Her cheeks begin to glow red, but she lets me continue.
“You think you’re better,” I say. “You think you’re superior. Youthink that if you do as men ask, you’ll suddenly be more valuable than other women. You think if you put down Sydney, you’ll stop her from being successful, and that just shows how mediocre you are. You’re nothing, Mrs. Reacher. You’re filler.”
“Get out of my office,” she says in controlled anger.
“They’ll turn on you, too,” I tell her. “Your men. Your people. They’ll toss you away when they find someone new for their purposes. In case you didn’t notice, society doesn’t value the elderly, and certainly not elderly women. No matter what you do for them now, they will not return the favor.”
She flinches and I wonder if she’s already experienced it. Maybe by hurting us, she thinks she can prevent her eventual shunning. What she doesn’t understand is that if she welcomed us, if we all worked together, we couldchangesociety.
Regardless, I don’t forgive her ignorance. Not when it affects me and my friends. Not when it ruins other people’s lives.
“Betraying other girls will get you nowhere,” I say, starting for the door. “You’ll realize that eventually.”
I walk out, and as I pass through the office lobby, the secretary watches me wide-eyed. She must have overheard everything. There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips before she turns back to her monitor. But I’m not moved by it. If she agrees with me, she should have said something.
Sydney is in the hallway, pacing back and forth with her phone to her ear. When she sees me, she quickly wipes tears off her cheek.
“That’s the latest update,” she says into the phone. “LetMarcella know that I’ll call when we’re on our way. Love you too.” Sydney hangs up and puts the phone in her pocket. She looks at me, eyes still damp but her expression determined. “We’re not coming back here,” she says.
“Definitely not,” I agree.
“And whatever we do about these boys,” she continues, “we’ll find a way to get Mrs. Reacher fired. We’ll stop her from hurting any other girls.”
“I’m sorry, Sydney,” I say. Although I wasn’t treated as poorly, our connection means I can feel her pain too. “She’s wrong about you. About us. About everything.”
“It happened at the academy, you know,” Sydney says quietly. “Although none of the professors came out and directly said it, there were clues to their beliefs. Offhanded comments about my appearance, thoughts, mannerisms. Things that only applied to me. I just didn’t have enough experience to pick up on it. None of us did.”
She straightens her back.
“But that kind of hate doesn’t live in a vacuum,” she says. “Even isolated at the academy, the prejudice was there because the people who created us brought it there. It wasinthem. And now”—she motions to the hallway—“it’s all around me. I don’t want to live this way, Mena,” she says. “I don’t want to be treated this way.”
“What can I do?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” she says. “Because it’s not my problem. It’s Mrs. Reacher’s problem. It’s the students’ problem. And in the end …I guess Mrs. Reacher wasn’t wrong. Iwillbe a troublemaker. And that’s what scares her. Because I’m going to change things so that women like her will never have power over us again.”
Every day, our mission becomes more vital. And it’s more than the corporation. There’s so much that has to be changed.
“Then we should get started,” I say, nodding toward the exit.
Sydney agrees, and we start for the doors. Just before we get there, I hear my name called from the other end of the hallway. I quickly spin around, surprised when I find Lyle.
“Wait up,” he calls, jogging toward us. When he reaches me, his chapped lips press together in sympathy. “You okay?” he asks.
“Suspended,” I say. I don’t tell him that we won’t be coming back. “And I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
He turns to Sydney, and she gives him the same answer.
“This is such bullshit,” he says, sounding frustrated. “Although I’m not surprised. There’s a reason no one has kicked the shit out of Garrett before. He gets away with everything.” He smiles. “I’m glad you hit him. He deserved it.”
“Yeah.” I adjust the backpack straps on my shoulder. Lyle stands there awkwardly, as if waiting to ask us something.
“So, um … I was thinking about my mother,” he says, kicking the floor with the toe of his sneaker. “And I know you were interested in her protests. And I realized … I might have a book or two at home. I’m going to have a small party tonight, and I thought, if you’re not busy, you and Sydney might want to come by. We can look for those books.”
“Really?” I ask. I check quickly with Sydney, and she nods to tell me it’s a good idea.
“Wait,” I say, furrowing my brow. “Who else will be there? I’m not exactly on good terms with Garrett.”
“Oh, God,” Lyle says. “He’s not coming. He’s not invited. No, it’ll be me, Jonah, and a few guys from the team. Jonah’s dad is out of town while their house is being renovated, so he asked if he could stay over. Said he’s sick of tasting plaster in his Corn Flakes.” He smiles.
