Beyond the Point

by Claire Gibson

  Turning her lips into a frown, Dani shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess not,” Hannah answered. “I’m not judging her. I’m just worried about her.”

  Dani worried about Avery too, but not for the reasons Hannah did. Hannah worried about the consequences—that Avery’s reputation would be sullied, or that she’d get kicked out of the academy. Dani worried about the feelings Avery hid beneath the surface. Avery rebraided her hair every few hours. She applied concealer to the minuscule imperfections on her face before they left the bunkhouse every morning. And Dani observed these little tics, gathering them up as evidence of the truth. For all the defiant confidence Avery wore on her face, she was supressing a whole lot of self-doubt, just beneath the surface.

  As the days passed on, their company passed first aid training with flying colors, and with any moment of free time, Dani and Locke held their positions as reigning beach-volleyball champions. The only son of a single mother, Locke was from Brooklyn, and had an encyclopedic knowledge of soul music. He’d taken it upon himself to educate Dani at night, starting with James Brown’s Live at the Apollo spinning in his portable CD player. She relished the moments together, lying on his bunk side by side, with one earbud in his left ear, and the other in Dani’s right. His finger tapped the beat out on her thigh.

  “See? That riff? That’s what I’m talking about.”

  The only possible threat to Dani’s summer was the growing discomfort in her right hip. It wasn’t something she wanted to complain about, but at times the dull ache would give way to a sharp, slicing pain in her back that stole her breath. The only person who had noticed a grimace on her face was Hannah, but Dani told her not to worry. As long as she popped a few preemptive Advil every morning, she could endure. She had to endure. She’d never quit a single thing in her entire life, and she wasn’t about to start now.

  THE MORNING OF the final field exercise, water poured out of the spout of an Army-green water buffalo into Dani’s canteen. The four-hundred gallon tank on wheels had been marked on the map she carried in her hands. They’d been in the woods for two days straight. She was dirty, tired, and thirsty, and even in the shade of the trees, sweat poured from her forehead, smearing the camouflage paint on her face, stinging her eyes.

  “Too bad you can’t camouflage your blond-ass hair, Adams,” Locke said jokingly to Avery, who was waiting for Dani to finish at the spigot.

  “Shut up, Coleman,” said Avery, stepping to fill her canteen. “Dani, can you get your boyfriend to leave me alone? I can’t get rid of him.”

  “You know Navy’s not doing this shit,” Locke said, changing the subject. “They send us out to the woods with nothing but a compass and a map. Haven’t they heard of a GPS? Meanwhile, those Navy guys . . . they’re cozied up with some private chef bulking for the season. I’d put money on it. No wonder we can’t beat them. Have I told you? I’ve already lost—”

  “Fifteen pounds. Yeah, you’ve told us, Coleman,” said Avery. “Do you think there’s a correlation between the amount of weight you lose and the age you act? Because . . . honestly . . . there’s an uncanny . . .”

  “Oh?” Locke raised his eyebrows. “D, your friend’s a comedian!”

  “Hush, you two,” Dani said. She fiddled with the radio in her hand until she heard static. “Get your water. We’ve got to get back.”

  Together, the three of them tromped through the woods in a row, holding their M16s at the ready like they’d been taught. The entire day had gone by without a hitch, which worried Dani more than she wanted to admit. In the morning, before the sun came up, they’d met their company commander at a small outpost near the woods and outfitted all of their M16s with laser attachments. He’d passed out a bunch of folded “injury” cards, which they were supposed to unfold if the laser sensor on their chest was hit. Then he pointed into a glorified sandbox where a scene of wooden figurines illustrated the area they were meant to protect. An outhouse stood on the south side next to a general purpose medium tent, stretched out for shade where they’d been told to convene for lunch. The water buffalo station was a half mile to the north. A safe zone existed in the eastern section, up a tall hill, near a make-believe Red Cross station. They had from dawn until dusk to maintain the area while keeping a lookout for the OPFOR—a fake opposition force made up of soldiers from Fort Drum. They all knew the ambush was coming, but so far, there was no sign of them. Dani knew they needed to get back to the rest of their platoon, and fast. Out here alone like this—she felt suddenly like they were being watched.

  Dried leaves crunched under their feet. Branches snapped, far louder than they should have.

  “Shhh, Coleman,” Dani whispered. “Walk lightly, dude.”

  Perhaps they should have returned to the rest of the platoon by a different route than the way they’d come, Dani thought to herself. If anyone had seen their tracks, walking toward the water buffalo, they could have staked them out, easily. As soon as Dani had considered that possibility, Locke stopped in his tracks. Silent, Dani gripped her rifle even tighter. She knew it was all in fun—just practice—but her heart was still pounding in her chest. She checked the laser attachment on the end of her gun, to make sure it was ready to fire.

  “Do you hear that?” Avery asked, her voice a whisper. She stood right behind Dani, breathing like she’d just run a 5K. In the distance, a faint echo of loud voices rose into the trees.

  “Turn up the radio, D,” whispered Locke to Dani.

  Dani turned the volume up slightly, just as she saw a man dressed in black behind a tree. He raised his rifle and aimed it directly at them.

  “GET DOWN!” shouted Dani.

  Pow! Pow! Pow!

  “MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!” yelled Dani into the receiver of the radio. “COME IN, SPEER! WE NEED BACKUP!”

  “Oh shit!” yelled Locke, seeing a whole new crew of men dressed in black moving their way. “Run!”

  Avery took off sprinting through the woods, separating from Locke and Dani just enough to provide them cover from behind a rock. Out of the corner of her eye, Dani spotted another man in black, and she shot—hitting him square in the chest. Take that! Dani thought. I’m a sniper! At that moment, another enemy combatant emerged from behind a tree and took aim at Locke’s back.

  “Coleman! Get down!” Dani called out, then she fired her gun. The enemy fell to the ground, his laser attachment lit up in red. Dani smiled. But turning back to look at Locke, she realized her shot had come a moment too late.

  “He’s hit! I’ve got your cover, Dani!” shouted Avery from across the woods. “Go! Go! Go!”

  Her legs flew across the expanse of leaves and shadows. When she arrived at Locke’s side, he held up the white injury card in his hand. “Head wound,” he said. “Traumatic brain injury.”

  “Okay,” panted Dani, trying not to panic. She tried to remember the first aid training she’d been given the week before. “We’ve got to keep your neck stabilized and get you to the safe zone.”

  The reality that he was nearly twice her weight suddenly struck Dani in the gut. How was she going to get him through a half mile of woods without getting shot? And how was she going to do it with this pulsating pain flaring up in her back? She looked around her and realized there was only one option. Dani struggled, shifting his weight from the ground to her back. Once she had him on her back, she began walking, one hobbling step at a time. Her hip screamed out in pain, like all the cartilage in her joints had disappeared. Bone rubbed against bone.

  “I need cover!” Dani shouted to Avery.

  “Go!” shouted Avery. “I’ve got your cover! Go!”

  “Oh my God, Locke. Why do you have to be so huge?” she said. “I thought you said you’d lost weight.”

  “You got this, McNalley.”

  “Shut up. You’re dying. Save your energy.” She felt him laugh.

  When they finally reached the hill, Dani watched the rest of her female company mates zigzag ac
ross the valley, providing cover fire and dragging the rest of the guys in their platoon, with their various feigned injuries, up to the safe zone. Apparently the ambush had been swift and fierce. Bodies were strewn everywhere. The girls had all survived, while the boys in their platoon had all been taken out of the game. Apparently the boys had been a bit overly aggressive; the girls had the presence of mind to assess the threat before taking action. Clearly, that was why they were the ones who had survived.

  “GO, DANI! GO!” Hannah shouted when she saw Dani approaching the bottom of the hill. The final few OPFOR combatants exchanged fire with Hannah as Dani heaved as fast as she could up the hill with a two-hundred-pound football player on her back. When her legs gave out, she put Locke on the ground and pulled him up the hill by his foot, sliding him into the safe zone like a sack of heavy potatoes.

  “I’m going to go out on a limb and say we failed this mission,” Locke commented. “I had a head injury and you pulled me up the hill upside down, McNalley. I’m pretty sure I bled out.”

  Breathless, Dani tried to stand up, hoping to go rescue another fallen comrade. But the pain in her hip suddenly exploded into her back and skull. The woods went white in her eyes, and she cried out before hitting the ground. With her eyes closed, all Dani could hear were voices in the dark.

  “We’re in the safe zone, D,” someone shouted. “You don’t have to pretend to be injured.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Hey, I think she’s hurt.”

  “What’s her card say?”

  “No, dumbass!” Someone shouted back. “She’s actually injured! Hey, someone call a medic!”

  The next thing Dani heard was the loud peal of a siren over her head.

  Eyes open, trying to focus through the pain, all she could see was blurry faces surrounding her in a small white room. Or was this a vehicle? Her body felt as though someone had taken a hammer to her lower back, crushing every bone into a million pieces. How would they ever put her back together again? The thought forced her to close her eyes and bite her cheeks. She tasted iron and smelled the scent of hospital bandages. They were driving fast. It was definitely a vehicle. An ambulance.

  Faintly, she recognized the sound of Avery’s voice.

  “It’s going to be okay, D.”

  A warm hand squeezed her upper arm, and opening her eyes, Dani saw a blond angel looking down at her. Avery.

  “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Call Wendy,” Dani said through clenched teeth.

  “Who?”

  “Wendy Bennett.”

  “I’m putting in an IV,” someone else said. “Quick pinch. There you go. We’re going to get you hydrated and figure out what’s going on. A little ibuprofen in there to help with the pain.”

  Relief suddenly spread through her veins. Her body relaxed; it stopped fighting. And her mind wandered into a blackness that felt like bliss.

  8

  Fall 2001 // West Point, New York

  On a clear Tuesday morning in September, every blade of grass at West Point looked like a tiny saber, reaching for the sky. The color turquoise stretched overhead without a single cloud to interrupt its hue, and as Avery moved toward Thayer Hall, her dark gray uniform shirt tucked into wool pants, all she could think about was how quickly life can change. All it took was an instant.

  She’d seen it with her brother, Caleb. In one moment, he was an innocent sophomore on the way to acing Algebra I; the next, he was wearing an orange vest, picking up trash on the side of the highway for community service. She’d seen it this summer with Dani, too. With one misplaced step, she’d morphed from point guard to patient, undergoing emergency surgery to repair what the doctors had determined was a torn ligament. It was awful; Avery had never seen someone’s face so contorted in pain.

  That day, the EMTs had loaded Dani’s body into an ambulance and drove her from Camp Buckner to Keller Army Hospital, which looked more like a Gothic castle than an infirmary. Without asking permission, Avery had hopped in the back of the ambulance and refused to leave Dani’s side until the nurses wheeled her back for surgery. For hours, Avery sat in the hospital’s cold waiting room alone, until the woman Dani had told her to call, Wendy Bennett, had arrived. She’d only met the woman a handful of times, at basketball games, but her presence somehow forced a crack in the dam Avery had constructed to keep her emotion in check. Still dressed in BDUs, her face painted green and black and brown, Avery had fallen into Wendy’s motherly embrace, smearing camouflage face paint against the woman’s white shirt.

  “It’s okay,” Wendy had said. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “I was horrible to her last year . . . I—”

  “Stop that. People remember who showed up for the crappy moments far more than they remember who showed up for the party. And you’re here, aren’t you? You’re here.”

  If she was honest, Avery still felt ashamed of how she’d acted toward Dani last year. Bitter and resentful, she’d isolated herself, choosing to believe that she had enemies rather than risk being rejected by new friends. But the summer had proven her wrong. Eight weeks had multiplied—breaking into tiny fragments, like the loaves and fishes from that old Bible story—until they’d spread into a million moments, some bitter, some savory, and some sweet. Time was malleable that way. Weeks could feel like years, if you filled them to the brim. A day could manufacture memories to last a lifetime.

  During a late-night game of Never Have I Ever, Avery had even admitted to Dani and Hannah that she’d slept with John Collins last year. While Hannah winced, as if Avery’s fornication had caused her physical pain, Dani didn’t seem shocked or appalled; she just laughed and shook her head, which helped Avery feel at ease for once. They’d never spoken of it explicitly—Dani had never asked for an outright apology—but somehow, over the course of the summer, her fiercest competition had become one of her closest friends.

  After the surgery, the commandant of cadets had agreed to let Dani move into a spare bedroom at the Bennetts’ house while she recovered. Wendy’s daughters were all in college, leaving three empty bedrooms and three empty seats at the dinner table, where Avery and Hannah would often join Dani, savoring Wendy’s cooking. Vegetable lasagna. Roasted chicken with tabbouleh. Grilled salmon with mango slaw. There was always a gallon of cookie dough ice cream in the freezer, and Wendy would present it nightly with a pile of spoons, as if bowls were an unnecessary step between their stomachs and delight.

  If Avery had ever felt embarrassed by Dani’s nudity, all that dissipated as she and Hannah took turns helping Dani into the Bennetts’ guest bathroom shower. Tears came often for Dani in those days, and not just from the physical pain. It was hard, Avery knew, for this former powerhouse of a woman to be so powerless. Everyone wants to be the friend who helps. No one wants to be the friend who needs the help.

  “Shit, Dani, do you have to be as thick as a horse?” Avery had said once as she lifted Dani off her wheelchair and into the shower. Dani had clung to Avery’s shoulder, and in the end, they both ended up drenched in soap and water.

  “This is what I like to refer to as karma,” Dani had replied.

  Spending time at the Bennetts’ was just one of many new privileges they had, now that they were sophomores, also known at West Point as “Yuks.” The academic calendar boasted six B-weekends, when upperclassmen could leave campus in civilian clothes and pretend to be free for a while. And while Yuks still were low on the totem pole, they had far more freedom than they’d had the year before, and Avery relished every opportunity she had to leer at new plebes whenever they called minutes in the hallway.

  “Attention all cadets . . . there are . . . three minutes remaining . . . until breakfast formation . . .”

  At West Point, you couldn’t escape the constant reminder that time was moving forward, counting down, drawing to a close. Urgency was the only operating mode because time was Avery’s only resource and her greatest enemy. West Point operated on a true
meritocracy. A cadet’s academic and physical performance, measured by GPA, PT scores, and other evaluations, converted to class rank, which would eventually dictate her future.

  A year earlier, Avery had watched from the wings as Sarah Goodrich leveraged her high class rank to receive an assignment to her desired Army branch, Military Intelligence, and to select the most coveted Army post: Oahu, Hawaii. Rain had poured over the class of 2001 at their graduation ceremony, their white hats soaring into the gray downpour. And though legend had it that any class that graduated in the rain would go to war, Avery would have done anything to trade places with Sarah. In a feat of personal achievement, she’d transformed her time at West Point into a one-way ticket to paradise.

  As the days ticked by, Avery grew more uncertain that Dani could recover in time for the basketball season. Large inflamed patches appeared under Dani’s arms where crutches had worn her skin raw. The four-inch incision across her right hip remained red and irritated, like an angry half-moon. Even when she’d moved back into the barracks, daily physical therapy sessions seemed ineffective in rebuilding strength in Dani’s hip and back. Everywhere they went, she limped, crutched, and smiled. And Avery had never felt worse. A year earlier, she would have given anything to be on the varsity women’s basketball team. But now, the inevitability felt suffocating. Like her envy had willed Dani’s injury into existence.

  Three days earlier, at the team’s annual “optional” season-opening practice, Coach Jankovich had written Avery’s name at the top of the varsity roster, relegating another plebe recruiting class to JV. Guilt, shame, and excitement had appeared in equal force as she read her name on that piece of paper. Her dreams for the basketball season only existed because Dani’s had been torn apart—ripped to pieces like the ligament in her hip.

  It was a cruel twist of fate. Loaves and fishes, in reverse.