What's a Girl Gotta Do? (3 page)

four

The FemSoc meeting was almost over when I slipped back inside. I'd spent a while sitting on one of the toilets, my face in my hands, trying to digest what had just happened.

Evie was just wrapping things up while Amber scribbled down people's ideas on the whiteboard.

“Thanks for all your great ideas,” Evie said. “It sounds like we've narrowed down what we want to do. We can go through a shortlist at next week's meeting and vote then. I'm really excited, guys.”

Everyone descended into talking and laughing and there was a fizzing in the air of good ideas.

I stood, still helpless. Amber noticed from across the room and mouthed, “Are you okay?” and I nodded…then shook my head. Amber held up her hand to say
give me a minute
and I gave her a small smile. Part of me felt broken. I'd had hairline fractures inside me all day, and this meeting, and Megan, had suddenly ripped them into chasms.

Normally I would've been the one talking the loudest, getting the most excited, getting everyone else fired up by my enthusiasm. But today, all I could do was picture Megan's shaking hands. The way her voice had stumbled on the name “Max”. All I could see was those two guys and the way they'd looked at me, and how I hadn't done anything about it. All I could think was, even if I had stood up to them, it wouldn't have made a difference anyway.

Nothing makes a difference anyway.

Not to people like them…

So what was the point?

Evie flopped over her desk as people started filing out and I gave her a huge hug.

“You were amazing,” I managed to say.

“Really? My hands are still shaking.”

“Honestly. Totally brilliant. You're a good public speaker, you could definitely be a politician or something.”

She broke the hug and smiled up at me, looking worried. She could obviously see something in my face.

“I thought you were the one who wants to be prime minister?”

I did this raw odd laugh I didn't recognize.

“Lottie, are you…?”

Amber bowled over before she could finish, wringing her hands. “Lotts, what's wrong? Why did Megan leave? I was about to follow her, but I saw you go.”

I let out a huge deep sigh – not sure what to say.

“She was crying in the loos,” I started. “I think that advert was a bit close to home. She mentioned Max. You know? Her ex-boyfriend, in Ethan's band? She…” I inhaled sharply, Megan's words cutting through my insides like shards of ice. “She didn't say exactly, but she implied…she…”

“Go on,” Amber prompted, her eyes all wide.

“Well, she implied that maybe Max had done something to her…sexually… Well, I
think
that's what she was implying. She didn't spell it out. But she was shaking… I think that advert definitely triggered something…”

Evie welled up. “Damnit! I'm so stupid! I didn't think to warn anyone beforehand what the advert was about… I'm so dumb!” She thumped the table and we all listened to the noise echo around the silent room.

I was trying to think of everything I knew about Megan and Max. They'd seemed happy…although I did find it weird that she followed him everywhere and didn't talk much. They held hands wherever they went. She wore his hoody all the time. And Max…he seemed nice… He played guitar with this guy we knew called Ethan. He smiled at everyone. He once got up at our college Battle of the Bands and dedicated a song to her. Everyone was shocked when he broke up with her over the summer… I mean…
he
broke up with
her…
But now Megan was implying he'd done something awful to her… Well not exactly implying… She just couldn't stay in the room when Evie played that advert. I was guessing. But I also had a horrible suspicion I couldn't ignore – from the way she ran out of that meeting, from the way she said his name – that he'd done…something to her.

Amber broke the silence and gave Evie a squeeze. “We're all new to this, Evie. I didn't think of warning anyone either. And we don't know for certain anything did happen with Max and Megan.”

“It did,” I insisted, even though I was practically just saying it to myself. “It must've done. The way she shook, girls… And she said ‘no one will believe me anyway'. Surely that must mean something?”

Amber blinked a few times, shook her head, like she was trying to dislodge what I was saying. “Well, we don't know for certain, but, yeah, we've learned we need to warn people next time if we're going to mention abuse in our meetings.”

My mind flashed back to that morning – to those men. The way they'd so obviously felt entitled to me. That my body was theirs to comment on.

And even though it seemed petty compared to everything else, I thought of Mike, and how he'd stolen my point. How he maybe hadn't even realized it was mine. How it got more acknowledgement regardless. Was that petty? Or did things like that lead to bad stuff happening too? Was it all linked? Did all the horrid little moments where girls got treated like crap somehow create a society where the horrid big moments could happen – like whatever had made Megan's voice shake in the college toilets?

I closed my eyes and pushed my thumbs into them, liking how the pressure felt.

“Lottie?”

God – if what I'd guessed was true, I couldn't even imagine how Megan felt. For her not to say anything. To just let everyone carry on thinking Max is some nice guy in a band. My head started banging, like a tiny monkey was inside my brain, smashing the sides in with a hammer.

“LOTTIE?”

I looked up.

“Shit! Lottie, what's wrong. Are you crying?”

Was I? I stared down at my hands – they were wet. I touched my face. It was drenched with tears. I heaved a sob. One I didn't even know I'd been holding in.

“Lottie? What is it?” Amber asked. Both of them kicked into supportive-friend mode, their arms around me, cooing and asking and caring. The kindness in Evie's eyes. The strength of Amber's grip on my shoulder. It was the release I needed.

I cried.

There was snot. There was more snot.

“I just…I should have said something… I should have stood up to those builders…” I stuttered as my shoulders rose and fell. “And…I wasn't even wearing a short…skirt… and Megan…and Megan…and that fucking advert…that FUCKING ADVERT.”

Evie had printed off the accompanying poster of the advert. I swiped it off the table, trying to rip it in two. But Evie, being Evie, had bloody laminated the thing. So all I did was bend it slightly and hurt my hand.

“You see!” I yelled out. “That just represents EVERYTHING that I'm crying about… I try to rip that FUCKING ADVERT and I'M the one who gets hurt… It's so pointless. Fighting… Trying… It's all so FUCKING POINTLESS unless…unless…you fight all of it. And who has the strength to do that?”

“Woah, Lottie. It's okay. What builders? It's going to be okay,” Amber said. I looked up just as she said it though, and she was making frantic eye-movements at Evie. I wasn't usually the emotional one of the group. I think they were shell-shocked.

“Amber's right,” Evie soothed. “Just let it out.”

They let me cry it out. Because they knew that's what I needed. Because they're awesome like that.

My sisters who aren't my sisters.

My blood who aren't my blood.

My choice, my friends.

They waited until I was done. Until there was copious amounts of snot trailing down my lacy jumper so it looked like the scene of a slug orgy.

Eventually Evie said the words I needed to hear.

“We need cheesy snacks. Come back to mine?”

THE PLAN

five

After devouring three bags of Wotsits, I was feeling slightly better.

Amber stared at me in disgust. “You've got an entire beard made out of cheesy neon goo,” she said. “If you hadn't been crying uncontrollably for the past hour, I would take many a photo.”

I put my hand to my face and it came back covered in orange stickiness. I licked my finger.

“That's disgusting,” Evie announced. “You're triggering me by being so gross.”

I smiled, then saw her face. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Seriously.”

We both laughed, but I still grabbed a tissue from the box on Evie's bedside and dabbed off my cheese beard. I took extra care to put it in the bin.

“Would you judge me for ever if I eat a fourth bag?”

“Yes,” they replied in unison.

“But I'm upset!”

Amber crossed her arms. “You still haven't told us why.”

I shrugged, not knowing where to start. I didn't want to relive it. I looked around Evie's room helplessly. It was less sanitized-tidy than it used to be – but still waaaaay neater than mine and Amber's. Evie had explained that you can just be a tidy person without it having anything to do with OCD but we chose to ignore that. Her giant film collection dominated one wall – the shelves of DVDs towering up to the ceiling. Evie was the only person I knew who still bought DVDs. I stared at them vacantly, though I'd already borrowed the ones I wanted to watch.

“How about,” Evie started, “you tell us why you've become sadness personified and afterwards I'll reward you with more cheesy snackage?”

I gave a small smile. “It will have to be one hell of a cheesy snack.”

She levelled me with her deep blue eyes. “I have Boursin in the fridge.”

I chucked one of her pillows in the air. “WELL WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO?”

Evie went downstairs and returned with a stinky circle of cheese covered in foil and some posh crackers. My tummy lurched. All the Wotsits in my stomach recoiled at the sight of the Boursin – feeling all ashamed of themselves for not being proper cheese. Not proper stinky garlicky Boursin – with all its garlic and herbs and garlicky herbs of yummness.

Evie wafted it under my nose, like I was a mouse in a cartoon.

“Okay I'll talk.”

Amber gave me a look of utter disgust.

“What?” I protested.

“Never. Ever. Become a spy,” she said.

We all laughed.

I told them about the men. I told them about running away instead of fighting back. I told them about the fight with my parents – how annoyed I was at Dad's pressure over Cambridge. His hypocrisy about wanting me to be a strong, educated and powerful woman…but also not wanting me to run FemSoc. I told them about Mike stealing my philosophy point and everyone reacting more when he said it. They already knew about Megan…

“Essentially” – I sprayed more crumbs as I helped myself to my third lump of Boursin – “I hate myself. And I hate the world. I'm just struggling to work out which one I hate the most.”

It sounded dramatic, but it was how I felt.

Amber was eating her (respectable) first bag of Wotsits. “Why do you hate yourself?”

I closed my eyes and pictured that morning again – the laughter, how it felt like victory laughter.

“Those men…” I said, my garlic-filled stomach twisting. “I should have said something…”

“Like what?” Amber asked.

“I dunno…anything…I just let them do that to me… I didn't fight back.”

Evie laid a hand on my shoulder. “Lottie, it sounded more extreme than them just honking a horn as they drove past. I would've felt scared too.”

I nodded. “They seemed…worse than most. I didn't know what they were capable of. I just froze.”

“Which is a totally natural response.”

“Yes,” Amber butted in. “You were just protecting yourself.”

“But what they did was wrong.” I was sure of that much. “I should have stood up to them. Now they'll just think it's okay to do what they did. They'll do it to other girls.”

“That's not your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

“How?”

“I dunno. But it does…”

Evie gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Lottie,” she said gently. “You don't have to fight back all the time…”

Don't I?

“Sometimes you need to just let things go. To know when it's not worth the trouble. To protect yourself.”

But who will protect people weaker than me?

I shrugged again. Knowing I didn't quite know what I felt yet, that I was only on the cusp of it.

“What are we going to do about Megan?” I asked.

Amber's face scrunched up. “How was she?”

“She was…okay. Well, that's what she kept saying. It was clear she didn't want to talk about it. I thought maybe we could try and include her in more stuff? Get to know her better.”

Evie nodded. “That's a good idea. To invite her to more things… She doesn't seem to have anyone she really hangs around with since Max. I still can't believe it though. I mean, Max seems so nice!”

“That means nothing though,” Amber said. “You never know what goes on in people's relationships behind closed doors. Besides, we can't jump to conclusions about what happened between them. We have to let Megan tell us in her own time, if at all.”

“I know something terrible happened.” I shook my head. “It was all over her body language, the way she held herself.”

We sat there quietly, all of us depressed in our own ways. My brain was on a loop – playing the day over.

Amber stood up.

“Amber, you are standing up,” I said.

“That I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to dance to Joan Jett.”

“Why?”

“Because we need cheering up.”

And, before I had time to compute, she'd put “Bad Reputation” on her phone and started dancing like a maniac.

Amber doesn't dance often. She is just under six foot, and all big of hair, so she's usually too self-conscious. But when she does, it is a sight of a sight to be seen. She flailed her limbs in the air, she attempted to shimmy, she pogoed up and down.

“Are you guys going to join in?” she puffed. “Or just watch me here making a huge tit out of myself?”

Evie and I gave each other a look, then got up and joined her. Evie – all short and curvy – wiggled her shoulders and twisted herself in circles. I waved my hands over my head, grabbing Amber's hands so we could twirl. They laughed and I smiled, and the beat of Joan Jett flowed through me and helped a little. But not as much as I needed it to.

“See!” Amber yelled over the music. “There are some days you can fight, and there are other days when all you can do is pretend none of it is happening and dance and laugh and dance.”

I twirled her under my arm again, still smiling, but my unusual bad mood wasn't shifting.

All I could think was,
But, while we're dancing, what unspeakably bad things are happening outside of this bubble?