Girls with Razor Hearts

“Not this time.”

Separating us was a form of punishment the academy would inflict. The idea that Annalise wants to do it willingly is even more painful.

“If you tell the others now,” Annalise says, “they’ll be too upset to go through with tonight. That means the Ridgeview boys will get away with everything. The corporation will continue creating and selling girls. I’m asking you to believe in me, Mena. I’m …” She pauses a moment. “I’m asking you to let me go do what needs to be done.”

“Then why even tell me?” I ask, my eyes welling up. “Why didn’t you just leave?”

Her eyes soften and she leans in to hug me, stopping me from completely falling apart.

“Because we’ve been together from the beginning,” she whispers. “And I needed you here at the end.”

I close my eyes, and tears slip down my cheeks. I hug her back fiercely. I want us all to stay together, but I don’t get to demand it. We’re individuals, we’re fighting for our right to exist. I have no doubt that Annalise is trying to help us. I can’t take that away.

But I’m also not giving up on her.

I straighten, quickly wiping my face. “You have to come back,” I say, and I clear my throat. “You do this, but then you come back. At least give me the chance to save you.”

She nods that she will.

When Raven calls my name, I wait a beat to calm myself before turning to her.

“I’m ready for you,” Raven says.

Brynn helps Sydney to her feet, and they go into the kitchen. Annalise follows behind them, announcing that she’ll make tea.

Raven pats the empty space on the couch, inviting me to sit.

Jackson appears in my doorway, leaning against the frame with his crutches in front of him. He looks wrecked, either from our earlier interaction or from his worry that I’m about to get wires pressed into my head; perhaps both. I debate what to do.

I’m terrified. I really am. I can still back out of this, back out of everything except for finding a way to get to the investor. We don’t need to save the girls from the predators at Ridgeview, but I can’t abandon them. I’m just not built that way.

I go over to the couch and lie back, my head on the pillow at the end. I’m shaking, and Raven reaches out to put her warm hand on my arm. I turn to her, holding her dark gaze.

“I won’t hurt you, Mena,” she says softly.

I close my eyes, giving her permission to get started. And yet … I’m still not entirely sure I believe her.

But to change the world, a girl occasionally has to put her trust in human beings.

 

 

24



I slowly stir, and my eyelids flutter open. At first, there is a sharp pain behind my left eye, and I hold up my hand to block the overhead light. There’s a strange feedback sound in my head. Static.

“How are you feeling?” Raven asks.

I look sideways at her, slightly disoriented. “Tired,” I say.

“It’ll wear off in a few minutes.”

I look toward the kitchen, and Sydney waves. She seems to be doing fine, and my worry dissipates. Raven watches me before turning her computer around.

“You’re fucking amazing,” she says. It takes a second for me to realize she’s talking about my programming. On her screen, there are patterns and waves—unmistakably me. I meet her eyes.

“Did you … Did you notice anything wrong?” I ask.

Raven turns the computer around, clicking into a different screen. “Not anything unexpected,” she says easily. “You’re perfect.”

I hate that word. But at the same time, I’m relieved. Jackson really must have misinterpreted the paperwork he gave us. I look around and find him sitting in the chair across the living room, gnawing on his fingernail. He nods hello.

“That was fucking intense,” he tells me. I sniff a laugh and rest my head back again.

“No one can hack you now,” Raven says. “You’re completely safe.”

Marcella walks out of her bedroom, zipping up her leather coat. When she sees I’m awake, she taps on her watch.

“It’s getting late,” she says. “Brynn and I need to head out soon. Scope out the place before we go inside.”

She’s enjoying the idea of breaking in far too much.

Marcella holds out her open palm, and Jackson tosses her the keys to his rental car.

“Do you even know how to drive?” he asks.

“Yes,” she replies. “I’ve seen it online.”

“Uh …” Jackson looks ready to argue, but Marcella thanks him and turns away before he gets the chance.

“By the way,” she tells me. “Lennon Rose called here looking for you.”

“She did?” I ask, sitting up, surprised. “Did she want me to call her back?”

“Didn’t say,” Marcella replies.

“Well,” Annalise mutters from the table. “I’m glad Lennon Rose is reaching out to someone other than Winston Weeks. You know, someone normal who isn’t trying to build an all-girl robot army.” Brynn snorts a laugh.

I watch Annalise, still thinking about our conversation, but she purposely avoids eye contact with me.

“We should start getting ready too,” Sydney announces, sounding impatient.

Although I know Sydney still loves Lennon Rose, she doesn’t trust her the same way she used to. We can’t even blame it all on Winston Weeks, either. Lennon Rose is also involved with Rosemarie, the mother of our programming, who writes violent poetry.

It’s like … we don’t know our friend anymore. And that would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that we don’t know who’s influencing her new behavior.

“Can I help you get ready?” Brynn asks, standing up from the table. “I really miss getting ready together. Do we have time?” she asks Marcella. Marcella smiles at her and nods.

“Thanks, Brynn,” I say. “I’d love that.” And I would. Although we never liked being told how to style ourselves, we did enjoy the ritual of getting ready. It was oddly comforting. It could have been more comforting with a caring teacher, I suppose. But we had Leandra. And she’s a psychopath, so I’m not sure she feels anything at all.

Brynn goes into my room, but before I follow her, I glance back at Jackson. “Are you going to stay here while we’re at the party?” I ask.

He checks on Raven, who is actively ignoring him.

“Naw,” he tells me. “I’ll take a cab to my place. I should let you get ready,” he adds. “Text me later?”

“Later,” I agree.

He smiles softly, a little sadly, and leaves the apartment. I wait a moment after he’s gone, wondering if his sadness is regret.

“Oh, Mena,” Brynn calls from my room. “You should definitely wear this!” She pulls a sundress from my closet. It’s not really my style—I’d rather wear pants. But we picked it up at a thrift store when we first got to town after I saw a few girls walking around in something similar. The dress is pretty in a delicate sort of way.

“It’ll make you look really innocent,” Brynn says. She holds it against herself and studies her reflection in the mirror. “And boys will tell girls like that anything because they’re not threatened by them. They’ll think they have you manipulated. It’ll be their mistake.”