Girls with Sharp Sticks

But we’ve agreed that we’ll find out who else knows about Innovations Academy—the people Anton accused of spreading lies. Maybe they’re the people who can help us. We’ll expose what’s happening here. The whole school. We’ll spare none of them.

“Grab any money you have in your rooms,” I tell the girls as we walk in the hallway between classes. “And only bring a backpack. We have to travel light.”

“It’s too risky to leave before lights-out,” Marcella adds. “We’ll get a longer window if we leave at night.”

All the movies about men that they make us watch are proving to be useful when it comes to escaping the grips of other men.

“But how will we get outside?” Brynn asks.

We pause at the fountain while I take a drink. “The drawer in the kitchen has a bunch of keys,” I whisper with the water against my lips. “Even one to the lab.”

“Valentine,” Sydney says, sadly. I straighten up, wiping my hand across my mouth.

Our friend is missing, and we might have the chance to save her—we acknowledge that, not sure if it’ll work, but we don’t brush it aside. We know that she’d come for us.

But we don’t discuss it again, at least not yet. We can’t rescue her until we know we can get away from here.

We need a phone.

After finishing our classes for the day, the girls and I return to the dining hall. The smell of gravy, beef, and fresh-baked cookies fills the room. Only this time, I don’t long for their food. My stomach churns with nerves. My skin prickles with fear as the professors laugh and feast.

We notice that the Guardian isn’t here. Neither is Maryanne Lindstrom. We’re not sure what that means, and we communicate our worry without a word, afraid the plan will have to be altered.

But then Guardian Bose strolls in, clutching Maryanne by the upper arm. She looks dazed, vacant. The Guardian brings her to her seat before heading toward the professors’ table, flashing me a smile as he passes.

I check on Maryanne just as a small tear of blood leaks from her left eye. She wipes it away without fuss and picks up her spoon to sip from her soup demurely. I bet if I asked her how she was feeling, she’d tell me she’s made Anton very proud.

My breath is caught up in my chest. This is going to happen to all of us. Annalise swallows hard, staring at me from across the table. We’re scared. We don’t have much time.

The crackle of a walkie-talkie echoes in the quiet hall, and Guardian Bose takes his walkie-talkie off his hip. “Yeah, on my way,” he says impatiently. He pushes his empty plate back to the center of the table and stands up from the bench. “What a fucking mess,” he tells the professors. “I might be down there all night.”

“Yes, well,” Professor Penchant says, unbothered, reaching for another cookie. He coughs thickly before clearing his throat. “It’ll be over soon enough,” he adds. “Then we’ll finally get things back on track around here. The way they used to be. Back when girls knew how to behave.”

Several professors cast looks in our direction, and I quickly turn away.

Despite the threat in Professor Penchant’s words, I’m encouraged by the conversation. The Guardian will be downstairs, presumably for a long time. It should give us enough time to find his phone if he’s left it in his room.

When we’re dismissed from dinner a short while later, Annalise and Brynn stay behind to clean up. The rest of the girls and I return to our floor, Sydney looking over at me every few seconds as we walk.

As the other girls go into their rooms, I notice how quiet the academy seems tonight. Eerily so. Maybe it’s because we have fewer girls now, or it could be my nerves. Heightening every worry. Even my breathing feels too loud. Marcella stops at my room and glances toward the Guardian’s door.

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.