by Lucy Cuthew
Pirate porn.
The Carrie one.
The vampire
with the strap-on.”
“You didn’t edit?”
Harriet says, covering her mouth.
“I couldn’t edit!
It’s on the bloody Internet.”
“Shiiit,” she mumbles,
her hands hiding her face.
“What did they say?”
“Well, they took my phone,
for a start.”
“No!” Harriet gasps.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know!” I say.
“And they have to go
for a meeting tomorrow
with Mr Adamson.”
“And my mum too.
I guess someone told Mr Adamson
about it being on my page.”
“That’s not fair though!
You didn’t do it.”
“At least now I can prove it.”
“About that,” I say.
“I have an idea.”
“Tell me!” says Harriet.
“I’m all ears.”
WEDNESDAY
GRABBING THE BULL
I wake at dawn,
dread coiled
thickly in my guts
like a wet snake.
I used to be
a good girl,
but what does that even mean?
Today
I might get expelled
for what we’ve planned,
but I’m going to
see this through;
we have a plan,
and I want to
reclaim the truth.
It’s laugh or be laughed at.
Kill or be killed.
I get up,
my legs heavy,
reluctant to carry me
even to the bathroom.
I sit on the toilet,
my stomach writhing,
trying to keep me
from going outside.
But I’m going to school
today. I just have
to stick to the plan.
I get ready like normal,
and put everything
I need inside my bag
out of my parents’ sight.
I don’t tell them
what Harriet
and the girls
and I
planned last night.
There’s no point
spinning them out,
or risking them
trying to stop me.
They don’t have the answers.
“Ready?” asks Mum.
I nod.
“Good for you, Frank,”
Dad says,
and maybe I’m imagining it
but I’m sure he’s still
being weird with me.
I just want him to not
be ashamed of me.
“Be brave,” says Mum.
“Fighting problems head-on
can make them melt away.
Grab the bull by the horns.”
I’ll try.
But there’s every chance
I’ll end up getting
trampled on today.
“I’m so proud of you,”
she adds.
I know she is now.
I’m just not sure if our plan
is exactly what she’s
got in mind.
RECLAIMING MY REPUTATION
Harriet and I hide
around the corner
from the entrance
to assembly
while our year
files inside.
“Do you feel OK
about seeing Jackson?”
Harriet nods.
“I’m not thinking about him.
I’m thinking about
Benjamin texting his sister
for sex advice!”
Then we hear a comedy cough.
“That’s the signal from Marie.
Everyone is in assembly.
Ready?”
She opens her bag,
and hands me my T-shirt.
“I’ve got mine on.
Put your hoody on
over the top.”
I nod and do it,
but my guts coil up.
She squeezes my hand.
“You are brave,”
she says.
And when I think about
what I’ve been through
I realize I am.
We walk around the corner
of the building.
A group of girls
from the year above
walk past us, pointing
and whispering,
“…on her period.”
Yesterday that might have
broken me,
but today it seems to
bounce off me.
I won’t be shamed
for getting my period.
It’s only blood.
Outside the auditorium
Marie is holding an empty
marker pen box
and two paper bags
which flutter in the breeze.
“They’ve all gone!”
she says excitedly.
“Almost everyone took one.
The printed ones
and the blank ones.”
Then Marie grabs me,
hugs me.
“Leylah’s inside already.”
Suddenly Harriet says,
“Look! Mr Adamson
is coming!”
And we turn to see
Bethany walking with him,
distracting him.
We scuttle in
and slip behind
the long black curtain
which hangs across the stage.
Harriet peeks through the gap
but in the muffled silence
of the dark
I feel uncertain.
But I remember
Newton’s third law.
For every action,
there is an equal and
opposite reaction.
This is ours.
“You can do this,”
Harriet says, grinning.
“I’ll be in the sound booth
at the top.”
Then she turns
and leaves.
I wait,
and just
breathe,
and it feels
as though
time
slows,
warped
by the mass
of what we’re
about to do.
Then all the auditorium lights
go off, and I count to three,
then throw myself through
the curtain, into the darkness.
I can see a sliver
of green emergency light
reflecting off Mr Adamson’s head
at the side.
He’s waiting off stage
and next to him is
Bethany, who has
hopefully persuaded him
to give us a few minutes.
Then Harriet
flips the spotlight on,
lighting the banner behind me.
THIS ASSEMBLY IS
A #NoShame ZONE
And in front of it,
I am bathed in
bright
white
incandescent
light
choosing to be seen.
The real me.
I’ve spent
so much time
alone online
hiding from the world
in the silence of my room
I could never have imagined
how comforting
the gentle rustle
of a crowd of people
could be.
I think about my friends
helping me to organize this.
About Marie blagging
a box of plain T-shirts
from her Dad’s business
and the five of us giggling
and scribbling with sharpies
up in the tree house
until early this morning.
And I think about Harriet
at the back now,
supporting me.
I take a deep breath.
I hear the hall wait
for me to say
what I need to say.
Finally I speak.
“I got publicly shamed.
What happened to me
was a nightmare.
I hid and I felt ashamed.
But what did I actually do?”
The noise lifts, then falls from chatter
to mutters
to silence
as they watch me
take off my hoody.
On my T-shirt,
printed out
and ironed on,
is the meme.
Only…
I’ve crossed out
some words.
My whole year
cheers and I turn around
so they can read the back:
IT’S ONLY BLOOD
#NoShame
And I get to watch
Mr Adamson’s face
as he reads the front
and his eyebrows go up
but he starts nodding,
like he approves of
what he’s reading.
Then Harriet throws
more spotlights on,
lighting up
Leylah,
Bethany
and
Marie,
who are joining me
on stage.
Their shirts say:
I GET MY PERIOD TOO.
IT’S ONLY BLOOD
#NOSHAME
I bite my lip to stop the grin
as Harriet lights
the whole auditorium
and I see
it’s not just my friends:
loads of the girls
are wearing them.
They stand in unison
and I read the rows
in the auditorium,
saying
over
and over
and over
again
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame IT’S ONLY BLOOD #NoShame
And it was.
It was only blood.
Then I notice
that a few people
have made their
own #NoShame T-shirts,
and have put them on
over their uniforms.
Jasmine’s says:
I’M STILL A BELIEBER.
#NOSHAME
Lee’s says:
I THOUGHT A BLOW JOB
MEANT YOU BLOW ON IT.
#NOSHAME
Dev’s says:
I PICK MY NOSE
AND EAT IT.
#NOSHAME
Charlie’s says:
I ONCE ACCIDENTALLY
ATE DOG FOOD.
#NOSHAME
Then Michael Li
takes off his hoody.
His T-shirt says:
I’M GAY.
#NOSHAME
and a few people laugh
because he’s been out
since year one.
I scan the crowd for Benjamin.
I find him.
He’s crouching,
writing something
on a shirt.
He pulls it on
and it takes a moment
for everyone to realize
there’s a new one.
I ASKED MY SISTER
IF IT WAS OK
TO FINGER MY GIRLFRIEND
ON HER PERIOD.
#NOSHAME
Benjamin raises his eyebrows,
like he’s checking to see
if it’s OK with me
that he called me
his girlfriend.
I melt a bit
and smile at him,
nodding.
And Benjamin grins at me.
Harriet walks onto the stage
to stand beside me.
“Oh my God,”
she whispers.
“Benjamin’s T-shirt!
Cringe.”
But then she adds,
“He’s very sweet.”
She pulls off
her own sweater.
Her floral shampoo smell
surrounds me,
which only makes it funnier
when I look down
and read her T-shirt:
I POOED
ON THE FLOOR
IN ASSEMBLY
IN YEAR TWO.
#NOSHAME
I think I would read a thousand
abusive DMs for just one
assembly like this
where we’re all
laughing together.
It’s not as though by
being open all
the shame goes away,
but laughing about it
somehow seems
to take some of its
power away.
And right now,
I don’t feel even slightly
ashamed.
I just feel
#Happy.
I glance over at Mr Adamson
clapping along with everyone.
He looks at me,
and he directs his applause
at me, nodding and smiling.
Everyone is
whooping
and cheering
with their phones out
filming,
and Harriet puts
her arm around me
and I squish her to me,
feeling her warmth
spread over me:
a thermic reaction,
generating laughter
instead of friction.
Then Harriet whispers to me,
“Shall I do it now?”
And I look at Mr Adamson
to check he’s watching.
He’s still clapping,
nodding,
loving the student-led
initiative
we’re showing.
I nod, my stomach wriggling.
“And one more thing,”
Harriet shouts
towards Mr Adamson.
Then she points at Jackson,
and says, “He made the meme.”
I don’t want to
humiliate Jackson
(I sort of do)
but I do want something
to happen to him.
I want him to be made
to understand.
“Shut up!” shouts Jackson.
“It wasn’t me.”
“You know it was,” she says.
“Prove it!” he snarls,
looking to Dev for solidarity.
But Dev shakes his head,
and moves himself
a little away.
Then Harriet peels off
her T-shirt,
revealing another one
underneath.
THESE ARE JACKSON
TWIGGER’S FINGERS.
#HEMADETHEMEME
Then she turns around
to show the back,
where she’s printed the evidence.
The GPS location
from the fingers picture
showing it w
as taken
at Jackson’s address.
“Oh, fuck off,” shouts Jackson.
“Everyone shared it—”
“JACKSON TWIGGER!”
bellows Mr Adamson,
making Jackson jump.
“This is not funny.
You will come with me
immediately after assembly.
If you did
what they say you did,
this will be taken
very
very
seriously.”
AFTER ASSEMBLY
Everyone files out of
assembly chatting excitedly,
and some come over
to tell us how much
what we just did
meant to them.
I look at my friends
as we stand in a circle:
the five of us united
by the power of
telling our story
in our own words.
Then through the crowd
I spot Mr B smiling,
looking awkward but proud.
He walks over
to where me and Harriet
are standing chatting
with the girls.
“Well done, all of you,”
he says, beaming.
“Periods are just biology.”
But he goes a bit red
and I try not to catch
anyone’s eye,
because I can feel
the whole group
resisting the urge
to start giggling,
which would totally ruin
our whole point.
But Marie saves us all,
saying, “Thanks, sir.”
Then Mr B says,
“Frankie,” and his tone
changes as he says earnestly,
“what you did in there
was really brave.
It might not be obvious,
but bravery is something
every brilliant scientist needs.”
“Thank you, sir,” I say.
And I mean it.
I think I’m going to cry.
“Your essay was brilliant.
Let me know what the
planetarium say, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I say,
nodding and remembering
my soggy application.
“And keep ignoring
those idiots online,”
he adds, going back
to usual, jokey Mr B.
“Remember the universe
is made of
protons, neutrons, electrons
and morons. Ha ha.”
Then he walks away,
still laughing at his own joke.