“Uh …” He seems to think it over. “I’m sure I can round up a few. I’m sorry that I can’t name any off the top of my head. At first, books were heavily censored, especially on this topic. But restrictions have eased up since then, I believe.”
I furrow my brow. He believes? Are books still being censored? I thought that was something that only happened at Innovations Academy.
“Philomena,” he says, sounding a bit confused. “Didn’t your parents talk to you about this?” he asks. “Your mother?”
“Only vaguely,” I lie, waving my hand. I back up. “Thank you, Mr. Marsh.”
“I’ll check out some books for you, okay?” he adds.
I thank him again and head out of the classroom. Mr. Marsh’s opinion on the matter seems obvious. He thinks the government was completely out of line; he sympathized with the women.
So why doesn’t he stop Garrett’s harmful behavior? Is it enough that Mr. Marsh sympathizes with us? Does that even matter if he doesn’tdoanything about it?
I hurry to my next class so I won’t be late, anxious for lunch so I can tell Sydney all that I’ve learned.
“Do you think we can actually find who wroteThe Sharpest Thorns?” Sydney asks at the lunch table, unwrapping her sandwich.
“Possibly,” I say. “Is it worth trying to find her, though? I mean … there’s no way she—and it definitely has to be a woman—wrote those poems with the intention of overwriting our programming. How could she could have known? But …” I pause, thinking it over. “Maybe she’s written other poetry. Maybe, weirdly, we have some connection to her words. It’s an interesting idea.”
“It’s definitely interesting,” Sydney says. “And that stuff about the government taking away women’s rights … Did Jackson ever mention that to you when he was visiting the school?”
“He talked about locking down the internet,” I say. “But—”
“Hey there, new girl,” a male voice says. My stomach sinks when Garrett drops onto the bench next to me, jostling metoward Sydney as he grins. I didn’t invite him to sit with us. I turn to Sydney and she sets down her sandwich, annoyed.
“We’re in the middle of—”
“I wasn’t fucking talking to you,” he snaps at her. Sydney flinches and looks at me with a fiery expression.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” I tell Garrett. It strikes me that Garrett doesn’t smile or charm Sydney. Where he tries to embarrass and ridicule me, dominate me, he takes a different approach with her. He won’t allow her to talk at all.
“You need to leave,” I say to him. “Right now.”
Garrett laughs dismissively. “You don’t own this cafeteria, Phil-o-mena.”
I hate the way he says my name, and I suspect he knows that. It’s why he keeps doing it. To prove that he can.
“Now,” he says, leaning his elbow casually on the table. “Why don’t you bring your cute little behind over to my table. My friends want to meet you.”
The invite revolts me. Despite how awful he is, he still thinks I’ll be flattered, happy for his attention. I glance over to his table and see several boys watching us with breathless anticipation. I resent them for egging him on.
“Sorry,” I tell Garrett. “I’m not interested. I’m perfectly happy at this table.”
I turn back to Sydney, hoping to ignore Garrett until he leaves. But my rejection is gasoline to his burning insecurity. He reaches out and knocks over my chocolate milk, spilling it into my lap.
I yelp and jump up, brushing the liquid off my skirt and legs. I look at him and he offers a lazy smile.
“Think before you speak next time,” he offers, standing up. “I was being cool.” He drags his gaze over me, but I refuse to let his predatory gaze intimidate me. “Keep it up and I might revoke your invite,” he adds.
He grabs the apple from my lunch and takes a loud bite, a spray of juice squirting out. He walks away as streams of milk continue to run off the table onto my seat.
I turn to find Sydney staring at the milk. She’s angry, a bit defeated. When she lifts her gaze to mine, she begins shaking her head.
“Are they all terrible, Mena? Every last one of them?”
I’m not sure how to answer. I used to think there’d be others like Jackson, but I’m proven wrong every day. Given enough time, he might have disappointed me too.
“You okay?”
