Marcella returns the smile and takes her hand absently. “Exactly,” she says.

“But it’s different for men,” Lennon Rose says, glancing at Marcella and Brynn. “They don’t have to ask. One time, Professor Levin told me that if my skirt was any shorter, a man would expect me to behave improperly.” She looks at me. “Maybe your skirt was too short?”

“I don’t think so,” I say. “I keep it regulation length.”

Marcella tilts her head, trying to figure it out. “Did you tell Anton about this guy?” she asks. “What did he say?”

My cheeks heat up with shame, remembering why I don’t like this story. “He wasn’t upset, but Anton told me I shouldn’t have gone outside with the guy in the first place.”

Boys will be boys, Mena, Anton said that afternoon. What else would he think when you left the theater with him? Be better next time.

“So what happened to Guardian Thompson?” Annalise asks, still seeming disgusted by the idea of another person’s tongue in my mouth. “How did he get involved?”

“After the guy left, I went back into the theater,” I say. “Guardian Thompson saw me walk in, and he must have noticed that I looked . . . uncertain. He took me by the arm and led me out into the hall. I told him what happened, and he demanded I go into the theater and not tell anyone. He was clearly upset, so I did as he asked, but I noticed him walking toward the concessions counter.

“I’m not sure what happened after that,” I continue. “Guardian Thompson was gone from school the next day. Anton told me during therapy that the Guardian had been let go for threatening a theater worker. Anton said he hoped I’d learned my lesson. I’m still not totally clear on which lesson got Guardian Thompson dismissed, though. Luckily, Anton didn’t tell my parents about the incident. They might have pulled me from the academy.”

“Good on Anton, I guess,” Sydney says with a nod. “He’s always looking out for us.”

“He’s the best,” Lennon Rose says dreamily. We’re all quiet for a moment, staring at her.

“Keep it in your pants, Lennon Rose,” Annalise announces, and we all just about die laughing.

Lennon Rose turns five different shades of red, but to be fair, she’s the youngest of all of us. And she’s definitely the most innocent. She’s confided in me many times that she can’t wait to be married. It’s sweet, really, the way she loves love. A true romantic, Anton said once.

Sydney hits her bare knee against mine. “Well, if the lesson was to cease luring young men with your candy addiction, I’d say you’ve learned nothing.” Sydney smiles and looks at the other girls. “You should have seen Mena today,” she announces. “She had that boy in the gas station wrapped around her finger.”

“Stop!” I tell them, even though I keep smiling.

“I’m just saying he was into you,” Sydney replies for the benefit of everyone. “And I’m almost certain he would have liked number four on the oral-sex checklist. He seems the type.”

I fall back on the bed, laughing too hard to breathe.

Lennon Rose gets up on her knees very seriously, takes the magazine from Sydney’s lap, and frantically flips the pages back to the quiz. I roll to my side, still chuckling to myself as her eyes scan the page. Then they widen, and she lifts them to mine.

In all fairness, I have no idea what Jackson is into, but I don’t think it’s number four.

There’s a swift knock on the door, and we all immediately straighten as it opens. Sydney rips the magazine from Lennon Rose’s hand and stuffs it under the pillow, slapping it down just as Guardian Bose steps into the room.

“What’s so funny?” he asks with little humor.

“Marcella was talking about her period again, and it was honestly hilarious,” Sydney says easily. She lounges back on her bed, one hand over her pillow, and smiles.

The Guardian eyes her suspiciously, and then glances around the room at each of our faces. He doesn’t pause on me. I’m not sure if he’s still upset from earlier.

When none of us offers a different explanation, Guardian Bose shakes his head. “All right,” he says. “It’s past curfew, and you have a party to attend tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Annalise tells him, and gets to her feet. “No need to tuck us in.”

The Guardian cracks a hint of a smile. Things are back to normal, it seems. And as if to prove it, he turns to me.

“Bed in ten minutes,” he says simply, and then nods to all of us before heading into the hallway.

The girls and I exchange a puzzled look. But I’m thankful that he doesn’t seem angry anymore. Seeing the Guardian that way was a shock—a frightening experience. One I never want to experience again.

Marcella and Brynn say good night and leave with Annalise, but Lennon Rose stays behind. She steps closer to Sydney and me as we stand from the bed.

“Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.

“What’s up?” Sydney pulls her into a motherly hug. It’s easy to tell when Lennon Rose is worried; her emotions play across her face.

“Do you think anyone will ever want to kiss me?” she asks.

I resist saying, “Aww . . . honey,” and instead try to sound confident. “Once you graduate,” I tell her, “you’ll meet so many more people. The academy will find you the perfect person—one who knows how special you are. And then you’ll kiss them endlessly.” I smile, but the corners of Lennon Rose’s lips turn down.

“But . . . But what about Marcella and Brynn?” she asks, straightening out of Sydney’s arms.

“What do you mean?” I reply.

“They love each other. They want to kiss each other endlessly. So . . . when Mr. Petrov places them after graduation . . .”

There’s a tightening in my chest before she even finishes the sentence.

Lennon Rose sniffles, wiping under her nose. “What if he places them with different people?” she asks. “How will they still love each other?”

I open my mouth to answer, but no words come out. I glance sideways at Sydney and see her with the same shocked expression. The thought has never occurred to us. The thought is a contradiction. The thought is dangerous.

“Lennon Rose,” Sydney says after a long moment. “The academy knows what’s best for us. So maybe they’ll place Marcella and Brynn together. Who knows?” She forces a smile. “But it’s not for us to decide.”

Lennon Rose nods like this comment outweighs any other she’s heard on the matter. I can practically see her fighting back her emotions. Her tenderness.

“You’re right,” Lennon Rose says, lowering her eyes. “The academy knows what’s best.”

“Don’t dwell on it, okay?” Sydney says, giving her another quick hug before walking her to the door. “As the professor would say, it’s bad for your complexion.”

Lennon Rose offers a closed-mouth smile, pulling back. She murmurs good night to both of us and leaves.

Sydney stares at the empty doorway and taps her lower lip with her index finger. “She’s going to dwell,” she says after a moment.

“She’ll be better tomorrow,” I say, coming to stand next to Sydney. “We’re always better in the morning.” Sydney and I exchange a look, and then I lean in to give her a hug, both of us holding on an extra moment.