Chapter 10

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Underclassmen scurry to their after school activities, but Sparrow marches across campus, forming her plan. 

NYC is so close to Boston. So close to Imran.

 The thought of seeing him makes her light headed. 

Dad has no clue Imran exists, because if he knew that Sparrow had hacked through the Paternal Controls on her computer and phone, and met a guy, first her father would forbid a meeting, then he’d eliminate her access to the outside world. 

And Damon, her bodyguard, would be his enforcer.

Sparrow clutches the phone tucked in her pocket. Even if Imran did come to New York, all they could hope for is a glimpse of each other on a sidewalk, and she can’t imagine he’d travel all that way for nothing.

The probability of success is infinitesimally small.

The Masterson Daycare Lab is straight ahead, and Sparrow shuts down the tears that threaten to fill her eyes. 

I should forget about Imran. A penniless college student and the debutante daughter of a profit-maximizing lawyer? Those trajectories will never cross.

The small parking lot overflows with armored SUVs, and bodyguards drink coffee beside the vehicles. One tosses his cigarette butt into a planter of the floribunda roses that Masterson is famous for. 

A last SUV drives up to the daycare lab, and the air fills with the wails of an angry toddler as a mom climbs out of the back. It’s Tory who was a senior when Sparrow was a freshman.

Sparrow shudders. This could be her future, rushing to drop off the kid so she can join the daily party in the mothers’ lounge. Three hours of “freedom” with other alums while Masterson sophomores and juniors practice their childcare skills.

She takes a focusing breath and wrenches open the daycare lab door. Exodus is the only solution. Asylum in Canada would guarantee her escape from Dad’s plan to sell her into domestic slavery. 

I should contact Father Gabriel and set up an extract. New York is only four hundred miles from the border. 

 She knows what she should do, but it’s a hundred and eighty degrees away from what she want to do. 

Sparrow tosses her late slip at Mr. Bellows who’s manning the reception desk. He purses his lips when he sees Hope’s signature, but passes on lecturing her. The Administration has drilled into the Faculty and Staff of Masterson that girls who are engaged in pre-Signing activities are excused without question

Down the hall, the toddler room is crawling with babies. Sparrow ties a paper surgical gown over her school uniform and pulls on latex gloves. The week before, a mom gushed about Sparrow’s devotion to fighting germs.

Never even crossed her mind that I’m protecting myself from her toddling petri dish. 

The hall echoes with frustrated screams, and in walks Tory who used to be known for her flawless skin, but is now known for the bottle of Ketel One vodka in her diaper bag. 

Zara’s wiping the sink, so Sparrow turns to rip the sheets off the closest crib, because comforting a crying baby will cut into the limited time she has. But Tory hones in on Sparrow. “Here. Take her,” Tory says, peeling her daughter off her body.

It’s against lab rules to put a crying baby down, and each room is fully monitored, so Sparrow settles the toddler on her hip, but the baby flails and cries as Tory steps back.

“Mommy needs to go to friend time now,” Tory says.

The baby lands a kick in Sparrow’s stomach, and Sparrow doubles over.“You can’t leave her here if she’s sick,” Zara tells Tory. 

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