“What a remarkable story. After you left college, you joined your long-estranged mother, Camille Thornton, in Hollywood and took a small role in her movie Gender Games.”
“Yes, well, Camille was wonderful to me and I was just grateful for the opportunity.”
“And what an opportunity it turned out to be. As everyone knows, Gender Games was nominated for Best Picture last year, and many thought it should have won.”
“It was an honor for all of us just to be nominated.”
“The Jurist edged you out, of course. What did you think of it?”
“A wonderful film and a deserving winner. So moving.” In truth, Lulu thought it the most tedious two hours of her life. Some Supreme Court judge comes out of the closet? Who the hell cares?
“It certainly has put your mother back in the spotlight.”
“Was she ever out of it?”
The audience laughed.
“Speaking of your mother, you two were estranged for many years. How is your relationship?”
“Just wonderful. We’re the best of friends.” Sure, when it’s convenient.
“Well, your role in Gender Games, while small, got you noticed, and you now have a significant supporting role in a new film coming out this Friday called The Indecent. Tell us about that.”
“Well, I play a suburban au pair who has a secret affair with my employer, who is married of course. But he’s quite controlling, and my character is quite malleable, so my existence becomes subsumed to his.”
“Now, I understand there’s been some controversy about this.”
“Has there?”
“I’m sure you saw there were some protesters outside.”
“I saw one or two. I thought they were lost.”
The audience laughed on cue.
Stephanopoulos’s brow furrowed slightly. “Some see the subservient nature of your new role as not being, well, very modern. The man is in control.”
“They are certainly entitled to their opinions.” No matter how stupid they are.
“Lulu, you first came to national prominence with a protest against gender violence at Devon University, didn’t you? You gained almost iconic status in certain circles, particularly feminist ones. Those supporters now seem to be turning on you, both because of this film and the rumor that you will be the new face of Revlon. They see the beauty industry as, and I’m quoting one blogger here, ‘a multibillion-dollar industry that preys on and profits from women’s deepest insecurities about their bodies.’”
Another dumb cow, Lulu thought. And wasn’t this interview supposed to be softballs? It was Good Morning America, for Christ’s sake. Wait till she got her agent on the phone.
“Well, George, I can’t comment about Revlon, but don’t you think that women should be able to decide for themselves how they want to present themselves? Aren’t we supposed to be empowered to make our own choices? If you want to strive for beauty, that should be your personal choice, your truth. If you want to grow hair under your arms and shave your head, that’s your choice, too. Just don’t expect anyone to want to look at you, know what I’m saying?”
Stephanopoulos looked taken aback, but the audience laughed.
* * *
By the end of the segment, the protest had doubled in size as word spread quickly. Hell hath no fury like a movement scorned. ABC assigned two burly security personnel in black suits to get Lulu from the side door to her idling limousine. Staffers had created a small channel through the phalanx of pink hair and body piercings.
Lulu and her guards reached the door and one said, “We’re gonna hustle to the car, do you understand?”
Lulu nodded. As they emerged, the protesters screamed in anger. Lulu and her bodyguards walked quickly, but then Lulu stopped. “Wait.”
“Excuse me?” said the first bodyguard.
Lulu didn’t answer. She just stood her ground amid the growing chaos. Not my first rodeo, bitches. She held both her hands out in a universal gesture meant to ask for silence. Incredibly, the racket subsided. For the moment, curiosity trumped outrage.
“My friends…” Lulu tilted her head back and screamed, primally, the sound of it echoing in the canyon-like side streets of Manhattan. It was as loud, loud as any scream issued from the steps of Duffy Hall, but then she abruptly stopped. The protesters seemed at a loss. Was Lulu, their Lulu, returning to their embrace? Lulu stared, absorbing their confusion.
Then she laughed.
That it was a mocking laugh was immediately understood.
“In the car, now!” said the first bodyguard, who practically carried her to the limo and slammed the door shut. As soon as that happened, the crowd turned into a mob, screaming and banging their fists on the car. As it pulled away, Lulu turned to look out the back window.
She smiled.
ABOUT CAMPUSLAND
Campusland is a work of fiction. Kind of. The American college has evolved into a strange place, and while Campusland is written as satire, it doesn’t stretch the truth by much, and sometimes not at all. Title IX, as depicted, is true to life. If you want some good nonfiction on the subject, I suggest Laura Kipnis’s excellent (and horrifying) book Unwanted Advances. (Note: As of this writing, the Department of Education has begun reviewing some of Title IX’s more troublesome aspects.)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many friends deserve to be thanked. Several took the time to read the first draft and give me their thoughts, including Kathryn Tohir (we miss her), Bob Potter, Mike Balay, Alison Belknap, Rob Schade, Judy Lewis, Eric Mogilnicki, and Stephan Skinner. Thanks also to the Manuels (Charlie, Amo, and Tristan), Scott McNealy, Mark Anderson, Andrew Ehrgood, Ralph Gill, Daniel Tenreiro, the Deplorables (Dave Tohir, Dan Mahony, and Bill Sawch), Melissa Fleming, Scott Edmonds (for legal advice), and Shelley Dempsey of Families Advocating for Campus Equality, who generously assisted with my understanding of Title IX practices. Special thanks to Elizabeth Beier of St. Martin’s for taking a flier on a first-time novelist, and to my brother, Sim Johnston, a better writer than I.
Lastly, thanks to my family, Kelley, Tucker, Caroline, and Brady, for not thinking this was a crazy idea. (Okay, that’s not exactly right.…) Particular thanks to Tucker for telling me when I was getting college argot totally wrong.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Scott Johnston grew up in Manhattan and graduated from college in the 1980s (his Yale yearbook photo is shown above). From there, Wall Street (Salomon Brothers of Liar’s Poker fame) and a stint in Hong Kong. On the side, he opened a couple of nightclubs in New York City and wrote popular books on beer drinking and golf betting games. More recently, Johnston shifted gears and co-founded two tech startups. He lives in Westchester with his wife and three children. You can sign up for email updates here.
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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
First published in the United States by St. Martin’s Press, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
CAMPUSLAND. Copyright © 2019 by Scott Johnston. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-22237-4 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-22238-1 (ebook)
eISBN 9781250222381
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First Edition: August 2019
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
Milton’s Walk
Lulu’s Room Sucks
I Feel Like
Ashley, Alabama
The Progressive Student Alliance
The Dix
The Society of Fellingham
Office Hours
Gummy Bears
Long Live the Queen!
Trip Wires
Everybody Go Deep
Lulu Ubers to Manhattan
Titus Cooley’s Office
The Farmers’ Market
The Hearing
Friday at the PSA
Friday, Eph’s Office
The Brothers of Beta House
The Beta Party
The Morning After
Winter Break
Racist U
Jack Russell
Jaylen Doesn’t Heart Red
Double Date
Milton Gets Occupied
Lulu Finds Out About Survivors
Eph Gets a Visitor
Stillman Weathers
Busted
The Steering Committee
Drop the Mic
Rusty’s Bar
The Tarzan of Anderson House
The Passion of Lulu
The Story Breaks
The Crawl: Day Ten
Milton’s in a Bind
The Summit
Yeah, No
Fucking Fucks
The Tribunal
The Internet Says So
The Enemy of My Enemy
Betas Are Boned
Captain Jack
Gherkins Are Small Pickles
America’s Sweetheart
It’s Only a Motion Away
Screw Warhol
The Fling
Along Came a Phallus
The Following September
Moral Turpitude
Where the Skies Are So Blue
Epilogue
About Campusland
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Campusland: A Novel Page 33