Girls with Sharp Sticks (Girls with Sharp Sticks #1)

I wait to make sure none of the staff is paying attention, and then I lean in to the table.

“Tomorrow we have Running Course,” I whisper. “Jackson will probably be beyond the fence. We can make a plan.”

“What do we do about the other girls?” Brynn asks.

“We can’t tell them,” Annalise says. “If they tip off Anton, who knows what will happen to us.” Annalise doesn’t lift her eyes when she says this. In fact, since Professor Penchant attacked her in the front of the room, she hasn’t said much of anything.

“We can’t just leave them,” Brynn says.

“They’ll slow us down,” Annalise replies. When Brynn turns to her, obviously hurt, Annalise winces.

“I’m sorry, but they will,” Annalise adds. “We’ll get this academy shut down. I promise. And then the others will really be free. We can’t take the chance now.”

“But—” Brynn starts, but Annalise shakes her head no.

“I won’t take the chance,” Annalise repeats adamantly. She rubs absently at the bruise on her arm, the one left from Professor Penchant’s attack during class. Annalise’s jaw tightens, her eyes welling up.

“I’ll kill those men before I let them touch me again,” she whispers. “Before I knowingly let them stick an ice pick in my eye.”

“We have a plan,” I say to Annalise, trying to calm her. “It’s going to work. You believe that too.”

“I’m just letting you know I have a plan B,” Annalise replies.

We stare at each other a moment, and then I nod, understanding why. The others stay quiet, none of them arguing. What if they come for us next? What if we have to protect ourselves?

Ida’s missing presence is a gaping hole at the table. A reminder to all of us that something is happening.

I sip from my juice and stare toward the windows. I know beyond the glass is an expansive lawn. The thick woods. And of course, the iron fence between the two. We’re locked behind barred windows, miles from the closest neighbor.

The academy has kept us isolated so we couldn’t run. But they didn’t count on my skill to make really awesome friends. And they didn’t count on our ability to fight back.

“What if we don’t wait?” Marcella whispers. I turn to her, my heart kicking up its beats.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“We can leave tonight,” she suggests, lowering her voice. “We call Jackson to pick us up. Then we run. We run because we’re not staying here to let Anton put us through impulse control therapy again. We’re not letting the Guardian puts his disgusting hands on you again.”

“I don’t have a way to talk to Jackson,” I say. “I have his number, but the phone in the hall doesn’t work. And I imagine they’ve locked the communications room.”

“The Guardian,” Brynn says, widening her eyes. “I think he has a phone. I’ve seen him use it on our field trips. It’s probably in his room.”

I look at Sydney, and although we’re quiet, we know that we have to get to that phone.

“Just after dinner,” Brynn says. “The Guardian is never around.”

“He’s been helping Dr. Groger in the evenings,” Marcella agrees. “You’ll have some time.”

It’s a terrifying thought—sneaking around in the Guardian’s room. Going through his things. But what other choice do we have? This might be it.

“Will that work?” I ask Sydney. Reluctantly, she nods.

Brynn reaches her hand into the center of the table, and all of us reach out, gripping each other. I don’t want to let go, strengthened by their touch, but we don’t hold on too long. We can’t draw attention.

“We run tonight,” Marcella whispers. “We run for each other.”

I agree, and the other girls nod, including Annalise. We’ll stick together no matter what. Codependent, I think Anton called it. But it’s not. It’s our strength.

? ? ?

We’re not allowed to meet together in our rooms anymore, so all of our conversations are had in passing, comments in the hallways, nods and winks in the classrooms.

I try not to feel anything but bravery. When Professor Allister calls Sydney worthless for missing a question about the Federal Flower Garden, slapping his pointer stick on her desk to scare her, I clench my fist in my lap. It’s clear to me that the professors are out of control now, all of their decorum gone.

They hate us passionately. They despise us because they know we hate them too. We don’t look up to them. We have no interest in their mediocrity.

We think they’re disgusting. We think they’re perverted and stupid and cruel. And without our admiration, we’re nothing to them.

But the truth is, without our admiration, they’re nothing.

Of course, there are some logistical issues with running away. We have no money, no identification. And even if we go to the authorities about what’s happening here, what proof do we really have? My memories? Files that are locked away in Anton’s office? What’s to stop the academy from telling them we’re the problem? That we’re lying?

The academy can take everything from us, because as Professor Penchant once put it when criticizing Ida in class, “No one listens to little girls anyway.”

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.”