“She’s a liar.”
The doctor laughs, and I hope he can see through Mr. Wolfe’s deception. “I think we both know that’s not the case,” Dr. Groger says. “I’ve examined the girl. What you’ve done amounts to theft.”
The lawyer tries to argue again, but the doctor cuts him off.
“You’re right,” Dr. Groger says. “We have known each other a long time, Carlyle. So I’m going to tell you straight out: Do not come back. There’s no need, since you’re not the girl’s legal guardian. Your services to her family are hereby terminated on my recommendation. The records will be sealed,” he continues, “protecting our investment. But if we find out you’ve contacted her or any of our other girls, we will report you to the family, as well as the overseeing body. Do you understand, Mr. Wolfe? Do you understand the consequences?”
It’s quiet for a long moment before I hear Mr. Wolfe answer, “Yes.”
“Good,” Dr. Groger says. “Now, you are banned from this campus. Leave my sight immediately.”
My heart soars. Mr. Wolfe was improper, and now he’s banned. Rebecca will never have to deal with him again.
We’ve always known there were terrible people in the world, and one of them got close to us. The academy always promised they would protect us. It seems they meant it. Maybe I was wrong to jump to conclusions about them.
A shadow passes on the inside of the door, and Sydney motions me forward. We jog down the hall until we turn a corner, and then Sydney blows out a breath.
“Did I hear that right?” she asks, disgusted. “Tell me I didn’t.”
“You did,” I murmur. “But Dr. Groger is protecting her. It doesn’t matter what Mr. Wolfe says anymore. Rebecca is totally safe,” I add with a small bit of hope. I’m calmer now, reassured by the doctor’s actions.
“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around Rebecca and Mr. Wolfe,” Sydney says. She shakes her head but lets the conversation drop. I don’t mention that she already knew this, not wanting to confuse her. At least, not until I can get her to stop taking the vitamins—otherwise, what’s the point? She’ll just forget tomorrow.
I assume Anton is telling Rebecca the good news. I don’t want to interrupt. I’m just grateful that Mr. Wolfe will never bother her again.
As Sydney and I walk down the staircase nearest the front door, we see several girls gathered there. It takes a moment for me to realize that Mr. Petrov and his wife are standing in the entryway, exchanging goodbyes with Mr. Weeks.
When I step off the bottom stair, Winston Weeks recognizes me immediately.
“Ah, there you are, Philomena,” he says. “I was hoping to say hello.”
I’m a little stunned to get called out in front of the other girls, in front of Mr. Petrov, and I play nervously with the string on my sweater. Leandra waves her hand at her side, as if telling me to stop fidgeting.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Weeks,” I say.
“Please,” he says in a smooth voice. “It’s Winston.” I nod, but don’t dare call him by his first name in front of the others. Behind him, Annalise rolls her eyes and I nearly laugh.
Mr. Petrov takes a step forward. “Mr. Weeks has come by the academy to make sure that you’re all being well cared for. It’s come to our attention that you’ve been cooped up too long.” He smiles warmly, his hands folded over his stomach. “So we plan to add more field trips to the schedule. We’re making arrangements now for this coming week.”
Several girls gasp excitedly, but Mr. Petrov wags his finger at them.
“Your education is top priority, of course,” he says good-naturedly. “But I agree with Mr. Weeks—it’s time for you to socialize more.”
He turns to Mr. Weeks, and the men smile at each other. Leandra nods along and then looks at each of us, widening her smile to tell us to be more grateful. Several girls vocalize their happiness in response.
The men shake hands, but it seems a bit forced. I wonder what hold Winston Weeks has over the school that he can make this kind of request. Despite how unusual this all is, I’m glad he showed up. Time away from school is exactly what I need. When Mr. Weeks looks at me again, I smile brightly. He winks at me.
Mr. Petrov flutters his hands toward the rooms. “That’s all,” he says with a chuckle. “Have a nice afternoon.”
“And, girls,” Leandra calls after us. “I’d like to have a word with you in the ballroom in an hour.” Her smiles holds like it’s frozen on her face. “Don’t be late.”
I’m about to depart when Mr. Weeks calls my name again. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“Try to have a little fun,” he suggests. “You look melancholy.”
“I’m always having fun, Mr. Weeks,” I reply, making him laugh.
Sydney and I sneak an amused smirk at each other and head back toward our rooms. When we’re clear of the main hall, Sydney looks sideways.
“So . . . Mr. Weeks, huh?” she asks.
“A little old for me, don’t you think?” I ask.
“True. You like those skinny college boys,” she says.
“I really do,” I sing out, and she cackles.
And I’m grateful for the good news—more field trips. More time beyond the fence.
• • •
Despite everything, we’re upbeat as we enter the ballroom. Marcella is telling us about her latest run time and how she’s pretty certain she could beat the Guardian in a foot race.
“Who couldn’t?” Brynn asks. “He hasn’t worked out since he started here. All that muscle would be heavy. We could lap him,” she says with a grin.
I laugh, but when I look up, I find Leandra standing in the middle of the ballroom, her expression deadly serious. Chairs fan out around her in a half circle. Rebecca is standing next to her, her head lowered, her shoulders sagged.
My smiles abruptly fades when Professor Penchant comes over from the back of the room to join them. Leandra signals for us to sit down.
Sydney sits next to me, and we exchange a worried look. Leandra smiles.
“Hello, girls,” she says. “I’ve asked Professor Penchant to join me in talking with you. I think his guidance here is necessary.” She glances over at him warmly, and he hikes up his pants, shifting the entire waistband, as he comes to stand next to her.
“I would say so,” he says rudely. Leandra doesn’t miss a beat, though. She nods gratefully.
“It’s come to our attention that there was inappropriate contact going on during the open house,” she says, motioning to Rebecca. “And before Rebecca enters impulse control therapy, I thought maybe she’d want to explain why she felt it was proper to violate herself and shame her family.”
The words come out sweet like honey, harsh like poison. Rebecca sniffles, but doesn’t answer, her hair hanging in her face.
“Nothing to say?” Leandra asks her with pretend sympathy. “Nothing at all?” Rebecca shakes her head no. “Very well. Professor,” Leandra says, looking at him, “would you like to take over?”
“Gladly,” he says, and turns to address all of us. “You are at this academy to become better girls—the best girls. That means you are”—he counts on his fingers—“beautiful, quiet, and pure. Take the last part away and you’re not special. You’re a common whore.” Several girls flinch at the statement.
The professor reaches over to grab Rebecca by the back of the neck like she’s a puppy. She whimpers, and when she lifts her face, mascara is smudged under her eyes. It’s jarring, seeing a girl so disheveled. So broken.
It’s also unusual—like she’s crossed a line the school can’t forgive.
“You see, girls,” Leandra says, her heels clicking on the floor as she begins to pace, “we expect you to be prizes. Not worthless junk. Investors pay good money for exemplary girls.”
Professor Penchant smiles and crosses his arms over his chest. “Propriety is crucial for girls,” he says. “Otherwise, you invite this sort of behavior. Men can’t control themselves around beautiful girls l
ike you,” he says, his voice raising. “So it’s up to you to draw that line. Save yourselves for your future husbands. It is, after all, what they deserve. What they are entitled to.”
I literally feel sick to my stomach, and next to me, Sydney shifts uncomfortably. I know that Professor Penchant is wrong, despite this being an extreme version of what we’re normally taught. Without the vitamins, maybe I’m just not that willing to listen anymore.
Leandra claps her hands together loudly, like she’s applauding the professor’s statements.
“You want to be treated well?” she asks us. “Then act like a girl who deserves respect. We won’t stand for this kind of behavior again—we’re not running a brothel.” She glances at Rebecca before reaching over to take her by the chin, lifting her face for all of us to see again.
“You’re weak,” she says with contempt. “You didn’t say no. You didn’t even tell anybody.” She leans in closer and whispers, “You’re worthless now.”
Rebecca breaks down sobbing, and Sydney grabs my hand, squeezing it so tightly that it hurts. My eyes are stinging with the start of tears at watching another girl be humiliated. Leandra immediately turns and strides out of the room, head held high. Professor Penchant stays a moment longer to gloat, looking over Rebecca in a predatory way, as if her vulnerability makes her more of a target for his malice.
I see the worry in Annalise’s expression, the way she wants to protect Rebecca from their humiliating remarks. But she doesn’t. She lowers her face.
I turn around in my seat and find Valentine. When she looks at me, her eyes are glassy with tears. She nods, acknowledging that this isn’t right.
It’s a sudden validation, the fact that she can see it too. I turn away, scared to get caught—like our ideas are out in the open, able to be read. I’ll have to talk to her later and see what she knows about the book I found in Lennon Rose’s room.
“Have a nice lunch,” the professor announces. He walks out, pulling a crying Rebecca alongside him as he leaves.
When the door closes, some of the girls sit stunned. Brynn openly cries, and Marcella comforts her, shock resting on her face.
It wasn’t Rebecca’s fault. Sydney and I told Anton that—he seemed to understand.
And it hits me . . . Is this my fault? If I didn’t tell Anton, would Rebecca still be punished? I quickly try to push the thought away, deciding that stopping Mr. Wolfe was important. This is the school—they’re at fault. They’re wrong to treat her this way.
“Mena,” Sydney murmurs miserably. I turn to her and hug her.
We stay here, all of us together, until we know we have to clean ourselves up and head to lunch. The school is unhappy with us, and we’ll have to make amends for Rebecca’s behavior.
I pull back, sniffling, and tell Sydney that I have to show her something. She swipes her fingers under her eyes and we get up. I look for Valentine, hoping she’ll provide more information. But she’s already gone.
We head toward the door so I can run to Lennon Rose’s room to get the book.
“Have a good lesson?” the Guardian asks, startling me as we walk out of the ballroom. He’s leaning against the wall, picking his nails and looking bored. Something about the fact that he was eavesdropping is extra creepy, and I must not hide the facial expression well.
“Will you excuse us a second, Sydney?” he asks, leaving no room for her to argue. She looks at me, debating for a second, and then tells me she’ll see me in the dining hall. Once she’s gone, the Guardian moves closer to me, glaring down.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.
“Like what?”
“What’s your problem?” he asks me. “I’m not the one going around fucking the girls.”
I gasp at his crudeness, shrink away from it, even. He’s always been possessive of us, angry when we talk to other men. I see that now. He’s using this vulgarity as another way to dominate me, shock me into behaving the way he wants. Only this time, it’s not going to work.
The door opens and the other girls begin to file out, heading to lunch.
“I should think not,” I tell the Guardian, backing away from him. “Or you’d be fired.”
His face hardens, clearly not expecting me to talk back. I keep walking toward my room, hoping he won’t grab me like he did that day in the gas station. And when I’m far enough away, I exhale. Feeling powerful for the first time ever.
16
After cleaning myself up in my room, I go down to the dining hall. Our salads and juices are already on the table when I get there, and I head for my usual seat. Halfway there, Sydney whispers for me to hurry up. When I join, she tugs on my arm to bring me closer. Nodding ahead.
I follow her line of sight and see Rebecca standing at the end of the table. Her hair and makeup are refreshed as if Leandra saw to it personally. But she’s just . . . standing there, staring down at her glass of juice. Several other girls notice her; a soft murmur floats around the room.
My heart starts to beat faster. I want to go over, but I’m worried I’ll call attention to her in front of the professors and Guardian. She’s already in so much trouble.
And then, in a subtle motion, Rebecca reaches out her hand, watching it like it’s not her own, until her fingertips press against the glass and push it over.
There’s a clank, and then green liquid spills onto the table, quickly running over and pouring onto the floor. Several girls yelp and back away. Rebecca’s face splits wide with a smile, all of her teeth showing.
Sydney’s hand tightens on my arm. There are alarmed murmurs around us, and Marcella is the first to cross to Rebecca. She turns her around and asks if she’s okay, but Rebecca doesn’t stop smiling until it distorts into a grimace.
“Rebecca,” Marcella repeats her name, louder, giving her a quick shake to snap her out of this. It doesn’t work.
Rebecca begins to laugh, and the sound of it is high-pitched, wild, and unruly.
“What’s going on?” Sydney breathes out.
Rebecca runs her palm along her face, smearing her makeup—eye shadow over her brow, lipstick over her cheek—before digging both hands into her hair and rubbing frantically, messing it up. She’s shaking, laughing. Terrifying.
Brynn joins Marcella, and together, they try to talk Rebecca down. But before they make any progress, Guardian Bose appears. He’s clearly rattled too. He grabs Rebecca roughly by the arm, the same way he grabbed me, but this time, Rebecca rips from his grasp. She spins to face him, her eyes wide, her teeth bared in viciousness.
“Don’t touch me!” she growls at him. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
I dart my eyes over to the professors, finding them watching in concern. None of the men try to intervene, though. Professor Penchant continues to eat.
Guardian Bose puffs himself up to his full height, towering over Rebecca. She doesn’t shrink back from him.
“I don’t want to be beautiful anymore,” she says. “Just leave me alone.”
“Sure,” Guardian Bose says. “But we should go talk to Anton about it.”
It’s the mention of Anton that causes a shift in her behavior. Rebecca takes a step back from Guardian Bose, the first sign of fear in her expression.
“No,” she says. “I don’t want to.”
“Yeah, sweetheart,” Guardian Bose says flippantly, grabbing her again now that he’s seen he can scare her. “Not really up to you, though, is it?”
Rebecca tries to pull away from Guardian Bose, but he doesn’t let go. He brings her closer, her arm bent against his chest as he whispers in her ear. Rebecca shrinks back.
Marcella says something to the Guardian, pleading on Rebecca’s behalf, but he waves her away, dismissing her.
We all watch as Rebecca and Guardian Bose leave the dining hall. Cries echo from the hallway. I sit numbly at the table, my insides knotted up. Sydney is trembling next to me.
When I look up, I find Professor Allister watching, checking me over. I smile politely,
acknowledging his concern, and then lower my eyes.
The other girls fall quiet, and we eat our lunches in stunned silence.
• • •
Sydney has cleanup duty in the dining hall, so the rest of us return to our floor for quiet reflection. We’re all understandably upset. I imagine Rebecca is in impulse control therapy.
I think about not wanting to be beautiful anymore. Professor Penchant told us men can’t control themselves around beautiful women. So instead of addressing their behavior, he put the responsibility on us. Rebecca thought that maybe if she wasn’t pretty, they wouldn’t bother her anymore.
I think about the poem. Men wanted control, not beautiful women. I suspect it wouldn’t matter what Rebecca looked like. Mr. Wolfe wanted to possess a girl—to have that status. It didn’t matter which girl it was.
With Sydney still not back, I decide it’s time for me to talk with Valentine. I go into the hall and cross to her room, but when I knock, she doesn’t answer.
I’m feeling suddenly very alone, not just because I’m alone in the hallway.
Since I stopped taking the vitamins, since I’ve been noticing the strangeness of the things around me . . . I feel a bit like I’m the only one who’s really here. My knowledge is isolating. Is this how Valentine feels all the time? Is this how Lennon Rose felt before she left the academy?
The phone comes into focus at the other end of the hall. I take out the little piece of paper that I kept tucked in my pocket and make my way over. I told Jackson I’d keep my eyes open, and I’ve seen a lot today. Maybe he can offer some outside advice. And better than that, maybe he’s found Lennon Rose’s number so I can check on her.
That thought gives me a small bit of hope, and I’m smiling by the time I reach the phone. I read the numbers scrawled across the paper, murmuring them aloud as I dial.
Nervousness bubbles up when the lines clicks. I open my mouth to say hello, but instead of Jackson’s voice, I’m met with a series of bells.
“The number you have reached is no longer in service,” a recorded voice says. “Please check the number and dial again.”
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