Girls with Sharp Sticks

by Suzanne Young

  Annalise stomps over to the bed and pulls back the sheets. There’s an empty water glass on the nightstand, a white cup without vitamins. Lennon Rose’s dress and heels from the open house are set for pickup, hanging near her dresser.

  It’s then that I notice Lennon Rose’s school shoes near her bed.

  We only own two pairs of shoes at the academy: our uniform-appropriate shoes and our sneakers for Running Course. Lennon Rose’s sneakers are piled in the corner, and her uniform shoes are at the foot of the bed.

  That means they’re not on her feet. Where would she go barefoot? I walk over to the bathroom and peer inside, finding it empty and dry. She hasn’t showered today either.

  “Where is she?” Sydney asks. Annalise casts a concerned glance in my direction.

  “She must be with Anton,” I say. “He . . . He must have put her in impulse control therapy.” Lennon Rose was so upset last night, it would make sense if Anton was trying to help her reassess her goals. He didn’t mention it, though. He should have told me.

  “Without her shoes?” Sydney asks, confused.

  I tell them about my conversation with Anton. He said Lennon Rose was resting comfortably last night. “But I didn’t check,” I add guiltily. “I should have checked on her.”

  “It’s okay, Mena,” Sydney says. “If Anton says she’ll be better than new, then I’m sure she’s fine.”

  I swallow hard, the words not as reassuring as usual, although I can’t pinpoint exactly why.

  “I’m going to speak with Anton,” I say. “See if there’s anything we can do for Lennon Rose.”

  Annalise nods that she thinks that’s a great idea.

  “If you talk to her, tell her we love her,” Sydney adds.

  “Of course,” I say. I glance at Lennon Rose’s shoes again, their placement so odd in how routine it is. Like she’ll be back at any moment, the bottoms of her feet dirty.

  My heart races madly, and it occurs to me that I’m acutely aware of my feelings. The sense that something is wrong. I’m reminded of my missing vitamins.

  “Check with the other girls?” I ask Annalise. “They might have seen Lennon Rose last night or this morning.”

  “Sure,” Annalise says. She asks Sydney if she wants to come with her. We walk out into the hall and I wrap my arms around myself, careful not to alarm the others. I’m certain I’m overreacting. When I see Anton, I’ll let him know about my missing vitamins. I don’t like how I feel right now, how irrational.

  Annalise and Sydney head toward Marcella’s room, and I start for the second floor.

  By the time I get there, my chest has tightened, making it harder to breathe. I’m scared that Lennon Rose is in trouble. And I don’t even know why she was crying.

  I’m moving quickly, rushing ahead without any thought of restraint. I swing around the corner and collide with someone, yelping my surprise. Dr. Groger, stunned himself, laughs and adjusts his glasses.

  “Philomena,” he says. “Why are you in such a hurry?” He takes in my condition, and then concern creases his brow. “What’s going on?” he asks more seriously.

  “It’s Lennon Rose,” I say. “I’m looking for her. She—”

  “My dear,” Dr. Groger says quickly. He glances around the hall before putting his hand on my back to push me forward. “Let’s discuss this in my office.”

  He clearly knows what’s going on, so I nod, grateful, and walk with him down the hall.

  Once at his office, he leads me inside and closes the door. He adjusts his glasses again, looking me up and down, before telling me to continue.

  “It’s Lennon Rose,” I say, my voice shaking. “She’s not in her room. And she was crying last night. She—”

  The doctor exhales heavily. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m so sorry to tell you this way—Anton was going to make an announcement—but Lennon Rose has left the academy.”

  The world tilts and I fall back a step. “No,” I whisper, horrified. “When?”

  “Just a short while ago. Her father came to pick her up,” he says sympathetically. “The tuition rate was impossible for her parents to afford, and the stress was getting to Lennon Rose. Her health took a bad turn. We had to let her go. I’m sorry. I know you two were close.”

  “We’re all close,” I explain. “But . . . she would have said goodbye,” I tell him. “Lennon Rose wouldn’t have left without a goodbye.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “And what about her shoes?” I continue, my voice rising. “How could she leave when her shoes are still in her room?”

  “Philomena,” Dr. Groger says curtly, growing impatient with my questions. “I’m not sure of the details—the Guardian assisted. But Lennon Rose is gone. I’m sorry.”

  My eyes tear up, the impact of the truth finally hitting me. Lennon Rose is gone.

  “Now,” the doctor says with renewed vigor. “We’ll get through this together. Anton will speak to you all, and he’ll be available to talk privately later if you need to. And, of course, so am I. Anything you need, dear.”

  He picks up a lollipop and holds it out to me. Like it makes it all better. Like Lennon Rose’s absence is a skinned knee he can graft over. I stare at the lollipop, and when I don’t take it, Dr. Groger clears his throat.

  “Why don’t you head to your room now, Philomena,” he suggests. “I’m sure you’ll feel better after a hot shower.”

  But I can’t stop thinking about Lennon Rose. I hitch in a sob, trying to fight it back.

  Dr. Groger stares at me for a long while, and then he smiles and sets his hand on my shoulder, rubbing the muscle soothingly. But chills run down my skin at his touch. I take a big step back out of his reach, and the doctor furrows his brow.

  Rather than explain it, I turn away. My body is shaking; my heart is broken. I need to tell the other girls what’s happened. I leave the office, and the doctor doesn’t call after me.

  I hurry back to my floor as emptiness burrows deep inside my head, my heart. Lennon Rose didn’t even say goodbye.

  Lennon Rose is gone.

  The thought buries me. I remember the first time I met her—standing there with her straight blond hair and thick bangs. Her pale eyelashes and delicate hands. A voice so soft that Professor Penchant demanded she speak up because he couldn’t hear her. Lennon Rose looked terrified, and I ended up speaking on her behalf.

  She waited for me after class.

  “Thank you,” Lennon Rose said, still so quiet. She fidgeted, looking at the toes of my shoes. “I’m a little lost,” she said. “I’m not sure how to . . . feel.”

  I nodded, understanding. “I was the same way when I first walked in,” I told her. “But don’t worry—we have each other now.” I threw my arm over her shoulders. “We’ll take care of you.”

  She beamed up at me, watching me like I was the sun in her universe. And that admiration was only matched when she met Sydney. And Sydney and I did take care of her. We loved Lennon Rose.

  But we failed her.

  Nothing will be the same. Lennon Rose was kicked out of school over money; it’s not fair. She must be scared and lonely. I didn’t knock on her door last night. What if she was waiting for me?

  When I get to my floor, I find Sydney and Annalise in the hall talking with Marcella and Brynn. Marcella’s dark, curly hair is dripping wet, and Brynn has her toothbrush clenched between her teeth. Sydney turns to me midconversation, and when she sees my expression, her voice trails off.

  Annalise looks from Sydney to me. Her nostrils flare, her mouth a hard line. “What happened?” she asks, immediately.

  I motion for them to come to my room, not wanting to discuss it in the hall. My hands shake as I push open my door. The girls follow me inside, and by the time I close the door and turn to them, I’m already crying.

  “She’s gone,” I say miserably. Brynn gasps, gripping Marcella’s arm.

  “What do you mean?” Sydney asks. She looks at the other girls. “What does that mean?�
��

  “Lennon Rose is gone,” I say, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Dr. Groger said she left this morning. Her father picked her up.”

  Sydney drops down on my bed, looking like she’s just been punched in the stomach. Her voice is a whisper when she lifts her watery eyes to mine.

  “Why didn’t she say goodbye?” she asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “She would have. She . . .” I want to come up with an explanation, but I don’t have one.

  I tell them everything that Dr. Groger said, but it doesn’t make sense. Lennon Rose’s parents were here last night. They didn’t mention money. They were worried the school was going to keep her. So did they decide to take Lennon Rose home instead?

  Marcella begins to pace the room, chewing on her thumbnail while Brynn watches me with a helpless expression. Annalise walks to my window and places her palm flat against the glass as she stares out at the property. As if Lennon Rose is standing in the grass, waving goodbye.

  “But she didn’t even take her shoes,” Annalise murmurs, not looking at us.

  “The doctor said that Anton will make an announcement,” I tell them. “Maybe he has an explanation.”

  Sydney lies across my bed, her folded arm over her face. After a few moments of quiet, she sniffles. The air in the room grows heavy with melancholy.

  “I’m in a bad mood,” Brynn announces. She swipes her finger under her eyes to catch the tears.

  “Yeah, me too,” I reply.

  We’re not allowed “bad moods,” as Professor Allister calls them. If we’re upset, if we’re in pain, if we’re lonely. “Bad moods are a symptom of being ungrateful,” he says.

  So we don’t show our bad moods, at least not in front of the men. We can only show each other.

  “After graduation,” I start, my voice hopeful, “we’ll find her.” Annalise turns to me, expecting me to go on, to make them all feel better. We rarely talk about what our lives will be like after graduation. But rather than continue, I start crying harder, the reality setting in.

  “How are we supposed to go that long without seeing Lennon Rose?” I ask, choking up.

  “I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Sydney says sorrowfully from behind her arm.

  Brynn lies down next to her on the bed, and Sydney puts her arms around her. We all join them, staying close. Murmuring that we love each other.

  12

  I take the hottest shower I’ve ever known, washing away my tears. The misery is deep and painful. An indescribable loneliness.

  I grow red and raw from the heat of the water, but I stay there until it begins to run cold. I turn off the faucet and stand naked. My breathing is staggered and unsteady, my entire body hitching forward. My chest aching.

  After a few more moments, I sniffle hard, wiping my face with the backs of my hands. I step out of the shower and pull on my uniform. I brush out my tangles of wet hair and then slick it back into a tight bun, ignoring my specifications. I put on only the required makeup so I don’t get reprimanded for looking plain. I’m supposed to “take pride in my appearance at all times.”

  When the Guardian tells us all to gather in the dining hall for an announcement, we already know what it’s about, and the finalization of it feels even more devastating.

  I leave my room and head downstairs, the first to arrive. Other girls begin entering the dining hall, and the ones who don’t know about Lennon Rose yet are chatting, smiling. Unaware of how we’re changed.

  Brynn nods to me when she comes to the table, but we don’t say anything. I’m surprised when Valentine sits with us, saying a pleasant hello to Marcella when she arrives. Valentine smiles, seeming oblivious to what’s happened to Lennon Rose. I thought she’d said something to upset her, but the doctor told me Lennon Rose’s dismissal was over money. Maybe Valentine had just been trying to comfort her.

  Sydney and Annalise are the last to arrive. Sydney’s eyes are puffy from crying. As they sit at the table, drawing stares from the other girls, there’s an open space left on the bench for Lennon Rose.

  But Lennon Rose won’t be joining us today. She’s somewhere else, without shoes. Without her girls.

  Valentine tilts her head, examining our expressions. “What’s wrong?” she asks. We’re silent for a moment, but I can’t ignore her question.

  “Lennon Rose has left campus,” I tell her quietly. “She’s . . .” My voice hitches. “She’s not coming back.”

  Brynn lowers her head, sniffling. And the other girls look positively sick over it. But Valentine stares back at me with no noticeable response. And then she says, “Huh.”

  It’s stunning, her nonreaction. I’m about to say something about it when I hear the doors to the dining hall open.

  “Can I have your attention, please?” Anton calls loudly as he enters the room. He’s wearing a fuzzy blue sweater over his polo, his glasses gone. Several girls smile at his presence, immediately comforted. But I watch with impatience, waiting for an explanation. Waiting for words that can alleviate my pain.

  “This is going to be very difficult,” Anton begins, stopping at the front of the room. He slips his hands into the pockets of his slacks, appearing both caring and vulnerable as he surveys our faces. He pauses, pressing his lips together when he notices me. He returns his focus to the room.

  “One of our girls has left us,” he announces sympathetically. “It is with a heavy heart that I have to tell you that Lennon Rose is no longer with Innovations Academy. Her father came for her early this morning, as their family is moving out of state, and Lennon Rose will attend a wonderful school out east. She sends her love. As soon as she’s settled, I’ll reach out to her and see if we can start a correspondence. Not before. Until then, all we know is that Lennon Rose would want you to be happy,” he adds with a smile.

  But his words ring hollow to me. I can tell by the way Sydney squeezes my hand that she’s not buying them either. Yes, Lennon Rose would want us to be happy. But this morning, she must have been scared, terrified. She wouldn’t have left so easily. She would have begged to see us one last time.

  “Now if any of you have questions,” Anton continues, “or want to come speak to me privately about this development, let me know and I’ll work you into the schedule. Otherwise, please keep your upward momentum by being excellent girls in and out of the classroom. You make your parents, Mr. Petrov, and all of us here at Innovations Academy very proud.”

  He nods his goodbye, and without even pausing, he heads straight for the door and walks out. So much for taking questions.

  The room buzzes as the other girls wonder aloud what made Lennon Rose leave. A few wonder if she was in trouble, but that thought is immediately dismissed because it’s Lennon Rose they’re talking about. Eventually, I hear someone mention money—or more specifically, the lack of it—and the excuse spreads quickly throughout the room.

  Overall, the others determine that Anton knows what’s best. If he says it was time for Lennon Rose to leave, then it must be true.

  But Sydney and I are destroyed, almost like we can physically feel a piece of us missing. Marcella stares at her hands folded on the table, sniffling every so often as Brynn comforts her. Annalise stares out the window again.

  It’s Valentine, sitting across from me, who catches my attention. She meets my eyes, and then there is the slightest turn of a smile on her lips.

  “Everything’s going to be fine, Philomena,” she says calmly. “You’ll see.” And then she stands up and leaves the dining hall.

  As the other girls go back to their rooms for self-reflection, I decide to track down Anton. I need to talk to someone about the crushing pain in my chest. The loneliness. Who better than the analyst?

  I don’t see him in the halls, so I head straight for his office, relieved when I see his light on inside. I knock softly on the glass.

  “Come in,” Anton calls with a hint of surprise.

  I open the door and find him at his file cabinet. His face tightens wh
en he sees me, but then he smiles.

  “Philomena,” he says, closing the drawer. “What can I do for you?”

  His question seems odd, considering the circumstances. “I’m here about Lennon Rose,” I say.

  “I should have figured,” Anton replies, a little embarrassed, and goes to sit behind his desk. “You want to talk about how you’re feeling.”

  I nod, and he motions for me to sit down in the oversized leather chair across from his desk. I cross my legs at the ankle, not resting back the way I usually do during our therapy sessions. This time is different.

  We sit in silence until Anton leans forward on his elbows. “Should I start, or . . .?” he begins, and his lips pull into a smile. Normally, I appreciate his casual demeanor, but in this situation, it feels inappropriate.

  “I can be honest with you, right?” I ask. The smile fades from his lips.

  “Of course,” he responds. He leans forward in his chair, his elbows on the table.

  “I’m worried about Lennon Rose,” I say. “You told me she was going to be better than new, that she was just resting. You didn’t mention money. Her parents didn’t mention money. So . . . what really happened?”

  Anton watches me for a long moment and then eases back in his chair. “I’m sorry,” he says. “But I can’t discuss the specifics of another girl’s education with you.”

  “Why was she crying during lineup yesterday?” I ask, undeterred.

  “Because she’d just learned about her family’s financial situation,” he responds easily.

  I furrow my brow. “How?” I ask. “When? She didn’t mention any—”

  “I told her,” he cuts in. “So I assure you, she knew. Perhaps she didn’t want to tell you.”

  The thought stings. Lennon Rose was keeping a secret from me? From us? Then again, she’d been talking to Valentine—maybe she told her. Anton must notice my confusion, so he continues talking.

  “I suspect Lennon Rose was embarrassed about her situation and had hoped to resolve it without your interference,” he says. “But unfortunately, despite all I could do, there wasn’t enough money to fund her education any longer. She left this morning before you woke up. She told me to tell you goodbye.”