Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(86)

Brynn reaches her hand into the center of the table, and all of us reach out, gripping each other. I don’t want to let go, strengthened by their touch, but we don’t hold on too long. We can’t draw attention.

“We run tonight,” Marcella whispers. “We run for each other.”

I agree, and the other girls nod, including Annalise. We’ll stick together no matter what. Codependent, I think Anton called it. But it’s not. It’s our strength.

? ? ?

We’re not allowed to meet together in our rooms anymore, so all of our conversations are had in passing, comments in the hallways, nods and winks in the classrooms.

I try not to feel anything but bravery. When Professor Allister calls Sydney worthless for missing a question about the Federal Flower Garden, slapping his pointer stick on her desk to scare her, I clench my fist in my lap. It’s clear to me that the professors are out of control now, all of their decorum gone.

They hate us passionately. They despise us because they know we hate them too. We don’t look up to them. We have no interest in their mediocrity.

We think they’re disgusting. We think they’re perverted and stupid and cruel. And without our admiration, we’re nothing to them.

But the truth is, without our admiration, they’re nothing.

Of course, there are some logistical issues with running away. We have no money, no identification. And even if we go to the authorities about what’s happening here, what proof do we really have? My memories? Files that are locked away in Anton’s office? What’s to stop the academy from telling them we’re the problem? That we’re lying?

The academy can take everything from us, because as Professor Penchant once put it when criticizing Ida in class, “No one listens to little girls anyway.”

But we’ve agreed that we’ll find out who else knows about Innovations Academy—the people Anton accused of spreading lies. Maybe they’re the people who can help us. We’ll expose what’s happening here. The whole school. We’ll spare none of them.

“Grab any money you have in your rooms,” I tell the girls as we walk in the hallway between classes. “And only bring a backpack. We have to travel light.”

“It’s too risky to leave before lights-out,” Marcella adds. “We’ll get a longer window if we leave at night.”

All the movies about men that they make us watch are proving to be useful when it comes to escaping the grips of other men.

“But how will we get outside?” Brynn asks.

We pause at the fountain while I take a drink. “The drawer in the kitchen has a bunch of keys,” I whisper with the water against my lips. “Even one to the lab.”

“Valentine,” Sydney says, sadly. I straighten up, wiping my hand across my mouth.

Our friend is missing, and we might have the chance to save her—we acknowledge that, not sure if it’ll work, but we don’t brush it aside. We know that she’d come for us.

But we don’t discuss it again, at least not yet. We can’t rescue her until we know we can get away from here.

We need a phone.

After finishing our classes for the day, the girls and I return to the dining hall. The smell of gravy, beef, and fresh-baked cookies fills the room. Only this time, I don’t long for their food. My stomach churns with nerves. My skin prickles with fear as the professors laugh and feast.

We notice that the Guardian isn’t here. Neither is Maryanne Lindstrom. We’re not sure what that means, and we communicate our worry without a word, afraid the plan will have to be altered.

But then Guardian Bose strolls in, clutching Maryanne by the upper arm. She looks dazed, vacant. The Guardian brings her to her seat before heading toward the professors’ table, flashing me a smile as he passes.

I check on Maryanne just as a small tear of blood leaks from her left eye. She wipes it away without fuss and picks up her spoon to sip from her soup demurely. I bet if I asked her how she was feeling, she’d tell me she’s made Anton very proud.

My breath is caught up in my chest. This is going to happen to all of us. Annalise swallows hard, staring at me from across the table. We’re scared. We don’t have much time.

The crackle of a walkie-talkie echoes in the quiet hall, and Guardian Bose takes his walkie-talkie off his hip. “Yeah, on my way,” he says impatiently. He pushes his empty plate back to the center of the table and stands up from the bench. “What a fucking mess,” he tells the professors. “I might be down there all night.”

“Yes, well,” Professor Penchant says, unbothered, reaching for another cookie. He coughs thickly before clearing his throat. “It’ll be over soon enough,” he adds. “Then we’ll finally get things back on track around here. The way they used to be. Back when girls knew how to behave.”

Several professors cast looks in our direction, and I quickly turn away.

Despite the threat in Professor Penchant’s words, I’m encouraged by the conversation. The Guardian will be downstairs, presumably for a long time. It should give us enough time to find his phone if he’s left it in his room.

When we’re dismissed from dinner a short while later, Annalise and Brynn stay behind to clean up. The rest of the girls and I return to our floor, Sydney looking over at me every few seconds as we walk.

As the other girls go into their rooms, I notice how quiet the academy seems tonight. Eerily so. Maybe it’s because we have fewer girls now, or it could be my nerves. Heightening every worry. Even my breathing feels too loud. Marcella stops at my room and glances toward the Guardian’s door.