Anthropology of an American Girl: A Novel - By Hilary Thayer Hamann Page 0,15

sank meekly, but her eyes lit up with hatred.

“Then you’re my responsibility. You go where the class goes.”

Coach turned from Alice and blasted her whistle harshly, then pointed to the gymnasium and commanded the rest of us to “Get out there and do three laps.” The boys had already started, so we ran in place in the corner until they reached the far side of the room, then we moved ahead in a big group. Every time the boys passed Alice, who was sitting on the floor under the water fountains, hugging her knees to her chest, they would say mean things. The coaches did nothing to stop them—they seemed to be using Alice as an example. They seemed to say that the gym is a realm unburdened by sloughing wombs and engorged breasts. It was confusing, frankly, the way everyone stared at our bodies even as they tried to erase the ideas of our bodies from our minds. We were supposed to get over ourselves, but no one was supposed to get over us. The female body was our worst handicap and our best advantage—the surest means to success, the surest course to failure.

“It’s her own fault,” Jodie Palumbo exhaled.

“God, it’s so gross.” Annie McCabe shuddered.

Pip said something, which I couldn’t hear, and they laughed. They didn’t like Alice, though they didn’t know her. They were sorting, or classifying. It’s easy—anyone dressed funny is the enemy, especially if they reject your supremacy or do not acknowledge school as entertainment. If the enemy tries to look like you and act like you, only in more affordable clothes, that person is still the enemy, only of a more contemptible, less terrifying variety—the sort you can be seen with if absolutely necessary, for instance if you are soliciting float-making help for homecoming or votes for yourself in the class election.

I passed the girls, though it brought me to the rear of the boys. Actually, the rear of the boys was a nicer class of people than the front of the girls, which is a carryover fact for life. I mixed in with Roy Field, who rebuilt radios and ate seven bowls of Trix a day; Tommy Gardner, who had impetigo and a heart murmur; and Daryl Sackler, who was six-foot-four but refused to play basketball even though they offered to let him start, because he had a job mowing lawns after school. Daryl Sackler buries cats and mows their heads off, that’s what everybody said.

“Actually,” Jack said of Daryl, “I like him. Most freaks like that would kill for fucking basketball hero status. But he chooses to remain a loser. Either he’s a total retard or a complete man of honor. Besides, you know how I feel about cats.”

I ran hard, really hard. At the end I sprinted to finish and bent to catch my breath. Others finished after me, forming a docile line at the girls’ water fountain. Alice shifted miserably, as though protecting herself from us, like we might kick her or spit, but she didn’t shift too far, since her predicament was legitimate; in fact, her predicament was our predicament. I felt I was with her, though my body stood apart and my voice was silent. In Jules and Jim, Jim blows Catherine a kiss when she jumps into the Seine River after Jules insults women, and Jim says, I admired her. I was swimming with her in my mind.

I twisted the knob and drank the water, which was icy cold by the time I got to the front of the line; I had this trick of letting everyone cut in front of me. I wiped my mouth on my shoulder and looked back to Alice. I didn’t know what she’d endured beyond the school walls, but her look was knowing. If my eyes met her eyes, I wondered what message mine should convey. Not pity, since I am a woman too, and therefore as pitiful as Alice. I considered sitting next to her, but then I would have gotten detention. It’s weird how teachers belong to a union and they teach about revolutions and labor strikes, but they discourage solidarity among students.

Kate and I saw her doctor’s note halfway unfolded on Coach’s desk when we were sent to return the relay cones to the equipment room behind the office. We could only make out parts. Please excuse Alice Lee from physical activity due to severe menstrual—the second paragraph fell into a crease. Something, something—requiring medication.

In the hallway Kate