Everything Must Go

by Jenny Fran Davis

  I asked her to repeat herself maybe a hundred times, but she just wouldn’t. I mean, it didn’t take a genius to realize what had happened. He hurt her—and it didn’t even matter now.

  So I was like, “I’m going to break his face.”

  She freaked out. “No! No! You can’t!”

  O: That’s a good impersonation of Flora.

  SC: But I was like, “Why not?” And she goes, “It’s not worth it. He’s already left. And besides, he didn’t do anything.”

  O: Uh-oh.

  SC: The way she said it just GOT to me, you know? This son of a bitch comes here, hurts her, and then is going to get away with it? That just didn’t seem right to me.

  O: And how do you know he took hurt her?

  SC: Well, let me back up for a minute. I’ve known about Elijah since Saturday night, when Flora and I were hanging out in the Art Barn after her play. Things got all confessional, and it came out that she’s here because of this random guy who was her history tutor at her fancy private school, which sort of means that he was her teacher, back at Bowen. You probably knew him when he went here, right?

  O: I won’t say.

  SC: They became superclose, and she was super into him, but he could never love her because it was forbidden since he was her Tutor, or blah, blah, blah. And that’s why she’s here—because he went here, and she thought that maybe he’d be able to love her if she followed in his footsteps. Like he was supposed to ride in here and sweep her off her feet because she decided to be all crazy for a year. She said, “I’m here because I want to be,” but I could see she was just telling herself that. And then when he showed up here, she freaked and bolted from the Angel Walk. And I didn’t see her until the next morning, at which point she was a teary mess and he was gone. So I put two and two together. She kept saying he didn’t take advantage of her, and that everything was consensual, but you can be consensual and still be an asshole.

  So I went to go find him. I realize in hindsight that I might have been running. So I sprint away, and Flora’s chasing after me, yelling at me to stop, and everyone is looking at us. The whole thing was surreal. I think I, like, barreled into someone. There were all these people on the porch of the dining hall, and they all stared like we were crazy.

  I asked them, “Where is he?”

  And Jaisal goes, “Where is who?”

  “Elijah.”

  She gestured up the hill. “He was up there earlier.”

  So that’s where I went. Flora was right behind me the whole time. It was like I was in some action movie. I sailed over the fence to the farm like it was nothing. And then we both stopped, and we were breathing so hard, like we had just run a marathon.

  But I was on a roll. I started yelling. I was like, “ELIJAH, SHOW YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING COWARD!” But he wasn’t there. I went into the barn, but there was no one there. Then I looked down, and there’s this red bandanna just, like, fluttering in the wind. It took me a few seconds to remember that it was what Elijah had been wearing yesterday, tied around his neck. It’s, like, what are you, a border collie?

  O: [Laughs]

  SC: And Flora immediately starts giving me shit for doing this. She’s like, “I told you not to do this. What if he had been here?”

  And I was like, “If he had been here, I would have broken his face.” But then she got angry.

  She was like, “Can’t you just stay out of it?”

  I mean, I was surprised. I’m her only friend here, I’m pretty sure. I’m kind of like the Quare mascot, but Flora doesn’t really talk to people all that often. So I told her that I thought Elijah should pay, and she just lashes out at me, like, “I can take care of myself.”

  And at this point I’m mad, so I’m like, “Spare me the bullshit.” I’m like, “What the fuck happened between you two? For fuck’s sake, Flora.”

  I kept trying to get an answer out of her about whether or not she thought she was going to be okay, and finally she eked out a yes.

  But the way she said it was just so meek, like her voice was coming from somewhere behind her and she was listening to it just like I was.

  We had some words after that. I maybe offhandedly accused her of not participating in her own life. In hindsight, that was the wrong move. She was pissed. She was all, “FUCK YOU! I DO PARTICIPATE IN MY OWN LIFE. I’M DEEPER THAN YOU THINK I AM! I HAVE RESERVES OF INNER STRENGTH!”

  After she lost it on me, we were quiet for a few seconds. I feel like it was good for her to let that out. Because then she started laughing, and I laughed too. We walked down the hill, talking about other things. She wasn’t really feeling all that much better, I could tell, but I felt like I had to let it go or she might snap my head off.

  She left for winter break about half an hour ago on the shuttle to the train station. I didn’t want to leave on bad terms, so I went and sat in her cabin while she packed, and she was polite and all, but I could tell she was still pissed.

  So now I don’t know what to do. Do I report this? Do I bring this up again? What’s your advice, sage?

  O: My job isn’t to give advice.

  SC: Oh. I forgot about that part. Aren’t you going to tell me what you think about any of this?

  O: No. You already know what you have to do.

  SC: I do?

  SC: Hello?

  SEMESTER TWO

  To: Faculty, staff, and students

  From: Miriam Row

  Subject: Welcome back!

  January 18, 9:02 a.m.

  Dear everyone,

  I hope you all had restful and rejuvenating winter breaks. I look forward to hearing about the projects you tackled during your time off.

  I’m delighted to let you all know that Allison will be returning to teaching this semester; her partner, artist in resident Daniel Longfield, will be entering paternity leave. Also joining us this semester is Sinclaire O’Leary, a first-year most recently from Seattle, Washington. Sinclaire is an avid gardener and artist who writes beautifully about growing up in Ireland. She will be living with Marigold Chen.

  Which brings me to my next point: I’m less happy to report that Becca Conch-Gould has left us. Although Becca reports that she was not unhappy here, she feels that she is more suited for a different environment. We are holding Becca in the light and thank her for taking care of her needs.

  In other news: we welcome the addition of several new laptop computers from a generous donor; these have been placed in each first-year cabin to allow for quicker communication among students and faculty. First-years still may email only within the Quare email server.

  Blessings,

  Miriam

  To: Faculty, staff, and students

  From: The Oracle

  Subject: Re: Welcome back!

  January 18

  Greetings Quarelings,

  Thought I’d follow up this lovely welcome with our first weekly menu of the new year! As always, all items are vegan unless otherwise indicated, and gluten-free alternatives are always provided.

  MONDAY: cranberry oatmeal / millet mountains / kale and tofu stir-fry

  TUESDAY: lemon muffins / lentil stew / peanut noodles

  WEDNESDAY: grits / spicy chickpeas and quinoa / roasted vegetable pizza

  THURSDAY: oatmeal party / three-bean chili / pasta party

  FRIDAY: bialys / baked potatoes / Mexican rice and beans

  SATURDAY: buckwheat pancakes and assorted brunch / curry

  SUNDAY: tofu scramble and assorted brunch // orange bean soup

  And just as a reminder, we eat at the hours of eight, twelve, and six. Out of courtesy to our cook and our dinner prep team, we ask that you arrive on time.

  One last thing: my “office” hours this semester are Tuesdays from eight to eleven p.m. in the confession booth at the back of the meetinghouse. I can’t wait to love you!

  Love,

  The Oracle

  QUARE TIMES

&
nbsp; The Quare Academy Student News Collaboration

  January 22

  WE ASKED: QUARE, WHAT DID YOU DO OVER BREAK?

  By Gary North

  Juna Díaz: “I worked with the native community in my hometown of Santa Fe, New Mexico. I interned for an organization that’s trying to empower native artists through micro-loans.”

  Althea Long: “I grew melons in cardboard boxes in my garage.”

  Dean Elliot: “After finishing college applications, you mean?”

  Michael Lansbury: “I did a lot of queer theater in Columbus, Ohio.”

  Agnes Surl: “Sleep. And some tutoring.”

  Marigold Chen: “Urban gardening in Oakland.”

  Dexter Holliday: “I helped this really old woman write her memoirs.”

  Shy Lenore: “I translated for Mexican and Russian immigrants at a law firm in New York.”

  FIRST-YEAR STUDIES, CAMPAIGNS AT SEA

  By Benna Williams

  Pete Seeger died in 2014, but he’s far from forgotten: namely, his boat, the Clearwater, still makes regular journeys up and down the Hudson River. This spring, first-year Zev Londy will embark on a four-month expedition.

  “I think it’ll be a lot of singing Pete Seeger classics, learning about marine biology and ecology, and journaling,” Londy said.

  Not only will Londy have the opportunity to get environmental science hands-on, but he’ll also be reading the literature of the sea for an English credit. Although he will have to take a math class at a local college over the summer, Londy insists that the slight inconvenience is worth the payoff.

  “I can’t think of a better way to honor the legendary Pete Seeger,” Londy said.

  Miriam Row, Head of School, explained that she encourages students to take time away from the Academy in order to explore their passions.

  “I’m thrilled that so many of our students are able to step away and then step back in with renewed vigor,” she said.

  PEACE ON EARTH CLASS VISITS LOCAL COMMUNE

  By Robin Cruz

  You’ve probably heard of Paradise Farms. It’s a twenty-minute drive from campus, an intentional community devoted to artistic expression and communal living. To kick off the semester, Allison Longfield’s first-year Peace on Earth section made the short journey in everyone’s favorite vegetable-oil-powered van to check it out for themselves.

  “It’s rare that we see a model of communism that’s really working,” said Juna Díaz. “It was heartening to see firsthand that the tropes we hear about alternate economic systems are just that: tropes.”

  SOCIETY BY SAM

  By Sam Chabot

  Visiting alum Golden Boy proved himself to be less the artistic wunderkind and more the Enormous Asshole when he “fucked and ducked” on a first-year in December.

  Reader, as you can tell, this is where everything explodes.

  THE NEW YORK TIMES, JANUARY 22

  Style Section

  At Boarding School, No Talk of Physical Appearance

  By Nadia Levkov

  This fall, Miriam Row, Headmistress of the Quare Academy, a prestigious peace- and environmentalism-focused boarding school of thirty-four students in Main Stream, New York, welcomed students new and old to the thirty-acre campus, which includes an organic farm and orchard. Noticeably absent on that September day was the usual talk of new summer tans, haircuts, and clothing purchases.

  Ms. Row, who like the Quare Academy itself is Quaker, gave an opening speech in which she explained the logistics of “no shell speak,” a guideline that recommends that faculty, students, and staff refrain from commenting on one another’s physical appearance.

  “Quare is a radically inclusive community,” she said. “One of the things we can do to ensure that kindness reigns here is to practice baseless love, and not to judge each other or even comment on how we look.”

  Emmaline Parker, a Quare second-year (the boarding school is unique in that its students are in the eleventh and twelfth grades), was jarred upon arriving from a private school in Boston, Massachusetts.

  “It was a huge adjustment,” Miss Parker said. “You realize how easy it is to comment on someone’s outfit or their hair when you’ve just met them. ‘No shell speak’ forces you to go up to someone and say, ‘Hey, tell me about what inspires you.’”

  Psychologists have long studied the effects of negative adolescent self-image, including comments directed at oneself (“my thighs look so fat in these shorts”), but Ms. Row explained that the Quare guideline applies to neutral, and even positive, remarks.

  “It places an undue premium on physical appearance,” Ms. Row said. “If you say that my hair looks good today, tomorrow I’ll be worried about it looking the same way in order to please you. At Quare we look for things that are deeper.”

  Instead of shell speak, Ms. Row suggests that students give compliments such as “You’re a superhero!” or “Your inner beauty is shining.”

  Gus Freeman, a first-year, is the son of Reginald and Christine Freeman, who own a designer consignment boutique in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

  “Gus came back home for fall break and asked us not to talk about others’ clothing, at least in a way that detracted from the person they were underneath,” Ms. Freeman said. “It was a wake-up call that our family was going too far toward the shallow end of things.”

  Quare has a long tradition of churning out well-adjusted graduates—30 percent of the average graduating class goes on to Ivy League schools, University of Chicago, and Stanford, with other graduates choosing among private liberal arts colleges such as Wesleyan, Swarthmore, and Oberlin.

  “Students come back to Quare and thank us for this guideline,” Ms. Row said. “They tell us that ‘no shell speak’ has empowered them to jump into life, to go down to the deepest levels and find the most powerful lessons of all.”

  To: Flora Goldwasser

  From: Miriam Row

  Subject: meeting

  January 22, 1:12 p.m.

  Flora,

  Please stop by my office as soon as possible. You may skip your afternoon classes to do so. Your teachers have been informed that you’ll be absent.

  Blessings,

  Miriam

  Flora Goldwasser

  Pigeonhole 44

  The Quare Academy

  2 Quare Road

  Main Stream, NY 12497

  January 22

  Flora!

  I’m not into writing letters like you are, but something’s gotta give. Send a sign—honestly, any sign at all—that you’re alive and well. I’m THIS close to calling the office to make sure you’re still on campus (and you know I have that weird thing about talking on the phone).

  Honestly, you didn’t seem right over break. I know you chalked it up to stress, but I know how you are when you get stressed—you head to Maison Kayser, not the white walls of your bedroom (minimalism is in, I know, but can you say psych ward?).

  Write me, okay?

  Cora

  Juna’s letter to her girlfriend, Theodora Sweet, donated by Juna to this collection (Spoiler alert: Three years post-Quare, Juna and I are now close friends)

  Theodora Sweet

  1330 Corrida De Agua

  Santa Fe, NM 87507

  January 22

  Baby,

  Do you mind it when I call you that? It feels natural on the page, just like you feel in my arms.

  I don’t need to tell you again how awful and scary it was to leave you in that airport. These past six weeks have been nothing short of incredible, and I say quite seriously that I never want to lose you. And I know we’re keeping this open, but trust me when I say this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

  Just as I expected, shit hit the fan pretty immediately when I got back to Quare the other day. Quare Times, a cheery little student-run cooperative quarterly that covers the goings-on on campus, published its first issue the other day. Well, this issue wasn’t so cheery: it came
to light that Elijah Huck—maybe you’ve heard of him; he’s like the wet dream of every sixteen-year-old girl in knee socks—was a major asshole to Flora Goldwasser, or something, at the end of last semester. (Wait, of course you’ve heard of him. Even if you weren’t a photographer for Nymphette, it would be impossible to avoid him in the world of up-and-coming photographers, right?)

  Anyway, Flora just happens to be my roommate.

  I told you about her, right? The one who has fully embraced neither the ethos nor the pathos of Quare?

  Well, she’s destroyed, and I don’t know WHAT to do. She’s been sitting on her bed placidly for the past hour. In a housecoat and a silk turban. (That’s shell speak, I know, but I felt it necessary to paint the picture.)

  To be honest, the guy who published the commentary about their encounter in the Quare Times—Sam, who’s, like, her only friend here—is a little dick for doing that so publicly. I mean, he didn’t go into specifics, or anything. And he certainly didn’t allude to sexual assault—fucked and ducked is the term he used, which leads me to believe that Elijah, well, fucked and ducked on her. Sam so majorly fucked up. And that’s another piece of it, too: I don’t want to participate in the toxic sort of callout culture, the kind in which those who make mistakes are shunned and vilified rather than, well, engaged in conversations about their choices. But every time I think about what he did—what a violation of privacy it was, and how Flora must feel—I want to scream and cry, or possibly both at once.

  I don’t know their history, but Flora is clearly devastated. Now that it’s come to light, we have no choice but to rally around her. What are your words of wisdom? Put that Stanford Feminist, Gender, and Sexuality Studies education to good use (even if you ARE taking a semester off, you can still be a dutiful member of the department).

  Love,

  June bug

  To: Faculty, staff, and students