Because I Am a Girl

When I cough, a fart slips out, and I look around me then laugh because it’s funny, and I’m home alone. My favourite Youtuber promised the overnight curlers would give me a natural glam look, but I must have done something wrong because I don’t look like she did, so my hair is clawed back into a ponytail today. The sun is not awake to greet me for my early class. My keys dig into my clenched fists and my breath hits the cold air with frequent clouds because I walk quickly to my car. Staggered lampposts throw black shadows across the parking lot, around corners, behind dumpsters, under the porches. I don’t linger. I don’t slow.

Brenda grips my arm when I get to campus and gives me a look. She can’t explain now because we’re in mixed company. The look can mean anything from boyfriend drama to explosive diarrhea, and I will absorb every word when she’s ready to tell me because she’s my friend and I love her. Andrew from Accounting 101 asks if we finished the assignment due today. He looks at her breasts and licks his lips and we pretend we don’t see it. When he turns his attention elsewhere we exchange a look. This look has only one meaning.

At lunch my friends and I crowd a table in the cafeteria. It smells like lavender and citrus and Japanese Cherry Blossom. Colleen is unusually quiet today, but we don’t pry. Jenna has started her diet again and we’re proud of her. Anna’s dad gave her 50 bucks and we are excited for her trip to Sephora later. We chat and then it gets quiet and in the quiet Colleen says someone tried to break into her apartment last night.

“Oh wow,” we say, eyes wide, brows raised. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

It splits the dam. Eyes dart around the room, and bodies lean closer, and we speak in whispers. This one was cornered by a stranger on campus. That one locks her door when her dad’s friends visit. Another one woke up from a nap on the train to find a man fondling himself across from her.

“Oh wow,” we say, voices low, fists clenched. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

And we are. So very sorry.

I do not laugh at home today. Tap, tap, tap. Each lock on my door gets checked and rechecked every time I walk past. I slip my hand under my pillow and the cool metal of my hammer lets me slip into restless sleep.

I’m just a girl.