Onstage is the vending machine. One by one, spread out over the course of the play, students approach the vending machine and interact with it, silently inserting coins and collecting whatever falls out. No characters appear onstage; all speak into microphones backstage.
URSULA, aside
Today was one of the worst in recent memory. It’s a good thing I know my rights as a patient, because like any good feminist, I refused to be weighed. Your healthcare provider works for you, you know.
I realize I sound like one of those too-cool teenage girls who skips school to dangle her legs in the river, or whatever. But believe me—my story is not that one. Right now I’m at Planned Parenthood. In the examining room. A nurse’s finger is in my vagina. Well, not yet. We’re still in that preinsertion stage, when you sit on the examining table in two ill-fitting paper gowns and talk about girl stuff.
Person dressed in black walks onstage and sets up an examining table, which remains empty, and gynecological stirrups. She places a speculum at the foot of the table gingerly.
NURSE
So, Ursula, why are you here?
URSULA
It wasn’t my choice.
NURSE
Oh! Your—is that your mother out there?
URSULA
No. My aunt.
NURSE
Okay . . . Let’s see. When was your last period?
URSULA
Um . . .
NURSE
Just so we can know how far along you are.
URSULA
I’m not pregnant.
NURSE
Ursula, your—your cousin, I think she said she was? She told me what happened.
URSULA, shaking voice
What?
NURSE
She told me about your situation. When you were getting undressed.
URSULA
What situation?
NURSE
Nothing you say leaves this room, Ursula.
URSULA
What exactly did she say?
NURSE
She said that there was—a school retreat? With an all-boys school? That there was an incident there, and that you might be pregnant.
URSULA
To nurse: [Laughing] She told you that?
Aside: I was fucking with her.
NURSE
I’m not saying she got everything right.
URSULA
I’m literally a virgin. I don’t know exactly what you heard, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets drunk on smuggled vodka and lets some random Lutton Academy boy have sex with her on the top bunk of a bunk bed in a cabin in Massachusetts.
Aside: Things pretty much went downhill after that.
And yeah. I was pregnant.
CUE LESLEY GORE’S “IT’S MY PARTY”
Readers, lest you think I’m dropping some sort of heavy-handed hint here, let me assure you that I was not pregnant. My play was a distorted mirror held up to my experience, in which I could recognize threads of myself—the desire to be admitted to a secret club, the confusion about sex—but which ultimately turned away at the critical moment from mimicking my life exactly.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Cc: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
From: Susan María Velez <[email protected]>
Subject: Application for Independent Study
February 9, 4:25 p.m.
Dear Flora,
I’m happy to let you know that you’ve been accepted to complete an independent study in playwriting under my guidance. Are you available to meet Wednesdays at eight p.m. (Dean, this includes you)?
I took a look at your proposal, and I’m excited about the project. I’m intrigued by the idea of an offstage play, and the use of the vending machine looks promising. I’d like to meet as soon as possible to discuss the timeline.
SMV
Lael Goldwasser
Harvard College
2609 Harvard Yard Mail Center
Cambridge, MA 02138
February 14
Dear Lael,
Happy Validation Day! That’s what we’re supposed to call Valentine’s Day here, so as to not prioritize romantic relationships over nonromantic ones. I’m doing a bit better than I was when we talked on the phone. You’re right that he isn’t worth my time. A new project I’m working on (sorry to keep it so vague) is really getting me going too. I had this realization that there’s a lot I can’t control—Elijah’s behavior, for instance—but also some stuff that I can control. Like, I can still do things even though he doesn’t love me. For some reason, that’s a refreshing realization. I ordered a vending machine for the project, and of course I had no idea how to get into it!
But this new girl, Sinclaire, and I finally cracked it open the other day. We both cut ourselves a few times, but we were okay. Sinclaire is fascinated by blood, especially when it freezes while running down her wrists and congeals in a neat way.
“How horrible,” Sinclaire kept whispering in her little Irish accent, but in a delighted way, looking down at her hands with fascination. She doesn’t speak above a whisper, and she’s whippet-thin, with long black hair and skin that’s almost translucent, but she’s as strong as an ox. She doesn’t say a whole lot, but I feel calm around her. She Skypes her boyfriend at three in the morning, which breaks pretty much every rule: streaming, quiet hours, and romantic relationships.
The vending machine kept getting soot and grease all over our hands, but we buckled down and got it open. Girl power, and all that. She handed me stuff one by one, and I stocked it. It took me forever to decide on the configuration. I wish I could say more, but I’m keeping it hush-hush for now.
Love,
Flora
QUARE TIMES
The Quare Academy Student News Collaboration February 15
CELIBACY PLEDGE CONTINUES TO GAIN SIGNATORIES
By Darcy Lu
A celibacy pledge that began last month continues to grow. At last count, the pledge, which hangs on the validation board in the teep, has twenty-six signatures out of thirty-four total students. Of the faculty, two have signed.
Michael Lansbury explained his decision to add his name to the list.
“Sometimes, something just wakes you up and helps you see the light,” he said, but he declined to say what, exactly, that thing was. “I think it’s good for us to take a step back and reevaluate the choices we’re all making about sex.”
Sam Chabot, whose statement at the top of the pledge reads, “We, the undersigned, pledge to remain celibate and tackle tough conversations about sex rather than tackle each other,” started the pledge.
“I see it more as a stance of solidarity than anything political,” he said.
Celibacy for nonreligious reasons is almost unheard of.
“It’s almost similar to the ‘no shell speak’ rule,” said Shy Lenore, one of the pledge’s first signatories. “Sex is a very physical experience, and sometimes it can be helpful to take a break from all that in an intentional way once in a while.”
GOLDWASSER VENDING MACHINE PERFORMANCE ART PIECE
By Heidi Norman-Lester
After a vending machine was delivered to campus earlier this month, it sat idle outside a first-year A-frame for three days before its new owner, Flora Goldwasser, cracked it open with the help of Sinclaire O’Leary.
An interactive piece, “Vending Machine, or Everything Must Go” asks that viewers approach the machine, which is plugged into Flora’s cabin, insert a coin, and select any item—the hats, jewelry, scarves, bottles of perfume, tiny handbags, and the occasional pair of shoes of Goldwasser’s—she wishes.
The piece, whose written component—a play to be performed at the end of the semester—is in the works, has already garnered media attention: the Main Stream Press, as well as the Huffington Post, recently interviewed Goldwasser. At all times of the day, members of our own community can be seen gathered around the machine, chatting with Goldwasser or inserting coins into the machine. Goldwasser has already restocked it three times.
“I don’t really know what it’s about,” Goldwasser admitted. “I’m exploring the ideas of exploitation and sex, but perhaps in a way that isn’t as clear-cut.”
Particularly interesting to Goldwasser, who has spoken vaguely to media outlets of “sex and transaction,” is the interactive piece of the project.
“Everyone on campus is taking from me, even though I’m offering these things up,” Goldwasser said. “What the hell does that mean?”
SPOKEN WORD WORKSHOP DELIGHTS SOME PARTICIPANTS, ANGERS OTHERS
By Jean Noel
This Wednesday, a group of traveling spoken word artists, Dâ Vinci and Michael Angelo, visited campus for a series of workshops with the spoken word elective class. Vinci and Angelo are professionally known as the Renaissance Men; their poetry concerns itself with themes of rebirth and impressionist paintings.
“The exercises they had us do were really cool, especially the one where they made us pretend to be whale penises,” said Lia Furlough, a second-year. “I usually have such bad stage fright, but by the end of it, I felt really comfortable performing in front of everyone.”
Other members of the community, however, felt that a few of the pieces that Dâ Vinci and Angelo performed contained misogynistic undertones.
“The birth scene, for instance, denigrates people who give birth, primarily women, and particularly those women who give birth in rural areas,” said Juna Díaz, one of the students who walked out of the workshop prematurely. “This isn’t to say the workshop was useless, but it struck me as slightly disrespectful.”
SOCIETY BY SAM
By Sam Chabot
SC regrette beaucoup sa décision, et il espère que FG puisse le pardonner.
To: Benna Williams <[email protected]>, Lucy Williams <[email protected]>, Fern Hastings <[email protected]>, Althea Long <[email protected]>, Darcy Lu <[email protected]>, Heidi Norman-Lester <[email protected]>
From: Juna Díaz <[email protected]>
Subject: supporting Flora
February 19, 9:02 p.m.
Hi, girls,
As founding members of and key players in the Feminist Underground, it’s important that we continually recommit ourselves to supporting Flora. I know that the new moon women’s circle didn’t go exactly as planned, so let’s shift gears and go all out in our support of this artistic expression. If you haven’t already, please come interact with the vending machine outside of our cabin—and spread the word! I must warn you—and you’ve probably observed this yourself—that Flora’s been a bit testy lately. I urge you to bite your tongues and just sort of sit with the discomfort.
Yours,
Juna
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sam Chabot <[email protected]>
Subject: hello
February 19, 10:07 p.m.
Are you ever going to talk to me again? Or at least let ME talk to YOU so I can explain?
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sam Chabot <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: hello
February 19, 10:19 p.m.
Hello? We’re in the same room. I see you sitting on that window seat, drinking tea (illegally in the stone library, I might add).
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sam Chabot <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: hello
February 19, 10:22 p.m.
Okay, I see that you’re going to keep ignoring me. Marigold and I are going to make Mexican hot chocolate in the dining hall now, if you want some. We’ll put the leftovers by the electric mixer when we leave.
To: Sam Chabot <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: hello
February 19, 10:22 p.m.
Please stop emailing me. Thanks!
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: ughhh
February 20, 1:39 a.m.
Hey! Are you awake? There are a few things I need to stock in the machine right now.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 1:42 a.m.
sorry
skyping henry
but wait
his mother just came in and reprimanded him
(she is bulgarian
and looks like a gravy-faced ax murderer)
i’ll meet you outside in five minutes
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:02 a.m.
Thank you! And I’m so sorry about Juna—she always looks that scary when she’s woken up. It’s not your fault.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:05 a.m.
it was horrifying
her face reminded me of the time she found an inexplicable piece of beef in the orange bean soup
“if this soup isn’t vegetarian, someone’s going to get it in the neck”
at least marigold is a heavy sleeper
even though she does have rowdy sexual intercourse in the cabin
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:07 a.m.
Oh my God. With Sam?
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:08 a.m.
no
gary
well, possibly sam
i try to shield my eyes though
but things are weird with you and sam
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:09 a.m.
Yes. Very weird. It’s complicated. We were best friends (or something like that) first semester, but then he wrote the thing in the Quare Times, and now I can’t really look at him anymore. He tried to tell me that he’d only written it to get back at Elijah for being an asshole to me, or whatever, but that’s a bit flimsy of an excuse for my liking. And if he thinks a few French sentences in the Times are enough to make me forgive him, he has another think coming!!!
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:11 a.m.
i smoked with sam and a bunch of others last weekend
he rolled a “j” (code-speak for “joint,” code-speak for marijuana thing)
i took just one inhale because peer pressure
peter fell asleep by the fire with his peen out
and it almost got burnt to a weenie crisp
but anyway. sam seems lost
the object of the feminist wrath
but he looks like buddy holly <3
i’ve done paintings of buddy holly <3
in one i used egg tempura that i made myself and he has a golden halo
my mum tried to hang it above her bed but my dad said no
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:15 a.m.
I definitely see the Buddy Holly thing. The glasses, too!
Do you have a sustainability project partner yet?
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:16 a.m.
no partner
i am the new girl
and i don’t leave my cabin
but i want to build a garden
an english cottage garden
with roses
want to join me
f.g.
roses
just think of it
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:19 a.m.
I’m in.
Also—holy shit—I was looking for some paper and found a note that must have fallen out of Juna’s diary or something. (She also leaves letters between her and Thee in plain sight on her dresser, and let me tell you, they’re not much better.)
“I’m scared shitless, because I can tell this isn’t just puppy love. I saw right down to the place she keeps her fear and fury and I want to stay there forever.”
I am laughing.
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:24 a.m.
Sorry, that last email was really mean. I’m not sure what’s gotten into me! Not a bitch, I promise.
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:25 a.m.
I really hope I didn’t offend you. . . . It’s truly all out of love! I’m totally supportive of Juna’s relationship with her girlfriend.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:30 a.m.
calm down, f.g.
i was just sewing a stuffed goat by candlelight and some yarn caught on fire
but crisis avoided
marigold slumbers on
the letter is hilarious
juna is so earnest and passive-aggressive at the same time
she once backhandedly accused fern of speaking in monologues
“have you ever thought about going out for hamlet?”
this must be about the theodora person
“thee”
they are in love
or whatever
“i want to stay there forever”
juna is sort of amazing
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:33 a.m.
But I am bad for snooping. Also, she really does mean well. Every time someone comes close to me these days, I want to shove them away with all of my strength.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: ughhh
February 20, 2:34 a.m.
don’t feel bad
that’s what roommates do
i’ve found ungodly things in marigold’s drawers
also she changes her menstrual cup in the cabin
and dumps the contents unceremoniously out the window
so i feel entitled to the odd snoop
i should sleep
good night, f.g.
Lael Goldwasser
Harvard College
2609 Harvard Yard Mail Center
Cambridge, MA 02138
February 21
Lael,
It’s late at night, and I can’t stop thinking about Elijah. I know I should stop thinking about him, because he’s never going to write to me again or call me, or anything, but I just can’t. I’ve thrown myself into my work, as I’ve said, but it still creeps up on me when I least expect it. I know I should be pissed at him. And I am. But I have to unlearn loving him first.
You know when you’re reading a book and two characters fall in love, and the author tries really hard to make you understand and feel the love between them? I feel like that trying to get you to understand how I felt when I used to think about him. From the moment I first met him, I felt like if he would only love me, if he would only choose to love what I could offer him, “I could die and that would be all right” (to quote Third Eye Blind). But then he DID accept my offer, and I’ve never felt so hollow and creeped out in my life. I wanted him to absorb me, or maybe I wanted to absorb him, I’m not really sure which.
In the words of the Shangri-Las, “What’s a girl supposed to do?”
Flora
To: Elijah Huck [email protected]
From: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
Subject: hey
February 24, 10:14 a.m.
you need to take responsibility for your actions. flora is. she’s doing a performance art piece that everyone’s talking about. i’m proud of her.
To: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
From: Elijah Huck <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: you
February 24, 12:01 p.m.
I feel bad if Flora is upset, but what happened—in my eyes, anyway—is pretty much none of anyone’s business but ours. So if you could get off your high horse and let me know what the hell is going on at Quare, or why that idiot wrote the thing in the newsletter, that would be much appreciated. Thanks.
From Vending Machine, A Lesson About Selling Ourselves
March 5 8:53 PM ET
HUGO LAUER
► LISTEN TO THE STORY
All Things Considered
+ Playlist
HUGO LAUER, HOST: Before I boarded my train from Grand Central Station to a two-track station in small-town Main Stream, New York, I was hungry. Instead of dishing out five dollars for a bag of pretzels, I headed to a vending machine to get my fix, my one and only vice: a Twix bar. Here at the Quare Academy, though, an arts-and-justice boarding school of thirty-four students, vending machines just got a whole lot more complicated.
ALLISON LONGFIELD: So how can we end cycles of oppression? Well, it’s similar to what we’re doing here at Quare: interrupting racism, ageism, sexual discrimination, ableism. . . .
LAUER: That’s Allison Longfield, who teaches Peace on Earth, an introduction to peace studies, at the school. I sat in on her class this morning and learned all about structural violence. The students at Quare are engaged and serious, and despite the ease of cracking jokes about the abundant kale in the dining hall, it’s clear that they’re doing important work. But back to the matter at hand: a curious vending machine on campus that everyone’s talking about.
FLORA GOLDWASSER: As you can see, all you have to do is insert a coin and make your choice. . . .
LAUER: And that’s Flora Goldwasser, a first-year—the equivalent of the eleventh grade—at Quare. We’re standing outside her A-frame cabin, which overlooks the enormous Quare Pond, still thick with ice in most parts. Flora’s the creator of Vending Machine, or Everything Must Go, a performance art piece that debuted at the school last month. In the machine are trinkets, cosmetics, and clothing directly from Goldwasser’s own cabin.
GOLDWASSER: There are my cat-eye sunglasses, my French glass water jug, a pair of suede Carel flats. . . .
LAUER: Whenever a row is emptied of possessions, Goldwasser and a friend crack the machine open. She shows me how it’s done.
(SOUND BITE OF BANGING AND POUNDING)
GOLDWASSER: So we’ve gotten really good at using these tools— Oh, wait, Sinclaire, could you grab this for a second?
(SOUND BITE OF JANGLING)
GOLDWASSER: And now I’m putting some jewelry in this row, because it ran out really fast.
LAUER: What makes this story more interesting still is that Quare was most recently profiled in the New York Times due to its curious “no shell speak” policy. Students sign a pledge not to talk about physical appearance—and that includes objects like the ones in Goldwasser’s machine. And that, for Goldwasser, is where part of the activism lies.
GOLDWASSER: I was surprised when I found out that we couldn’t talk about how we look on the outside, because I’m from Manhattan, and making comments about other people’s clothes and bodies has always been normal for me. Plus, I’ve always loved shopping and going to thrift stores to find treasures like this.
LAUER: Goldwasser’s holding up a pair of old-fashioned binoculars.
GOLDWASSER: But the Oracle—have you met the Oracle of Quare yet?—teaches us every week, in spirituality seminar, this thing about baseless love, this love that doesn’t have to be earned. Baseless love is what “no shell speak” is trying to accomplish. But after last semester, I’ve started to wonder if baseless love exists—or if even when we think we’re experiencing it, what’s really going on is a transaction.
LAUER: That’s a lot to consider.
GOLDWASSER: I’m incorporating all these ideas into an actual play, and that’ll hopefully have more of a narrative.
LAUER: In all the interviews she’s done, which at last count is seven, with every paper from Quare’s student news cooperative to New York magazine’s “The Cut,” Goldwasser’s been tight-lipped about the exact genesis of the project, saying only that it has to do with themes of sex—and all relationships—as transactions.
Many have compared Goldwasser’s project to Emma Sulkowicz’s Carry that Weight, a performance art piece by a Columbia student who vowed to lug her mattress around campus until her rapist was expelled from the university. Goldwasser, however, unlike Sulkowicz and other activists who have achieved notoriety on college campuses, isn’t talking about sexual assault at all. I asked Flora: What do you make of comparisons between you and Emma Sulkowicz?
GOLDWASSER: While I’m flattered, I have to point out that the comparison is not exactly merited. The key difference between Emma and me is that she’s a survivor of sexual assault, and I’m not. I think that it’s important for the conversation around my project to stay focused on the idea of transaction rather than assault. It’s an enormous problem in our society when survivors can’t be heard, so the last thing I’d ever want to do is distract from that narrative. What I’m trying to do with my project is to add nuance to the dichotomy of transgression and consent. Because what happens if you consent, but sex still feels like an economic exchange where you’re selling parts of yourself in order to get somebody else’s love or approval?
I’ve been thinking a lot about this quotation that’s been wrongly attributed, actually, to Sylvia Plath. We talked about it in my Feminist Forms elective. It goes, “Girls are not machines that you put kindness coins into until sex falls out.” I think whoever said it is speaking to a really important point: that sometimes what looks like free will, or even liberation, is still just a transaction.
We have to believe all the stories women tell about their bodies and experiences. Of course, saying that runs into issues of privilege, too—because I’m white and wealthy and able-bodied and all that, more people are bound to listen to and believe anything I say.
I also want to be really careful about making this a quote-unquote “women’s issue.” People of all genders, including men, struggle with narrativizing their experiences and feeling around sex.
LAUER: Goldwasser’s given us a lot to consider, which is good given the name of this program, but now there’s a student approaching the vending machine. I’d tell you that he was wearing a beanie, ripped jeans, and an oversized hooded sweatshirt with an enormous star design on it, but that, of course, would be “shell speak.”
GOLDWASSER: Hey, Agnes. How’s it going?
AGNES SURL (Student): Pretty good. Can I . . . ?
(SOUND BITE OF COIN BEING DROPPED INTO MACHINE)
LAUER, to SURL: What’d you choose?
SURL: I nabbed the sunglasses. Some guys would say they’re effeminate, but I think I can rock them.
LAUER: That’s Agnes Surl, by the way. His mom—one of them, anyway—is Tedra Louis, the famous gender theorist who coined the term “gender warfare.” But I digress.
Miriam Row, the head of school, has been quoted at length about “no shell speak,” the campus mandate. I caught up with her outside of the dining hall, where students, faculty, and residents—including playwright in resident Susan María Velez, who’s advising Goldwasser’s independent study—eat all their meals.
MIRIAM ROW: You know, I obviously support any and all means of artistic activism. I’m proud of Flora for taking a risk. She’s one of our most fascinating students.
LAUER: Where do you see the “no shell speak” rule fitting into all this?
ROW: Well, every student comes to Quare with a different level of awareness of the concept of “shell speak,” and a different level of participation in what I like to call “stuff-ness”: a general preoccupation with material things rather than ideas. I see this project as a negotiation between perhaps the two identities Flora occupies—pre-Quare and post-Quare. I see her desire to get rid of all this stuff as an impulse to embrace what’s inside as opposed to what’s outside.
LAUER: But when I found Goldwasser by the pond, still tinkering with her machine, she wasn’t sold on the idea of the binary that Row presented.
GOLDWASSER: I think that a lot of times we paint this contrast between what’s shallow and what’s deep—or what’s accessory and what’s core. But it’s not that simple. Am I a holier person because I’ve chosen to get rid of everything? What about the fact that people are taking these things—purchasing them from me? I’ve been talking to my roommate about this a lot, actually, and we still have no idea.
LAUER: Goldwasser says that her favorite time to work is in the middle of the night.
GOLDWASSER: I think the most clearly between two and three in the morning. I used to be such a morning person—up by eight—but now I’m all about the middle of the night. The darker the better. I’m still deciding whether that says anything about my attitude toward aesthetics, or whatever.
LAUER: Hugo Lauer, All Things Considered.
END MUSIC.
A few days after my interview with Hugo Lauer aired, I checked my pigeonhole to find a stack of fan mail. I was surprised, to say the least, but not altogether fazed by the response. I felt, with Vending Machine, the type of focus I’d never felt before and have rarely felt since.
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 7
Dear Flora,
I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Wendy Watson, and I’m in ninth grade at Bowen. I always thought you were cool when you went here, but now I think you’re even cooler! It’s so awesome that you’re doing the vending machine project. I just think it’s the coolest thing ever.
Would you be interested in coming to speak to Bowen Feminists for Girl Power! at some point (I’m the secretary of the club this year)? We’d love to hear you impart some feminist wisdom.
Thank you,
Wendy
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 7
Dear Flora,
My name is Joelle Jackson, and I heard your piece on NPR. I was so impressed by the vending machine! I’ve definitely gone through the experience of feeling like my body was a vending machine—the kindness thing you were saying with Sylvia Plath (even though she was misquoted) is exactly it. I am working on my own project where I’m from (Birmingham, Alabama), and I was wondering if you would want to come see it when it’s done. If you write back to me, I will give you all the details.
Best wishes,
Joelle
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 8
Dear Flora,
I wanted to tell you a funny story about something my friends and I did after hearing about your vending machine. I am in the tenth grade at a public school in Des Moines, Iowa, and my friends and I are tired of being taken advantage of by boys. We are also against the fact that vending machines in our school are constantly stocked with foods that are bad for us. So we broke into the school late at night and replaced all the junk food with our belongings. We got in huge trouble, but we made a statement.
Please write back! Or at least send your autograph.
Love,
Judy Lincoln, Sandra Nimes, and Clara O’Keefe
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 9
Flora,
Way to go. Sticking it to the man! I had a feeling this was what you might be doing. Have you heard from Elijah yet? I’m sure he’s heard your interview on NPR. I feel like he’s the kind of person who listens to All Things Considered religiously.
Obviously, I’m hardly wise in the ways of love (need I remind you that my lips have yet to meet those of another?), but my instinct says you’ll get over him. Maybe not right this second, but very soon. You didn’t know him, Flora, and he didn’t know you.
It’s exactly what you said it was: a transaction. The only thing to do now is blaze on ahead.
Love,
Lael
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 9
Flora,
Holy shit!!!!! We heard the thing on NPR. Are you SERIOUS? You need to call me RIGHT NOW—I mean, whenever you get this letter. India is here, and we’re freaking out. Use the headmistress’s phone or something if you don’t have service! She’ll definitely let you now that you’re a CELEBRITY!!!!!
Also, a quick piece of news: Do you remember Jasper, that Dalton boy who India was really into last year? Well, right after you left, we went away for MLK Day weekend to the Hamptons, and at the last minute he and his friends decided to come over, and she totally hooked up with him in the indoor pool. Not hooked UP, hooked up, but made out with him . . . hardcore. Then Zachary Brunelli started throwing pool toys at them, and they snuck into the pool house, where I’m assuming they finished the deed (though India says that a lady never kisses and tells— but I’m calling bullshit, am I right?).
Anyway, things at Bowen are sucky as usual. PSAT bullshit. College bullshit. APUSH bullshit. Calc bullshit.
But I want to hear about you. Call us!!
Love & other indoor sports (remember when you signed off like that?),
Cora
Flora Goldwasser
Pigeonhole 44
The Quare Academy
2 Quare Road
Main Stream, NY 12497
March 9
Dear Flora,
My name is Wink DelDuca, and I’m the editor in chief of Nymphette, a feminist teen magazine for girls, boys, and everyone in between (we like to think of ourselves as the teen answer to Ms.). We, the editorial staff, were moved by the piece about you on NPR, as well as the myriad other articles and interviews we’ve gotten our hands on. We’d love to interview you at some point in the future. We’ll be in touch!
;)
Wink
Amsterdam Dental Group
1243 Amsterdam Avenue
New York, NY 10027
March 9
Flora,
Your father listened with great interest to the segment on National Public Radio on which you were featured. He expressed dismay that he had not heard about any of this until now. He hopes you will call him as soon as you get the chance. He just got off the phone with Miriam Row, who seems to have succeeded in assuring him that you are not, and have never been, in any immediate danger.
Kindly,
Linda Lee Lopez, Receptionist
To: All-staff <[email protected]>
From: Wink DelDuca <[email protected]>
Subject: vending machine girl
March 9, 3:07 p.m.
Hey, gurls,
I’m sure you’re aware that the feminist message boards have been all a-twitter (and by a-twitter, I mean they’ve lit the fuck up) about feminist performance art’s newest darling: Flora Goldwasser. Haven’t heard of her? She’s the totally radical chick who’s pulling an Emma Sulkowicz (well, sort of) at her boarding school upstate.
Check out the piece here to see what the buzz is all about: http://www.npr.org/from-vending-machine-a-lesson-in-the-idea-of-transaction.
Nymphettes, unite! We need to be at the forefront of this. This is exactly where we should pounce—she’s really adding nuance to the idea of consent.
Grace, I’ll put you on possibly contacting her for a Latest Obsession? And hey—while you’re at it, see if she wants to write for us. I wrote to her after the NPR piece aired, and, believe it or not, snail mail seems like the best way to go (the school is way up in the boondocks).
In other news, the Miss T tees have really taken off. Sales have skyrocketed. Soon we’ll be able to hire a full investigative team to find her! (Kidding . . . mostly.)
;)
Wink
Editor in Chief, Nymphette magazine
Nymphette is an online feminist arts & culture magazine for teenagers. Each month, we choose a theme, and then you send us your writing, photography, and artwork.
God damn it. Sam run-in.
I was walking back to the hovels after dinner. It was dark—a black soup night, as Sinclaire calls them. Sam caught up with me and cornered me on the footbridge. It was so dark that I didn’t realize he was there until he was standing right in front of me. His eyes were all glowy and scary behind his Buddy Holly glasses.
He was all, “Flora, a word?”
And I just said, “WHAT?” Because honestly, I was getting sick of this whole thing—his moping around, begging me to forgive him.
He was clearly scared of me in that moment, because he jumped back.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I just wanted to ask how you were doing.”
He touched my shoulder. I almost screamed.
“Sam, I’m sorry, but I’m still upset,” I said, trying to stay calm. I shouldn’t have apologized, I know, but it just slipped out.
He repeated the same thing he always says about how he’d been meaning to hurt Elijah, and he’d never hurt anyone (meaning me) this badly, and he feels horrible, but he just wants to know what happened because we were such good friends and . . .
“You seem to already know every detail,” I snapped, “so why are you even asking me?”
His face looked all stricken.
“I don’t know what it’s going to take for you to forgive me,” he said. “I have no idea why I did that. Seriously, it defies explanation. I can’t even come up with a good excuse.”
He reached out for me—to hug me or smother me, I don’t know—but I turned and ran to my cabin, slipping and sliding across the footbridge and cutting my heels on the spiky brush.
I have half a mind to send that email linking to the embarrassing video, the one that’s sitting in my drafts folder. But I don’t know. I’d feel so dirty, I guess, doing that.
To: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: omg sam
March 10, 2:21 a.m.
Sam confrontation. It was bad. I ended up running back to the hovel and cutting my feet. So that’s why you saw me dressing my wounds on the porch.
Just thought I’d let you know. If you wanted to come work on the machine, that’s where I’ll be.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Sinclaire O’Leary <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: omg sam
March 10, 2:34 a.m.
horrible
he is being a huge gonard
be there in three
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
Subject: play
March 10, 9:14 p.m.
Email me the latest draft of your play by tonight so I can prepare for our meeting with Susan.
Also, I’m sorry I haven’t been as present for you as I could have been. I know Elijah (obviously), but I’m here, you know, if you ever want to talk about any of this.
To: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: play
March 10, 9:20 p.m.
Elijah was not very nice to me.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: play
March 10, 9:22 p.m.
I know. So what happened?
To: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
From: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: play
March 10, 9:27 p.m.
When he came to campus in December, we had sex. In the guest cabin. And then in the morning he seemed all distraught, and left and avoided me and kind of ended things between us (I guess it’s not like they’d ever really begun), and I felt like he’d just . . . used me, or something, and I let myself be used because it didn’t occur to me to do anything else. And then Sam did that boneheaded thing, which was seriously fucked up because it violated Elijah’s privacy and mine. And I feel weird because he’s kind of famous, or whatever, and I feel like part of the reason people are supporting me (at Quare, at least) is that they’re so caught up in the whole scandal and not because of me, per se.
To: Flora Goldwasser <[email protected]>
From: Dean Elliot <[email protected]>
Subject: Re: play
March 10, 9:37 p.m.
Okay. Got it.
Elijah is really weird about all this emotional stuff. I obviously don’t know the details of what happened between you two last year, but I’m sure it was fucked up. It’s not your fault that he jumped ship so suddenly. It was shitty of him to turn away from you like that. You deserve someone who sticks around. He can be such a freaking Sadboy.
But people are supporting YOU, and it’s not because Elijah is known. They’re supporting you because YOU’RE reclaiming your body, YOU’RE doing an amazing art installation, and YOU’RE growing and changing a fucking ton. Maybe you haven’t figured everything out quite yet, and maybe you’ll have to swing all the way to one end before you swing back to the middle, but YOU’RE getting there.
You’re golden, Goldwasser.
Cora Shimizu-Stein
95 Wall Street, Apt. 33A
New York, NY 10005
March 11
Dear Cora,
Things here are crazy—I guess junior year is wild everywhere. Papers, tests, you name it. Thanks for being so sweet and concerned, but you really have nothing to worry about. (And I’m hardly a celebrity!) I think I’m really coming into my own here (ew, cheesy, I know). And you should see my cabin: there are practically no decorations. I’m like a nun now. Just call me Sister Goldwasser.
OMG, I just can’t re: India and Jasper. And Zachary Brunelli is such a dickhead.
And believe it or not, Quare now requires two history seminars in the second year, so instead of getting rid of World Issues II: Conflict and Resolution and replacing it with US Narrative History, we’re doing both. Did I mention how busy I was?
Gotta run, but please write me about the visit to your dad. . . . I want to know everything about the Channing Tatum prison guard! (Did you see his gun? Ha-ha.)
All my love,
Flora
Elijah Huck
245 West 107th Street
New York, NY 10025
March 15
Elijah,
Fuck you Why did you
To: Cora Shimizu-Stein <[email protected]>
From: India Katz-Rosen <[email protected]>
Subject: everything
March 16, 4:12 p.m.
You’re not going to believe this.
I just got back from Emma Goldwasser’s apartment to look for all the stuff Flora’s borrowed from me over the years and never returned. Flora’s room is so depressing—I feel like she took all the stuff she really likes with her to school, so all that’s left is some random art on the walls and her old textbooks and stuff. Not what her room should look like at all.
So I was rifling through the closet, looking for this one black belt I never got back, when a shoe box tumbled down and flew open. About forty letters spilled out, so I sat on her bed to put them back in.
Then something caught my eye: Elijah’s name. Elijah Huck.
It was the letter to us—only Flora never mailed it. It wasn’t even in an ENVELOPE. I’ll let you read it in person, but here’s the deal: she was low-key obsessed with him, and it kind of seems like he didn’t give THAT much of a shit about her. If anything, he was obsessed with somebody named Miss Tulip, who was, like, Flora’s alter ego or whatever. Also, he’s an emotional virgin. And he’s why she went to Quare. And he’s why she’s different now.
After I had absorbed this information, I reread all the letters Flora sent us. Plus the ones she sent Lael. It didn’t exactly take Nancy Drew (throwback to that Halloween, by the way) to figure out that the guy who Flora’s vending machine project is based on is Elijah Huck. It’s really the only possible explanation. He showed up at Quare at the end of last semester—we know that much. He must have been such a major asshole to her. He really, really hurt her. And that’s all we need to know, honestly.
I say we find the bastard and take him out.