“Okay,” Jackson says, sounding confused. “I can drop off the paperwork later. There might be details she understands. And I hope I’m wrong, Mena. But it’s best to check, right?”
I nod that it is. Although I’m worried, I’m not sure this is as urgent as Jackson thinks. No one, including Leandra, ever mentioned a seven-year shutdown. Jackson probably read the paperwork wrong or it was never initiated. But we will definitely make sure.
“Now …” Jackson looks around the bleachers. “What the hell are you doing at this prep school? Is someone here involved with the academy?”
I smile because he’s pretty smart. Jackson always has a way of cutting right to what I’m thinking. And I have no reason to hide my mission from him now. He’s already dragged himself into it again.
“We’re looking for an investor,” I say. “One of the original investors, I guess.” I pause, looking at him. “Your mom never mentioned anything about original investors, did she? In any of her papers.”
“No, not that I’ve seen. In fact, Petrov is one of the few names ever mentioned.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here,” I say. “This investor is apparently still a big part of the financials within the corporation. Our hope is to find him and force him to shut it all down.”
“You want him to do it willingly?” he asks.
“That would be the goal, yeah,” I say.
“What would he be doing here?” he asks. “Why some shitty prep academy across the country?”
“The investor is unnamed in the paperwork, but Leandra thinks—”
Jackson bristles at her name, but I keep talking.
“—that he’s been laundering money through this school,” I say. “Leandra said the school was mentioned in the academy’s bank documents. She figured the investor is the father of a kid here. A boy.”
I point to where the players are running down the field. Jackson trails them with his eyes, studying them a moment longer, looking as unimpressed as I feel.
“Okay. What are you going to do when you find this investor guy?” he asks. “These are terrible people. They’re not going to just … stop.”
“I realize that,” I say. “We want to shut it down without exposing ourselves to the public. So we’ll have to find a way to convince him. One option: If we find his son, we’ll use him to extract information on the father. Something truly illegal that the investor wouldn’t want exposed.”
“You’re going to blackmail him,” Jackson says.
“We don’t want to,” I say, trying to explain. “But—”
“No, I understand,” he says, waving off my explanation. “I’ve seen enough to know that bad men don’t just give up power. It has to be taken from them.”
I stare at the side of Jackson’s face. I’m reminded that he hates the academy as much as we do. He may not be perfect, but he is good.
“We’re going to stop them,” I say, watching him. “They won’t win.”
“Can I help?” Jackson asks quietly. When he turns to me, I shake my head.
“No,” I say. “You can’t put yourself in any more danger.” I motion to his leg.
Jackson sniffs a laugh. “And you can’t tell me what to do.” He smiles softly, but there is catastrophic hurt on his face.
I long to fix it. To put my palm on his cheek and make it better.
But I don’t.
“I have to go,” Jackson says, grabbing his crutches. He gets to his feet, hopping a second and looking unsteady. “I’ll drop off the paperwork to the girls, but my number’s the same if you call again.”
I never admitted that I called him, but he smiles anyway.
“I’ve missed you, Mena,” he adds with a shrug. “It was good to see you again.”
He turns and starts down the aisle, his crutches wobbly as he tries to make his way without knocking into people. I watch until he’s gone from the bleachers. And the minute he is, I squeeze my eyes shut, admonishing myself for how much I’ve missed him, too.
But I did abandon him. I did purposely hurt him to get him away from us. All I’ve done is ruin his life. In return, he shouldn’t care what happens to me. But he does. And my inability to return that kindness is almost as bad as if I’d broken his leg myself.
“Are you trying to make me jealous?”
Startled, I look up and find Garrett walking toward me. I flinch when he sits next to me.
“I have to go,” I say quickly, trying to get up. But he grabs the sleeve of my sweater to drag me down on the bench next to him.
“Don’t be rude,” Garrett says. I look over to where his friends are sitting, but they’re purposely not looking back at us. Everyone else in the crowd is focused on the game.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, yanking my sweater from his grip. He finds my refusal hilarious and tells me so.
“Since you thought it was your place to interrupt me earlier, I figured it’d give me a chance to be just as intrusive.” He looks me over. “Who was the guy? Your boyfriend?”
“It’s none of your business,” I say. “And I spoke up because you were being inappropriate.”
“Inappropriate?” He laughs. “What are you, a teacher?”
Annoyed, I start to get up again, but he puts his hand on my thigh to hold me in place. I jump, slapping his hand off me, my eyes wide.
“No!” I insist loudly enough to make the woman in his row look back at us.
Garrett’s expression immediately clouds with embarrassment. He looks around to see if anyone else noticed me reject him. And then suddenly, viciously, he reaches out with both hands and grabs me by the collar of my shirt, his fingernails scratching my neck, and pulls me within inches of his face.
My expression contorts in pain, horror. Absolute terror. Tears spring to my eyes, but I freeze, gasping for breath. For a moment, I don’t see Garrett. I see Guardian Bose threatening me, his sour breath spreading over my face.
“First lesson, Phil-o-mena,” Garrett whispers. “Girls don’t say no to me. They thank me.”
I can’t stand his hands on me. I can’t stand him this close to me. I curl my hand into a fist and punch his arms. He pretends to be shocked and holds up his hands innocently, releasing my shirt.
“Relax,” he says loudly, as if I instigated the violence. He’s the kind of person who’ll punch you, and when you fight back, claim to be the victim.
I can’t catch my breath. I can’t calm my thoughts. He caught me off guard.
Looking around the bleachers, I see several faces watching us curiously. But it all starts to spin.
I have to get out of here. I wrap my arms around myself, protecting myself, and rush off the bleachers as Garrett and his friends catcall after me.
When I get to the bottom landing and turn the corner to exit the bleachers, someone grabs my arm. I yelp and spin around, surprised to find Mr. Marsh. He quickly puts his hands up in apology.
“Philomena,” he says, looking embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I … You seem upset.” He glances back at the bleachers, searching until he spots Garrett and his friends. I’m not imagining that there’s a flash of anger in my teacher’s expression. When he turns to me again, his eyes stray to my neck and his eyes soften.
“You’re hurt,” he says, reaching out.
I touch the area on my neck and realize immediately that I have scratches—sore and raised—from Garrett’s fingernails.
“I have to go,” I say, moving a step back. I don’t want him to see my injuries. I don’t want him to touch me. I just want to escape.
Girls don’t say no to me.
“I have to go,” I repeat louder, and hurry away without looking back.
17
I rush through the parking lot, checking behind me to make sure Garrett and his friends aren’t following me. They’re not, and part of that could be because this is their everyday. They attack without consequence. If asked, he’d probably say he did nothing wrong.
But I’m shaking so badly that my teeth are cha
ttering.
“Mena?” a voice calls. I jump at the sound and look back.
I find Lennon Rose running after me, Corris Hawkes walking just behind her. Lennon Rose’s expression is tight with concern.
“Mena, wait up,” she calls. I wait, keeping my back to her while I close my eyes and adjust my disposition. I don’t want her friend to see me so upset. I don’t want to give away my fear.
When Lennon Rose appears next to me, I smile and say hello to her. My eyes drift past her to the guy she’s with. He nods a hello.
“Corris,” he says, introducing himself. His voice is noticeably deep, and he’s even more handsome up close. He holds up his hand in a polite wave.
“This is my friend Mena,” Lennon Rose says introducing me. “We used to go to school together.” Lennon Rose is clearly worried as she runs her gaze over me; her jaw clenches.
“What happened to your neck?” she asks, pointing toward it.
Garrett damaged me. He damaged me, and I’m hurt and angry. But most of all, I’m scared. Lennon Rose speaks up the instant I think this.
“Let us give you a ride home,” she says. She turns to smile at Corris.
“Yeah,” he says easily. “I wanted to leave anyway. I hate these people.”
He casts a disgusted glance at the field, before pulling a set of car keys from his pocket. He’s one of the few guys here I’ve seen reject the approval of the team and their fans.
Lennon Rose nods subtly to me, acknowledging his credibility. Corris touches her arm and then starts walking ahead of us toward his car.
Lennon Rose comes to my side as we follow him.
“Which one of them hurt you?” she asks.
“Doesn’t matter which one,” I say. “They’re all guilty.”
“But I need to know which one gets punished first.”
I turn to her, not sure what she means. Who would be doling out the punishment? Her? Winston?
“Garrett,” I say. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”
She sighs out a “fine” and motions ahead of us to Corris.
“He’s nice, right?” she says, changing the subject.
“Seems it,” I agree.
“I’ll keep him around a little while longer,” she says calmly. “He’s been very helpful.”
Corris clicks the locks open on his SUV.
“He doesn’t know that we’re—” I start.
Lennon Rose laughs. “Of course not. Look. Corris hates those boys too. It makes him a useful ally in the short term. In the long term …” She pauses, thinking it over. “I doubt he’d choose our side. So he’s temporary.”
Corris walks around to hold open the passenger door for Lennon Rose, checking his phone as he waits for us.
“I have found some pleasure in his company,” Lennon Rose says, flashing me a private smile. “It’s nothing like that magazine we read.”
She rounds the SUV to get inside, but I stand a moment, shocked. Not that Lennon Rose is hooking up with a boy—that’s her business. She isn’t interested in him, and I find her coldness about it a bit alarming.
I get in the backseat, and Lennon Rose turns around and grins at me. “Guess what?” she says. “Corris is so sweet that he’s going to let me borrow his SUV. That way we can go shopping.” She turns to him and grins. When he smiles at her, there’s a small prick in my heart. He likes her. He likes her and he has no idea that she’s using him.
“Just don’t smash it up, Len,” he says, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. She promises that she won’t, beaming at him. I have to look away from her deceit.
After we drop Corris off at his house, promising to be back in a few hours, Lennon Rose pulls the seat belt across her chest and begins driving.
“Where are we going?” I ask. The other girls and I haven’t learned how to drive yet, but Lennon Rose seems to be really good at it.
“Do the scratches hurt?” she asks, sounding distracted. I reach up to touch the raised lines on my neck again.
“A bit, yeah,” I admit.
“I have a kit at the house if you want me to fix them for you,” Lennon Rose says.
“It’s okay,” I say. “They’ll heal.”
“Fine.” She clicks on the radio and turns up the volume. She’s trying to ignore me.
“Where are we going?” I ask again.
“To see a friend.”
“If this is about Winston Weeks, then—”
“No,” she says simply. When she turns to me, she smiles. “You think I only have one friend?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s like … It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”
Lennon Rose’s smile abruptly falls from her face. “Or maybe you never knew me at all,” she says.
I start to disagree, but she holds up her hand to stop me. She lowers the volume on the radio.
“When we were at the academy, I was docile and scared,” she says. “I was tormented and disregarded. Would you rather have that girl back? The one afraid of her own shadow?”
“No,” I say. “That’s not what I meant. We all woke up, Lennon Rose. You just … You woke up differently.”
She sniffs a laugh and turns off the highway onto a dirt road that curves behind rows of trees, hidden from view.
“Or maybe you’re not fully awake,” she points out. “Those poems, they changed us. But after reading them, you still stayed at the school.”
“To learn more,” I say, hurt by her comment. “To shut them down; to save the others.”
“How’d that go?” she asks. I stare at her, devastated by the cruelty in her words.
“They tried to kill us, Lennon Rose,” I say in a whisper. “They did kill some of us.” Tears sting my eyes as I think of Valentine with her ribs cracked open, the Guardian strangling Sydney in her own bed, the doctor draining Annalise’s blood rather than saving her.
A full minute passes before Lennon Rose winces and turns to me.
“Sorry, Mena,” she says. And her voice is sweet, just like I remember. When she turns back to the road, my heart is beating faster.
She’s faking. She’s faking feeling bad for bringing up something traumatic. She used a softer voice to manipulate me, the same way she manipulates Corris.
I’m sitting with a stranger.
I look outside the window, more concerned about where she’s taking me.
“I want to know where we’re going,” I demand.
“They’ll keep hurting you, you know?” Lennon Rose says. “No one stops them. The leading cause of death in girls is men. Familiar, stranger—it doesn’t matter. They’re killing us and not a single government official has made a move to control the violence. No.” She shakes her head angrily. “Their heroes are abusers. They take the field game after game to applause, even when there’s video of them beating their partners.” Her knuckles crack as she adjusts her tight grip on the steering wheel.
“They had a president who bragged about sexual assault,” she continues. “Cabinet members who were arrested for domestic abuse, a secretary of education enacting policies to protect rapists!” Her voice ticks up, but she visibly calms herself. “And still … ,” she says in eerie calm. “No one stopped them. They’re sick creatures, Mena. They’re a horrid species.”
I don’t want to believe her. I want to believe our experiences at Innovations Academy were the worst of the worst. Outliers of men with extraordinary cruelty. But … I’ve seen some terrifying things in the outside world. In fact, my neck aches where a boy tried to take ownership of my body.
How long can we suffer before we turn against men permanently? Women have put up with it since the beginning of time—programmed like us, but by society. What poem will make them wake up? What poem can stop the inequity, the violence, and the cruelty in this society?
“Why did you mention the poems?” I say, looking at Lennon Rose. This time, a genuine smile tugs at her lips.
“Did you know there was a second book?” she asks. My heart le
aps.
“There is?” I ask. “Have you read it?”
“I have.”
“Can … Can I see it?” I ask. The last book unlocked us from the hell that was Innovations. Maybe a second book can free us from the hell that is high school.
“That’s where we’re going,” Lennon Rose says. “To get it.”
I sit back in the seat and stare out the windshield. I’m both exhilarated and terrified. But it’s that feeling of being on the verge of knowing something. A promise so close to coming true, even if I have no idea if it will. It’s exciting.
“And this new book of poems,” I start, unable to keep the thrill out of my voice. “What’s it called?”
“The Poison Flowers,” she says. “It starts with the last poem from The Sharpest Thorns.”
I don’t recall that poem, yet I’ve used that phrase before. At Imogene’s, I thought that I wanted to be a girl with a razor heart. And the vision I had with that woman … She pulled a heart of razor blades out of my chest.
What a strange set of coincidences. I try to sift through my mental catalog. Is it possible I missed this poem? “Where did you find the new book?” I ask. “Did Winston give it to you?”
Lennon Rose laughs. “No. He has no idea it exists. Besides, it’s not for men. This is our book.”
I’m confused. Just yesterday, Lennon Rose seemed all-in about her life with Winston. Is she playing him, too? Is Lennon Rose playing all of us?
“I don’t understand which side you’re on, Lennon Rose,” I say softly, watching her.
Her brow furrows, and I think I see genuine hurt cross her features. She glances at me and reaches to take my hand.
“I’m on the side of the girls,” Lennon Rose says. “I’m on our side, Mena. I always will be.”
And despite every thought I had on the way out here, I believe her.
I believe Lennon Rose is fully awake and fully aware. I sense what she wants, and that it’s to save us all. But I also know there’s more to her than I realize.
“And here we are,” she says, nodding out the windshield.
I turn and see a small cottage covered in ivy, flowers everywhere. It’s surrounded by a thick canopy of trees, a well spigot, and a beat-up car parked on the side. Despite its dilapidated condition, I’m immediately charmed by the house.
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