Fear Her (Complete)

Episode 8

Just as she was reaching for the metal push pad, somebody stepped in her path . “You don’t wanna do that.”

It was some dude she hadn’t met yet. Average height, giving him a couple of inches on her, heavy-set which gave him at least a hundred pounds over her. Medium brown skin but ethnically ambiguous, smart shiny eyes, big fists. She could take him in a fight if she didn’t care about getting to class on time. He didn’t seem the type to make it easy on her.

“You need to move,” she told him.

“Can’t do that.”

“You moved in my way. Clack your Birkenstocks to the left and let me pass. I gotta pee and this is the girl’s bathroom.” Dude didn’t really seem like the type to perv or the type to frequent girl’s room himself, but she wasn’t judging. She didn’t know his life. She didn’t even know his name.

“You can’t go in right now.”

“I’m not asking. Move or I’ll make you move.”

“You really think you can.” He was laughing without laughing. His incredulity bordered on admiration. She almost didn’t want to punch him in the face. He had a nice smile. He was still keeping her from going where she wanted to go; that made him an obstacle for her to overcome. Once she would have set roadblocks to her goals on fire. She was better now.

Therapy had done wonders for her disposition.

“I think if I yank your nuts down to your knees, you’re going to wish you’d moved when you can’t reproduce in twenty years, but hey, they’re your balls, man.” She shrugged, popped her Wrigley Doublemint gum like she wasn’t about to be late to somewhere she was looking forward to going. 1

“Whatever, girl. You ain’t even worth it.”

He flipped her off and trundled away. She watched him go until he found some classroom to disappear into because minions studied around here. She kept an ear out for somebody begging. It was begging, she could tell by the pitch.

She shouldered through the heavy door. One row of sinks attached to the wall followed by a row of six stalls. The begging was more like crying; the acoustics made it louder. Whoever she was had a soft voice, nasally like she’d got caught in the rain one time too many when it was cold. Or caught a snout full of blow. 1

“Please don’t. I have to go to class, okay. Please. I’m gonna be late.” She hiccupped and begged some more.

Virgo leant down at the end of the aisle to see a pair of pale legs kneeling bracketed by three pairs of legs in skinny jeans, a long skirt, and burnt orange tights. She could guess which pair of legs was doing the talking while the others were conspicuously silent but for the snickering.

She could guess what was going on here. Three on one in an isolated bathroom stall were shit odds when correctional officers were keeping guard. Without the pretense of security, bullies could be ruthless. An audience made bullies more ruthless, but also more cautious. Nobody wanted eyewitnesses to a negligent homicide.

Virgo knocked hard on the farthest stall from the one the crying girl and her tormentors occupied. “I didn’t know there was a party in here. You should have put up a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign.” She made herself comfy on the rim of a rickety, spotty sink.

The stall, fourth one down, next to the large, accessible one, flicked open enough to let out Skinny Jeans. She was doing the wash and go thing with her hair but shorter. Tight white shirt, leather jacket, combat boots. Bit cliché, bit effective. Virgo wanted to know where she shopped.

“You got a problem,” asked Skinny Jeans.

“A few, but I’m mostly wondering what a girl’s gotta do to take a dump in peace around here. You’re making a lot of noise and I get performance anxiety.”

“Go somewhere else.”

“No.”

Skinny Jeans got in her face. Right in her face. Sour cream and onion Lays breath mingling with Virgo’s spearmint gum pleasantry in her face. “Go away.”

Virgo stood up straight, letting her ‘assets’ do the pushing for her to nudge Skinny Jeans back in her lane. “Fix your face when you talk to me, Coco Rocha. Look at me, being nice, and you are just so damn rude. Are your friends rude like you?” Virgo walked right around her as soon as she had the space to do so and moseyed on down the aisle, letting Skinny Jeans stomp after her like she was going to let herself be thwarted by somebody un-ironically wearing a wallet chain in 2018.

“You have my friend over there and I need her for something.”

“Don’t know any friend of yours. I don’t even know you.” Skinny Jeans tugged on Virgo’s lapel, bringing her hand perilously close to Virgo’s pendant. She was smart not to touch it; Virgo had jabbed a girl in the larynx for yanking on her necklace at juvie. She had dislocated her finger before for touching Virgo’s hair uninvited. White girls gotta keep their hands to themselves lest they start pulling back bloody stumps.

“Cool. I’m Val. I’m new. You got my friend in here?”

The busy stall door was locked and blocked. Virgo was patient but easily annoyed. They’d better say thanks.

“What’s she look like?”

Virgo rolled her eyes and stared at her close clipped nails. “You should know. Whatever, I’ll get her.”

She knocked.

The door swung open. Two girls in high ponytails loomed over a bare-legged girl in pastel. It just so happened that was Girl herself, gasping, face drenched with toilet water. Virgo wanted to murder someone—figuratively of course.

She faked a grin. “Oh, look, my friend.”

Girl was soaking wet from the chest up. Her eyeliner was smudged down her cheeks. It was light blue. The sparkly shit that made girls look like clowns or sirens depending on how it was worn. Girl mostly looked miserable.

“Nobody told me you guys did charity work. Hair washing for the less fortunate. That’s so sweet.”

“What the fuck?” said Orange Tights. Virgo pretended she hadn’t spoken. Long Skirt nervously popped her mouthful of cherry gum. She was holding craft scissors and a hank of crudely wet hair. 1

“Hey, Girl. Come’ere so I can dry you off.”

Girl looked up at the girls holding onto her, then back at Virgo, and shook her head.

“Come on.”

“Can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t.”

“I don’t like ‘can’t.’ So negative. I prefer ‘can.’ Yes. You. Can.” Virgo stared Girl down till her wobbling mouth firmed and she pulled her bruised legs under her and shook free of her captors. Virgo hauled Girl up off the unnervingly sticky floor by her Old Navy vest. Girl stumbled, a soft hiccup her only contribution as Virgo maintained a running commentary on how the girls, all of them silent, were so nice for trying to be kind to her friend and why hadn’t Girl let her know she needed a haircut, didn’t she know Virgo had her back? Girl gathered her scattered belonging, growing more hunched the longer they lingered in the room. Virgo kept herself between Girl and as many of the other three as she could manage at once. Today wasn’t going to be the end of this. This felt like a regular occurrence. When Girl preceded Virgo out the door, Virgo exhaled in relief. That could have gotten ugly. 1

Well, uglier.