UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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TWO
AT THIRD MESS, THE THREE OTHER FEMALES WHO’VE ARRIVED and I get through the line quickly and sit at the first table designated for Alpha Company—the group of recruits I’ll eat, drill, and sleep with the whole year. We’ve got three assigned tables and the boys choose to fill up the rest of them before even beginning to sit at ours. Even then, they leave an obvious no-man’s-zone between us and them. The barrier of empty seats tells me everything I need to know about my “brothers.”
All five of the incoming females have been assigned to the same squad—for ease, I guess. That way only one company has to have female bathrooms and go through special assimilation training. We’re still missing one, but while I eat, I size up the others.
Directly across from me sits someone who should be a runway model, not a cadet. She’s wearing the same clothes as the rest of us, but she owns those clothes. There’s not one stray blonde hair out of place. Pearl earrings and makeup complete the picture. Not quite your average camouflage and push-up kind of recruit. She’s the girl my mom probably wishes had been her daughter. The one next to her doesn’t look like she weighs more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Tears sit in her eyes, waiting to spill over. Her hand shakes so much that the fork she holds clatters against her plate. I can’t see her lasting the week.
Beside me sits the only one I think might make it through the year with me. Her brown hair is cut super-short already and she looks like she’s got some muscle to back her up. Maybe she’s planning on trying out for the rugby team.
The guys are easier to figure out, in my opinion. After living with Jonathan and Amos and dealing with their stupid friends, I call ’em like I see ’em. The ones who are ready for this already have military haircuts—shaved at the sides and buzzed on top—a “high and tight.” It’s the only haircut I’ve ever seen on Dad.
The ones who aren’t going to make it are easy to spot. Their eyes bug out and scan the room like they’re looking for the quickest escape. Maybe it was a scholarship that brought them here. Maybe, like me, they’re part of a military family. Some have been court-ordered here because they can’t go back to public schools for one reason or another. But whatever the reason, they’re not going to make it. I’ve picked out two so far, and I’m on the fence about three others. I kind of feel sorry for them, but right now they’re not my problem. If I lose my concentration here for even a second, the upperclassmen will sense blood like sharks in the water. The guy who sits closest to us, with light brown hair and a spray of freckles across his nose, grins and winks at me, his teal eyes sparkling with mischief. I try not to return the smile. But it’s hard.
I eat slowly, knowing that nothing bad will happen until after the swearing in. When Jonathan went through recruitdom he emailed me every week, giving me a blow-by-blow account of what happened. That was when there was no chance I’d be able to be a recruit myself. Now he refuses to talk about the DMA—like it’s some kind of state secret. I wish Amos had been in the car this morning to bring me here, to say good-bye to me. I wish he’d said good-bye at all.
“Good evening, recruits. I’m Cadet Colonel McKenna, your leader here at the DMA.” Thankfully, Jonathan’s voice over the intercom interrupts my train of thought before it goes to all the bad places. “You have fifteen minutes to finish dinner and meet me in the armory. I look forward to starting you down a path of success here at the Academy.”
I swallow the last of my water and walk my tray up to dump it.
The model follows along with me. “Do you know where the armory is?”
Against my better judgment, I whisper, “Yes. When we leave, just follow me.” I send a prayer to whoever is listening to make her not be my roommate. It may not seem like a big deal to talk, but we’ve already been ordered not to. I scan the room, looking for any sign of upperclassmen or that someone’s watching to report the first females at the DMA already breaking rules.
“I’m so turned around I don’t even remember where our barracks are.”
She’s not going to need to know if she keeps on like this. Only thing she’s going to know is the way out the front gate.
The armory is only a five-minute walk, but with seventy-five kids in the incoming class, it takes a little longer before everyone is seated. Upperclassmen stand on a running track suspended from the ceiling, whispering and pointing at various recruits, mostly me and the three other girls. We’re sitting another twenty minutes in near-silence, getting fidgety, when Jonathan finally shows. He enters from the back, staring straight ahead. He was born for this. I straighten my back as he marches past me toward the stage.
“Good evening.” His voice booms around the armory. He doesn’t even need a microphone.
One of the upperclassmen above us uses the ring I’ll wear someday to create a ping against the metal railing. First that solitary ring taps the handrail. Then another. Soon, all the upperclassmen join in, the air filled with the metallic pings. The clink of metal on metal makes me shiver. Not one of them is smiling.
“You are freshman class number one hundred twenty-seven at Denmark Military Academy. It is an honor and a privilege to act as your cadet colonel during the course of this school year. I promise to uphold the Cadet Creed and the standards set by my predecessors at the DMA, a long line of honorable graduates who have gone on to do heroic deeds.”
He lists the names of some former graduates, our father included. Names that are burned into my brain—heroes of my father, and other men who have been legends to me since I was old enough to start hearing war stories. I can’t help but smile, wondering where I’ll fit in this list after a few years in the service.
“I look around and see some scared faces. I see the faces of our female recruits—one of whom may be the first female graduate of the DMA.” His eyes skim over the four of us, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
Someone hisses behind me. A “boo” echoes off the polished wooden floor. My face warms under the scrutiny. Jonathan ignores it all and continues. “Before me are future military leaders, future Army Rangers, future Marines. Whatever path you choose, we are here to start you out on it. To give you a strong foundation of military readiness and preparation. It is what you learn within the boundaries of Denmark Military Academy that will help you to rise to the top in whatever career you choose upon graduation. The network of DMA grads helps one another in every way possible and you are about to join a brotherhood like no other.”
There is shuffling around me, but I keep my eyes on Jonathan.
“Now I invite you to stand and take the oath to the DMA that thousands of cadets have taken before you.”
The chairs around me scrape on the gym floor. I glance to the left. The model’s eyes are wide, like she’s finally realizing the magnitude of what we’re about to do. The tears that were threatening to fall from the mousy recruit at dinner are finally rolling down her cheeks. She dabs her eyes, her hands still shaking. The future rugby star just grins. I smile back, my heart racing in my chest.
“Do not say these words lightly. When you swear this oath, you will be held to the same standard as every other cadet at Denmark Military Academy. You are starting a career as an upstanding citizen of this country and swearing loyalty to the land on which you stand. If you are unsure, you may walk out those doors and no one will think less of you. But once these words are uttered, you are at the mercy of your peers and the DMA Code of Conduct. Take a moment to understand the sheer awesomeness of what you are about to do. If you are not ready, leave now.”
The doors through which we entered clang open. Freedom is only fifteen steps away. The theatrics are ridiculous, just made to intimidate, but there is movement to my left and first one, then two, and a third recruit—all guys—walk quickly out into the fading light. We’ve already lasted longer than some.
Once the doors are clo
sed again and we are trapped inside, Jonathan continues. “Now, hold up your right hand and repeat after me.” My brother’s words boom out across the armory. Goose bumps cover my arms and I can’t keep the smile off my face. Military bearing be damned. My heart pounds as I finally begin the dare that has consumed my thoughts for the past year. The last dare Amos gave me. The one I can’t lose.
“I, Samantha McKenna, understand and will uphold the Denmark Military Academy Code of Conduct. I will not lie, cheat, or steal, or tolerate those who do. As a recruit, I am duty bound to uphold the laws of society, to respect those entrusted over me, to uphold the traditions of the Corps and to carry out my responsibilities as a citizen of the United States of America.”
The voices of my fellow recruits fade around me and in the moment of silence that follows, the energy is electric. It pulses through the room and I can barely keep still. Then the ring tapping starts again. I scan the upperclassmen above us. When I meet Cadet Evers’s gaze, something twists in my stomach. I can’t look away until, like magic, the tapping stops. When I turn back to Jonathan, his hand is raised to silence the room.
“Welcome to the Corps of Cadets, recruits!”
A cheer rises up around me. That, and the clink of metal on metal, fills the air, almost deafening. While we celebrate, though, the upperclassmen are stone-faced and staring. Not one of them smiles.
Model Recruit leans over, her eyes scanning the upperclassmen. “This is so exciting!” she squeals.
We weren’t given permission to talk, so I smile back but don’t respond. No need to break the “no talking” rule twice on the first day.
“Now, recruits,” Jonathan says, trying to get our attention again. Slowly the celebrations die down and we all still, waiting for him to continue. “My first order of business is to allow you the opportunity to meet your cadre. These carefully selected sophomores and juniors will be responsible for your military training during the school year. They have survived the rigors of the Fourth Class system and they have been entrusted with your upbringing. There may be times you don’t like them, but they’ve earned the right to your respect, and you will give it to them.” Jonathan pauses dramatically again and I almost roll my eyes. Where does he come up with this stuff? “When you are dismissed, walk with your fellow recruits back to barracks and form up. Your cadre are waiting. Recruits, dismissed!”
Some of the guys almost fall over each other in their eagerness to get out the door. The boy with freckles from dinner waits for us, though, and without talking, takes the lead as we leave the armory, the last five to go.
Freckles, the other girls, and I follow the long line of recruits up the hill to the parade ground, a big, open, grassy field where we’ll spend much of our training time throughout the year. The ceremony has taken over an hour and the sun is gone by the time we get outside. It’s not dark, though. Stadium lighting shines around the edges of the parade ground, putting only the corners in darkness. The upperclassmen who were on the track before now hang from windows, calling out and yelling to each other across the green lawn. There’s only a handful here—the rest will come back next weekend, just in time for classes to start.
In front of Stonewall Hall, we shuffle into a sad semblance of rows and columns with the rest of the members of Alpha Company, but I don’t worry about it. The cadre will sort us out soon enough. For now, we’re all equally ignorant of what is expected. We’re all first-time recruits, in this together. For better or worse, or something like that.
The silence on the hill gives me the jitters.
Jonathan and the commandant of the DMA stand in the middle of the parade ground, talking to another man in uniform. Two cadets stand near a cannon, looking for all the world like they’re about to light a fuse and start a battle.
Where the hell is the cadre?
I swallow hard, wondering where they’ll come from, how they’ll introduce themselves. I know it’s not boot camp or anything, but I’m sure, just like everything else here, this will be done in some dramatic fashion.
The urge to move, to be familiar with my surroundings and know where danger could come from, is overwhelming. But before I break my bearing and look around for some hint of what’s going to happen, the lights go out, and we’re plunged into darkness.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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THREE
THE GUY ON MY LEFT STARTS GIGGLING LIKE A LITTLE GIRL.
“Shut the hell up,” I hiss, squinting into the darkness, trying to see something. Anything.
“This is so gay,” he says.
But he doesn’t know. Doesn’t feel it. Every inch of the darkness pulses with energy. Something’s coming. I don’t know from where. I don’t know how long we’ll have to wait. But something is coming and it’s not going to be good.
I hear one tap first, then another. Suddenly the night is filled with the clinking of ring taps again. My heart thunders in my chest. Giggler continues giggling. Freckles, standing close on my right, shifts nervously. I stay still, balanced on the balls of my feet.
Waiting.
The tapping stops.
Silence.
Something that sounds like a church bell rings out in the darkness, echoes in the black, and gongs three more times, but the sound bounces off the barracks. There’s no way to tell where it’s coming from.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Lights come on and we are surrounded by people dressed in black with black face paint.
They start screaming, indecipherable sounds at first, but through the heavy guitar now playing along with the bells I start to make sense of things.
“Stand at attention!”
“Arms by your side! Hands in fists!”
“Backs straight!”
“My name is Corporal Matthews, your squad leader. You will address me as such at all times!”
“I’m Corporal Julius. So help me if any of you in my squad decides to screw up from this moment forward!”
I gather my wits and slide into the perfect attention stance Dad taught me as soon as I learned how to walk.
“What are you looking at? I know you don’t have the balls to look at me, right? Right?” The cadet who is yelling stands in front of Giggler. I think it’s Matthews, though it’s hard to tell without looking, which I’m not allowed to do while standing like this.
Then, like a flash, the cadet is in front of me.
He’s as tall as me, and fit, like the rest of the cadre, huge and imposing, like a pit bull on steroids. A sneer lights up his face and he’s got dark eyes, but I can’t study him any more than that. I stand at attention and stare straight ahead, reminding myself that he’s my age—he’s just a kid, too—and he’s got nothing to yell at me for.
He steps closer, his breath hot on my face. “You shouldn’t be here, McKenna. Pack up and go home now.” His voice is quiet, but I don’t miss the hatred in it.
How does he know who I am? There are three other females who could be the female McKenna. Without a name tag on, I should be anonymous. I grit my teeth but don’t respond, wondering if the guys around me could hear what he said. I’m not eager for them to discover who I am. Something tells me it’ll only get harder for me once they know.
Matthews takes another step toward me, his body pressed against mine—way too close for comfort. Where the hell are the adults who are supposed to be running this show? They need to call off their watchdog.
“We don’t want you here. You’re just going to slow us down, make us weak. Get out before we force you out.” He steps back, looks me up and down, and then lunges forward. “Trust me. It’ll be easier if you just give up.”
Even though Matthews’s spit oozes down my cheek, I don’t move a muscle.
He’s pissed but continues down the line, yelling at Freckles next.
The cadre come, one after another. They’re the cadets who will train me,
the people who will make me part of a unit with my other platoon members—sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds. And each and every one of them tells me to leave.
I stand still and take it. I don’t flinch. I don’t cry. They don’t know it yet, but I can’t quit. I’ve been a member of Platoon McKenna my entire life. The lieutenant colonel doesn’t like quitters. And then there’s Amos’s dare. I couldn’t quit even if I wanted to.
A guy in front of me throws up. Giggler dissolves into tears. I’m sure one of them will be gone by morning, maybe both. I take it all in, but I don’t make a move.
When the next member of the cadre appears, though, everything changes. The guy who stands in front of me—I remind myself he’s only seventeen, a year older than me; he’s no one to be feared—wears a black drill sergeant cover pulled down low, his eyes shadowed beneath the bill, the black shirt of the cadre pulled tight across his chest. He’s a good four inches taller than me and lean, not the G.I. Joe–shaped drill sergeant I expected.
“I’m Drill Sergeant Stamm.” His voice is low, threaded with authority. I have no trouble hearing it, even with everything going on around me. He’s got a leader’s voice, just like my dad. Even the cadre stand at attention when he talks. “We’re in a unique situation this year. We’re the only company with females. Some of you may not like it. Some of you may hate it.” He pauses. This guy doesn’t even look like he knows how to smile and I wait for him to tell us to leave, too. “I don’t give a shit. I’m here to lead you as a company, not as individuals. You are all equal in my eyes. Worms. The lowest of the low. My job is to make you into warriors.” His eyes scan us as he gives his speech and I can’t look away. His military presence alone makes him someone to be obeyed.
I stand a little taller when his gaze falls on me. I’d follow this guy into battle right now.
“Matthews, lead them out!”
“Yes, Drill Sergeant!” Matthews stands in front of my platoon and yells. “Right face!”
I make the turn without even thinking, standing at attention the second I’ve finished the movement. As far as I can tell, though, no one else budged. They don’t even know what a right face is.
Rites of Passage Page 2