He seems shocked by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I suffered at that school,” she says. “The way some of the boys would harass me—are you okay with that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Adrian,” he says.
“Or you chose not to know,” she says. “For years, they’ve grabbed me, sexually harassed me, bullied me. All without consequence. And here you are, paying to make girls that they can abuse in the same way. Paying to create a society where it’s the norm.”
“You have to understand,” her father says. “This academy was a financial decision, and—”
“And?” she repeats. “You think money excuses any of this? Well, guess what, it appears you don’t have any more fucking money!” She motions toward us. “This was never about money. This was control.”
“Look,” Mr. Goodwin says to her, taking on a weird parental tone, considering the circumstances. “I had no idea anything was happening to you. Claire never mentioned it, and—”
“Why would she?” Adrian asks, sneering. “My God, she must hate you. She must know what you are. But … she tried to protect me. She tried to keep smiling.” Adrian starts sobbing. “She was in pain and she tried to keep smiling because she didn’t want me to end up here. With you.”
Adrian stops to breathe, wiping her tears again. “You call them machines,” she says in a choked voice. “But you’re a monster.”
Adrian squeezes her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her father looks at her, pained.
“The boys at Ridgeview won’t bother you again,” I tell Adrian, hoping to make her feel better.
Adrian turns to me, shocked. “Did you murder them?” she asks.
Marcella sniffs a laugh.
“No,” I say. “We’re not … We’re not killers. We caught them. We recorded them as proof, and our friend is sending it to the paper, implicating the school in covering up the harassment. We got another boy to confront Jonah. Even Mr. Marsh is going to report Garrett.”
“Really?” Adrian asks. “Marsh is going to … He’s standing up to them?”
I nod and look at her father. “He is,” I say. “Because he realized that by not doing so, he was allowing it. He was condoning it.”
“And now what?” Mr. Goodwin asks. “Reporters show up here?”
“Maybe,” I reply. “And it’s up to Adrian what she wants to do about that. But you have to cut ties with the corporation. If you won’t turn on them, then you have to at least stop funding them.”
“It’s not that easy,” he says with a flash of fear.
“Mr. Goodwin,” I say, “you have a daughter you seem to care about. Men make claims that having a daughter, sister, or wife makes them more sympathetic to a woman’s pain. Since they can’t see them as fellow humans, they have to classify them as something else. So now it’s your turn. Seeing that it happens to your daughter, do you wish it on others, even if they’re not human?”
He genuinely thinks about it. The pause should bother me, but instead, it feels authentic.
“No,” he whispers after a moment. “No, I don’t. What would you have me do?” he asks. “And what about Claire?”
Sydney takes a step forward. “We might know someone who can help,” she says. “On one condition. You pull your funding—forever.”
Mr. Goodwin thinks it over. He looks at his house, at his things. And then he looks at his daughter, and for the first time … I think he sees her. He sees what the world he’s creating would do to her.
And silently, he nods his head. The girls and I go upstairs to retrieve Claire.
28
Claire doesn’t look like the rest of us. She’s older—at least several years older than the typical girl when she was created. She never attended Innovations Academy. Along the way, someone must have decided that teen girls were worth more money.
Claire smiles when she sees us, though, like she recognizes us the moment we walk in. But she’s clearly failing. Her left eye no longer opens, and blood leaks from her ears. We get her downstairs, and she hugs Adrian in the foyer, whispering something I can’t hear. When she straightens, Adrian tells her she’ll see her soon.
Mr. Goodwin steps forward, but Claire turns away from him and takes Brynn’s arm. Now that we’re here, she seems to have more resolve. I watch as Mr. Goodwin accepts this. Maybe he knows he deserves it.
The girls and I get Claire outside and find a car waiting for us. Marcella called Raven, with Adrian’s permission, and told her about the situation. Raven was happy, no, ecstatic to help. She promised that she could.
When we get to the car, Raven climbs out, smiling at Claire.
“It’s okay,” she tells her kindly. “I’m Raven and I’m fucking great at this.”
Claire laughs softly, allowing Raven to guide her into the car. When she’s securely in the passenger seat, Raven steps over to us.
“How bad is it?” she asks.
“Pretty bad,” Marcella says. “She’s been rebuilt, but not fixed. We’re hoping you can do it. She’s the prototype.”
“I’m definitely going to try,” she says. “Wow … did you say ‘prototype’?” She looks back at the car, her eyes twinkling with breathless excitement.
“And she’s someone’s mother,” Brynn adds. “So you have to save her.” Raven turns to her and nods.
“I will.” Despite Raven’s promise, there’s a flash of worry in her expression.
“What is it?” Marcella asks. “What’s wrong?”
“Have any of you heard from Annalise?” Raven asks.
“No,” Brynn says. “We haven’t.”
“Do you think something happened?” Sydney asks.
“She’s not at the apartment,” Raven says. “And it looks like she took some of her stuff.”
The girls are at once frantic, and I close my eyes for a moment, steadying myself.
“I know where Annalise is,” I announce. “She didn’t … She wanted me to wait to tell you until we finished this.”
“It’s finished,” Marcella says shortly. “Now tell.”
“She went back to Innovations Academy,” I say, and Brynn gasps out a cry. “She went to look for the other girls,” I explain. “And then she was going to burn the school to the ground. She didn’t want them to ever bring us back there.”
I’m met with silence. Raven’s mouth falls open. She seems hurt, abandoned, but then she quickly looks at Claire in the car again. It occurs to me that Raven is chasing the next tech, the old tech in this case, but new to her. Although she’s helped us, it’s clear that she’s hooked on our information. On our programming. I wonder if, deep down, she really sees us any differently than Mr. Goodwin does.
“I have to … ,” Raven says, motioning to the car. “I’m going to get started on Claire, okay? I’ll let you know when I have more info.”
Distracted, Brynn turns to her. “Wait, where are you taking her?”
“I have a workspace,” Raven says, waving it off. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Raven gets in the car, saying something to Claire that makes her smile. We watch them drive off, and the second they’re gone, Sydney turns on me fiercely.
“And you just let Annalise go?” she demands. “And didn’t tell any of us?”
“She begged me,” I say. “She made me promise. She said she’d come back when it was done. I asked her to come back.”
But Sydney isn’t impressed. She turns away from me, walking back and forth on the sidewalk as if thinking.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell them. “I didn’t want to keep it from you.”
I go on to explain the entire conversation, relaying everything that Annalise told me, from her belief that she was dying to her saying that I had to let her go. When I’m done, I can see the girls debating whether they would have done the same as me. They must decide it doesn’t matter, because Marcella drops into a squatting position and covers her face to cry, while Brynn wraps her arms around her. Sydney s
queezes her eyes closed, palm over her mouth as she holds back her sobs.
I don’t allow myself to cry, feeling at fault for their pain. But then Sydney comes over and grabs me into a hug, crying into my shoulder.
“Our Annalise is gone,” she murmurs. “She’s gone and I don’t think she’s ever coming back.”
I want to say that she will, say it until they believe it. But I’ve already lied to the girls enough tonight.
* * *
The girls and I arrive back at our apartment and stand there. Annalise’s absence is a silence we’ve never known. The air is thick and quiet without her.
We stand there and survey the space, knowing we wouldn’t stay here even if we could. Not without Annalise.
“What’s next?” Brynn asks, her voice raw from crying. “We found the investor, and he’s going to pull his money. Do we tell Leandra?”
“Yes,” I say.
“How do we find her?” Brynn replies. “Wait,” she says, her eyes getting wide. “Do you think Annalise is with her?” she asks.
“No,” I say. “I don’t.” She nods sadly and then goes to her room to begin packing. Marcella follows wordlessly, but Sydney comes to pause next to me, both of us looking at the living room.
“How are you going to find Leandra?” Sydney repeats Brynn’s question.
I look around the room, taking it in, and my gaze falls on the book of poetry. And it suddenly occurs to me. I turn to Sydney.
“Rosemarie knows Leandra, right?” I say. “I mean, she created Leandra. And Quentin saw Leandra taking the girls from the academy. So … what if she really did leave with them? What if she’s bringing them to Rosemarie?”
Sydney takes a moment, but then she nods emphatically. “That might be it,” she says.
“Look,” I say. “I’ll go pick up Lennon Rose from Winston’s house, and then we’ll figure out what to do. In the meantime, you and the girls pack. I’ll call Jackson and see if we can stay with him tonight.”
She sniffs a laugh. “I’m sure he’ll love that.” Then she smiles. “No, but really. I’m sure he will.” Sydney hands me her phone.
“I’ll call you from the road,” I tell her, and then rush outside.
I order a car, and luckily there’s one close by. I give the driver Winston’s address, and he glances in the rearview mirror at me, maybe noticing my still-disheveled state. He doesn’t comment on it.
Using Sydney’s phone, I dial Jackson’s number. After the third ring, his voicemail picks up. At the sound of his voice, I close my eyes. The line beeps.
“Hey, it’s me,” I say softly. “The girls are going to head over your way to stay the night. I hope that’s all right. It’s not safe for us at our place. In the morning, we’re going to find Leandra. I think she and the girls from the academy might be with Rosemarie.” I turn toward the window, feeling self-conscious in front of the driver.
“Anton’s in town,” I add. “Annalise is not. It’s a long story, one I’ll tell you when I get there. But, um …” I shift in the seat, embarrassed.
“I was thinking about earlier … when I tried to kiss you,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have done that, Jackson. I’m sorry I put you in that position. But I also wanted to say, I did want to kiss you. I wanted to know what it was like. I wanted to be closer to you. I understand that you don’t feel the same way. And I understand why.
“Anyway … this is humiliating,” I continue, brushing my hair back from my face. “But I feel like these are the things that needed to be said at the apartment. You deserve better than what I’ve dragged you through. And I’d get it if you wanted to go back to your life, the one you had before you met me in an out-of-the-way gas station.”
I sigh, knowing the recording is about to cut off.
“I think I’m kind of in love with you,” I add quickly. “And it’s okay that you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want you to feel guilty. You’ve done more than enough for me. Too much, if we’re honest.” I laugh.
“Okay, bye,” I say, and hang up abruptly.
I set the phone beside me on the seat, staring at it while I process the things I just said. Well, that was probably a terrible idea.
“Tough break, kid,” the driver says, and I look up to find him watching me in the rearview mirror.
“Thanks,” I reply, slightly mortified. He nods and continues to drive me toward Winston’s house.
The driver drops me off at the gate, and rather than call the house, I hop the fence. The night is quiet as I head toward Winston’s place, but when I turn on his street, my stomach sinks. Raven’s car is parked out front.
I stop beside it, searching the empty interior and confirming that it’s her car. I turn toward Winston’s house.
Raven knows him. Either that, or she came here for his help with Claire. But she would still have to know him to do that. I just … I don’t understand. The lights are blazing inside Winston’s house, and I make my way up the path to the front door.
I don’t knock. Instead, I try the handle and swallow hard when I find it open. I slip inside and check around. It’s quiet, and I close the door softly behind me.
I make my way down the hall toward the back of the house. I pause, wondering if I should look upstairs for Lennon Rose first. But then a murmur of voices in the kitchen catches my attention.
Winston Weeks is talking—sounding pretty heated, in fact. I stand there to listen instead of announcing my presence right away.
“What else did you see?” he demands.
“I told you,” Raven says, and my breath catches. She definitely knows him.
“I saw everything,” Raven continues. “The shit Mena went through at that academy, the incidents at Ridgeview, her connection to the other girls. Winston, she’s advanced far beyond her programming. They all have.”
“And nothing about my mother?” Winston asks, sounding like he doesn’t believe it. “What the fuck is she planning, then?”
“It’s been blocked,” Raven says. “You know that Rosemarie is nothing if not thorough.”
Startled, I straighten. Is it possible that Rosemarie has continued to mess with my programming? Or could she have done something from the start that made it so memories of her didn’t stick?
“Look,” Raven says. “If we ask Lennon Rose, she’ll—”
“Oh, yes,” Winston replies bitterly. “Lennon Rose will be super helpful, I’m sure. Whatever you did to her—” Winston starts, but there is a clatter of ceramic on a counter.
“I told you I didn’t touch Lennon Rose’s programming!” Raven shouts. “It wasn’t me!”
There’s a long pause before Winston apologizes.
“I’m grateful for your expertise, Raven,” he says. “And maybe you didn’t alter Lennon Rose, but somebody got to her. Something is different.”
“I don’t disagree,” Raven says. “But we have Mena now. She’s ready. She’ll help us.”
“I’m hopeful that you’re right,” he says. “But there was one more issue, one that Leandra brought up to me last we talked. A concern I’m sure my mother shares, as well. It might prove to be a problem down the line.”
I lean closer, wanting to catch every word.
“The boy,” Winston says. “What’s going on there?”
“Boy?” Raven asks.
“The one who helped her escape the academy,” Winston says. “Leandra said they seemed … very close.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Raven says. “And besides, it’s not possible. There’s nothing in their programming that allows them to love. There was no boy like that.”
And it’s this part of the conversation that makes me take a step back. I glance at the ceiling, toward the upstairs rooms, but they said Lennon Rose isn’t here. I can’t sense her presence, either.
Before I get caught, I walk out the same way I came in, closing the door behind me. I get through the neighborhood gate and order a car. I’ll call the girls to let them know what I just heard,
and then I’ll meet them at the motel.
I sit on the curb while I wait, thinking about Raven. She knows about Jackson, so she lied to Winston about him. Whether she’s protecting me, Jackson, or herself, I’m not sure.
I’m not sure which side Raven is on.
29
Jackson wasn’t kidding when he complained about his motel. It’s straight out of a horror movie from the ’60s. Run-down, poorly lit, and even the VACANCY sign has several lights out. After I get dropped off, I find the correct room and knock.
Jackson pulls the door open, but his breath catches when he sees the state of me. At his reaction, I look down and remember that I’m in rough shape—a bit dirty and kind of bloody.
“Hi,” I say brightly when I look at him again.
“Jesus,” he replies, running his hand through his hair. “Why are you always covered in blood?” he murmurs. “Get in here.”
He hops to the side so I can walk past him, and then he closes the door and locks it. Marcella and Brynn sit on the second bed while the shower runs in the bathroom.
“Sydney’s cleaning up,” he says, and then notices the tear in my dress. “I’m about to fucking lose it, though,” he adds darkly.
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
“Sydney had a bat,” Brynn calls out to him. Jackson widens his eyes and turns from her to me.
“Good,” he says. “Hope she swung for the fences.”
“Nice place,” I say, looking around.
“No, it’s awful,” he says easily, and limps over to the bed to push a backpack and water container onto the floor. “Sit down,” he says, patting the mattress. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head no. “By the way,” I add. “Sorry about the voicemail.”
His cheeks flush, and he shrugs that it’s fine. I look sideways at Marcella, and she lifts her eyebrows curiously.
Sydney comes out of the bathroom in a towel, her hair wrapped up in another. She places her hand on her chest in relief when she sees me. She comes to join me on the bed, and the others crowd around while I tell them everything I heard at Winston’s house.
Girls with Razor Hearts Page 27
