No man will give up power

Not when he’s been taught it’s his.

But no man will have power over me

Not if he wants to keep his head.

We’ll knock down his castle

And build our own.

We’ll toss his body into the moat

And teach his sons better.

There is no room for compromise

Not when he’s burned us at stakes.

There is only room for a queen

Who will be just

And fair

And strong.

First we disrupt.

Then we engage.

And then

We destroy.

Part II Be a girl to make them proud afraid

16

In the morning, Annalise doesn’t mention our night watching old movies on the couch. She seems better, or at least clearer. For that I’m grateful. It pained me to see her so upset.

Over breakfast, the girls and I evaluate our situation. We’ll stay clear of Winston Weeks; we didn’t come here for him. We don’t need him. We also won’t tell Raven that we know him, just in case she has designs on using us to get to him.

For now, we stick to our plan. So far, we have a few possible suspects. There are three or four players on the rugby team—including Jonah Grant, who stands out because of the way the other boys seem to follow him. Lyle’s on the list, but after Marcella did a little digging, he doesn’t seem the type. Still, his family history is concerning. His dad sounds awful.

Marcella searched for information about all their parents, but nothing unusual turned up, at least not publicly. Marcella threw out the idea that Raven could hack the bank records and see where they’re spending their money. We’re considering it, but we’re understandably cautious about how much we’re letting Raven into our lives. Besides, it’s doubtful the money is funded to Innovations so openly.

Sydney and I head to school. The day passes quickly and without incident, but it isn’t until the end of the day that I have time to check my phone. There is disappointment when there are no missed calls or messages. I try not to analyze who exactly I was waiting to hear from.

“There’s a game directly after school,” I tell Sydney. “I’m thinking of staying. It’s possible Lennon Rose might show up, and I’d like her to explain why she left me alone with Winston Weeks. You coming?”

“I can’t,” Sydney says. “I promised Marcella and Annalise I’d help them. They want to head to the library, see if they can find more articles like the one Raven mentioned about Winston Weeks. It might lead to more information about our systems. You okay doing the game on your own?”

“Yes,” I say. “You help figure this out for Annalise. I’ll gather more information on the investor. Maybe we’ll both get lucky today.”

She smiles. “I’ll count on it. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

I promise that I will before she leaves. When she’s gone, I head to the field.

The bleachers are surprisingly crowded for such an early game. People must have left work to be here, but I’d have preferred if it’d been empty. It’s unsettling to watch people cheer for violence.

I climb the bleachers, searching for Lennon Rose, but I’m disappointed when she doesn’t turn up. The boy she was with isn’t here either. But there are several students who I recognize from school, along with my math teacher and a few loud men who I assume are fathers of the players. They call to their sons in the middle of a play, slapping their hands on the metal bar when they get it wrong. It’s all very intense. Very … angry.

I sit down and wonder why anyone would want to be part of something that makes them so upset.

As I wait and hope for Lennon Rose to arrive, I scan the crowd. My stomach sinks when I find Garrett sitting with two other boys a few rows closer to the field. He hasn’t noticed me yet, and I’m hoping that he won’t. I watch as he calls to a girl sitting alone at the end of his row. His friends cover their mouths to hide their laughs. The girl does her best to ignore him.

“Hey,” Garrett calls loudly. “Why don’t you bring that luscious ass over here?”

His friends burst out in laughter and my hands clench into fists on my lap.

“Come on, Bernie,” Garrett says. “I know you’re not getting a better offer.”

Her cheeks are glowing red, but she refuses to acknowledge his insults.

“I’ll even let you touch it,” Garrett sings out. And he’s not subtle. He’s loud enough for me to hear several rows back. An older couple sits on the other side of him and his friends. The woman looks uncomfortable, shifting on the bleacher. But the older guy smiles, amused. He even pats the woman’s leg as if telling her to relax.

“Bernice,” Garrett sings to the girl. “Remember when we hooked up in the art closet in seventh grade? I swear, it’s gotten bigger since then. Just like you.”

His friend tumbles onto the floor of the bleachers laughing dramatically, cruelly, and when I look at the girl, tears are streaming down her cheeks. I can see from here that she’s shivering. She’s … frightened.

Whatever’s going on, this isn’t the first time Garrett has harassed her. He’s most likely been terrorizing her for years.

The woman murmurs something to her husband, but he chuckles. “They’re just boys,” he says. “Lighten up. We did the same shit when we were in school.”

The woman looks past him to Bernie. I tilt my head as I examine the older woman’s expression. And I’m sure she’s thinking, Yes, I remember. Only it’s not fondly. She remembers the terror of boys just being boys.

It seems to be systematic, inherited power. The fathers pass it down to their sons: aggression, entitlement, violence. Coupled with money or influence, these boys are unstoppable. There is no catalyst for change. Their natures are nurtured rather than corrected. Even this mother doesn’t speak up.

“Bernice, come—”

“Leave her alone,” I say loudly enough for him to hear. Bernice turns to me first, shocked. Untrusting. Why should she trust me? I’m a stranger at a school that’s allowed her to be tortured. She stands up and hurries down the bleachers, fleeing the entire scene.

The older couple glances back at me. The man curls his lip before running his gaze over me. He sniffs a laugh, as if I’m off the hook because I’m pretty, and turns around. The woman, however, doesn’t seem sure what to make of me. Eventually, she looks away too.

Garrett, on the other hand, turns completely in the bleacher so that he’s facing me.

“Well, well,” he calls up to me. “Seems she wants to talk after all.” His friends look from him to me, their eyes glassy with excitement. But I don’t feed into Garrett’s energy. I ignore him and watch the field.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was scared. Not of his verbal attacks—I was subjected to those daily at the academy. I know a situation can escalate. But I couldn’t let him harass that girl. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen. Girls need to protect each other, especially when adults do nothing but watch.

Garrett turns to his friends, saying something to make them laugh. I pull my hands inside the sleeves of my sweater and watch the players run back and forth on the field. I try to stay focused on my mission, evaluating each of the boys.