I watch Garrett walk back to his seat, slapping hands with a blond-headed boy as he sits down. He blows me a kiss before I turn around.

“It’s always like this,” Adrian says under her breath to me. “They do whatever they want.”

The thought of that sends pinpricks over my skin. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by men free to do whatever they want. They can be cruel and heartless without supervision.

I look sideways at Adrian, realizing that she can help me in my mission. If anyone is related to an Innovations investor, it’s probably a boy who pushes books off desks. I lean toward Adrian.

“That boy,” I say, my voice low. “Is his father powerful within Ridgeview Prep? Or in town or anything?”

“Garrett Wooley?” she asks. “No. I’ve gone to school with him since elementary school. His dad left a long time ago. I heard he’s in California somewhere.”

I’m disappointed, although not entirely. I didn’t want to talk to that boy any more than I already have. Sydney and I decided earlier that we’d have to strike up a friendship with the investor’s kid in order to get information. I’m glad it won’t be him.

The teacher stands and begins to hand back papers.

“So why didn’t Mr. Marsh correct his behavior?” I ask Adrian, truly curious.

She scoffs. “Yeah, good luck seeing any of them face consequences. Garrett’s friends with the guys on the rugby team—he’s connected. And the National Playoffs are coming up. Mr. Marsh would probably get fired if he jeopardized the delicate balance of misogyny, education, and sports.”

I slide my eyes in Mr. Marsh’s direction. I’m not sure if his hands are tied by the administration, but I’ve learned a bit about that. No job is worth compromising what’s right. So in the end, he’s just as guilty as whoever he’s protecting.

“You think Mr. Marsh falls all over Garrett?” Adrian adds, lifting her eyebrows. “You should see him with Jonah Grant. All the boys on the rugby team. It’s gross.”

“Jonah Grant?” I repeat. Adrian flinches, and I think I’m on to something. “Who’s he?” I look around the room to see if anyone stands out.

“He’s not in this class,” she whispers, shaking her head. “Thank God.”

“Can you introduce me to him?”

She recoils in horror. “No. I … I don’t know him like that. And I don’t go near him. And no offense, Mena, but neither should you. You’re already on Garrett’s radar.” Her mouth tightens and she pulls her books in front her. “And he’s not going to stop until he gets to you.”

“Gets to me how?” I ask.

She shrugs one shoulder instead of answering the question. I don’t ask her to elaborate, seeing that she’s already fearful.

But Adrian doesn’t know what I’ve survived to get here. How far I’ll go to make sure the other girls are safe.

We’re taking down the corporation. We’re not going to let some insecure boys stand in our way.

With that thought, I look back at Garrett and find him already watching me. He licks his teeth in a disgusting display, and I turn around, frustrated.

All the attention society pays to the behavior of girls, and never once have they realized how they’re neglecting their boys. The absence of rules is turning them into feral animals. In just these few weeks, I’ve seen enough to know that change is going to be slow. But perhaps we can teach them a better way.

It reaffirms my mission: Save the girls. Save the world.

* * *

By lunch, I’m a bit more exhausted than I anticipated. I’m out of practice. Being pleasant was easy when it was all we did. But now, I have so many thoughts—original thoughts—racing through my head at one time. I block many of them out. The violent ones. The painful ones. But I know they’re still there under my skin, draining my composure.

There isn’t time to deal with it all. Not the abuse at Innovations, not the grief at losing several friends, and not the last moments with Jackson. For now, I must stay focused.

The nightmares come in the dark, and I try to leave them there.

When we arrived in town, the girls and I found in the paperwork that Leandra had only set up for two of us to attend school. Together, we decided it would be Sydney and me. Annalise wanted to take on more research for our technology—a skill she’s excelling at—and Marcella wanted to understand humans and their society. She also wanted to keep an eye on Brynn.

Although we’re all dealing with our traumas the best we can, Brynn has an extra layer of softness for the girls we left behind. Mentally, it’s tormenting her, but Leandra assured us she would protect the girls in our absence.

We have no way to know if Leandra’s telling us the truth. Then again, we never could.

Sydney waves from a lunch table in the cafeteria, where she’s sitting alone. I smile, my first real one today, and head over to her. When I sit down, we both sigh heavily, as if letting out a morning of frustration.

“This place is awful,” she says, and takes a bite of the sandwich that Brynn made her. We’re still getting used to eating regular foods. I’m not kidding when I say that I might never eat salad or drink green juice again. “How can they want to live like this?” Sydney asks, turning to me. “I raised my hand in class and didn’t get called on once. It was annoying. I kept count—only one girl got to answer a question.” She crunches a potato chip. “Obviously, she was the only one who got it right.”

“I had an interesting morning too.” I unwrap my peanut butter and Fluff sandwich. It seems Adrian was right. All the boys at the school are shown favoritism, and I wonder how far those privileges extend. It’s going to make finding an investor’s privileged kid that much more difficult.

“My teacher knows EVA,” I say, keeping my eyes on my sandwich. “And STELLA.”

“My STELLA?” Sydney asks, spinning toward me. Her expression holds her sadness. She trusted her parental assistant too. I nod.

“They’re just computer programs on their phones.” My voice lowers, partly from embarrassment. “He used her to set an alarm.”

Sydney grows quiet. Along with feeling naive, I realize I also feel more like a product, like EVA. In a few years, would men ask us to set an alarm, casually using us to do their bidding?

“Everyone’s staring at us,” Sydney mumbles, looking up from under her lashes. “It feels like open house night at the academy all over again. But without ball gowns.”

The students are staring at both of us, but more at her, I’ve noticed.

She sighs, turning to block them out. “By the way,” she says, “I got called into the vice principal’s office during second hour.”

“You did? For what?” I ask.

“Uniform violation.”

Confused, I look over her uniform, which is exactly the same as mine, including the pockets Brynn sewed in for us. Sydney tugs on the hem of her skirt, which is significantly shorter due to her height. “You can’t help that you’re tall,” I say.

“That’s what I told Mrs. Reacher, but she mentioned that my thighs were very distracting to the boys.”