We have to stop letting the bitches manipulate us. They think their passive-aggressive games are going to force us to behave how they want, but we’re stronger than that. We call the shots, not them. We will not bow to a mob of feminazis. We don’t need them. They’re too much trouble.
Don’t worry, men. In the great scheme of things, these girls are nothing. Real women want a strong man to take control. They want to please. They want to be wanted. They’ll do anything to get you to say you love them.
So let’s move on. These bitches aren’t worth our time. There’s plenty of other pussy out there, and we know how to grab it.
—AlphaGuy541
ROSINA.
Fuck this school. Fuck Principal Slatterly.
“Come on, Miss Suarez,” says the dopey security guard. “I don’t have all day.”
Fuck you.
A handful of girls sit on the plastic seats in the school office, the best selection of burnouts and antisocial weirdos the school has to offer.
“What is this?” Rosina says to the black-haired girl with white streaks sitting next to her—Serina Barlow, the girl who notoriously just got back from a summer in rehab.
“I have no idea,” Serina says.
Mrs. Poole steps out from the back, fanning herself with her short chubby fingers. Her forehead shines with beads of sweat.
“You all right, Denise?” the security guard asks her.
“Yeah, Denise,” one of the burnouts says, and a couple of others cackle with her.
“Yes, yes,” Mrs. Poole chirps. “Busy day, that’s all.”
“What are we here for?” Serina asks. “I haven’t done anything.”
“I haven’t done anything,” one of the burnouts mocks. “You think you’re some kind of princess just because you have three months sober? All of a sudden you’re better than us?”
Serina ignores the girls’ hateful stares. Rosina likes her immediately.
“Hey,” Rosina says. “Did you know our names are almost the same if you rearrange the letters?” Serina just looks at her and blinks. “If we get out of here alive,” Rosina whispers, “I have something I want to talk to you about.”
“Rosina Suarez.” Mrs. Poole sighs. “Why don’t you go next?” She waves her in the direction of Principal Slatterly’s office.
This isn’t the first time Rosina’s been in the principal’s office. There was that time she spit in Eric Jordan’s face, of course. There was also the time she defaced the library book about Intelligent Design as a birthday present to Erin (which Erin did not appreciate nearly as much as she should have). There was the time she called her PE teacher an asshole when he shouted “Hurry up, hot tamale!” at her during a running test.
“Why am I here?” Rosina says as she sinks into the way-too-soft armchair across the desk from Principal Slatterly. Everything in the room is floral patterned and wicker. An oil painting of baby rabbits in a gaudy gold frame hangs above a filing cabinet. If a person didn’t know any better, they might think this was the office of a sweet old grandma. But they would be oh so wrong.
“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Slatterly says, leaning forward in her chair and folding her hands on top of her desk.
“I’m here because you told the security guard to come get me out of class.”
“And why do you suppose I did that?”
There are a lot of things Rosina could say, most of which would probably get her suspended. So Rosina says nothing. She leans back, shoulders relaxed, and looks out the window at the dreary wet parking lot as if she couldn’t care less. This is a look she has perfected, which comes in especially handy in moments like this, when she cares way too much.
“You were quite vocal last spring about how you felt about those allegations against three of our male students,” Principal Slatterly says. “You created quite a few disturbances.”
“I created one disturbance,” Rosina says. “And it wasn’t much of a disturbance.”
“There have been quite a few disturbances lately,” Slatterly says. “Would you agree that I am justified in suspecting you might be behind those?”
“Really?” Rosina laughs. “You think I’m a part of this protest or whatever?”
Slatterly doesn’t blink.
“Dude, I’m not a part of anything,” Rosina says. “It’s like a group, right? Like a bunch of dumb girls got together and decided to play pretend freedom fighters and change the world? Do you really think I’d be a part of that? Nobody likes me. I like nobody. I don’t do groups, and I definitely don’t do optimism or whatever it is you need to believe anything you do can actually make a difference.”
Slatterly’s lips go tight and thin. Rosina can’t help but smile a little—no doubt she won that round. But then the principal hoists her chin in the air and raises her eyebrows. Round two.
Slatterly takes a deep breath. If Rosina didn’t know any better, she might think the gesture seemed sad.
“You may not believe this,” Slatterly says, “but I was young once too.”
It takes all Rosina’s strength to not laugh in the principal’s face.
“You might even say I was a little like you,” Slatterly says. “I tried fighting. I tried yelling to make myself heard.”
Rosina wonders what kind of manipulation strategy this is. Some kind of reverse psychology?
“But you know what?” Slatterly continues. “I didn’t get anywhere that way. I used up all my energy trying to prove something to the world, but no one was listening.” She shifts some papers around on her desk. “I know you girls think you’re doing the right thing, picking these fights. And trust me, I’m with you—I don’t want anyone to get raped. I don’t want girls getting pressured into having sex. Hell, I don’t want girls your age having sex at all. But the truth is, you can’t expect the boys to take you seriously like this. You can’t expect them to respect you when you’re yelling at them.” Slatterly pauses, attempts a smile, maybe even a real one. “Thankfully I learned before it was too late, and that’s why I’m here talking to you, as your principal, in a position of leadership. In a position of power. It was not easy to get where I am, Miss Suarez, and there’s no way I could have done it if I hadn’t been willing to make some compromises.”
Rosina doesn’t know if she’s supposed to say something now. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to think, what she’s supposed to feel. A part of her is angry, but most of her is just confused.
“It’s a man’s world,” Slatterly says, and for a moment Rosina thinks she sees something human break through Slatterly’s usual hard-ass demeanor. Something vulnerable. Something maybe even a little scared. “They make the rules, Miss Suarez. And if you want to get anywhere in this world, you have to play like a man. Being a strong woman doesn’t mean fighting men; it means acting like one.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Rosina says.
“I want you to succeed, Rosina. I don’t want you to get mixed up in any pointless activity that gets you in trouble.”
“I’m not,” Rosina says. “So you have nothing to worry about.”
Slatterly sighs. She closes her eyes for a moment, then adjusts the small fan on her desk so it is pointed straight at her face. Rosina fidgets in her seat. Is Slatterly sweating?
“How many people in your family have graduated high school?” Slatterly finally says.