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.”
Confused, I hang up and redial, double-checking each digit. I get the same message. I hang up the phone, feeling disappointed. Jackson must have written it down wrong.
There’s a shock of laughter down the hall, startling me, and I look over to see Ida and Maryanne walking in my direction. Ida asks if I’m done with the phone, and I tell her that I am.
I pass her on my way back to my room, still thinking about the recorded message. And how the voice sounded oddly familiar. I go back to my room and wait for Sydney.
•••
It’s about forty minutes later when there’s a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I call.
Sydney and Annalise walk in, saying hello before they come to sit on the bed with me. Annalise is holding a hair tie, and she asks if I want her to braid my hair. I tell her I’m okay for now.
“Brynn will let me,” she says with a shrug, and I laugh because it’s true.
“Where are Marcella and Brynn?” I ask.
“I think in Marcella’s room,” Sydney says. “Why?”
“Get them,” I tell her. “I have to show you girls something. It’s important.”
Sydney says that she will, and sensing the seriousness, she rushes out. I tell Annalise that I’ll be right back, and I go to Lennon Rose’s room, checking for the Guardian before slipping inside.
For a moment, it steals my breath, the way I miss her. The way I can still sense her. It’s even stronger than yesterday—or maybe I’m just feeling more. I go over to the bed and slip my hand beneath the mattress, relieved when the book is still there. I tuck it under my shirt and quickly return to my room.
Marcella eyes me suspiciously as I reenter, closing my door and wishing I could lock it. “Another secret?” Marcella asks. But her attempt at joking falls flat. It’s been a devastating day already, and I think all of us are still raw from Leandra and Professor Penchant’s words.
