Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(25)

I press my lips together, as if thanking her, but there’s a flicker of disappointment in her expression before she walks past me to join her husband. I’m left a bit confused, and when I go to tell Sydney about it, I see she’s still feeling badly about her evaluation. I decide not to burden her any more.

“Ah . . . ,” Mr. Petrov calls out lovingly. We all turn and find him taking Valentine by the hand, leading her out of line to show her off. He spins her around, admiring her. “Now, this,” he says, “is perfection.” Valentine dips in a bow, the front of her dress sloping down to expose her cleavage. Mr. Petrov doesn’t take his eyes off her, still holding her hand.

Leandra watches on, a pleasant expression on her face. When Valentine returns to her place in line and Mr. Petrov walks to Lennon Rose, Leandra and Valentine exchange a private look. It’s only a moment, a split second, and then Valentine turns forward again and smiles. When she notices me, she lifts one eyebrow. Rather than indulge whatever weirdness she’s about to say, I look past her toward Lennon Rose.

My heart skips and I quickly reach out to grab Sydney’s arm. She turns to look before taking an anxious step forward.

“Now what is this about?” Mr. Petrov says in a fatherly tone as he guides Lennon Rose from the line. He yanks a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and hands it to her. Leandra sighs, seemingly annoyed.

Lennon Rose is crying. Her makeup is running down her cheeks in black and blue rivers. She uses Mr. Petrov’s tissue to dot the area, but she’s clearly distraught.

I flick an accusatory look at Valentine, but she doesn’t meet my eyes this time. She’s still smiling, though. Not even acknowledging Lennon Rose’s breakdown.

“Leandra, darling,” Mr. Petrov says. “Can you please take our little rose upstairs and fix her up?”

“Of course,” Leandra says, taking her by the arm. Although it looks gentle, Lennon Rose’s winces at the touch. We all watch in stunned silence as Lennon Rose is led back to the rooms.

It has to be because of Valentine. I can’t imagine that she would purposely upset Lennon Rose—she knows how sensitive she is—but clearly, she said something wrong.

“Marcella,” Mr. Petrov says, nodding his head to her. “A vision as always. I know your parents will be proud.” She thanks him.

The Head of School turns to Brynn, taking his time examining her. And then, almost impulsively, he steps closer and leans in to kiss her cheek. Brynn jumps, but as Mr. Petrov pulls back, she smiles at him.

“You’ll be a beautiful bride one day soon,” he tells her. “And your husband will be a very lucky man, indeed.”

Mr. Petrov turns to inspect the next girl, but Brynn continues to stare straight ahead, smile held. Eyes shiny. It isn’t until Marcella reaches back to take her hand that Brynn lets out a held breath. I’m reminded of Lennon Rose’s question in my room. And the answer: Mr. Petrov knows what’s best for us. I ignore my feelings on the matter, and I turn around, opting not to watch any more of the inspections.

? ? ?

The first thing I notice is the bright red lipstick stain on the wineglass. The liquid has been abandoned at one of the tables near the sofa shortly after dinner, and I make my way over to sit on the velvet cushion closest to it. As the music from the piano drifts over the room, I search for the other girls and find nearly all of them occupied.

Sydney is smiling, beaming under her parents’ attention. I’ve always liked her family. They dress smartly, but not lavishly—no furs or overemphatic jewelry. Sydney told me once that her parents saved their entire adult lives to be able to afford sending her here. She does everything she can to make them proud.

Tonight, Sydney looks gorgeous in the sequined blush dress. Her mother and father exchange pleased looks as Sydney tells them a story. I feel a twinge of pride too. Sydney is dynamic and lovely. I’m lucky to have her in my life.

Sadly, she was wrong about my parents. They didn’t show up unexpectedly. I was prepared, of course. But . . . I did have a small bit of hope they would find a way to see me. Maybe next time.

It hasn’t gone unnoticed that my parents have missed all three open houses this year, even though the girls don’t bring it up. Anton tells me not to dwell on their absence. I try not to, but sometimes it’s hard not to wallow a little.

A loud laugh near the door startles me. I turn in that direction and see Marcella entertaining her parents. She must feel me watching her, because she looks over at me, and then at the wineglass. She flashes me a smile as if telling me to go for it. I sniff a laugh and turn to survey the rest of the room.

Lennon Rose’s parents are here, even though she hasn’t arrived yet. The couple is talking with Dr. Groger near the buffet table, drinks in hand. Serious expressions.

Lennon Rose’s mother is rail thin, elegant with heavy black brows and black hair. Her father has graying dark hair, brown eyes, and a stern chin. Lennon Rose’s parents are looking forward to bringing her home, grateful for the opportunity to raise an Innovations Girl—I’ve heard them say as much. They look positively forlorn now.

There’s a flash of pink fabric, and I turn just as Annalise drops onto the couch next to me. She tries to follow my line of vision. “Who are we staring at?” she asks, sounding bored.

“Lennon Rose’s parents,” I say.

Annalise juts out her bottom lip. “I noticed them too,” she says. “Hopefully Lennon Rose will be here soon.”