“So you’re famous now, right?” he asked.
I rolled my eyes. We were both swinging slightly, and when he’d go up, I’d go down, and vice versa.
“God, hardly,” I said. “It’s a niche audience.”
Agnes nodded sagely.
“But you get fan mail,” he said. “The darling of the teen feminist scene.”
“It’s not about me,” I said, gesturing. “People just like to see their experiences reflected in art. And I think most people can identify with feeling like their relationships, and sex and stuff, are just transactions.”
“I’ve felt that way,” he said. “And you’re right. It’s nice when art reflects reality.”
“It’s weird, though,” I said. “I feel like people from the outside look at me—this girl who goes to Quare and is selling all her stuff and doesn’t wash her hair as regularly as she used to—like I must be a certain way, like, this young radical making this grand statement, when I really don’t feel like I’m like that at all.”
The whites of his eyes were all glowing and warm in the moonlight. I noticed for the first time—in the dark, weirdly enough—that today he was wearing not harem pants, as I had first assumed, but a patchwork skirt that grazed the middle of his hairy calves.
“People must assume stuff about you all the time,” I said.
He laughed. “The name alone,” he said. “People decide I’m an eighty-year-old woman before they’ve even met me.”
“Is it hard?” I asked. “Like, where you’re from?”
“You mean to be the black son of two lesbians in the American South?”
“Yeah.”
“A little,” he said. “Atlanta’s not bad. But it’s much better when I travel to the New York area with Tedra. She goes every few months to work on the book she’s writing with Jasbir Puar. There, I feel like I’m almost boring.”
I nodded. “But if you had grown up in New York, you wouldn’t have a Southern accent.”
“Or Southern charm.” He cocked his head, and his hair swung down around his chest.
I was flirting, a little bit. We stared at each other for a minute, and then I looked away.
“Tedra’s the one who … ?” I asked uselessly.
“Gender warfare,” he confirmed, nodding. “Her claim to fame. She always gets kind of pissed when people only ask her about that, because that was her thing in the eighties. Now she’s much more into homonationalism.”
“What’s that?”
He cocked his head at me. “Do you really want me to explain it to you?”
“Another time,” I agreed. “My brain is kind of all over the place.”
“Better to be all over the place than stuck in one mode? Maybe?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
Crickets. Literally. My heart was beating really, really fast. I wasn’t sure what to do.
He decided for me, luckily, checking his watch. “Shall we?” He stood from the swing and arranged his skirt around his knees.
I stood too. We walked through the garden to the first-year cabins. Nobody was outside. The trees were all big and rustling above us. Agnes walked me straight up to my door.
“Should I walk you home now?”I asked.
He laughed.
“I think I can find my way,” he said. “Thanks for the offer.”
He leaned in and gave me a quick hug. His back was strong and hard beneath his white T-shirt. I stood in the doorway until he reached his own doorstep. On his porch, he turned to look at me once more and then gave a slow salute.
I laughed and shut the door.
Juna was a mound in her bed. Hearing the door close, she straightened up. Her hair was all over the place.
“What was that?” she asked groggily.
“Just Agnes,” I said. “He walked me home.”
She smiled widely and wiggled her eyebrows. “I approve,” she said.
So. Agnes. Thoughts?
Love,
Flora
Attempt 12
Elijah Huck
245 West 107th Street
New York, NY 10025
March 20
Elijah,
I’m working on putting together all the documents that help make sense of this year. I’d love it if you could send me a few things of yours.
Attempt 13
Elijah Huck
245 West 107th Street
New York, NY 10025
March 21
Elijah,
Last night I dreamed that you were in my bed with me, just sleeping next to me, hardly even touching me at all, with just our feet all overlapping like a Jenga tower. And your feet were slipping away and out of mine, I could feel it, so I grabbed on tighter. And when I woke up, my knees were around the blanket and my toes were cramping.
To: Dean Elliot
From: Flora Goldwasser
Subject: auditions
March 21, 8:19 p.m.
Hi, Dean,
Thanks so much for all your help at auditions today! I’m really happy with the way it went, and I’m also sure that Althea will stop being miffed about some of the similarities between her and Sister Athena—I mean, honestly, they’re not THAT striking, and Sister Athena is obviously the hero at the end. I actually think that Althea would make a really GOOD Sister Athena, if she can get over herself. And Juna, too, should really play Miranda, even though I think she was a little bit shocked by the references to budding Marxists.
In terms of the other parts, I think it was really good that you had them read from both the beginning and the middle. Michael Lansbury did a really good Lorne. For Caleb, it’s coming down to Agnes and Shy. We can talk more about this with Susan on Wednesday also.
What are your thoughts?
Flora
To: Flora Goldwasser
From: Dean Elliot
Subject: Re: auditions
March 21, 8:34 p.m.
Good calls. Agnes has got to be Caleb—Shy just really doesn’t have it in him.
You’ll be Ursula, right?
I’m also attaching the Young Innovators’ Promise Awards application. Do it. Now.
To: Flora Goldwasser
From: Sinclaire O’Leary
Subject: tonight
March 22, 2:04 a.m.
still skyping henry
althea is definitely upset about the play
i saw her hmmphing all over the dining hall
“i don’t BUY hanes; they’re made with slave labour”
& marigold and zev have been in my cab ferking all night
i’m in the art barn
i like it at night here
To: Guild
From: Dean Elliot
Subject: cast list, “everything must go”
March 22, 5:11 p.m.
Ursula / Flora Goldwasser
Caleb / Agnes Surl
Lorne / Michael Lansbury
Sister Athena / Althea Long
Miranda / Juna Díaz
If you didn’t get a speaking role, don’t fret. You’ll be interacting with the vending machine onstage and moving the set around. Everyone will see you. You’ll be a star.
The Quare Academy
Spring Midsemester Progress Report
March 22
Student: Flora Goldwasser
Year: First
RACE IN WRITING
Instructor: Pearl Bishop
Credits Earned: 5.0
Race in Writing is a course devoted to exploring the ways in which literature deals with racial identity and subverts racism. Students begin by reading The Color Purple and Their Eyes Were Watching God and end the course with stories by Amy Tan, Colson Whitehead, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie.
Flora continues to turn in thoughtful work—her essay on The Color Purple was brilliant—and beyond the classroom, I’m continually proud of
her as Vending Machine, or Everything Must Go moves into the spotlight. I look forward to working with Flora for the rest of the year to find more ways to integrate her activism into her academic work. —PB
ENVIRONMENTAL BIOCHEMISTRY
Instructor: Bass Foley
Credits Earned: 5.0
Although last semester Flora preferred not to accompany us on trips to Quare Pond and the forest (I was the assistant teacher that term), this year she has been active and engaged. Her work has remained high quality. I sense, too, that Flora’s peers have begun to respond extremely well to her, especially in light of her recent activism. I sense a deep friendship between her and Sinclaire O’Leary, a new student whom Flora has kindly taken under her wing. While I am thrilled that Flora’s newfound popularity is the case, I am keeping an eye on her, and I urge Flora to speak to me or Miriam—or her adviser, Pearl Bishop—if she needs to talk. —BF
WORLD ISSUES II: PEACE AND CONFLICT
Instructor: Allison Longfield
Credits Earned: 5.0
Flora’s work has remained high quality. Moreover, I am delighted to see that she has stepped into a Quare sense of being; her activism inspires and moves us. I understand that there has been minor tension between Flora and Juna, her roommate, but I am confident that both young people have the tools to sort things out. —AL
It seemed, for the first time in months, that things were finally looking up. It wasn’t that the hurt about Elijah had fully dissipated, or even really softened: when I thought about him, I still felt the familiar weight in my abdomen, the pain radiating through my chest.
Yes, I still felt that Elijah had hurt me, but I no longer loved him in the same way that I had before. Part of this was a matter of distraction; other things demanded my attention. But it wasn’t the mere quantity of other things to think about. Vending Machine and my friendships began to surpass Elijah in importance, and as they grew, his image shrunk slightly, like a softball soaring away from me across a field.
But the story isn’t over yet.
Email from India to Cora, published here with India’s permission
To: Cora Shimizu-Stein
From: India Katz-Rosen
Subject: we’re on!
March 22, 8:19 p.m.
Okay, so after EXTENSIVE stalking (and you don’t want to know what else), I got his address: he lives off campus, right on Broadway and 107th. There’s no way I can do it tonight, but let’s meet right after Calc tomorrow afternoon. This is gonna be SO GOOD.
To: India Katz-Rosen
From: Cora Shimizu-Stein
Subject: Re: we’re on!
March 22, 11:18 p.m.
Hell yes. Let’s tape the confession on your phone—mine has been sucking lately, and we can’t afford a new one right now (shit’s going down with my mom’s account—I’ll explain in person).
Transcript of India and Cora’s ambush of Elijah, March 23, taped on India’s cell phone
CORA: If you’re listening to this, we’ve made it to Elijah’s building on Broadway and 107th street. We haven’t gained entry yet, but we’re working on it.
INDIA: We should add that it’s raining a lot, so we’re standing under the awning. The rain is freezing. We’re also kind of wet, because our Uber driver—Dustin was his name, and let the record note it—refused to take us all the way. He’ll be getting two stars and a snarky review.
CORA: An old woman is walking toward us, but— Oh, is she coming in here? Nope, she just went into some Thai restaurant.
INDIA: I could really go for some tofu pra ram right now.
CORA: Should we, or … ?
INDIA: Let’s get the confession first.
CORA: You’re right. Eyes on the prize.
INDIA: You have the apartment number, right?
CORA: Yeah. Obviously: 12C.
INDIA: Just double-checking. You don’t have to be rude.
CORA: I just sometimes feel like you invade my judgment space.
INDIA: Your JUDGMENT space? Who are you? Flora?
CORA: That’s not funny. You know I’ve been in therapy.
INDIA: Oh yeah. Sorry. Wait! Is she—?
CORA: Hi! Are you going in—?
(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)
INDIA: Thanks!
(SOUND OF ELEVATOR DOOR OPENING)
FEMALE VOICE: What floor?
CORA: Oh. Yeah, you already— Yeah. Twelve.
(SOUND OF ELEVATOR DOOR CLOSING)
FEMALE VOICE, on the phone: Yeah? Elijah? I’m coming right up.
INDIA: indistinguishable
(SOUND OF ELEVATOR DOOR OPENING)
CORA, softly: India! Hang back.
INDIA: We need to stop this. What if he’s going to hurt her?
CORA: Just wait. India. Wait.
(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)
ELIJAH, to the other girl: Hey, Juliette. Come on in.
(SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING)
INDIA: Okay, let’s just rehearse one more time. We knock on the door, say we’re students writing an article for the Spectator, and see if we can ask him a few questions.
CORA: Right.
INDIA: We lead into it slowly.
CORA: Good. Now we wait. Ah! India! Stop!
INDIA: What? I have to wring out my hair.
CORA: Not all over the floor. Wait, also, what if he recognizes us?
INDIA: Well, he clearly thought he knew me that day in the coffee shop in October or whatever. So I was thinking we’d pretend to be students. I mean, neither of us was in his Tutorial section at Bowen. And he was only there twice a week. And we HAVE cleverly disguised ourselves in non-Bowen clothes.
CORA: Right.
INDIA: I think we should go in now.
CORA: Fine. I still think we should wait, but whatever.
(SOUND OF KNOCKING ON DOOR)
JULIETTE, from inside: Did you hear that?
ELIJAH, from inside: What?
JULIETTE, from inside: Someone’s at the door.
ELIJAH, from inside: Who is it?
CORA: Uh—your, uh, your neighbors.
(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)
ELIJAH: Hello?
INDIA: Hi. We live just down the hall—we’re students writing an article for the Spectator. Could we ask you a few questions?
ELIJAH: Uh … what’s the article?
JULIETTE, from inside: Who is it?
ELIJAH, to Juliette: Just—just some people down the hall.
JULIETTE, from inside: Invite them in!
ELIJAH: Would you like to come in?
INDIA: Thank you!
(SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING)
CORA: Wow, this is a nice apartment.
INDIA: I like the tapestry. Did you get it in upstate New York?
CORA, whispering: India.
ELIJAH, laughing: Thanks! I actually did get it upstate, around Woodstock.
JULIETTE: Hi. I’m Juliette.
INDIA: Wow. You’re really pretty.
JULIETTE, laughing: Thanks.
CORA, whispering: India.
ELIJAH: So, you girls live down the hall?
CORA: Yeah. We just moved in a few weeks ago.
ELIJAH: Oh. Uh, cool. And you go to Columbia, you said?
INDIA: Yeah! But we just started this semester. We transferred from, uh, Vassar. You’re a sophomore, right?
ELIJAH: Yeah.
INDIA, to JULIETTE: Are you his girlfriend?
JULIETTE, laughing: I’m his sister, and I’m twenty-five. Anyone want some wine?
CORA: We’d love some, thanks.
ELIJAH: Cool, cool. And what were you saying about an article?
INDIA: Okay. We’re writing an article about the sexual norms on campus and were wondering if you, as, uh, someone who is male, would give us your take.
ELIJAH: Do you have a more specific question?
CORA: Have you ever hurt a girl so badly that she’s rendered mute for months,
save for the occasional fake-chirpy letter?
ELIJAH: What are you talking about?
INDIA: Do you have something to hide?
JULIETTE: Elijah? Do you know these girls?
ELIJAH: Of course not. No.
CORA: And what were you doing the night of December 18 of this year?
ELIJAH: What?
JULIETTE: Excuse me?
INDIA: What were you doing the night of December 18?
ELIJAH: I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was—I wasn’t—
JULIETTE: I don’t know if I like where this is going….
INDIA: Nobody asked you.
ELIJAH: Um, maybe you could—
CORA: Why aren’t you answering the question?
ELIJAH: I, uh—this is ridiculous. Is this about Flora, or something?
JULIETTE: Who’s Flora?
INDIA: I’ve never heard that name in my life.
JULIETTE: Hey, I think it’s best if you guys leave.
INDIA: So you’re denying it, then?
ELIJAH: It would be great if you could go now.
CORA: Not before we give you a taste of your own medicine. Here.
(JULIETTE SCREAMS)
INDIA, screaming: Her blood is on your hands! Aside, into the microphone: The blood is symbolized by the red wine.
ELIJAH: Oh my God. What the hell?
JULIETTE, now calm: Do you have any seltzer? It’ll come off.
(SOUND OF DOOR OPENING)
ELIJAH: Please don’t ever come back here.
(SOUND OF DOOR CLOSING)
CORA: So there you have it. He’s in denial. No surprise there.
INDIA: I mean, I guess it WAS asking for a lot to think he’d confess to everything. But if you really think about it, his denial has to mean something.
CORA: Good work, Inds.
INDIA: Okay, bye!
To: Elijah Huck
From: Dustin Crane
Everything Must Go Page 23