Rites of Passage

by Hensley,Joy N.

  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.”

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  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 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 chaperon status for anything other than catching a show, though. 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.” He takes me by the arm, pulling me into a darkened hallway between the locker rooms. The scent of alcohol makes me wonder if he’s had a bit too much to drink already or if someone’s spiked the punch. His eyes keep 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. “Kiss me.”

  My heart races. He nudges me back against the wall. 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. Because I do want to kiss him. Just not here.

  He leans against me, the coolness of the wall and the heat of his body sending me into a tailspin. “Let them.” His words are moist against my neck and I can’t fight closing my eyes. I sink against him, powerless, even though the world could be ending ten feet away.

  “Stamm.”

  Drill freezes against me, his lips just touching the skin where my collar bone meets my neck. I keep my eyes closed, trying to disappear since Huff just caught us breaking a major major major rule.

  “Stamm,” Huff says again.

  His eyes half closed, he sighs and pulls away just enough that I can slide to the side and breathe some cooler, less Drill-filled air. What the hell made Drill want to kiss me now? Alcohol? Nerves? A combination of both?

  “They’re on the move. You need to go.” Huff looks nervous, glancing from Drill to the packed gym 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.”

  He pushes away from the wall. “Get back to your room. Stay safe.”

  “Be careful.” I head with Huff back into the gym, to round up my guards and return to the barracks while I leave everyone else 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 watch dogs 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 o
f 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.”

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  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!”

  I grit my teeth as he gets closer, determined to keep my legs up as long as he’s talking. My abs shake, sweat drips down my face, but I won’t break. And that’s more than some of my recruit buddies can say. Nix is already sitting up on my left when Julius gives the command to change to jumping jacks.

  Before I can get up, though, Matthews crouches in front of me, his face contorted in anger. “You think you can get to us? Like we don’t know what you set up on Junior Ring?”

  “Corporal Matthews, this recruit—” My racing pulse has nothing to do with the PT now.

  “Save it. You can come at us with guns blazing. It’s not going to make a difference. We have always ruled this school. We will continue to rule this school. You’re just a blip on our radar. One that will be gone before the year is over.”

  “Corporal Matthews,” I say, my lips turning up, mimicking his signature sneer, “the corporal said that at the beginning of the year. But this recruit is still here, and will be here long after the corporal is gone, Corporal Matthews.”

  He pushes down on my shoulder and my abs can’t support the weight. My head slams against the floor and I immediately roll onto my stomach, trying to find grip on the slick floor. I start pushing up but a sharp pain in my side sends me back to the ground. It happens a second time. Then a third.

  Matthews’s boot. Kicking me in the side—right where the rubber bullet hit. I feel something crack. Spots cloud my vision. Tears stream down my face, mixing with the sweat. I cry out but no one hears over the music and they’re all too focused on their own pain to see what’s happening to me on the ground at the end of the hall anyway.

  “Keep it up, McKenna. Things have changed in the Society. You’ll pay for that one.”

  When he steps back I struggle to get up, bent over and keeping an arm protectively at my side.

  “Five minutes ’til lights-out, Worms. Hurry the hell up!” Matthews storms off the deck and I suck in a ragged breath.

  “You okay, Mac?” Ritchie and Nix are standing next to me now, but they’re both going to get reamed if Matthews sees us talking.

  I nod, taking one shaky step, then another. I just make it to the bathroom before I throw up.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

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  THIRTY-FIVE

  THE NEXT DAY, CAMPUS IS SOGGY BUT AT LEAST IT’S DRYING out. It takes everything in me to march to the mess hall. I’ve got to focus hard just to stay upright. I think Matthews cracked a rib last night.

  “Company! Halt!”

  I force my body to stop its forward momentum, wincing as I do. At least we’re corporal-free for second mess. I don’t think I could handle looking at Matthews without either throwing up or punching him.

  “McKenna, stay back a moment,” Drill says after he dismisses the company to lunch. The thundering feet of my recruit buddies fade away. “Are you okay? You didn’t look well this morning and you look worse now.”


  I want to tell him what happened last night, but not here, where anyone can see. I’ll tell you tonight. I mouth the words, then speak loudly in case the upperclassmen milling around are paying attention. “Drill Sergeant Stamm, this recruit is fine, Drill Sergeant.”

  “Very well. Fall out,” he says, but he’s not happy.

  Jogging, even though every step sends shooting pain spider-webbing across my side, I head into the mess hall. I trudge over to the soup and salad bar, my stomach rolling from the pain in my ribs.

  “Tomato soup, please. And, can I have it in a cup?” I say to the cafeteria lady. It’s all I can manage. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep anything down.

  “Right away, dear.” She moves around behind the counter and, a few seconds later, hands me a cup of soup. “We’re proud of you, sweetie. Keep it up.”

  Her kindness is almost too much. I try to smile and walk away, heading to my table. I sit, but the smell of food just makes me feel worse.

  “You okay, McKenna?” Kelly whispers. It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to me in months.

  I shake my head before I remember he’s the enemy. Nix is at the other end of the table—too far away to notice, and I can’t take the time to alert him. I’ve got to get away. Pushing my chair back, I abandon my food and wind my way through tables full of cadets talking and laughing. I shouldn’t have come.

  Outside, the PG coming in and out of focus as I head to the barracks. My head spins and more than once I almost fall. Once inside the safety of the stairwell of Stonewall Hall, I lean against the wall to catch my breath.

  The door opens but I can’t even force myself to stand at attention. Kelly is in my face. “Okay. Enough. What the hell is going on?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I force myself to start walking up the stairs. We’re still not supposed to be talking and the last thing I need is another reason for Matthews to smoke us again tonight.

  “I’m your recruit brother, Mac,” he says. He takes the stairs two at a time until he beats me to the landing. “I know I haven’t acted like it, but I am.”