Free Rites of Passage by Joy N. Hensley Page B

same look I gave Amos when he gave me this dare. My Are you flipping crazy? look.
    Rev laughs, a big laugh that makes him bend over and try to catch his breath. “I never knew what the hell that meant. But I’ve come to figure it out while working here. Each of us is capable of amazing things, Sam, if we just believe in ourselves. The ocean may seem overwhelming if we’re looking at it from the shore. But if we’ve got the ocean all bottled up inside us, all the power we need to succeed—nothing can stop us. That’s my advice to you. The Corps may not think it’s ready for females, but you and your companions have the power to change that if you’ll just believe it.”
    We talk for a few more minutes, but my mind spins with words I can’t believe my father ever said to anyone. Hard-ass Lieutenant Colonel McKenna being inspirational? Motivational? Philosophical, even? I won’t believe it. Because if he was ever that way, why couldn’t he be that way with me?
    As I trudge toward the library to meet up with the rest of Alpha Company, the ghost of Amos and the shadow of my father lead the way, their big McKenna footsteps getting harder and harder to fill.

EIGHT
    I’M NOT EVEN UP FOR GOING TO DINNER, THOUGH I’M NOT allowed to skip the march down to the mess hall. When the campus bell tower chimes five o’clock, I trudge out of my room and get into place beside Kelly nanoseconds before the cadre come on deck. He smiles and gives a little nod of hello.
    â€œGood evening, recruits!”
    A day of rest from yelling seems to have helped Drill’s voice recover and I stand a little straighter just because, trying to get the book-cover image of a shirtless Drill from the infirmary out of my mind. If I thought finding Kelly attractive was bad, wanting Drill would be a nightmare. “Drill Sergeant Stamm, good evening, Drill Sergeant Stamm!”
    â€œLooks like we’ve got a wet walk down to mess this evening, but it doesn’t matter. This will be the first time the Corps of Cadets sees you little Worms walking in formation so I expect eyes locked front, military bearing, and not one foot out of step. Is that understood?” He’s walking as he says this, down the hall of the barracks, then back toward me.
    â€œDrill Sergeant Stamm, yes, Drill Sergeant Stamm!” The shout bounces off the walls and echoes around us, driving into my skull where I don’t need any more distractions at the moment.
    â€œLet’s move out. Form up downstairs!”
    We turn to the left, boots snapping as one against the tile floor. Then we’re running, jumping, and sliding down five flights of stairs to the basement. Out the back door, rain puddles on the sidewalk, just another thing to run through. Then we leap up the outside stairs to ground level.
    I’m breathing hard and sweating by the time we’re standing in formation. I hold my arm out to the front to judge my space, then out to the side, to make sure everyone is equal distance. I will not be the one to screw up when the Corps gets to see us for the first time.
    Corporal Julius fine-tunes someone in his squad whose name I still don’t know. They’ve organized us by skill level in each platoon, so when we right-face and prepare to march, I’m staring at the back of Kelly’s neck.
    Drill’s voice echoes around us, singing cadence to keep in step. “We like it here!”
    â€œWe like it here,” we yell back, though not nearly as nicely as Drill performs.
    â€œWe love it here!”
    â€œWe love it here!”
    â€œWe’ve finally found a home!”
    It’s then that I notice the crowd. It’s hard not to when there are cadets everywhere. Some are in various stages of dress, standing on the grass despite the rain. Others are hanging out windows. I keep my eyes locked firmly to the front.
    â€œA home!”
    They can’t be here just to watch a recruit