Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks, #1)(87)

He’s not in there, of course. He’s downstairs with Dr. Groger in the secret lab. He’s with Valentine; possibly Ida, too. It makes this task all the more urgent. But I’m still terrified.

Sydney takes my hand, trying to be brave for both of us.

“We can do this,” Marcella murmurs, her eyes glassy. “I’ll be at the stairs.” She nods, waiting for us to agree before going to stand post, just in case the Guardian returns.

Sydney and I head to his room, pausing one last moment. And then, with Sydney outside his door, I slip inside.

The Guardian’s room is neat, bed made with a smooth green blanket, an extra set of boots in the corner. I begin pulling open dresser drawers, finding perfectly folded T-shirts. There’s nothing out of place. But worse, there’s no phone.

I’m starting to get frantic, especially when Sydney knocks softly on the door and tells me to hurry up. I exhale gratefully when I find the Guardian’s phone plugged into the wall, tucked behind a chair. I quickly yank out the charger and rush to the door.

“Did you get it?” Sydney asks, wide-eyed as I walk out. We practically run back toward our rooms.

“I did,” I say, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt.

“Good,” Sydney says. “Now call Jackson and tell him not to be late.”

We wave Marcella over, and she places her hand over her heart in relief. The three of us separate to our rooms so as to not rouse any suspicion if the Guardian comes back. And if he does return, hopefully he won’t look for his phone.

I can’t close my bedroom door, so I immediately go inside the bathroom, sliding the pocket door closed.

I haven’t spoken to Jackson since the theater. I know he was the one who sent the sheriff, which was the best he could do—especially if he did it anonymously. But nothing came of it. I can only imagine his fear. The way he’s probably running his hand though his hair, exhaling with frustration.

And I hope I haven’t scared him away. I told him not to touch me, and I made it pretty clear that I didn’t want his help. Will he give it to me now? I guess I’ll find out if he really cares after all.

I dial his number, relieved when I don’t get the recorded message telling me it’s not in service. As the phone rings, I try to work out what I’m going to say. I hold the phone to my ear, afraid he won’t answer. Terrified that he will.

“Hello?” Jackson asks, his raspy voice strained and raw. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to talk for a moment. Overcome with relief that there’s still a world outside this academy.

“Hi,” I say.

There’s a string of relieved curses, and then, “Just tell me if you’re okay,” Jackson demands.

“Nothing is okay,” I reply. “But I’m not injured, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He moans out his worry, and I hear the screen door of his house open and close. The wind outside. “I’ve been there every day,” he says. “I’ve seen them reinforcing the fence. And I haven’t seen any girls. Fuck,” he yells out. “I thought you were all dead.”

“Not yet,” I say.

“Great,” he says flippantly. “So I’m coming to get you now. Which room is yours?”

“We’re locked in, Jackson.”

“Then tell me how to get inside.”

It’s sweet that he thinks he can just come in and rescue us. It’s a little delusional, too.

“The fence,” I remind him.

“Don’t worry about that part,” he says. “I’ll figure it out. Just tell me where to find you.”

“In the driveway,” I say. “We’re leaving tonight—just after midnight. Can you meet us with the car?”

“What?” he asks. “How . . . ? They’re not just going to let you walk out, Mena. I’m coming in.”

He’s not entirely wrong. If Guardian Bose or the professors catch on to our plan, we won’t make it to the gate. It might not be a terrible idea to have Jackson with us at the door—just in case things don’t go smoothly.

“Okay,” I say. “On the east side of the building is the door to the kitchen. We have the key. You’ll be there?”

“Of course I’ll be there,” he responds immediately. “And please, Mena. Just . . . be careful.”

“I will,” I whisper. “I will.”

He sniffles, and I think he might be crying. “Sure you will,” he says, doubtfully.

I smile, but then I hear movement from the rooms—one of the girls turning on the shower, which is a reminder to me that we still have to keep up appearances a little longer.

“I have to go,” I say. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Jackson and I hang up. I walk back out of my bathroom and check to make sure the hallway is clear. But just as I’m about to step out, I hear Guardian Bose’s voice echo up the stairwell. I dart back inside my room and hide the phone in my pillowcase, my heart in my throat.

“I’m not sure where he is,” Guardian Bose says impatiently. I realize from the sound of return static that he’s on the walkie-talkie. “Haven’t seen him since dinner. Do you want me to go to the residence?”

“No, no,” Dr. Groger’s voice trickles out. “If it’s important, Penchant will track me down, I’m sure. Just go about your duties. I’ll let you know if I need you.”