Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(51)

My heart starts to beat faster. I want to go over, but I’m worried I’ll call attention to her in front of the professors and Guardian. She’s already in so much trouble.

And then, in a subtle motion, Rebecca reaches out her hand, watching it like it’s not her own, until her fingertips press against the glass and push it over.

There’s a clank, and then green liquid spills onto the table, quickly running over and pouring onto the floor. Several girls yelp and back away. Rebecca’s face splits wide with a smile, all of her teeth showing.

Sydney’s hand tightens on my arm. There are alarmed murmurs around us, and Marcella is the first to cross to Rebecca. She turns her around and asks if she’s okay, but Rebecca doesn’t stop smiling until it distorts into a grimace.

“Rebecca,” Marcella repeats her name, louder, giving her a quick shake to snap her out of this. It doesn’t work.

Rebecca begins to laugh, and the sound of it is high-pitched, wild, and unruly.

“What’s going on?” Sydney breathes out.

Rebecca runs her palm along her face, smearing her makeup—eye shadow over her brow, lipstick over her cheek—before digging both hands into her hair and rubbing frantically, messing it up. She’s shaking, laughing. Terrifying.

Brynn joins Marcella, and together, they try to talk Rebecca down. But before they make any progress, Guardian Bose appears. He’s clearly rattled too. He grabs Rebecca roughly by the arm, the same way he grabbed me, but this time, Rebecca rips from his grasp. She spins to face him, her eyes wide, her teeth bared in viciousness.

“Don’t touch me!” she growls at him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”

I dart my eyes over to the professors, finding them watching in concern. None of the men try to intervene, though. Professor Penchant continues to eat.

Guardian Bose puffs himself up to his full height, towering over Rebecca. She doesn’t shrink back from him.

“I don’t want to be beautiful anymore,” she says. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sure,” Guardian Bose says. “But we should go talk to Anton about it.”

It’s the mention of Anton that causes a shift in her behavior. Rebecca takes a step back from Guardian Bose, the first sign of fear in her expression.

“No,” she says. “I don’t want to.”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Guardian Bose says flippantly, grabbing her again now that he’s seen he can scare her. “Not really up to you, though, is it?”

Rebecca tries to pull away from Guardian Bose, but he doesn’t let go. He brings her closer, her arm bent against his chest as he whispers in her ear. Rebecca shrinks back.

Marcella says something to the Guardian, pleading on Rebecca’s behalf, but he waves her away, dismissing her.

We all watch as Rebecca and Guardian Bose leave the dining hall. Cries echo from the hallway. I sit numbly at the table, my insides knotted up. Sydney is trembling next to me.

When I look up, I find Professor Allister watching, checking me over. I smile politely, acknowledging his concern, and then lower my eyes.

The other girls fall quiet, and we eat our lunches in stunned silence.

? ? ?

Sydney has cleanup duty in the dining hall, so the rest of us return to our floor for quiet reflection. We’re all understandably upset. I imagine Rebecca is in impulse control therapy.

I think about not wanting to be beautiful anymore. Professor Penchant told us men can’t control themselves around beautiful women. So instead of addressing their behavior, he put the responsibility on us. Rebecca thought that maybe if she wasn’t pretty, they wouldn’t bother her anymore.

I think about the poem. Men wanted control, not beautiful women. I suspect it wouldn’t matter what Rebecca looked like. Mr. Wolfe wanted to possess a girl—to have that status. It didn’t matter which girl it was.

With Sydney still not back, I decide it’s time for me to talk with Valentine. I go into the hall and cross to her room, but when I knock, she doesn’t answer.

I’m feeling suddenly very alone, not just because I’m alone in the hallway.

Since I stopped taking the vitamins, since I’ve been noticing the strangeness of the things around me . . . I feel a bit like I’m the only one who’s really here. My knowledge is isolating. Is this how Valentine feels all the time? Is this how Lennon Rose felt before she left the academy?

The phone comes into focus at the other end of the hall. I take out the little piece of paper that I kept tucked in my pocket and make my way over. I told Jackson I’d keep my eyes open, and I’ve seen a lot today. Maybe he can offer some outside advice. And better than that, maybe he’s found Lennon Rose’s number so I can check on her.

That thought gives me a small bit of hope, and I’m smiling by the time I reach the phone. I read the numbers scrawled across the paper, murmuring them aloud as I dial.

Nervousness bubbles up when the lines clicks. I open my mouth to say hello, but instead of Jackson’s voice, I’m met with a series of bells.

“The number you have reached is no longer in service,” a recorded voice says. “Please check the number and dial again.”

Confused, I hang up and redial, double-checking each digit. I get the same message. I hang up the phone, feeling disappointed. Jackson must have written it down wrong.

There’s a shock of laughter down the hall, startling me, and I look over to see Ida and Maryanne walking in my direction. Ida asks if I’m done with the phone, and I tell her that I am.