Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(3)

Marcella and Brynn have been dating since our second day of school at the Innovations Academy. Eight months later, they’re closer than ever. A perfect pair, if anyone were to ask me. Marcella is clever and decisive while Brynn is nurturing and creative. Despite the strength of their relationship, they keep it a secret from the school—afraid the Guardian will separate them if he finds out. Our education is supposed to be our only focus. Dating is strictly forbidden.

Annalise Gibbons raises her hand from the seat in front of us, and when Guardian Bose notices, he exhales loudly and rolls his eyes. “What?” he asks.

“I really have to go to the bathroom,” she says. “It’s an emergency.”

We’re still about an hour from the school, I’m guessing, so the Guardian gets up to speak to the driver. We wait in anticipation of an unexpected stop, watching him in the oversized rearview mirror as he talks quietly to the older man behind the wheel. The white-haired driver nods as if he doesn’t care either way, and Guardian Bose lifts his eyes to the mirror, where he catches us staring at him. Several of us lower our heads so we don’t sway his opinion in the other direction.

“There’s a gas station a few miles up,” Guardian Bose announces. “Only those who have to go to the bathroom get off the bus, understand? Otherwise we’ll fall behind schedule.”

There are murmurs of “yes, we understand,” but a buzz reverberates through all of us. Normally our field trips are limited to one place and very few people outside of our group. Nothing unexpected ever happens. At that thought, I sit up taller to check on Valentine.

She’s in the front seat, across the aisle from the Guardian. Her long black hair flows over the back of the padded green seat, but she is impossibly still, staring out the windshield and not acknowledging any of us. Like she’s thinking about the roses again.

Today has been unexpected. Unusual, even. But it’s about more than Valentine’s peculiar behavior in the flower garden. It’s about the restlessness her words have caused. The way my head seems to itch somewhere just out of reach.

No, today is different—that much I know for certain. And to prove it, a sign for a gas station appears on our right and the bus edges that way, bumping over the lane dividers.

The other girls press against the windows as I grab money from the front pocket of my backpack and tuck it into my waistband. The bus hisses to a stop to the side of the building.

A beat-up yellow car pulls in just behind us and parks at the gas pump. Other than that, the place looks deserted, run down. Grimy in a quaint way, I suppose. Like it’s never been updated. Never changed.

Despite the Guardian’s warning, nearly all of us stand to go inside—thrilled at the chance to see someplace new.

Guardian Bose is quick to hold up his hands. “Really?” he asks. “All of you?”

A few make frantic gestures like their bladders might explode, and others look at him pleadingly. I just want to buy candy. We’re not allowed sweets at the academy; our food is closely monitored. Even at home, my parents didn’t allow sugar in my diet. But I find I crave it desperately, especially after getting a taste on a field trip earlier this year.

The school brought us to an art exhibit at a museum just outside of town. It wasn’t during regular business hours, so we had the place to ourselves. Sydney and I raced up the stairs when the Guardian wasn’t looking, and Lennon Rose, Annalise, and I spent extra time staring at the nude male statues until Annalise nearly snapped off a penis while posing dramatically next to him. And before we left, we all stopped in the gift shop. Some bought postcards for their parents or a souvenir or two. I picked out several bags of M&M’s and Starburst candies.

Honestly, I don’t understand the addictive properties of sugar—it’s never been mentioned in our classes—but I can attest they are life altering.

And so I put on my most pleasing and innocent expression for the Guardian. I must not be alone in trying this, because he darts his pale eyes around the bus and then shakes his head.

“Fine,” he says. “You go in small groups. Fifteen minutes and we’re back on the road. Understand?”

We nod eagerly and he motions us off the bus by row. Only Valentine and two other girls willingly stay behind. Sydney and I are the last group to leave, and on the way out, Guardian Bose looks down at me.

“Philomena,” he says, darting a quick look at Valentine before studying my expression. “Don’t get distracted in there.”

“No problem,” I say with a smile. Nothing can distract me from candy.

I step off the bus, pleased to find the rain has softened to a drizzle. The mountain is closer now that we’re heading toward school, and I’m at once enchanted and intimidated by its scale. Mist clings to the summit, so I imagine it’s raining at the academy. It’s always raining there.

I’m no longer wearing the plastic rain slicker, and I appreciate the moisture on my skin, tickling my bare forearms. Soaking into me. At least, I do until I step into a puddle and splash muddy water on my delicate white socks. I glance down past my plaid uniform skirt and shake out my shoe.

As I start walking again, I look at the yellow car. There’s a young guy pumping gas, his face turned away as he leans against the back door, talking through the open passenger-side window to another boy still inside the car. I examine them, curious.