Valentine thanks us for letting her join us and begins to eat. She offers no other comment, but obviously something is different. Why did she come to sit with us in the first place? I lean into the table toward Valentine.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
Valentine pauses, staring at the piece of lettuce balanced on her fork, and then lifts her head.
“I feel well,” she responds automatically. “Anton was able to help me work through my problems. We completed impulse control therapy, and he offered me coping mechanisms. I’m one hundred percent now.” She smiles. “I’ve made him very proud.”
Sydney shifts uncomfortably and turns to me. But I continue to watch Valentine as she raises her fork and eats the bite of salad nonchalantly. The girls and I are quiet until Annalise sighs impatiently.
“What happened to you on the bus?” Annalise asks Valentine. “You directly defied the Guardian. What were you thinking?”
Valentine finishes her mouthful of food, and then dots the corners of her mouth with a napkin before looking up at us.
“I was defiant,” she responds simply. “I regret the choice I made. But Anton was able to help me work through my problems. We completed impulse control therapy, and he offered me coping mechanisms,” she repeats as if it’s the first time she said it. “I’m one hundred percent now.” She smiles. “I’ve made him very proud.”
Annalise’s complexion pales, and she shifts her eyes to mine. None of us follow up on the question, taken aback by Valentine’s practiced response. After impulse control therapy, girls typically sit alone and stay quiet—at least for a while. I’ve never noticed this sort of behavior change before. This seems deeper, more controlled.
Then again, we’ve never asked a girlwhyshe ended up in impulse control therapy. We accept the consequence as deserved and move on. Perhaps our question was too personal. We should have deferred to the school’s policy of giving a girl space after therapy, even if Valentine is the one who sat with us.
To fill the silence, Brynn starts talking about dresses again, and the other girls seem relieved for the usual conversation. But I’m still thinking about Valentine’s behavior modification, watching as she eats quietly. Peacefully.
I glance over to the professors’ table, and find Guardian Bose with them, watching us.
There’s something disconcerting about his attention, as if he’s been watching the entire time but I’ve only just noticed. So that he doesn’t think I’m ungrateful, I dip my chin in thanks for his care, and he returns the gesture with exaggerated slowness. I finish eating in silence.
•••
We’re dismissed from lunch a short time later. Annalise and Lennon Rose are on cleanup duty while the rest of us head back to our rooms to prepare for tonight’s open house.
I walk with Sydney, but on the way, I glance back at Valentine. Her expression is empty, vacant. But when she catches me looking, she smiles. I turn around quickly and take Sydney’s arm.
“... and I promised Lennon Rose I’d do her makeup tonight,” Sydney says, midconversation. “The blue shadow I have matches her dress perfectly.”
“I’ll come by before we line up to witness your expertise,” I say.
Sydney grins, telling me she’ll see me later, and then goes into her room. When her door closes, I turn toward mine. I jump when I find myself alone in the hall with Valentine.
She’s standing there expectantly, waiting for me. She tilts her head to the side.
“I had a delightful memory recently,” she says in a faraway voice. “Do you remember the time Annalise asked us to paint her hair yellow? She said she was supposed to be blond, not a redhead. She was distraught. So you stole paints from art class and painted it yellow for her. She looked beautiful. Anton was furious with you.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “That... That never happened.”
Valentine smiles. “It was nice, then,” she adds, ignoring my comment. “I miss it.”
I’ve never stolen paints and I’ve certainly never painted Annalise’s hair. Valentine must still be adjusting after impulse control therapy, confusing her thoughts. Maybe the other girls and I should let Anton know.
“Well, see you at the open house,” Valentine says pleasantly. She turns on her heel and heads to her room, quietly closing the door with a click.
I stand there an extra moment, perplexed. A little frightened. But the emotion fades and I decide I’ll ask Sydney her thoughts when I go to her room later.
To: Stuart, Anton
RE: Philomena Rhodes
From: Allister, Tobias
Today at 1:05 PM
