Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(47)

“Thank you,” I say. “For helping me.”

He bottom lip tightens before he smiles, a gorgeous smile that I think is meant to charm me. And it does. But I notice that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he seems sad. He seems lonely.

He murmurs goodbye as I slip through the fence.

As soon as he’s gone, I pull off the Band-Aid he’d given me, seeing the red scratch still on my hand. And I decide not to the tell the doctor about it, to leave it as a memory instead.





15


When the girls round the building for the last time, I slip out from behind the bush and fall into step next to Sydney. She examines me, her nose red from the cold, her eyes shiny.

“How’d it go?” she asks between heavy breaths.

“I have so much to tell you,” I say, darting my eyes around.

She smiles but keeps running. No mention of me trying to get Lennon Rose’s number. I move closer to her, earning a confused look and a laugh.

“What?” she asks.

“I read a poem last night,” I whisper. Sydney keeps jogging, her pace fast.

“Really?” she asks. “Where did you see a poem?” I tell her to keep it down, not wanting the other girls to know yet.

“It’s called ‘Girls with Sharp Sticks,’?” I say. “And . . . it’s about girls fighting back. They killed the men who—”

Sydney comes to an abrupt halt, making me jog a few paces past her. She stares at me, alarmed.

“What are you talking about, Mena? Why would you read something like that?”

I come back to her, nodding politely to the other girls as they jog past. “I found it,” I say. “And the girls were—”

“Stop,” Sydney says, holding up her hand. “Do you hear yourself? You just said . . .” She can’t say the words. “Men are here to give us guidance,” she says, lowering her voice. “Why would you be so disrespectful?”

I stare at her, seeing how worried she is about me. And it’s like I can predict what she’s going to say next. That she’ll say the men have our—

“—best interests at heart,” she finishes.

There’s a sinking feeling in my stomach. I wonder what was in last night’s vitamin.

I beckon for Sydney to jog with me again, smiling sweetly. She does, returning the expression just as easily.

“I miss Lennon Rose,” I say, testing her.

“I know,” Sydney says with exaggerated sympathy. “It’s too bad about her parents’ financial problems. Innovations is very exclusive. Not everyone can afford it.”

I swallow hard and quietly agree. We continue jogging, and I’m horrified at the idea that Sydney doesn’t remember being upset about Lennon Rose. Just like she didn’t remember Rebecca and Mr. Wolfe.

I decide not to tell her any more about the poems, not yet. I’m scared of how she’ll respond. And when she doesn’t bring them up again, I’m grateful. Even if I hate keeping this secret from her.

It occurs to me that maybe this is why Lennon Rose didn’t tell us about the poems. She was worried we wouldn’t understand. Or worse, that we’d tell the analyst about it.

I have a peculiar feeling—like there are two narratives in my head. I have no idea how to explain that to Sydney.

“Sorry if I was rude,” Sydney says as we finish the run. “I just don’t want you to get in trouble for defiance. Think about what Anton would say.”

“But what if Anton’s not always right?” I ask quietly.

Sydney stands silently, thinking it over, before the metal door swings opens. Guardian Bose reappears, and we quickly go back to smiling.

The Guardian searches our faces and motions us inside. He looks angry, and I wonder why he was out here earlier. He must be looking for someone.

I hurry past him, relieved when I’m not the reason for his darkened temperament. But when I turn around, I see him grab Rebecca’s elbow, making her stagger to a stop.

“Anton’s looking for you,” he says, staring down at her in a way that lets her know she needs to go there immediately. She recoils from him but doesn’t pull from his grasp.

“Why?” Rebecca asks in a small voice.

“I think you know,” Guardian Bose replies with a sneer. “Now shut up and do as you’re told.”

His tone has sent a spark of anger through my bloodstream. I want to snap at him and tell him not to talk to her like that. I’m starting to see how unusual our lives are here. And the more I recognize it . . . the more I want to change it.

I just don’t know how.

So I watch silently as the Guardian leads Rebecca away.

? ? ?

Sydney and I walk to the main hall to see if anyone knows why the Guardian was so upset. I’m surprised to see that nearly the entire class is here, crowded around each other. Whispering behind their hands. I know something has happened.

I lead Sydney over to Ida Welch—who’s on her own, looking bored. She never goes to running class (good genes, she says). She sits in one of the oversized chairs, filing her nails.

“Hey,” I call, drawing her attention. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Wolfe is on campus, and he doesn’t look happy,” she says. “I think Dr. Groger had the sheriff fetch him.” She pauses her filing. “Him and you know who.”