Valentino and the remaining ducklings cheer.

Juan grips the wall with one hand and leans down toward Beto with the other. “Jump,” he orders.

Beto jumps, misses.

He takes a few steps back. Then he runs at the wall full speed, launching himself at the last moment toward Juan’s waiting hand. They grasp forearms. Beto’s body swings against the wall, thumping it once, twice. Veins pop out on Juan’s neck as he pulls his friend, one-handed, up, up, up, until finally Beto can grasp the edge of the wall himself.

Beto yanks himself over, and they both land on the other side and raise their hands in victory.

Valentino and his friends whoop and holler. The audience cheers. Second years rush to reset the obstacle course, carrying buckets of water to refill the basins, rolling the log back into place.

“We’re never getting over that wall,” Aldo says.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I say.

“You have an idea?”

“Not yet.”

Next up are the Arturos. This pair is a little shorter than the Ciénega del Sur partners, but they’re notably stronger. They struggle with the sway beam but make much quicker work of the rolling log. The wall proves a challenge; it takes them several tries to reach the top, but they do, and then they fall over into the sand, exhausted, while onlookers cheer them on.

Iván goes next, along with a boy from Basajuan whose arms are as thin and bony as flagpoles. Like me, Iván has been paired with someone who gives him little chance of success. But it turns out that Iván is a wonder, because the moment he hits the sway beam, it’s obvious that he’s fast and agile, in absolute control of his body. The skinny boy also proves light on his feet, and they are across the beam in record time. They roll the log with effort, but they do it—Iván is stronger and more coordinated than I realized, and I remember Hector’s words about how some candidates hold back, hesitant to reveal the extent of their skills and training. Iván held back yesterday.

The skinny boy struggles with one of the hurdles, knocking it over twice before Iván runs back, holds the hurdle steady while the boy climbs over. Then they’re up the net faster than rats climbing the rigging of a caravel, and through the water basins like they’re little more than monsoon puddles.

Iván launches his partner to the top of the wall, who then reaches back to help him over. They topple to the ground on the other side and collapse onto their backs, gasping for air. Theirs is the fastest time yet.

Sergeant DeLuca frowns, but everyone else is cheering—Aldo and I loudest of all.

“That was incredible,” I say to Aldo.

“Iván is in better condition than I realized,” Aldo says.

“Recruit Red! Recruit Aldo!” the sergeant barks. “You’re up.”

The arena goes silent. Even our fellow recruits, who have been cheering and clapping all along, offer nothing in the way of encouragement. Everyone expects us to fail. Maybe they’re hoping for it.