“Damn, Addie,” Garrett calls for the benefit of the room. “You’re so good at this!”

His friends laugh as Adrian continues to cry, struggling against Garrett’s strength.

And the tears glistening on Adrian’s face remind me of the tears on mine. On Rebecca’s. On all of ours. Our tears for male consumption, male pleasure.

“Hey!” I shout, my voice raw with anger, grave and untamed. Garrett is licking his teeth when he casually glances over at me and then laughs before turning back to Adrian.

Something inside me snaps. Something angry and ugly and free.

I grab a plastic lunch tray off another table as I approach, and in a smooth movement, I swing it and hit the back of Garrett’s head, shattering the tray as a loud crack echoes across the room. There is a collective gasp.

Garrett yelps out his surprise as the pieces of plastic fall over him. The tray wasn’t substantial enough to do real damage, but the surprise was enough for Adrian to free herself and flee the scene. She doesn’t even take her backpack.

Garrett turns around to stare at me, wide-eyed. And then the room erupts in laughter, even a few cheers.

“You fucking bitch!” Garrett says, standing up and pulling himself to his full height. Before he can lunge at me, a gray-haired security guard appears between me and Garrett. The guard puts his arms out to the sides to hold Garrett back.

But when I start to explain the situation, the security guard steps forward and grabs me roughly by the upper arm, making my breath catch. He wags his finger in Sydney’s direction as if warning her not to approach.

“Hey, man. Relax!” a guy calls from a nearby table. “Don’t grab a girl like that.”

I turn, surprised to find one of the rugby players getting up from his seat. He has dark skin and shaved black hair, and I quickly place him as the player who had DOZER written across his jersey. He looks annoyed, and behind him, his friends are shaking their heads, glaring at the guard.

“Stay out of this, Demarcus,” the security guard tells the guy, and then nods to the entire table. “All of you mind your own business.”

“We were trying to until you started grabbing people,” Demarcus mutters before turning back to his friends.

And maybe that’s the problem—Demarcus should have said something to Garrett when he was attacking Adrian. She was being grabbed too. Did he react differently because Garrett is one of his peers?

I open my palms to the security guard to demonstrate that I’m not going to be violent … again. The man lets me go, and I quickly move to Sydney’s side.

“I notice you didn’t jump up when he was sexually assaulting a girl,” Sydney tells the guard. The older man tightens his jaw.

“The only assault I saw was you and your friend,” he responds.

“Sydney didn’t even do anything!” I point out.

“Both of you, to the office, now,” the guard says.

Garrett is pacing behind the man, too angry to take any pleasure in our unfair punishment. He looks over at me like he’s going to kill me. He feels entitled to my attention. To Adrian’s body. To the school’s justice. He thinks it’s all his. But he’s wrong.

“Fine,” I tell the guard. “We’ll go right now.”

I motion for Sydney to come with me, and the guard watches us walk away. He doesn’t order Garrett to do the same.

As we leave, Sydney is justifiably furious. The second we leave the cafeteria, I turn to her and see that she’s shaking.

“He blamed us,” she says, half under her breath. “That guard blamed us when we were the only ones stepping up to protect Adrian. It’s like no one cares what’s happening right in front of them!”

“This won’t stand,” I say, putting my hand on her arm. She relaxes slightly. “We’ll tell the vice principal what happened. Garrett was hurting Adrian. He was sexually bullying her. Now is our chance to turn those whispers into actions,” I say. “We saw it. We witnessed it, as did an entire cafeteria. They can’t willfully ignore it anymore.”

“That’s a good point,” Sydney says, reluctantly accepting the idea. We walk a little farther before she snorts a laugh. I turn to her, already smiling.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” she says, trying to hide her grin. “It’s just … You busted a lunch tray over that boy’s head. It was unintentionally hilarious and cathartic.”

I’m not proud of attacking someone. But, at the same time, I find myself giggling at the outrageousness of my weapon.

“It was so much louder than I thought it would be.”

“You humiliated him,” Sydney says. “And even if the tray didn’t leave a mark, the sting of embarrassment won’t fade any time soon. Personally, I hope he has ‘Ridgeview Prep Cafeteria’ imprinted into his head for the rest of the day.”

As we approach the office, my smile fades. I think about her comment about his humiliation, and I wonder: Is there anything as dangerous as an embarrassed man?

Disciplinary Referral

Ridgeview Prep

Student: Philomena Calla

Referring Staff: Officer Mitch

Reason(s) for disciplinary action:

Bullying/Harassment

Destruction of School Property

Fighting

Action:

Detained

Referred to Office

Notes:

Philomena attacked another student without provocation. Philomena displayed violent behavior during the incident and she was insubordinate when I tried to detain her. Attack was premeditated, resulting in injuries, harassment, and destruction of property. Further action required.

21

Sydney and I sit in the uncomfortable chairs by the windows in the front office. The vice principal has been made aware of our presence, we’re told, and now we wait for her punishment. When the secretary goes to the back of the office, Sydney turns to me.

“How are girls supposed to stay safe here?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “At least at Innovations, it was kind of us against them, you know? All of us were on the same side. Here … the other girls are either too scared to say anything, or they’re part of the problem.”

“These girls are being terrorized, but no one speaks up. Or, if they do, it’s a whisper to another girl. Never an outright accusation. It’s so … secretive,” she says. “And if that’s how they have to protect themselves—whispers—then the adults in the room are handling things very poorly.”

I agree, and Sydney shakes her head, looking toward the vice principal’s office.

“But I guess I’m not that surprised,” she says. “That information, knowing who to avoid, it could really help us, but it wouldn’t help the boys. And it’s their futures everyone seems concerned about.” Sydney taps her lower lip with her finger, a sign that she’s thinking deeply about something.

“So how do we get the other girls to tell us who to watch out for?” I ask. “How do we get into their network?’

“I don’t know, but it’s not fair,” she says. “Not just the abuse, but the way the girls are getting the word out.” She looks at me. “So … what?” she starts. “If we’re not friends with the right people, we don’t get a warning? We’re on our own? The answer isn’t to get into their network. It’s to make the network public. Call out their behavior—why keep it a secret?”