Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(21)

“I should probably get back,” I say, getting to my feet.

Jackson walks me toward the fence, and we pause as we reach the iron bars. I wish I could stay just a little longer, but I appreciate the time we’ve had.

“There’s an open house tonight,” I tell him. “Goes kind of late, so we don’t have Running Course tomorrow. But . . . I’ll be back out here on Sunday. If you’re in the area.”

“This mountainous, middle-of-fucking-nowhere area?” he asks. “Yeah, of course I’ll be here. Besides, we didn’t finish all the candy.” He holds up the bag.

I laugh. The sound of sneakers hitting the dirt gets louder as the girls run along the building, getting closer. Sydney hangs near the back of the group.

“Then I’ll see you Sunday,” I say. “And bring the candy.”

He grins before nodding goodbye. I turn around to slip back through the fence, joining the girls for the rest of our morning run.





7


As the girls and I finish our run and head toward the door, we find Guardian Bose waiting for us, watching us intently. I nearly trip over my feet, worried that I’ve been caught breaking the rules; I see the same flash of fear in Sydney’s eyes. But the Guardian just waves us in impatiently. He never lets us deviate from our schedule.

I try to keep my distance so he won’t smell candy on my breath, and once we’re past him, Sydney and I exchange a relieved look. We start toward our rooms to get ready for classes.

As we walk down the hall, the other girls ahead of us, Sydney loops her arm through mine.

“And how is Jackson?” she asks quietly, leaning her head closer to mine.

“He’s coming back on Sunday,” I say with a flicker of nervousness. Excitement. I don’t want to get caught disobeying twice in one week, chance being redirected again. But I liked listening to Jackson. And I liked that he listened to me.

To get her opinion, I tell Sydney everything that Jackson and I talked about with the exception of his family. We discuss his hiking through the woods, his lack of manners, and how I held his hand, even if only for a moment. How he was worried about me, asked about me. I think that part impresses her the most.

We get to our floor, and Sydney exhales dramatically. “I say you go for it,” she says. “Just make sure he doesn’t try anything inappropriate on Sunday. Even if his manners are brutish, keep yours intact. Otherwise you’ll give him the wrong idea.”

She’s right. The rules are there to keep us safe. I vow to be careful, even crossing my heart to show I’m serious.

Sydney snorts a laugh before we part to get ready for class.

As I shower, the taste of candy still on my tongue, I take extra time to shave my legs carefully, moisturize after, and blow-dry my hair. I don’t want to have to do it all before the party.

We’re required to look our best tonight. The Head of School will check us over before we walk out, and request changes if needed. He tends to like my hair pulled up for formal events, so I know to style it that way, a few curls framing my face. He likes Sydney’s hair straight or with big waves. And Lennon Rose must have her hair down at all times. There are more “specifications”—that’s what he calls them—and it’s up to us to meet his goals and then exceed them.

After slipping on my uniform and required makeup (foundation, blush, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, mascara), I head to my morning classes. Professor Penchant discusses posture in Modesty and Decorum, while Professor Levin has us create party invitations in Modern Manners using the open house as our example. We’ve created these invitations several times before with little to no variation, but I like using the felt-tipped pens, so I don’t mind.

In Social Graces Etiquette, we read about the Federal Flower Garden again. Professor Allister says we need to understand the importance of beautiful things, so we just keep going over it.

Class goes by slowly, and I find myself staring out the window into the foggy morning, toward the woods. They’re thick, and they take up a few acres between us and the road, the iron fence slowly getting swallowed up by the growing brush. I wonder if one day the entire school will be enveloped, vines snaking inside the windows, smashing the glass, and wrapping around the bars.

But then I imagine Jackson lost in the woods this morning, trying to get to me, misguided and good-hearted. I smile and rest my chin on my palm.

“Philomena?” Professor Allister calls. Startled, I look up to find him waiting.

“I’m sorry, what?” I ask. He sighs and taps the white board with a pointer stick.

“When was the Federal Flower Garden erected?” he asks for what I assume is the second time.

“Three years ago,” I answer, feeling the heat from the stares of the other girls in class.

“And why?” Professor Allister follows up.

“Because beautiful things need to be preserved,” I recite. “Put on a pedestal. The flowers are an example to be emulated. Only beautiful things have value.”

“Excellent,” he says, nodding. He sweeps his eyes over me once and then turns back to the class to continue with his lesson.

I rest my chin on my palm and stare out the window again.

After yesterday’s excitement at the gas station, and today’s excitement beyond the fence with Jackson, I can barely keep my head in the classroom, drifting out into the woods and looking for adventure. Sydney has to kick my shoe twice in Etiquette, and I miss a lesson on proper phone manners. I’ve heard it before, though. They treat us like we forget everything the moment we walk out of class. But in fact, we’re excellent learners.