Rites of Passage (27 page)

It hurts. Despite knowing that he might somehow be involved with the Society, I miss my friend.

Once I'm dressed in DMA-issued sweats and a hoodie, I sit by the window. A snowplow pushes its blade along the PG, scratching and screeching as it moves snow to the sides of the path. One light pops on in another barracks, then a second, and a third. Even with the snow, the campus comes alive early.

No point in delaying any longer. I turn on the light, ignoring Katie's groans, and iron my uniform of the day. Better be prepared just in case. Thirty minutes later, my uniform so starched it could stand on its own, Matthews yells for us to get out on the wall. “Good morning, Alpha Company!”

“Corporal Matthews, good morning, Corporal Matthews!”

“I'm assuming you all saw the beautiful white stuff that fell last night. In celebration of the first snowfall of the year, there will be no classes today and PT is canceled.”

Cheers go up from my recruit buddies. I'm reserving celebration until I find out what kind of hell he's going to put us through today. While Kelly's been ignoring me, Matthews's onslaught is harsher than ever. Earlier wake-up calls, harder smoke shows. And I just have to take it, knowing that he's pulling Kelly away from me—offering him something I obviously can't.

“Today, you will participate in one of the finest traditions the DMA has to offer. Today you will compete against the rest of the freshman companies in a snow sculpture competition. You will plan and execute this snow sculpture. You will let your cadre know what you are building so that we can supply spray paint to make it the most beautiful sculpture the DMA has ever seen.”

Another cheer goes up.

We're making snowmen? Seriously?

“Meanwhile, you will also be planning and preparing for the PG Battle, another first snowfall tradition. You will be making bunkers, tunnels, and ammunition out of snow in order to defeat all the other companies in a snow battle. As always, you are expected to win. You have ten minutes to get dressed in BDUs and begin morning wake-up calls. After reveille and breakfast, you will begin work. Judging will be at 1400, the war will commence at 1500. Points will be awarded toward Company of the Year for each activity today. You all are in the lead right now, but not by much. Any questions?”

“Corporal Matthews, no, Corporal Matthews!”

After much arguing and annoyance out in the cold in front of the barracks, we decide on Phineas and Ferb for our sculpture. Why? Because we're eight, apparently, and my recruit buddies think it's cool. Kelly runs off to tell Matthews what colors spray paint we need and we begin designing it.

“So, they need to be at their rocket ship. Think we can make it really tall? Like, eight feet or something?” Ritchie asks.

I glance around at the snow. It doesn't look like it's melting anytime soon. “Probably,” I say. “We've also got to worry about the snow war.”

“Okay, here's what we do,” Wilson says. He loves being in charge. He's a shitty leader, but no one says anything against him because Matthews loves him, so if he's in charge, we're bound to get everything approved. “Nix, Ritchie, McKenna, Quinn, and Cross will work on the bunkers and ammo for the snow war. The rest of us will work on the sculpture. When the spray paint comes, you guys can jump in and help with that part. Sound good?”

“We're on it,” I say, leading my small group around to the side of the barracks, glad to be away from him. “Making snowballs will be a hell of a lot easier than building a rocket ship. Besides, if the sculpture sucks, we can totally blame them.”

Kelly exits the basement of the dorm next to ours and I wave him over. “Why were you in there?”

“Talking to the cadre.” He glances down at the ground, then back at me. He's about as good at lying as Jonathan is, but I can't deal with it today. The PG is covered in white, we don't have PT, and there are no classes. There are more important things to do today, like have fun.

“Wilson's taken charge and wants you with him.”

He takes off jogging without even saying good-bye and I stand there until he's gone around the side of the barracks.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Katie says. “Let's just make snowballs.”

I push my suspicions about Kelly to the back of my mind and focus on the third Alpha Company female. “Where did Bekah go?” She'd been right behind me when we walked over but sometime in the last few minutes has disappeared.

“Who knows—track practice?” Katie shrugs.

“I guess.” She hadn't said anything about it before we came outside, though. “You doing okay? I've been so busy with new classes we haven't really had a chance to talk.”

“Not to mention the midnight PT. How are you surviving on three hours of sleep?”

“Not too well, but I've got to do it.” I haven't told her I'm working out with Drill, but the extra time with him in the evenings is worth any lack of sleep I'm getting right now.

“I guess . . .” She sighs, letting her words drop off.

“How about you?”

“I miss my parents. I miss sleeping. I miss normal school.”

“Don't talk like that, Katie. We're almost done.”

“Five more months? That's not almost done. That's dragging hell out a little longer.”

“Don't quit on me now.” I didn't inadvertently keep the secret society stuff from her, but I'm glad now that I haven't said anything.

“I don't want to, but . . .”

I grab another pile of snow and pack it down tight, changing the subject so she doesn't have to dwell on her misery right now. “I've never made snowballs before.”

“What?” She laughs at this, her worry about the DMA sliding away with something as simple as snowballs to focus on.

“Nope. According to Mom, snowball fights might ruin my manicure or something. She tried to keep me girly. Dresses, jewelry, heels.”

“And yet here you are.” Katie laughs.

“And here I am.” I look around, the PG alive and buzzing with activity—cadets and recruits moving around, laughing, and tossing snowballs, white explosions erupting everywhere before the fight is even starting. “And here
you
are, almost done with freshman year.”

She adds three more snowballs to our pile. We've got about fifty by now, but I know we're going to need a ton more. “Yeah,” she sighs. “For now.”

Drill steps out of the barracks wearing camo, the uniform tight across his arms. He scans the ground in front of the barracks until he finds me, a smile lighting his face.

My face heats up. “I don't know, this place is kind of growing on me.”

“Yeah, like a tumor,” she mutters, though she can't keep a smile off her face, glancing between me and Drill.

 

After a quick chew-and-screw lunch—where we eat and get the hell out—we run back to our statue to spray-paint. Those of us who were in charge of preparing for the snow war are now the artistic directors. Those who did the heavy lifting before are now working on fortifying our bunkers and finishing out our tunnels.

It's scary how much my recruit buddies know about Phineas and Ferb. The statue actually looks really good, and they even have the annoying sister yelling at them from a few feet away. The spray-painting takes longer than we thought, though, and we are just putting the finishing touches on it when the judges—all the drill sergeants and Jonathan—come up to our barracks.

They stand there, marking things on their scorecards, mumbling under their breath. Jonathan doesn't even look at me, though I stare at him. Kelly elbows me and I jump, turning to look at him. “What?”

“I know he's your brother, but you can't stare at the cadet colonel like that,” he hisses under his breath.

“I'm just trying to get his attention.” He hasn't met with me since before Christmas.

“Yeah, but right now he's not your brother—he's your colonel.” He's taken the words right out of Matthews's mouth.

I nod and take a step back, glaring at Kelly now, rather than at Jonathan. “Better?”

“Oh, just wonderful. Very grown-up of you.”

“I am a year older than you, you know.” I give him a smug smile and he just rolls his eyes.

Jonathan's voice makes me jump. “Good job, recruits. Alpha Company has won the statue contest every year for the past seven. Good to see we can count on you this year as well. Now, finish getting ready for the snow war. Don't forget, when you hit someone, you can take them prisoner. When you get rid of a company, grab their flag. The company standing at the end with the most flags wins! Now, get out there and kick some ass!”

“Colonel McKenna, yes, Colonel McKenna!”

As soon as he walks away, we're high-fiving each other. If we can win this, we might be able to solidify our lead in the points. Originally I'd just wanted to make it through the year—but to win Company of the Year, too, would just be the icing on the cake.

We talk through our strategy for the snow war, which basically involves just beaning the hell out of people and hiding behind bunkers. Wilson puts himself in charge of guarding the flag.

The PG is crawling with cadets, upperclassmen and freshmen alike. Evers has positioned himself at a bunker within throwing distance of mine. “Wait a second, upperclassmen are playing in the snow war?”

“Of course they are,” Kelly says. “They should get to have fun, too. You'll be fine.” He pounds me on the back and I stagger forward a step before standing still again. This is not the same Kelly who wanted to protect me earlier in the year. This Kelly is different, more
indifferent
than I'm used to. And it scares me to think that the Society has gotten its claws in him.

Just then the cannon goes off, announcing the start of the war. I dive behind the bunker with Kelly and lie flat against the snow. My fingers are frozen as I try to grip a snowball. I inch my head up above the lip of the bunker and scan—snowballs fly from every direction. Cadets and recruits run around, diving, dodging, and rolling out of the way. My recruit buddies are in the middle of the fray. Bekah's still nowhere in sight. Katie is behind the bunker next to us, just a few feet away.

From the side of the barracks Kelly came from earlier, three cadets carry a plastic bin filled with snowballs. They glance around and point in my direction. I duck back down behind the bunker.

“They've spotted me.” I know we're going to be prime targets in the war but I want a fair chance to help the company before I'm taken prisoner.

“You're kind of hard to miss, McKenna.” He still won't meet my eyes, brushing off my concern like he would a fly. “It's just a snowball fight. Have some fun!”

Kelly grabs some ammunition and crouches, running from the bunker we're behind to another one a few feet away, chucking a snowball out into the middle of the PG as he goes. When it explodes, Evers whips around and looks our way. He glares and points a finger in my direction.

I don't have enough ammo to waste one on Kelly for his idiotic move. Evers is filling his arms full of snowballs from the plastic bucket, keeping his eyes on me. Katie is okay a few feet away. I inch my head up and look around, but still can't spot Bekah anywhere.

“Katie? You see Bekah?” I grab a snowball and wind my arm back, prepared to attack, and scan the field in front of me for a target. Evers is closest, but I don't want to push him.

“No sign of her.”

I turn the other direction, determined to take down some of Bravo Company.

The first snowball hits me from the side, my shoulder stinging with pain. It's not a nice soft one that explodes on impact, like the ones we made. When I reach for it on the ground, it's a solid lump. I squeeze it in my hand but I can't break it.

The fucking snowballs are frozen.

The second one comes from somewhere near Kelly. He's looking out at the PG, but he glances nervously in my direction.

At the next bunker Katie's not doing much better. She's lying on the ground in a fetal position, her arms up over her head, protecting herself. Three upperclassmen charge toward us, Evers included, pounding Katie with iceballs from all sides.

They run away, laughing, but Katie's arms are slack and she's not protecting her head anymore. She's not moving.

“Jesus. Kelly, help her!” I turn to him, but his eyes are wide and he's frozen in place. “Kelly! She's not moving! Someone help her!” Where is everyone else? Where the hell is Bekah?

I get on my feet, running over to her, dropping to my knees next to her. “Katie. Come on, Katie.” I shake her and she groans. “Thank God.” She keeps her eyes closed, though, tears dropping into the snow.

“Mac!”

Just as I lift my head to see who yelled for me, a third iceball hits my forehead and everything goes black.

TWENTY-EIGHT

KATIE'S GONE. NOT
DEAD
GONE, BUT DONE WITH THE DMA.

The infirmary nurse called our parents after the snowball fight, and she vanished in a whirlwind of hugs and tears. She finally found her way out.

Mom offered to come get me, but she's got Dad to worry about and after all this time, even my “He's doing what he loves. He's going to make it through” speech isn't helping. The only thing keeping me from running home is the knowledge that Dad's too stubborn to die.

I push the blanket back on the bed and am careful to avoid the squeaky floorboards as I sneak out of my room and make my way downstairs. The nurse has a room behind her office where she sleeps when cadets are here so I don't turn the lights on. Her television is blaring, though, so I doubt she'd notice me anyway unless I banged on her door. From the infirmary, it's only a two-minute walk to the armory. The weights are clanging already. I guess they didn't think I was coming after all.

Huff is busy benching his weights, so Drill sees me first. He can't move from his spotting position, though, and taps his foot in frustration. “Mac.”