Suddenly, the classroom door opens and Leandra Petrov sweeps into the room. We all position ourselves to look our best, exemplify the teachings of the academy. She smiles politely, and when she turns to Professor Penchant, she lowers her head in a show of respect. He puffs up with confidence and allows her to take the floor.

“Hello, girls,” Leandra says to us. Her voice is graceful and elegant. Her light hair is styled in thick waves, tucked at the nape of her neck. Her navy blue dress is formfitting and flattering. I turn to Lennon Rose, who is watching Leandra with unbridled admiration.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your lesson,” Leandra continues, “but I’d like to speak with you about Valentine Wright.”

A few girls shift in their seats and I see Professor Penchant scowl at their lack of restraint. Leandra steps forward, her heels clicking on the linoleum.

“As you’re aware, Valentine was insubordinate while on the field trip. She defied Guardian Bose, and by extension, she defied the academy.” She pulls her eyebrows together, a slight frown on her full lips.

“Innovations Academy has given you girls everything,” she says. “Arranged for you to lead an exemplary life. You should appreciate it. Appreciate what Guardian Bose does to keep you safe. What your esteemed professors”—she glances at Professor Penchant—“teach you in the classroom.” Leandra takes a few more steps so that she is almost at the front row of desks.

“You are perfection personified,” she continues, “and we must ask that you act like it. I never want to hear about this kind of behavior again. It would break my heart.” She puts her hand on her chest to drive home the point. Several girls nod emphatically, as if promising they would never dream of upsetting her.

“We are lucky,” Leandra says, holding open her arms, “to have such wonderful girls. And you are lucky to have such wonderful men to guide you. Don’t ever forget that.” She smiles for a long moment, gazing at each of us, before taking a cleansing breath and directing us to do the same. We all feel a little better once we have.

“Now,” Leandra says, “although we are deeply disappointed in Valentine’s behavior, we are committed to returning her to her best self. She is currently being sent through impulse control therapy to identify the cause of her actions. I’m here to assure you that she’ll be fine. No,” she corrects, “she’ll be better than ever.” She pauses a moment and waits for us to clap. When I look sideways, Lennon Rose beams at me.

I’m grateful that Valentine will get the help she needs. And to prove it, I clap along with the others.

Leandra glances around once more, and for a moment, her eyes hold mine. And then, just as easily as she walked in, she dips her chin to the professor in gratitude and sweeps back out of the classroom.

• • •

I don’t see Sydney until dinner. We only have a few classes together, and none of them were this afternoon. I’ve missed her, and I’m grateful to find her waiting at our usual table in the dining hall. The area where we take our meals is small, and we sit close enough together that there are few conversations that are private.

For example, as I approach the table, I hear Marcella talking about the “bloodbath” that was her period last weekend. I snort a laugh and take a seat next to Sydney.

“Let me see it,” Sydney says, motioning toward my knee. I put my foot on the seat and slowly pull off the glitter Band-Aid with a wince. She leans close to examine it like she’s a scar specialist.

“Pretty good,” she says, nodding. I hope she’s not feeling self-conscious about her scar, but when she reaches for the center of the table, I notice that she tugs down her sleeve to cover the mark. She grabs a salad and slides it in front of me.

“No chicken today?” I ask, picking through the dry lettuce.

“They announced we’ve had too many calories this week. Now it’s salad and juice cleanses until next weigh-in.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t be negative,” she sings out, pushing a green sludge–filled glass my way. I try a sip and it’s awful, of course. She laughs. None of us like the juice.

The green juices are made of plants from our garden. Assorted flowers that we grow specially mixed with vitamins for an added boost. The juice keeps our moods centered, content.

Our diets here at the academy are strict, measured, and always monitored. Even when we cook, it’s with natural ingredients, no additives. No extras. But every once in a while, we’ll get the chance to taste something different in cooking class—“chef tasting,” they call it—to make sure it’s correctly seasoned. Men like their foods flavorful, and we’re expected to provide a tantalizing meal. But it would be inappropriate for us to indulge, crave food for ourselves.

Same goes for our movies. The school selects what we watch: mostly films from the early 50s. There is the occasional action film with explosions, but I imagine those are Guardian Bose’s influence. We’re sometimes asked our thoughts on the entertainment, but the conversation always steers back to how Guardian Bose felt about it, and we’re to echo his sentiment. It makes for a more pleasing conversation.

The academy has no cable or internet, which we’re told is a good thing.

“The internet is rife with falsehoods,” Professor Levin told us in Modern Manners. “You’ll do best to ignore it completely, even after graduation. Your husbands or custodians will let you know any important news you need. Trust in their supervision.”

Before the academy, my parents didn’t allow me on the internet either. Being homeschooled, I was protected—just like I am here. So when it comes to the internet, I don’t know what I’m missing. I defer to the professors’ knowledge on the matter.

There are a few types of books at the school: gardening, beauty standards, or social etiquette, but I’ve already read them all. So most days, it’s just me and the girls. Which is more than enough. We’re fast learners, absorbing words, phrases, and ideas quickly. And we tell each other everything—our own kind of internet, I suppose.

I look down to the other end of the table and see the empty spot where Valentine normally sits. It’s a bit jarring for her to be missing, and I blink quickly as I resettle myself. Even though Valentine doesn’t socialize with us, she’s still part of our class. And none of us likes to be separated.

I poke through my salad with my fork before looking up at the other girls. “Hey,” I say quietly, drawing gazes from Marcella and Brynn, from Sydney and Lennon Rose. “When I was with Dr. Groger earlier, I asked him about Valentine.”

Marcella’s eyes narrow slightly, as if she’s both confused and interested in what I have to say next. Brynn sets her elbow on the table.

“What did he say?” Sydney asks from next to me.

“He told me that Guardian Bose can be overzealous sometimes,” I say. “And that he’d talk to him about it.”

“Dr. Groger is very kind,” Lennon Rose says in her quiet way. She nods that we should agree.

“What does he mean by ‘overzealous’?” Brynn asks, pushing her blond braid over her shoulder. “Valentine wasn’t listening to him. He redirected her.”

“He did injure Mena,” Marcella suggests as a reason, turning sideways to Brynn. I’m immediately embarrassed again by my behavior.