“I wonder if they’re going to show my interview,” Mom says, licking her ice-cream spoon.
A male reporter stands in front of the school with a microphone in his hand. It is long after school hours; the shot is empty and dark, almost sinister, as if a violent crime has been committed. The reporter says with journalistic gravitas: “A local high school is mired in conflict resulting from the activities of an underground feminist group calling themselves the ‘Nowhere Girls.’?”
Cut to a close-up of crumpled posters in a garbage can. “In recent weeks Prescott High School has been plagued by vandalism and increasingly volatile altercations between students. The group is also suspected of stealing sensitive computer data from the school. It is unclear how many members the group has, but the school administration believes it consists entirely of female students.”
Cut to a shot of the empty football field. “Targets of the group have included the Prescott High football team, who were last year’s regional champions but have a total losing streak so far this season, which Coach Dwayne Baxter believes is a direct result of bullying and slander by propaganda spread by the Nowhere Girls.”
The screen cuts to Coach Baxter, sitting at the desk Grace recognizes all too well. “You wouldn’t believe the team’s loss of morale,” he says. “They’re just devastated. These girls are accusing them of awful things, stuff I know my guys wouldn’t do. These are good guys. They’ve trained hard for this season. And now all their talent is being wasted because a group of troublemakers is going around spreading lies. These are hate crimes is what they are. Pure and simple. My guys are being singled out because they’re boys, because of their gender.”
The reporter returns. “Some are calling it an adolescent war of the sexes. Some say it’s a result of hormones gone awry. And some are saying the Nowhere Girls have legitimate concerns stemming from the events of last year that threw Prescott High School, indeed the whole town of Prescott, into chaos, after one girl accused three male students of a brutal sexual assault. The charges were quickly dropped, but the unfortunate event sent ripples through the community that seem to have inspired the recent disruptions at Prescott High.”
“We asked Prescott residents what they think of the so-called ‘feminist uprising’ at the high school, and here are some of their responses.”
The screen cuts to an old woman standing outside the grocery store. “I think it’s disgusting,” she says between thin lips. “What these girls are up to. Our boys don’t do things like that.”
A middle-aged man in front of his truck: “They’re just a bunch of girls who want attention. Just like that girl last year.”
A dreadlocked, scruffy-bearded man of indeterminate age and questionable sobriety: “Yeah, girls. Fight the power.” He pumps his fist in the air.
“That’s who they chose to speak for the other side?” Grace says. “Objective reporting, my ass.”
Mom raises her eyebrow. “Sorry,” Grace says.
Cut back to the reporter, chuckling. “One thing’s for sure, Prescott is full of opinions. We also spoke with Dr. Regina Slatterly, principal of Prescott High School, who is at the epicenter of the current difficulties and is struggling to keep her students safe and focused on their education.”
Principal Slatterly sits behind her desk, hands folded in front of her. She is wearing more makeup than usual. “You know,” she says, “we live in such a culture of entitlement and blame and playing the victim card when we feel we don’t get the kind of treatment we deserve. I think the girls involved in this need to stop for a moment and ask themselves what their part is in their dissatisfaction. Maybe then they will stop blaming boys for all their problems and stop using them as a scapegoat. Don’t get me wrong; I do believe most of the girls involved are probably good girls at heart. But they’re young and full of emotions they don’t understand, and they’ve found the wrong outlet for it. Girls this age are na?ve and impressionable, and I have reason to believe that there is a mastermind at the center of this who is responsible for leading them astray and putting all these ideas in their heads. But I want to make one thing clear: This is not your usual run-of-the-mill case of peer pressure. This is serious. The escalating disruption at Prescott High has created a hostile environment that is not conducive to learning and is, quite frankly, not safe for the students. And I am determined, with full support from the Prescott police force, to find the person or persons behind this and bring them to justice. I will get my school back.”
There is so much Grace wants to say, none of which would be appropriate in front of her mother. More than anything, she wants to throw the remote control at the TV screen, straight at Principal Slatterly’s smug face.
“Many of the people we spoke to echoed Principal Slatterly’s sentiments, but there is one response that stands out, from a relatively new member of the Prescott community—Dr. Robin Salter, new head pastor at Prescott Congregational.”
“Mom, you’re on TV!” Grace says.
“Oh, my forehead looks so shiny,” Mom says.
“Shhh!” Grace says. “I want to hear you.”
“I wasn’t here last spring,” Mom says in front of the church’s big rainbow mural. “So I don’t know firsthand what this community went through. And I don’t think anyone knows what really happened between the young woman and the three young men except those involved. Whatever the truth is about that night, it sounds like the young women of this community have thoughts and feelings that need to be heard, and whether or not we agree with their tactics, I think we can all agree that we care about these girls and we want to hear them.”
Grace’s Mom is replaced by a fat white man standing at the front of a large modern church, the stained glass of a suffering Jesus on the cross towering behind him. The camera shoots from below so he looks more powerful, kinglike. The reporter’s voice is dubbed over: “But Pastor Robert Skinner of Prescott Foursquare, Fir County’s largest congregation, has a different take on the matter.”
“They cut out all the good parts of my interview,” Mom says.