“I’m done with this stack.” Licking the final envelope, I seal it shut and pass them down the table to Carrie. The whole group has taken over the warm back room at Blackwell’s, stuffing campaign packets in prep ara tion for our big showdown with the board in a couple of weeks.
“Great.” She checks off a box. “Why don’t you take a break before the next batch?”
“No, I’m good.” I shrug, taking another stack of letters and relaxing back into the battered brown leather couch. “I’m in a groove now, and, anyway, I kind of like the taste of mail glue.”
We fall back into companionable silence: Carrie, Uma, and me with the envelopes while Mary and Louise do some reading for class. We have a kind of rotating schedule now, some girls showing up just to drink coffee and talk if there’s no work to be done right away, or just hanging out to work in a crowd when the library gets too much. I love it. The room is lit by cozy lamps, and as well as friendly faces, I have a constant supply of caffeine to get me through the afternoon. It’s way better than those cold library carrels, plus I find I actually get more work done when I don’t have to go take breaks at the vending machine or blast my iPod just to wake myself up.
“Has anyone done the Okin reading?” It’s starting to get dark outside the paned windows by the time Louise takes off her glasses and rubs her eyes. She’s almost hidden from view behind a table stacked high with books. “The material on justice and the family? I need a summary, but I just don’t have the time.”
“Sorry.” Uma sticks another address label on and adds the envelope to our already-impressive pile. “Law, remember?”
“Right. And DeeDee is in a tute.” Louise sighs. Out of all of us, only a couple are taking the same classes. “What about you, Natasha–have you covered it yet?”
“Hmm?” I look up. “Okin. Who was he again?” I’m hopeless with names, and the dead theorists all blur together for me. In the end, Will had to come up with a color code for me to keep them apart: red for right wing, blue for libertarian, pink for feminist-friendly.
“She,” Louise corrects. “Susan Moller Okin. She critiqued Rawls from a feminist perspective.”
“Oh, right!” I exclaim. “We did her a couple of weeks ago. Basically, her work forced Rawls to incorporate the idea of family as, like, integral to social justice.” I quickly run down the main points.
“So Rawls responded?” Louise scribbles furiously.
“Yup. He caved–clarified that the family isn’t exempt, it’s the first school of justice, all things must be equal. Wait, there’s a good quote…” I think hard. “OK, ‘Unless there is justice in the family, women will not be able to gain equality in any other sphere.’–” Ha. Tell that to my mom: still organizing Frank’s laundry for the maid and throwing those way over-the-top dinner parties for him to woo new clients. She hasn’t earned a dime her entire life, but she works more than most people just to keep the household going and my stepdad happy.
“You’re the best,” Louise swears, shooting me a grateful smile. I glow.
“Anyone want more coffee?” I ask, getting up and stretching out my shoulders. A chorus of “No thanks” and “I’m fine” follows, so I take my time wandering the bookshelves and picking out some interesting titles before re-caffeinating and buying a couple of slices of cake with five forks.
“Lost Girls.” Carrie spots the title of Elliot’s book when I get back. “Have you read that yet?”
“No, I figured I should take a look.” E specially since my professor used to think I was one of those lost girls, wandering helplessly around and, like, blinded by my mascara.
“It’s quite good,” Mary adds, looking up from her thick chemistry textbook. “Quite an old-school perspective, but then when I see those girls in Playboy T-shirts…” She gives this kind of long, disapproving sigh. The other girls all nod along. “It all makes so much sense.”
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully, thinking of my own Playboy logo shirt. It’s a cute shade of baby blue and perfect for working out.
“You know, that some women are as much an enemy of feminism as the misogynists.” Mary looks at me quizzically. “I mean, think of raunch culture–all those stripper workouts and full bikini waxes–”
“As if women really should be emulating porn stars,” Louise mutters. I shift uncomfortably. Morgan and me did cardio striptease a couple of times at the gym. It didn’t herald the end of the world. As far as I know.
“You must have seen far more of this than us,” Carrie interrupts. “California’s the home of the bleached-blond-babe standard of beauty, isn’t it?” They all look at me expectantly, like the fact I’m a brunette totally makes up for my hometown.
“I don’t know.” I try and stay casual, suddenly aware that I’m on pretty dangerous ground. I remember Emily’s order to agree with them. “It’s not a big deal, right? I mean, if we–if those girls enjoy that kind of thing, where’s the harm?”
Carrie snorts. “They don’t enjoy it. They’ve just been brainwashed into thinking they need to be sexual objects.”
“That Girls Gone Wild thing, for instance,” Louise adds through a mouthful of cake. “Writhing around half naked on-screen for somebody else’s amusement. You can’t tell me that they’ve made a genuine, intelligent informed choice to act that way. It’s ridiculous.”
I tense up. “You don’t know that.”
“Oh, come on, Natasha!” She laughs. “Have you seen them–drunk and squealing? They’re pathetic.”
“Girls would never act that way if they could just stop and think about it.” Carrie rolls her eyes. “I’d like to think we’re all together in this, but they’re part of the problem. You know, sometimes I swear I just want to weep for my gender.”
I keep quiet and eat more cake, trying to hide my unease. They’re talking like anyone who gets drunk and has a good time is just some mindless doll, totally in the thrall of the evil misogynistic mass media, or whatever Uma keeps going on about. Well, I’m one of those girls, and I’m not brainwashed!
I scowl some more at my coffee cup. All those times I’ve gone out with Morgan and our girls–to clubs, bars, parties–they weren’t just about men. They were about dancing, having a good time.
Right?
“It’s a good book,” Carrie continues. “You should get it.”
“Maybe.” I look dubiously at the stern gray cover and its promise of “uncompromising debate.”
“Ah, hello, girls. I mean, women.” I look up to find Will hovering, flustered in the doorway. I take a quick breath of relief. Thank god, something to distract from the “Brainwashed California Blonds” lecture.
“Hey, Will.” I bob up from my seat and go over to hug him hello. “What’s up?”
“Nothing new.” He unwinds his long, stripy scarf. “How’s the campaign going?”
“Pretty good.” I nod toward the table. “We’ve stuffed a ton of envelopes, so hopefully all the board members will have had time to read our pamphlet before the presentation.”
“That’s great. Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Thanks, but I think we’re all set.” He’s so cute, offering to help.
“Well, in that case…” He produces two tickets from the pocket of his navy jacket with a flourish. “They’re showing a great film at the Playhouse in half an hour. I stopped by to see if you wanted to come.”
“That sounds cool.” I grin, leaping at the chance to escape the group before Carrie starts another rant. “Let me just get my stuff.”
I bundle up and say my good-byes, that angry feeling gone as quickly as it came. I can’t really hold it against them for thinking drunk American party girls are evil tools of oppression. I mean, it’s not like they’ve ever actually met one of them. Aside from me, of course, but that’s different. They have no idea I’m one of the girls they keep trashing, and I don’t want to think about what would happen if they did.
“So how’s the Scrabble master?” I tease as we head down the cobbled street. Lights are threaded through tree branches, twinkling in the dark. “Made anyone cry today?”
“No.” Will gives me an evil grin. “But I did beat my sister by two hundred points this morning online.”
“Dude, she’s fourteen!” I shove him playfully.
“So, this way she’ll learn about losing and good sportsmanship.”
I laugh. “I forgot to ask, what’s this movie about?”
“It’s Russian,” Will begins. My heart sinks. “An experimental film in black and white about the futility of existence and–” He suddenly cracks up and starts laughing. “You should see your face!”
“What, you mean you’re kidding? Will!” I shove him again.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it!” His dark eyes are sparkling. “Your face sort of freezes up whenever somebody mentions subtitles.”
“That’s because they’re totally boring,” I exclaim. “I go to the movies to have fun, not read a freaking novel.”
“Well, you can relax. They’re showing Rocky Horror. I thought it would be fun.”
“Oh, yay!” I clap my hands together. “Can we stop for ice cream first?”
Will stares at me in disbelief. “It’s practically freez ing out.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t understand why you eat so much ice cream. You’re always complaining about how cold it is!”
“Whatever. It’s like a basic good.” I draw on my rudimentary econ skills. “My demand isn’t affected by external factors.”
“Fine, we’ll go to G&D’s.” We detour down a narrow side street to the local ice-cream chain. Inside, I drool over the display of pie and candy.
“One cup of blue ribbon and a cup of double chocolate brownie with chocolate topping,” Will orders for the both of us.
“Thanks.” I beam, linking my arm through his as we exit the store. To tell the truth, it’s the first time since grade school I’ve been good friends with a guy, and just good friends. I mean, I have guy friends, but in the back of my mind, I always know that they want to hook up with me or that I want something to happen with them.
And even though technically that’s what’s happening with Will, it feels different. He’s happy just to hang out and let me be myself, no demands or anything. I wish it was so easy for me: sometimes I have to sit on my hands to keep from reaching over to him or pushing that hair out of his eyes, but so far I’ve stayed strong. This is too good to mess up.
Chat request from totes_tasha.
Connecting…
totes_tasha: yo, em!
EMLewis: Hey! What’s up?
totes_tasha: look at you, all americanized :-) next thing you’ll b sayin “dude” and “awesome.”
EMLewis: :blushes:
totes_tasha: no, it’s way cute. anyway, u know any 2-letter words beginning in “x”?
EMLewis: Hmmm.
EMLewis: Xi? That’s all I can think of. You know, there are sites online for this.
totes_tasha: but that would be cheating!
totes_tasha: sigh, don’t worry. i’m losing by, like, 100 points already.
EMLewis: Will again?
totes_tasha: will again.
EMLewis: …
totes_tasha: nothing new to tell. it’s driving me crazy.
totes_tasha: aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
EMLewis: Awww. Hugs!
totes_tasha: thanx :-) anyway. how’s the film going? killed ryan yet?
EMLewis: Not yet.
EMLewis: He’s actually been so much better to work with. We’ve got the last stretch of filming left, then it’s editing and then, argh, the final screening.
totes_tasha: at the end of the semester, right? save me a copy–i want to see this masterpiece.
EMLewis: Will do!
totes_tasha: so any plans for your big birthday?
EMLewis: How did you know about that?!
totes_tasha: lil thing called the global exchange info pack :-)
totes_tasha: so, any crazy parties planned? i bet morgan will fix something awesome.
EMLewis: Actually…
EMLewis: I sort of haven’t told her.
totes_tasha: ??
EMLewis: She was threatening something about State Street and tequila for Lexi’s birthday, and I don’t really want any of that.
totes_tasha: ha smart move. i don’t remember half of what happened on my 19th.
EMLewis: I’ll be keeping things low-key.
totes_tasha: just b sure 2 have fun!
EMLewis: Will do.
EMLewis: Listen, do you know if…
totes_tasha: ?
EMLewis: Never mind. I better get going. I’m due for class.
totes_tasha: xoxo
EMLewis: Bye!