Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(60)

After a cleansing breath, I get my book. I meet the other girls in the hallway, Valentine joining us, and we head to class.

Annalise walks into Modesty and Decorum first, tossing her red hair over her shoulder as she passes Professor Penchant. He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes follow her all the way to her desk. I notice his predatory stare, and see Brynn’s jaw tighten as she notices it too. To think that we didn’t used to notice this . . . Our eyes are open now.

Rebecca arrives then, but as she walks into class, her notebook slips out of her hand. She drops it, apologizing profusely.

“It’s fine,” I say, picking it up for her. I smile encouragingly, and she thanks me. Her eyes, however, hold a vacancy that wasn’t there before.

“Ah,” Professor Penchant says, making my heart trip. “Philomena.”

Rebecca hurries to her seat, but I turn to the professor. “Good morning,” I tell him.

He smiles, his pointy teeth showing. His gaze drifts over to Rebecca.

“I hope you’ll rethink your choice of friends next time,” he tells me, although he’s admonishing her. “You don’t need to associate with such creatures.”

Rebecca bows her head in embarrassment. Clearly the professor is not willing to forgive her, even if she has nothing to be sorry for. Showing my anger might be a bit easier than I thought it would be.

Professor Penchant continues to watch Rebecca, as if daring her to talk back when he knows she won’t. It’s a show of power against a girl he controls. His eyes travel from the ends of her hair to the tips of her shoes. He huffs out a sound.

“I’m friends with all the girls, sir,” I tell the professor pleasantly, and take my seat in front of Annalise. She chews on her pen, her foot underneath my chair, bobbing her knee with impatience.

“That’s all very well,” Professor Penchant says to me. “But a girl must protect her reputation. Who you surround yourself with says a lot about you.”

“Yes, it does,” I murmur, thinking about him and the other professors sitting together at breakfast.

“Let this be a lesson to all of you,” Professor Penchant announces. “You will listen and behave. No more. No less. You do not need opinions—we’ll tell you what’s good for you. Insubordination will not be tolerated,” he adds. “Remember, while you’re here, you belong to us.”

He nods like he’s made his point and turns back to the board. He uncaps his marker to start writing out the rules for our field trip.

A few girls wilt. He has no right to tell us who we belong to. He has no right to say many of the things that he does.

And a sense of defiance hits me so hard that I nearly swoon with it. My hand shoots up into the air. “Professor Penchant?” I call.

He looks back over his shoulder, annoyed—especially since he thought he was done talking.

“Yes, Philomena,” he asks.

“Where’s Lennon Rose?” I ask. The words are clear and simple. Nothing in them showing the disobedience he just warned about. His expression, however, falters. I feel several girls turn to me.

“That’s none of your business,” Professor Penchant answers, turning around fully. “She’s no longer a student of this academy.”

“But she’s my friend,” I say. “I’d like to know where she is.” Again, I keep my temper under control, careful not to tick the wrong boxes of insubordination.

“And Anton told you she’s with her parents. End of subject.” He goes back to the board, pressing harder on the marker as he writes, darkening the letters.

“I’d like to call her and check on her well-being,” I continue. The professor spins around so fast that I actually jump. Annalise’s leg stops bobbing.

Professor Penchant sets down his marker and takes several steps in my direction. “Why are you asking about her?” he demands. He looks around the room, and I worry he’ll see that the other girls aren’t as obedient as they used to be. I stand up, forcing him to keep his attention on me.

“Like I told you, professor,” I say. “She’s my friend. And I think—”

“Think,” he repeats viciously. “You’re not here to think, Philomena. You’re here to—”

“Mr. Weeks cares about my opinion,” I say, interrupting him. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to mention Winston Weeks—a guess, and I was right. Bringing up the investor infuriates him.

“Winston Weeks is not a professor at this academy!” he shouts, spittle flying from his lips. “He has no rights to you!”

I tilt my head, willfully misunderstanding. “I was under the impression that he is very highly regarded by the academy. After all, he’s the one who brought about this field trip. On my suggestion,” I add.

The professor’s mouth pulls into a sneer. “And what did you have to do to get such favor from him?”

“Are you jealous?” I ask, offended.

In a flash of movement, the professor slaps me hard across the face, knocking me against my desk. It’s a shock, and my eyes fill with tears before I even realize. Rather than apologize for upsetting him, I turn around and face him again. Standing up taller.

“I don’t belong to you,” I say, my voice taking an edge that I can’t quite control. “And I don’t belong to this academy.” I push my desk out of the way and step closer to him. He growls at me like a feral animal.