Girls with Razor Hearts

by Suzanne Young

  “I’ve already called the girls to tell them you fainted,” Sydney says. When I tsk, she shrugs. “What did you want me to do?” she asks. “You were laid out on the cafeteria floor. Do you have any idea how gross that is? I knew it was serious.” She smiles at me.

  “You’re right. It was disgusting.”

  “Exactly,” she says. “Anyway, they said they’d research. I didn’t know the stuff about the garden woman. We’ll update them when we get home. And don’t worry,” she adds, bumping her shoulder into mine. “They’ll help us figure out what to do next.”

  We take a turn onto our street. Leandra paid in advance for three months on an upstairs apartment near Ridgeview Prep. It’s a modest three-bedroom, two-bath that came furnished. But we’re all hoping we’re out of here before the three months are up.

  None of us like it here. Not this town, not what we know of Ridgeview Prep. But every second that Innovations Academy exists is another second that girls are being held captive there, even if they don’t realize it. We’re going to wake them up. We’re going to shut down the corporation. I just hope we can figure out how to do it quickly.

  Aside from a brief obituary for Dr. Groger, Innovations Academy hasn’t been in the news. And during the last update from Leandra, she said Mr. Petrov still hadn’t discovered that we’ve escaped.

  Right now, we have to stay on task. To make that easier, I devised a rule to keep us safe—no new friends. I made the girls promise not to tell anyone who, or what, we are. It hasn’t been that difficult. After what we’ve been through, it’s hard to believe anyone would understand except another girl. Another one of us.

  So we’re keeping our distance. Just like I’ve kept my distance from Jackson. Thinking about him weighs down my heart. I wonder some nights if he waited for me at his house. If he worried when I didn’t show up. If his leg is still broken and getting worse. But realistically, Quentin probably confronted him, and Jackson knows I betrayed his trust. He probably hates me.

  Either way, Jackson’s out of my life. And I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss him.

  “We’re home,” I call out as we walk inside our apartment. The place smells like banana bread, something Brynn has been baking daily, promising to do it until she gets it perfect. It’s already pretty close to perfect, but she says baking helps calm her mind. A familiar part of her programming that she can still indulge in safely.

  There’s no one in the kitchen, and I turn back to Sydney as she enters and closes the door behind her. She glances around with me.

  “Girls,” she calls. There is soft chatter from the other side of the apartment, and cautiously, Sydney and I head that way.

  “I hope Brynn is all right … ,” I murmur.

  Brynn has been taking the adjustment to the outside world hardest. She’s wracked with survivor’s guilt—that’s what Marcella called it after finding the term online. I know how deeply Brynn loves others—a programmed caretaker—but it’s more than that. She’s all heart in a way that we’re not.

  Then again, Brynn has only lived once. The academy put the rest of us through even more—rebooted and reused us when we didn’t behave, or when we were destroyed by abusive men. I try not to think about it, but every so often … a piece of memory leaks through and I end up crying on the bathroom floor. It’s why I sleep with the lights on.

  There’s a small laugh from Annalise and Sydney’s room. Sydney scrunches up her face and pushes open the door. Her breath catches.

  Annalise and Brynn are sitting on the bed, smiling, while Marcella stands near the window. When she notices us, she winces apologetically.

  Because sitting in the chair at the desk is a person I don’t recognize. The stranger turns around, examining us without smiling. She looks about nineteen or twenty with olive skin, her dark hair buzzed underneath with a deep part. Her brown eyes are lined with black, making them look almost hazel. Red matte lipstick.

  She’s captivating in an unusual way.

  “What’s going on?” I demand, ignoring the training I’ve had in greetings. “Who is this?”

  “Raven,” the girl says before Annalise can. Her voice is deep with a hint of amusement. “And you are … fascinating.”

  She betrays her first smile before straightening it. Her eyes glisten with what looks like admiration. I turn back to Annalise, who is beaming.

  “Isn’t she adorable?” Annalise asks.

  “Annalise … ,” Sydney warns.

  “It’s okay,” Annalise says, waving us off. “Raven knows all about us.”

  My stomach hits the floor, and Sydney takes another step into the room.

  “Now be nice,” Annalise says. “Raven’s our new friend and the best hacker you’ll ever meet. She’s going to help us.”

  Raven turns back to me and grins.

  The Hack Daily

  An electromagnetic pulse—EMP—can be instrumental in slipping past most basic software protections. With a quick pulse, systems will be temporarily distorted, thus allowing for a new program to install and/or take hold. It is especially effective at close range, although modifications can be made in order to use for long-range targets.

  The US government is taking precautions against such threats in their software, but everyday citizens are seeing a rise of EMPs disrupting their cell coverage, computer systems, and their smart cars. There is even conjecture that the future of AI could be compromised by hackers using EMPs to interrupt systems.

  But hackers around the globe are perfecting not only ways to infiltrate systems using EMPs, but also how to protect against them. An interesting situation, where creating a problem to which you’re also the solution can be very lucrative.

  7

  We move into the living room with our newly announced friend. I keep my eyes on her as I pace back and forth, listening to Annalise try to explain. I can’t believe she didn’t follow the rules. She’s put us all in danger.

  “… and then Raven said we should meet,” Annalise continues. “So I told her to come here.”

  Sydney slaps her forehead and then drags her palm down her face. “Seriously, Annalise?” she says. “We’ve been out of Innovations for a few weeks, and even I know you don’t invite strangers from the internet to your home.” She looks at Raven. “So … what?” Sydney asks her. “Are you a serial killer or something? Because I should warn you”—she crosses her arms over her chest—“we fight back.”

  At the other end of the couch, Brynn lowers her eyes. Her expression sags with guilt.

  “I’m not a serial killer,” Raven says. “And after what Annalise told me, I believe you. I can’t imagine what you had to do to get out of your situation.”

  Sydney withdraws. None of us want to think about what had to be done. In fact, I’d be glad to have the entire escape erased from my memory.

  “I’m not excusing Annalise,” Marcella says, giving her a pointed look. “But I did check out Raven before she got here. She doesn’t seem to be connected to Innovations in any way. Then again”—she looks at her with suspicion—“she doesn’t seem to be connected to anything. She’s a ghost.”

  Raven shrugs. “Trust me, in my line of work, it’s best to be invisible. You won’t find any records of me.” She crosses her legs, leaning back against the couch. She’s wearing heavy black boots with thick stockings. “I’m good at what I do,” she adds. “I can erase anything. I can get in anywhere.”

  “Could you get inside my head?” I ask suddenly, earning a worried look from Sydney.

  Raven shows no surprise at the question, but she leans forward, listening intently.

  “It’s awfully coincidental that something happened to me,” I say. “And then I come home to find that Annalise has a new friend.”

  Annalise hums out her disapproval. “Actually, Mena,” she says with confidence, “I found Raven after I got the call from Sydney. I was looking up possible causes, ways a phone call could cause fainting, et cetera.… Considering what we are, it led me to hacking sites
. Turns out there are a lot of people who want to create and then hack AI. I won’t go into the lurid details, but let’s just say … you wouldn’t have liked their propositions.”

  Her nostrils flare as if she finds it all nauseating. I’m sure it is. We saw firsthand what people wanted to do with our bodies, bodies they could manipulate or destroy at the slightest inconvenience.

  “And your new friend just showed up, and you told her everything?” Sydney asks. She doesn’t look at Raven.

  “Not at first, no,” Annalise says. “I discussed it with Marcella and Brynn. I called you both, but the calls went to voicemail.”

  “I destroyed my phone,” I reply.

  “Good,” Raven says. I don’t acknowledge her, afraid to give her any more information than she already has.

  “My phone works,” Sydney responds. She takes out her phone, studying it. “At least, it was working earlier.” She clicks a few buttons, looking confused. It doesn’t turn on.

  “I shut down the lines,” Marcella says, “to make sure no one else could call.”

  I turn to Raven. “If you’re such a great hacker,” I start, “how is it that you just happen to be in the same town as us?”

  “Luck,” Raven replies, and then smiles.

  Sydney scoffs, looking at me with doubt.

  “I think you should leave,” I tell Raven bluntly.

  “Mena,” Annalise says, sounding hurt.

  “We’ll discuss this after she’s gone,” I tell Annalise. “But for now, you need to start packing. We all do.”

  The horrible truth is that Annalise has blown our cover. And who knows what Leandra will do when she finds out. We might have to run from her, too.

  “I’m not going to turn you over to your fucked-up school,” Raven says. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “We’re worried about a lot,” I say.

  “I figured. But I really can help.” She leans forward on the couch. “That call you got—it could have been an EMP with a close-range signal. Nothing to do with your phone. But that pulse, echoed through the line, can cause disruptions in your brain pattern. Or the perpetrator could have been trying to gain access.”

  There’s a chill down my back. How did she know that?

  “What does that mean?” Brynn asks, biting her thumbnail.

  Raven tilts her head from side to side, considering. “It means the person is likely close,” she says. “Whoever sent out that signal … They would have been in the school or nearby. And that’s where I can help. This is what I do.”

  “Meet strangers from the internet?” Sydney asks. Raven laughs.

  “Well, that, and trace codes. Install firewalls to keep them from trying to hack you again.”

  I straighten my back and turn to Annalise. She smiles.

  “I told you she could help,” Annalise says.

  Raven checks the time on her watch and gets up in a purposeful movement.

  “Look,” she says. “I’ll let you all discuss this. Either way, I promise your secret is safe with me. Trust me when I say I’m not on the side of abusive men. I don’t even have all the details, but I can promise you I’ll do whatever’s necessary to bury them. It sounds like an awesome Tuesday night for me, if I’m honest.”

  Marcella covers her laugh from the other end of the couch.

  “But you let me know.” Raven walks over to Annalise and gives her a quick hug before heading to the door. “And keep me updated on your pain level,” she says quietly. Annalise nods that she will.

  Since leaving the academy, Annalise has been suffering from sharp pains behind her eye, headaches from where Guardian Bose damaged her. We’d hoped it would go away, but the truth is, she sustained fatal injuries. We don’t know the extent of the repairs Dr. Groger did inside her head before he was killed.

  Raven looks back at me. “And you,” she says. “If you’re having residual headaches from earlier, use a cold compress. It’ll cool the system, at least temporarily.”

  I blink, surprised that she knows I have a headache. Raven leaves our apartment, and the second she’s gone, Sydney walks to the door and locks it. She looks furious.

  “Why would you endanger us like that, Annalise?” she asks. But her voice doesn’t hold the anger she’s trying to project. It’s hurt. And it’s fear.

  “I’m trying to save us,” Annalise snaps, getting up from the couch. “What if she’s right? Someone close by trying to get inside our heads? We have no idea what we’re up against.”

  “All the more reason to be careful,” I say.

  “Careful? How about obedient, Mena?” Annalise says. “When has following the rules ever helped us?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Annalise’s eyes fill with tears. She reaches up to trace the deep scar cutting through her cheek. “You see this?”

  I nod that I do.

  “This is how I remind myself of what we’re running from. I see it every morning and use it to find my strength.” She lets her arm fall to her side. “Not only can Raven help us block whoever’s trying to hack you, she said she can also help with other things. Including teaching us how to use all our programming. We can become stronger.”

  Brynn sits up at this mention. Marcella reaches to take her hand with a deepening worry in her expression.

  “We need to figure ourselves out,” Annalise continues. “We’re stronger than we think. I knew that without anyone else’s input. But what if we could be unstoppable?”

  There is an allure to the idea of power. I don’t know what Raven can do to help us with that, but she’s obviously convinced Annalise. Which is unusual. Annalise isn’t the trusting type. She’s practical and maybe even a little vengeful. She would have poisoned the entire staff of Innovations Academy if we would have let her. She’s not about to give up her control without a good feeling about the entire thing.

  But I’m not quite there yet.

  “What do you want to do?” I ask her. “At this point, I’m not even sure we can stay in this town.”

  “We finish the mission,” Brynn states. “We finish it so we can save our girls. That’s what you said.”

  “Of course,” I murmur. Now that Brynn has put those words out there, I feel like a coward for considering otherwise.

  “But we don’t know who’s trying to hurt us,” Sydney says, worried.

  “That’s why we need the firewall,” Annalise says. “And Raven—”

  Annalise’s phone begins buzzing on the coffee table. She reaches for it, but then her hand freezes. She lifts her eyes to mine.

  “I thought you shut down the lines,” Sydney asks Marcella.

  “I did,” she replies.

  Annalise picks up her phone and then turns the screen around for us to see. The call is coming from Annalise’s number.

  “Then who’s calling me?” she asks. Sydney and I exchange a look.

  “About that … ,” I say.

  Reading the concern in my voice, Annalise sets the phone back down on the table. The vibration echoes throughout the room. When the phone stops ringing, Annalise picks it up to remove the battery.

  “Okay,” Annalise says, fear having crept into her voice. She looks up at me. “Tell us what really happened at school today.”

  I take a deep breath and tell them about the woman in the garden.

  * * *

  None of us have our phones and it’s kind of … lonely. Before now, we’d never had access to the outside world. No phones or internet. We only started using them over the past two weeks, but we grew attached to how easily we could connect or find information. We seem to have an extra sense when it comes to technology. Annalise especially was a quick study, and we guess it’s something in her programming that gives her that talent. But we all liked the instant freedom a phone gave us. I can see why people become dependent on them.

  Before bed, the girls and I discussed the vision I had at school. We have no idea who the woman could be, but we’re sure that she’s
the one Leandra warned us about. We agreed not to tell Leandra about this latest development, though. We have no illusions about the danger it would put us in.

  Annalise reasoned that the woman might not be a real person at all. She could be something from our old programming resurfacing, or something reactivated by the academy to find us. We threw out several theories, but nothing stuck, so we ended up tabling the discussion until we get new information.

  Sydney and I told the girls about school, what it looked like, how people behaved. Marcella smiled when I described the posters on the walls of my history classroom. Brynn wanted to hear everything about Adrian, as if she was already interested in being her friend.

  But of course, the conversation grew sad because the other girls didn’t get to experience it with us. When it got late, we said good night and went to our rooms.

  In my bed now, my head still hurts. I reach over and take the aspirin that Brynn set out on my nightstand. I’m wary of medication now, but Brynn promised it would help. I take it with a sip of water and rest back against the pillow, closing my eyes. It’s hard to concentrate on saving the world when it feels like a vise is crushing your brain.

  There’s a soft knock on my door. I sit up, wincing and closing one eye. Marcella pokes her head in apologetically.

  “Did I wake you up?” she asks.

  “No. Come in.”

  I pat the bed for her to join me, and she does, sitting against the headboard.

  “I was worried about you today,” she whispers. “It was frustrating to not be there. I had no way to protect you.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “I know,” she says. “But I still hated being apart.”

  We all hate being separated. The girls and I are completely intertwined, connected as though there are unseen wires between us. At the academy, the cruelest punishment was when the professors would separate us. We vowed to never let that happen again.

  “When we’re done with this, when we end the corporation, we’ll move somewhere else,” I say. “We’ll do whatever we want.”