My eyes widen, and I bark a laugh.
“Yeah. We don’t want to ruin your pure relationship while I’m in the next room getting ploughed from behind.”
“Too graphic,” I warn.
Sammy giggles and then speaks more about the function we are going to. I’m nervous. I chew the inside of my cheek, and my stomach cramps at the thought of someone asking if I want to speak. The unknown frightens me. I don’t want to talk about my horrible past. If someone asks, I might leave early.
There were a few cars parked in the school parking lot. Sammy points at Emma, leaning against her car door, smoking a cigarette. Lowering my sights away from her after I parked, the guilt swept through me at the thought that I didn’t defend her when Mark thought Emma was the one who was in that photo. I want to apologise for not speaking up then, but her reaction concerns me more.
The year nine girl named Vicky is at the door. Sammy raises her arm, and Vicky pushes a pink love heart stamp on the back of her hand.
“It’s nice of you to come, Noya,” Vicky says as she presses the heart into the back of my hand.
I smile, duck my head, and enter the hall. Most of the chairs that are usually propped up on assembly days are against the wall, and about thirty people are looking ahead at the stage. Eight people, as well as Mrs Moore, situate themselves around the hall. I assume they need an adult to monitor this event if anything happens on school grounds.
Sammy and I sit in the back. A few more come through, and I hear their buzzing mouths whispering my name, pointing towards me, and looking at me in excitement and awe. This is one reason why I wanted to leave school early. I don’t like people staring at me.
Vicky closes the broad doors after Emma comes in. Emma sits on the other side of the row of seats at the back. Her headis down, and she tugs the sleeves of her long, baggy jumper over her hands. It’s hard to know how she’s feeling, her heavy makeup covering her emotions.
“Hey, Noya,” she mumbles.
I straighten in my seat and look away from her. “H-hey, Emma.”
Sammy looks between us, frowns while shrugging, and looks ahead.
Vicky takes the stairs, grabs the microphone, and taps it twice. The sound echoes in the room, making her cringe and then laugh. “Hey, everyone,” she starts, her voice quivering. “Even knowing this is our first meeting, I am proud of the number of people who arrived.”
I glance around the room. Two girls off the side ignore Vicky, raising their phones and taking selfies. Blinking slowly, I look away and back at Vicky as she tries her best to bring leadership.
“If anyone is hungry, Mrs Moore provided cakes and coffee.”
A few girls clap, forcing Mrs Moore to raise her hand awkwardly in recognition.
“Uh, this is what I’d like to think as a safe space where we can talk about uncomfortable things that have happened to us without feeling judged or as if our voices aren’t heard.” Vicky suddenly raises her hand. “I’d like everyone to raise their hand if they’ve ever been abused, sexually, physically, objectified, touched inappropriately or felt uncomfortable at one stage of their life.”
I glance around the room and then at every person’s hand raised, even Mrs Moore. I tighten my hold on the black denim jeans I’m wearing, not comfortable raising my hand. They already know. It’s all over the news.
“Would, um… Would anyone like to come up here and, uh, talk about it?” Vicky asks as she shuffles from one leg to another.
The hands that rise high in the air weaken. Their fear of speaking up plagues them. It’s easy to hide in the darkness, listening to someone talk about what has happened to them. I, too, am known for thinking the same way. We don’t want to stand out.
“Fuck it,” Emma mutters, standing.
“Oh, uh… E-Emma, right?” Vicky asks as Emma saunters towards the stage and goes up the stairs.
Emma’s overall appearance is intimidating. Without another word, Vicky hands Emma the microphone, takes a few steps back and nervously stands on stage, plastered with a fake smile.
“My name is Emma,” Emma starts, her voice tomboyish and low. “But most people at this school call me Emo Emma.”
Murmurs fill the room as girls lean into each other.
Emma breathes out, her voice shaky and broken through the microphone. “Last year, I went to a Halloween party with my boyfriend. The girls dressed in skimpy maid, nurse, or police officer outfits, and we all got totally wasted. I was so wasted during the night that I couldn’t comprehend where I was or what I was doing.” She bites her lip, and I can tell she’s pushing back emotions she forced herself to keep to herself. “My friends left and walked around the block. My boyfriend and I used that to our advantage and entered the back room. We had sex, but right when, um…” Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath in and then out. “He broke up with me during sex.”
“What the fuck?” Sammy chokes out, her eyes bulging.
My heart sinks, and I feel sick.
“And so, I lay there, screaming in my head for him to get off, but my bodywantedit. I felt so dirty and disgusted with myself. Once he left the room, I crawled to the nearest corner, wrapped my legs around me and cried.” She nods, taking in the silent, horrifying atmosphere. “Um… Our friends came back, and the girls came in to comfort me. That’s when I learned he told themall as soon as they got back, and the boys at the party all gave him fist bumps and high-fives.”