Girls with Sharp Sticks

by Suzanne Young

  “Remember when you saw those cute boys today?” she asks. “And then one of them bought you candy?”

  “Yes,” I say, realizing they don’t all know the story. “A whole bag of it.”

  “Wow,” Lennon Rose sighs.

  “What kind of candy?” Marcella asks with practicality.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I say. “The Guardian dragged me out before I could eat it. Next time I’ll be sure to shove all the chocolates into my mouth before he can get to me,” I add, making her laugh. I turn to Sydney.

  “Is that what you all were talking about?” I ask.

  “Nope,” she says, then gives me a smack of a kiss on my temple before pulling her arm away to reach behind her.

  Triumphantly, she holds out a magazine, the pages fluttering so I can’t see the cover. I’m instantly suspicious.

  “Did you steal that?” I ask.

  “I did,” Marcella says, and when I turn to her, she shrugs. “They had a bunch of them at the gas station,” she adds, as if that makes it okay.

  I take the magazine from Sydney’s hand, but she quickly snatches it back and holds it out of my reach.

  “Uh, uh,” she sings. She sets it on her crossed knees and flips to a page. I’m stunned to see a couple on a couch in the late stages of undressing. This time, my cheeks blush.

  “You stole a dirty magazine?” I ask Marcella with a laugh.

  “No,” Sydney says for her. “It’s a women’s magazine.”

  I look around at the girls, confused. “I don’t get it.”

  “It deals with women’s issues—only,” Sydney says. “In fact, I think I’ve found my new favorite quiz.”

  “And what’s that?” I ask, trying to sneak another look at the couple on the page.

  “It’s called . . .” She clears her throat. “ ‘Are you good at oral sex?’ ”

  I burst out laughing, imagining she’s joking, but instead, she lists off the first three bullet points. It’s downright scandalous, but at the same time, we close in around her, hanging on her every word.

  Although all of us grew up in strict households—followed by the isolation of the academy—we’re not completely naive. Most of our nights are filled with long talks while piled together in a room, recounting stories we’ve heard—collectively or individually. Bits of advertising we’ve picked up on field trips. We rehash the censored parts of movies that we’ve embellished with our imaginations.

  When Sydney’s done going through all the points on the list, including tips of things to avoid, we collectively decide that we’d be pretty bad at the whole oral sex thing if we followed those suggestions. It all sounds wildly unpleasant.

  “What I don’t get,” I say, thinking it over, “is if this is a women’s magazine, why are they telling us how to pleasure guys? Shouldn’t it be about our pleasure? Or even mutual pleasure?”

  “Huh,” Sydney says, flipping to the front cover of the magazine and tracing her finger over the words “Women’s Magazine.” “That’s a good point, actually,” Sydney says, and turns to me. “Will you do me a favor?” she asks.

  “Sure,” I reply reluctantly.

  “Next time you see your gas station boyfriend,” she says, “will you make him take this quiz?”

  We all laugh, and I swear that I will. But we know that I’d never ask those sorts of questions.

  “Also,” I add, holding up one finger. “Can we please not call him my gas station boyfriend ?” Sydney does a quick cross over her heart, smiling.

  “Is there anything about kissing in there?” Lennon Rose asks in her sweet, small voice. Sydney and I exchange a look—Lennon Rose is just too adorable—and Sydney flips through the pages until she finds a picture of a couple kissing. She turns the magazine around to show the group.

  “This is fake,” Sydney says, “but it looks like that. Except with tongues.”

  Lennon Rose scrunches her nose at the idea, and Marcella motions to the paper.

  “Not totally like that,” Marcella says, shaking her head. “It can be nice, too. You know, just . . . kissing and hugging at the same time. You don’t have to lick each other’s faces like dogs.”

  Marcella knows what she’s talking about. She and Brynn sneak a kiss whenever they can, the sweet kind with whispers in between. Soft smiles and hand-holding. It’s not tongue wrestling on a couch, and she tells us as much.

  “Have you ever kissed anyone?” Lennon Rose asks me.

  “Yes, she has,” Sydney answers for me, and then seems to think better of it the moment the words are out.

  “Who did you kiss?” Marcella asks doubtfully.

  I look at Sydney first, and she apologizes under her breath. I sigh.

  “It was near the beginning of the year,” I start. “We were at the theater for a ballet—the one with the extravagant costumes.” The title escapes me.

  “Oh, I remember,” Marcella says. “The Guardian . . .” She squints her eyes like she’s trying to recall a specific detail. “Guardian Thompson—the one with the scar,” she says, drawing a line across her cheek with her finger. “The one who got fired and replaced with Bose. He was with us, right?”

  “That’s why he got fired,” Sydney says.

  I actually feel bad that Guardian Thompson got fired; I hate to think I was the cause of him losing his job. He had a family to support. We talked about them once while we were on the bus. He even had a daughter who died, he told me—and that was why he took the job at the academy. We reminded him of her.

  In theory, at least, he clarified with a smile. I still don’t get what he meant.

  “I need details,” Marcella says, eyes wide. “Kissing with a Guardian nearby? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

  “Because it was nothing to brag about,” I say, motioning to the magazine. “And it was nothing like what’s in there.”

  “Tell me,” Marcella says. She settles in next to Brynn, and all the girls wait for me to explain.

  I’m a little uncomfortable that Sydney brought up the topic.

  “We were at the theater,” I start, “and I told Sydney I’d be right back while I went to the bathroom. When I was done, I decided to go to the counter and order some candy.”

  The girls all nod like, Of course you did. My sugar addiction is legendary.

  “I was at the counter,” I continue, “practicing greetings with the guy working the concessions. He was very friendly. He asked if I would sit outside with him because it was a nice night. I didn’t want to be rude, so I said yes.

  “We sat on a bench a little off to the side and shared a box of Junior Mints. I tried to follow the rules of etiquette, ask him about himself, but he kept interrupting me, commenting on how ‘hot’ I was. When he asked if I had a boyfriend, I told him I wasn’t allowed to date. He laughed.

  “Then he told me he had to get back inside,” I say. “Before he left, he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard, smashing our faces together. It was . . . surprising,” I say, thinking about it. “Especially when he stuck his tongue in my mouth.”

  Lennon Rose gasps, horrified.

  “It only lasted a few seconds,” I say. “It was wet, and although I’d been curious about kissing, it wasn’t sexy. I mean, it’s supposed to be foreplay, right?” I ask, and Sydney nods emphatically like she’s the consulting sexpert.

  “He must have been doing something wrong, then,” I say. “Because the last thing I wanted to do was find out what was under his clothes. If anything, I wanted him to put more on.”

  “Ew, Mena,” Annalise says, disgusted. “You’re making me hope I never kiss anyone.”

  “Maybe it just wasn’t for me,” I say. “I wanted to hear about his life. Hear about the world. Instead, I nearly choked to death on his tongue.”

  Sydney puts her curled fist to her mouth and pretends to barf into it.

  Marcella stares at me and slowly shakes her head. “Mena,” she says seriously. “That’s . . . That’s not how kissing works.” She
looks at Brynn who agrees. “In fact, when Brynn and I first kissed—”

  “I asked her to,” Brynn adds, finishing the thought. “She didn’t just shove her face in mine.” Brynn smiles softly. “I asked her to kiss me.”

  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.

  I leave, but once in the hallway, I’m startled by a figure near my room. Guardian Bose smiles at me, holding a glass of water and a small paper cup with my nightly vitamins. I politely smile back at him.

  “How’s your knee?” he asks, not looking at it as I approach.

  “All better,” I say. “Thank you for asking.”

  He nods while I enter my room, then follows me inside. He closes the door behind me.

  “Let me ask you something, Mena,” he says, turning to study my expr
ession. “That boy you were talking to today, did you know him?”

  I’m taken aback by the question. “Of course not,” I say. “Why?”

  “No reason,” he says. He walks over to the nightstand to set down my vitamins and water. “He was probably just captivated by your beauty. Or perhaps you led him on, either way . . .” He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, and runs his gaze up and down my pajamas, taking me all in.

  Something about the way he does this makes me feel ashamed, and I lower my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest even though we’re not supposed to fidget.

  “Well, you have a good night, Mena,” the Guardian says. He steps closer, towering over me, and leans down to press his dry lips to my forehead. “See you in the morning,” he murmurs.

  I stand there a moment after he leaves, my arms still around me. I turn expectantly to my nightstand. Next to the glass of water is the small plastic cup with capsules, two pinks and one green.

  Every night, the academy delivers a regimen of vitamins tailored to our specific needs. I’m normally one pink and one green. But I’m guessing the incident at the gas station requires an extra dose.

  I sigh heavily and quickly gulp down the capsules before getting into bed.

  6

  I love mornings. The other girls think I’m unhinged, the way I normally smile through breakfast and hum in the shower. Only Lennon Rose likes mornings as much as I do, but Lennon Rose likes almost everything.

  As I stretch this morning, I see the white box lying inside my doorway with a big red bow. My dress.

  I rub my eyes, sleep still clinging to the edges of my mind. I never remember my dreams, but this morning, there is the hint of something there—an idea just out of my reach. Something about roses. But the more I try to grab it, the farther away it gets.

  When it’s gone entirely, I look at the white box again.

  Mr. Petrov furnishes each girl with a gown for the open house. He has them made especially for us. Part of me wishes I could pick out my own dress, one without so many sparkles, but the Head of School is very particular. I’m grateful for his attention to detail.