershirt. It's tight around his arms and he cracks his knuckles as he watches me.

I clear my throat. “I'm fine. Everything's fine.”

There's a long pause and I hear her take a drink of something. “Well, that's just great, Sammy. Just great.”

“Time's up, McKenna.”

There's no way it's been five minutes, but it's not like I can argue. “I gotta go, Mom.”

“Of course you do. Probably some formation you've got to get to.”

“Right. So I'll see you at Parents' Weekend?”

“I'll have to see.” She hangs up before I can even say “I love you.”

“Well, sounds like your mom is real proud of you, McKenna.” He laughs. “Now get the hell out of my room.”

I slam the phone down and push my way out the door.

“See you in the library, Mac?” Nix asks.

“Sure. Nothing else to do.” I say it quickly and move past him so he won't see the tears in my eyes.

 

While Alpha Company sits around a television watching an old VHS movie about kids at military school—because we need to watch others go through the same shit, apparently—I sit at the last computer in the back row. I hear the guys laughing and promise myself I'll join them in a minute.

I'm logged in to my school email in a matter of seconds. There's a note from Dad reminding me to talk with Rev and one from Jonathan setting up the weekly meeting Mom's forcing us to have in the chapel, plus a few general ones from school with headings like “Lunch Menu Update” and “Worm Outings in September.” It only takes a second to respond to Dad, telling him I survived Hell Week and that I'll get a chance to meet with Rev tomorrow. I'll look at the school emails later, but there's one that catches my eye. The email glows blue on the computer screen, sent an hour ago. I click to open it.

 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Congrats

Congrats on surviving Hell Week. What you accomplished was amazing. But you've proved enough for the first year. Why not just quit while you're still ahead and let someone else do the hard stuff?

 

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.

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 every time we go somewhere without the company.

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, last names written 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.” Cross sits on the edge of the bed and I make my way to the chair next to the window. Outside, I can barely 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 window.

“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. 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 have 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.