Code of Conduct - Ch. 02

CHAPTER TWO

“Oh my God.”

Scott took his seat next to Ali at the front of the Antiquities lecture hall.

“Say more.” Ali challenged.

“I kind of have to. This is a red letter day. I mean, Ali’s wearing a skirt.”

Ali felt ridiculous. It shouldn’t be that embarrassing to wear a skirt. But the fact that she’d normally eschew anything other than pants made her change in style today, however small, a big deal. She wished her friends would just ignore it. But how could they? Ali never wore skirts.

She only had herself to blame. Would it have hurt to wear a skirt now and again?

“It’s for the protest, dummy. Only for today.”

“Yeah, I know. I just didn’t think you wanted to.”

“I didn’t.” Ali said. “Then I changed my mind. It’s not a big deal.”

Scott shrugged and put his attention to the oncoming lecture. Professor Craig Collins was finishing his ritual of wiping the whiteboard clean.

The fact that three quarters of the girls in the hall were also wearing skirts made Ali feel a little better about herself. When she stepped into the skirt this morning, she fought the panicked worry that she would be one of the scant few in one. After all, the temperature was dropping. Even in the warmth of her dorm room, the openness around her legs felt bizarre. She wasn’t used to them not being in anything.

Much to Ali’s relief, the turnout had been impressive. One girl, an acquaintance that Ali barely spoke to, had even given her a high five of solidarity and complimented her skirt. There was a sense of camaraderie among the participants, and Ali was a part of it.

But she still battled a cloying discomfort. The unfamiliar freedom around her thighs didn’t help her nerves. Everything she did felt different in it. Walking, sitting, even standing idly, she couldn’t ignore it. She felt exposed.

But she also felt disconcertingly free. Maybe it was the knowledge that she was breaking a rule. Like she was taking part in some transgressive act, as tame as it might be.

“Okay class, it’s time to get started. Triss, focus up.”

Professor Collins snapped in the direction of a girl in the front row. She had her nose in a compact mirror and was touching up her blush. A smattering of brushes were scattered across her desk, along with a couple fold-able kits of make-up.

“You can’t tell me not to wear make-up!” She said. A couple of other girls let out whoops of agreement.

“I’m not. I’m just asking you to square up. You can do that after class, we’re starting. Okay. Today we’re diving further into early trade routes…”

Ali prepared herself for another dense lesson. She’d done the reading on this three times before she felt like she had a handle on it, and now Professor Collins was surely going to complicate her understanding.

“Triss, come on, eyes up!” He barked again.

“I’m almost done!” She said, exasperated.

“You couldn’t have done this at home before you left?” Professor Collins asked.

“That was before they said I couldn’t.”

Professor Collins raised an eyebrow, and another girl piped in from the middle of the hall.

“The new rule, Professor.” She said. “Female students are NOT to wear make-up.”

“Ah.” Craig said. “The protest. Any other girls want to pause the lecture and apply make-up? Genevieve? Mika? Ali?”

Ali wanted to disappear into her desk. Scott stifled some laughter next to her. He was picking out the girls in skirts. And she was one of them.

“No…” She mumbled.

Ali’s participation in the protest, as meager as it was, would end before wearing make-up. If that was true about the new rule, there was no way she’d rise to the occasion.

“Look girls. I don’t care about your dress, or make-up, or whatever. When you show up to class, you can look however you please, but please do it before and not during, okay?”

Triss closed her mirror with a snap and stuck her tongue out at Craig when he turned to write on the board. A couple of her neighbors laughed.

Ali clicked her pen in and out. In and out. Professor Collins started his lecture, but she wasn’t hearing it. She was just clicking, holding her pen above the blank page in her notebook.

A new rule. A new rule banning make-up for female students. Like with skirts, Ali didn’t wear make-up either. She was perfectly happy with her plain face, and the idea of painting it up pretty made her gag. But now she was forbidden to.

She could picture it below the first rule, a thin line of white text hovering against the blue screen. Just knowing it was there pulled her mind towards the student center. She could go there after class and see for herself, though she didn’t know why she should.

She didn’t wear make-up. She shouldn’t care.

But she also didn’t wear skirts, and here she was sitting in one with her legs crossed, lest anybody catch a glimpse of her thighs and underwear. Here she was feeling her bare legs against each other under a curtain of cotton.

This was supposed to be just for one day, and now there was already a new, equally insulting update to the board.

It seemed like the skirt revolution wouldn’t be ending anytime soon after all. What did she get herself into?

Against her better judgement, Helen poked her head back into the warm musty office of Henry Hearst.

“Ah! Welcome again.” He said invitingly.

The man showed no signs of wear from being jeered at by a hundred angry students. Instead, he appeared to be in the middle of reading, eyeing Helen over his hardback before setting it down and placing a bookmark in it.

“That was quite something earlier, wasn’t it?” Helen said, sitting.

“Some frustration is to be expected.” He shrugged.

“Some frustration, huh? I’d love to see what you’d consider anger.”

“Ms. Paisley, I thought we agreed to give my methods some time. A little rebellion from the students is to be expected. I never said my changes wouldn’t have some growing pains.”

“You’re telling them not to wear make-up.” Helen said. “That’s not even an expectation in the workplace. Women wear make-up. I do!”

Henry chuckled. “I know, I know. It’s odd, isn’t it?”

“It’s adding fuel to the fire.” Helen said.

“I am creating an environment suited for learning.” Henry countered. “I’m well aware that my rules are cold water onto the faces of these comfortable, spoiled students. They’ve never been challenged, is the problem. I aim to rectify that. College is the place for challenge, is it not?”

“Well yes, but, Henry. I mean, come on. Has no one in the administration talked to you about this yet?”

“For the time being I have the administration’s full support. They are of course skeptical, like you. But I think everybody will find that the results speak for themselves. I’m just asking for a little more time. This is for the betterment of student wellness, you see.”

“I think this is a recipe for unnecessary chaos. But… message received. I hope you know I’m only pushing back on this out of concern. For the students and you. You’re becoming Public Enemy Number One out there.”

“I’d expect nothing less!” Henry laughed.

Helen smiled curtly. She almost admired the man’s easy confidence. If it didn’t seem like a smokescreen for something underneath. Even now, as he returned his attention to his book, Helen thought she caught a crinkling of his brow… Like he was more frustrated with her than he let on.

She let herself out of his office and returned to hers across the campus.

“This is seriously insane.” Colleen said over the phone. “I can’t believe you’re the only one confronting him about this.”

“Apparently the administration is on board.” Helen said, leaning back into her chair.

“Well I think they are going to change their tune pretty quickly. You don’t piss off women at college.”

“This student of mine, Sheena… She marched right back to her dorm as soon as she saw the second rule. And she was already wearing make-up. I can’t even imagine what she put on after that.”

“Honestly I wish I could see it. Speaking of, that woman you connected me with wants to chat. Shannon, I think? So, fingers crossed.”

“That’s great! Shannon is lovely, she’s the head of my department. She’s going to love you. So, maybe next semester we’ll be department buddies?”

“Hope so!” Colleen said. “Anyway, I gotta get going, but meet up for a bite later? I have a good Korean place to take you to.”

“That’s why I keep you around!” Helen laughed.

“Your hookup for legit Asian food, at your service.” Colleen quipped. They always joked about how Colleen brought some culture into Helen’s life.

“And this white lady thanks you for it. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye!”

Helen hung up and took the moment to collect herself. For a person who hated confrontation, she was starting to make a habit of it. And now she still had a stack of Shakespeare essays to grade. She pulled the first one off the pile and got started.

“I don’t care.” Ali told herself. “I don’t care.”

She’d done a good job of forgetting about the code of conduct during class. At the lecture’s end, she had almost put it out of her mind completely. She’d even managed to scribble down some notes. Then she laid eyes on the missed texts from Sheena.

“You HAVE to see this.”

“Student center ASAP!!”

Sheena didn’t yet know that Ali caved and wore a skirt. Ali was going to surprise her. She hoped that her participation would have pleased her friend, but now she feared it wouldn’t be enough. If Triss was any indication, the girls were expanding their protest to make-up. Ali wanted no part of it.

Normally at this time she’d get her Antiquities reading done at the library. Ali could avoid the issue entirely if she headed that direction and went on with her business. She was in the skirt, as each bare-legged step she took reminded her, and she owed nothing else.

But without the distraction of Craig’s lecture, the code of conduct was all she could think about. She scanned every passing girl wearing a skirt or dress. Most of them were wearing make-up, too. But how many of them were doing it out of habit, and how many out of protest?

And were some of them giving judgemental looks at Ali’s plain face?

She was headed the wrong direction. Without realizing it, she’d passed right by the path which veered down the hill where the library sat. The path she followed now headed directly towards the quad. Towards the student center.

Ali chalked it up to friendship. It didn’t sit right to just ignore Sheena like that. She should at least go and show her support. Ali was in the skirt, after all. Sheena deserved to see the fruits of her civil disobedience. What good was breaking the rule if everybody didn’t get to see it? Sheena, one of the architects of the rebellion, especially.

And Ali had to admit it. Sheena was right. Her legs looked good in it.

Catching her own reflection in mirrors continued to be a trippy experience. That girl in the blue skirt was her. Those smooth legs, adorned by a swaying fabric ring, were hers.

She was even starting to get used to the sensation of wearing it. More than that, the skirt was starting to become comfortable. She kind of enjoyed how the swishing cloth hit the fronts and backs of her legs with every step. It was a reminder that she was wearing something. That she wasn’t naked, even if it weirdly felt like it.

Sheena would be proud. Ali wanted her to see.

Ali wasn’t the only girl headed to the student center. She entered with a gaggle, three girls adamantly dragging a fourth in sweats through the double doors into the main hall. Ali recognized them from her chem lab. She was pretty sure all four of them were on the girl’s basketball team.

The girl in a lemon colored sundress pointed up. “See, Grace?? And now there’s another one!”

The tall, athletic brunette in a messy bun was Grace. She was the only one not wearing a skirt, and looked frustrated at her crew.

Grace tilted her head up. “Jesus, Cayla. Fine. I’m…”

“…Looking…”

When Grace saw the screen, her face blanked into a wide stare and her voice trailed away. She took in the rules, both of them, while her friends lambasted the new one.

“We can’t wear make-up??” One said.

“Nuh uh. Couldn’t be me!”

“See, Grace??”

Ali continued to watch Grace watch the screen. Her lips, slightly agape, moved a little, halfway muttering something beneath her breath. She watched Grace, unblinking, slacken even further.

The urge to follow suit grew too strong. Ali’s eyes rose to where Grace looked.

There it was, the new rule.

“A reminder that make-up is a DISTRACTION. Female students are NOT to wear it on campus.”

Those capital letters were infuriating. As was the whole phrasing. A “reminder,” as if the girls needed reminding of something obvious. But make-up wasn’t distracting. It was normal. For most girls, anyway. They all wore it, and nobody was distracted.

They all wore it, except for Ali.

Ali didn’t care for it. Make-up was a lot of work. You had to apply it every morning, and then keep an eye on it all day for smudges. On top of all that, you had to clean it off before bed every night. So much work for so little benefit. For Ali, who hardly bothered with how she looked, make-up was nothing but a…

A DISTRACTION.

“Alii!” Sheena gasped, breaking her focus. “Oh my God girl, a SKIRT! You look great!”

“Oh, thanks.” Ali mumbled, feeling self-conscious. She had a small headache that started to dissipate as soon as she looked away from the buzzing blue LED. The girls from the basketball team were gone, replaced by a new collection of passers-by reading the screen in their place. One of them, a girl in slacks and a button-down, had they same dazed expression as Grace.

Sheena, meanwhile, had on her red clubbing skirt and wore thick coats of eyeliner, mascara, and lip stick. Only her top, a simple grey long-sleeve pullover, kept her ensemble grounded.

“Sorry to interrupt, I saw you walk in a couple minutes ago and wanted to catch you before I got distracted. We’re getting super busy!”

“A couple minutes…? But I just walked in– I was only just–” Ali blinked a couple times. Her eyes were unusually dry. “What do you mean you’re busy?”

“Come on! We’re set up over here!”

Sheena led her to a corner where two folding tables were set up. They were being manned by a few girls, each with a modest line formed in front of them, and a large stand-up sign read “DISOBEY HERE!”

“I’ll let you skip the lines,” Sheena said, pulling her towards the table and taking her spot behind it. “We’re doing people’s make-up! This thing is getting organized, Ali.”

The girls at the front of the lines were getting brushed and painted by Sheena’s cohorts. In the back, Grace and her basketball friends waited too. Grace looked a little dazed, standing quietly in her spot and occasionally glancing back up to the screen.

“But I don’t want to wear this…” Ali protested as Sheena opened her kit.

“Don’t be silly, Ali! You’re already in the skirt!”

“I know but– isn’t that enough? I don’t want to put on–”

Sheena reached across the table. The brush was soft on Ali’s cheek and smelled of fruit. Sheena dabbed lightly, up and down the side of Ali’s face. It tickled a little.

“Sheena…”

What was Ali saying again? She was in the middle of telling Sheena something, but then she got distracted by the make-up.

Make-up is a DISTRACTION. Female students are NOT to wear it.

“Shh… Now the other side…”

Sheena dabbed the brush with more powder and moved on to Ali’s other cheek. “You know I always thought you needed some color.”

She stroked gingerly with the brush. The bristles danced on Ali’s skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“Uh huh…” Ali said. She was perfectly comfortable with her pale complexion as it was. But then again, she never had a rule forbidding her from doing something about it.

Female students are NOT to wear it.

Sheena kept working, trading out brushes to apply eye shadow.

“Don’t go overboard.” Ali conceded.

“I’m not going crazy here,” Sheena said. “We’re just doing some basics. Otherwise we’ll go broke. But you do get friend-benefits. Here, I want to do a little mascara.”

The sticky brush came towards Ali’s eyes, and it took all her strength not to blink as Sheena pulled it over her lashes.

“And the other one… There. Take a look, and you can apply the piece de resistance!”

Sheena held out a mirror towards Ali and shoved a tube of lip gloss in her hands. Ali clutched it, coming face to face with her own shocked expression.

Her cheeks were warmer now, glowing with a soft reddish hue that made her once flat features spring to life. And her eyes, framed inside a subtle dark shade with thicker and longer lashes, looking striking. Were her irises always that blue?

Ali toyed with the lip gloss.

Her lips did look a little dull, compared to the rest of her.

She was already in violation of the second rule. Sheena had seen to that, bombarding her the way she did. Ali might as well make the most of it. She puckered her lips and put the tube to them, coating them with a glistening sheen. When she finished and examined her work, a fresh shiver of satisfaction passed over her.

Ali still wasn’t certain about the results. They weren’t bad. Far from it. But the boost in femininity simply wasn’t her.

No matter how nice it looked.

The corners of Ali’s sparkling lips curled into the smallest smile. It came out of nowhere, along with that bubbling sense of satisfaction.

She straightened out her expression in a hurry and suppressed that rising feeling. She didn’t like her new face. The smile… That feeling… It had to be for the protest, Ali told herself. It had to be.

Everything else aside, it felt good to stick it to another rule.

If Helen thought she could escape the subject of the skirt revolution in the faculty lounge, she was sorely mistaken. The professors of the English and Anthropology departments, who shared a small and poorly lit space that straddled both of their wings, were swapping stories over late-day cups of coffee.

Intent on tuning out the chatter, Helen made a beeline to the coffee machine where her colleague Craig Collins was speaking in a small circle.

“It’s crazy. Even Ali Burke was wearing one. You guys know her, right?”

The student he named instantly grabbed Helen’s attention.

“Ali Burke?” She cut in before ever reaching the coffee. “Small, stand-offish tomboy with the dirty blonde hair?”

“Hello to you too, Helen.” Craig quipped. “And yeah. I don’t think I’ve seen her wear anything other than baggy pants. Couldn’t believe it.”

Helen tried to picture it. Ali kept her head down, turning in consistently good work but never standing out in class. Helen would never have pegged her as one for collective action. Ali avoided the spotlight like the plague. She wouldn’t usually concern herself with a flashy movement, even one spearheaded by her friend Sheena. And that was before taking into account her androgynous style.

“That guy’s really kicked the hornet’s nest.” Another professor chimed. “And now this rule about make-up, how are we supposed to enforce that?”

“I don’t plan to.” Helen shrugged. “To be honest, I think we just need to let this play out. I’ve been talking to Henry and I think he’s in way over his head.”

Craig raised an eyebrow at her. “So you’re saying it’s going to get worse?”

“I think it needs to.” Helen said. “Henry called it ‘growing pains.’ He thinks it’ll calm down.”

“Keep me posted on that. I’m already seeing girls pass lip stick tubes around during class like joints.” Craig said, breaking a smile.

“It’ll get worse.” Shannon, the head of the English department, interjected.

She was a little older than Helen, a soft-featured woman with frizzy hair who dressed in plaids and wool. “I just passed through the student center and there were girls lined up to have their make-up done. And there was a girl yelling into a megaphone about how everyone should wear even shorter skirts tomorrow.”

“Probably Sheena.” Helen said. “She’s really fired up.”

“What I’m saying is, I don’t want to have to startenforcing some policy.” Shannon said. “What are we supposed to do when girls come to class in mini-skirts and heels?”

“It won’t come to that.” Helen said, hoping against any evidence. “These are educated young woman, they know what they’re doing. They certainly wouldn’t cross the line into debasing themselves. It would defeat the whole purpose of the protest.”

“Maybe…” Shannon said. She rubbed the thin metal frames of her glasses, a sign that she was deep in thought.

“I’ll say one thing.” Craig said. “If Ali Burke starts wearing mini-skirts, then I’ll start thinking that this Henry guy is messing with the laws of physics, not the student code of conduct.”

That evening, Ali Burke stepped into her dorm clutching a bag of skirts. The impulse to actually keep wearing this stuff twisted disconcertingly around in her gut. The skirts were Sheena’s, who insisted that Ali borrow them so she could continue the protest.

A mini travel make-up kit accompanied them. On her walk over from Sheena’s room, the small metal case had sunk to the bottom of the loosely filled bag like the pit in her own stomach.

Ali barely even knew how to apply make-up. If she tried to put this on, she’d look like a clown. She wouldn’t look as good as what Sheena did for her today, at least.

And she did look good. Irritatingly so. With a brighter face, smiling came easier to those she passed. And it was hard not to smile when so many girls were smiling at her.

Something that felt like confidence was ballooning inside of her, lifting her across campus, making her steps a little lighter. Ali hated it. She never lacked confidence. So what was this feeling?

“Woah, Ali. Are you wearing make-up?” Danica asked. She leaned back from her video game to examine Ali’s face, and a warm flush of self-consciousness washed over her.

“It’s that protest.” Ali said in a hurry. “Did you hear they banned it?”

“Yeah. Everyone’s talking about it. So you’re like, going in on that, huh?”

“You know, it’s not embarrassing to care about stuff.” Ali said defensively. “You should try it sometime.”

Danica scoffed and turned back to her game. “Whatever.”

“You wear make-up.” Ali reminded her.

Danica gravitated to dark shades to complement her pitch black hair. Her style was a far cry from the feminine applications being offered in the student union, but it was make-up nonetheless. Why didn’t she care that they were banning it?

“Yeah, and I’m not gonna stop. But I’m also not gonna wear skirts cause a rule said I can’t. The point is I’m not changing my behavior for anything. I’m just gonna keep doing what I do.”

At Danica’s indifference, Ali’s confused torrent of feelings coalesced into anger. How could Danica remain so aloof to the code of conduct that was easily getting under her own skin? It was like her roommate was living in another world.

“Have you seen the rules in person yet?” Ali asked.

But she already knew the answer. If Danica had, then she would get it. “You need to see them. They’re on a big screen and everything. It’s obnoxious. Let’s go take a walk and–”

“Girl, Ali, stop.” Danica groaned. “I don’t care.”

Ali’s frustration melted away into renewed embarrassment. She was acting crazy. Getting so defensive over nothing. Danica didn’t need to– shouldn’t have to– do anything. What difference would it make if her roommate laid eyes on the screen herself, read the words, watched the flickering blue pixels, took it all in…

It wasn’t Ali’s job to make her do it. To make her see. Danica, or any other student who hadn’t yet seen. No matter how badly Ali wished they would.

Ali’s stomach twisted and turned. The knot was back in full force. She turned her attention to the things she could control. The contents of her bag.

The new skirts, and the make-up. Would she dare wear a shorter one like Sheena asked? They needed to go as short as they could get away with, en masse, to make this work. Every girl on campus in mid-thighs. That was the ambition.

Sheena was already planning on going a little shorter than that, and tighter. But she was a leader of the movement, so she had to be on the cutting edge.

For Ali, this orange ruffle skirt would do. The lightweight fabric felt thin in her fingers. She could already imagine it hanging from her waist, breathable and scarce on her legs. Putting on make-up was a hassle, but putting on a skirt was easy. All she had to do was step into the ring of fabric and slide it up her legs. And wearing it was easy too. It just hung there, swaying. After awhile, you hardly knew it was there.

In the bathroom, Ali soaked a washcloth and wiped her face. The make-up came off easier than expected. In a minute, the bare, drab expression beneath it emerged. After today, Ali’s skin never looked paler, the blemishes on it never more noticeable.

Make-up aside, she didn’t take care of it very well, did she?

Ali had always accepted this face as hers, flaws and all. Her cheeks, her nose, and her cracked lips. But her cosmetic face was hers too, just a different version of it. A smoother, softer version, that made her feel light and airy as a skirt.

As of today, it was against the student code of conduct to choose which face she wanted.

Her stomach tightened, the nervous knot twisting itself around and around. Ali stared into her own mirrored eyes, the blue irises duller than they were just a minute ago. What did she want? The answer was right there, at the center of the knot.

How did this fucking happen? Whether out of rebelliousness or out of genuine, superficial desire, Ali couldn’t tell. But she wanted the make-up.

Helen’s morning Shakespeare class was full of legs. Bare legs, from every single girl, kicking and swaying beneath their chairs, hanging from a rainbow of skirts.

Nobody had missed the memo today, and if any single skirt was a coincidence, the litany of powdered, blushed, and contoured faces expressed that it wasn’t.

Sheena looked proud. As promised, she’d gone all out. The girl’s brown cheeks twinkled with glitter, and her lips and eyelids glistened a vibrant green. She wore the shortest, tightest skirt of them all, a sequined number bordering actual acceptability.

But it wasn’t Sheena that shocked Helen the most.

Ali Burke was wearing lip stick.

Not only lipstick, but concealer too. And Helen was pretty sure she touched up her lashes with mascara. It was subtle, but against Ali’s historically plain look, she stood out more than her flamboyant friend. Helen was amazed at how a little rose coating on the lips transformed her.

Or maybe it was something in her eyes, a softness to her usual glare. It was in all the girls’ faces, to varying extents.

Before class, they had all partaken in another dress down of Henry as he walked through the student center. Helen had missed it, but she heard the showing was bigger than yesterday. Girl solidarity seemed to be uplifting everyone. The undeniable energy of the protest was manifesting into good moods.

The boys meanwhile, couldn’t care less. They seemed to find the whole thing entertaining at most, and even Ali’s friend Scott made another quip about her uncharacteristic efforts. Helen wanted to slap the kid across the head.

“Before we wrap up, I have your essays.” Helen announced.

She circled the room to pass them out. Each girl she handed one to smiled in return, silently challenging her to scold them for their disregard of the rules. Helen slipped Ali’s A grade assignment onto her desk, and the girl smiled too. Had she ever done that before?

“Holy shit!” Sheena gasped to the class. “Sorry, Prof. Holy cow, or whatever. I just got a text that there’s another update to the fascist board!”

The news passed through the class in a wave of murmurs. Even Ali looked up from surveying Helen’s notes on her essay with wide eyes.

“What is it!” One girl asked.

“Yeah, what’s it say!”

“I don’t know!” Sheena said, exasperated. “We gottago see!”

Helen could see the class getting away from her. “Hold up! Don’t forget to finish reading the next act of King Lear!” She yelled over the growing fervor.

“Sure, sure!” Sheena said, packing in a hurry and almost sprinting out of the room.

Scott laughed and turned to share in the moment with Ali, but she stared after Sheena, face heavy with conflict, ignoring him.

A few other girls started to follow suit behind Sheena. Helen sighed, knowing when she’d lost a group’s attention. She returned to her desk, the last essay dispersed, when she noticed Ali fighting her way through her peers to the front of the room.

“Professor, I just had a quick question about my essay?” She said, holding out the crisp paper.

“Sure Ali, what’s up?”

It wasn’t unusual for Ali to follow up on her work. She was a diligent student who always sought to internalize Helen’s feedback. But right now, she looked a little distracted.

Ali glanced quickly to the door. The other girls streamed out of the room in bigger numbers now. Ali watched them for a moment, then shook it off, turning her attention back to Helen.

“It’s just this comment you left. Uhm, one second. I was just looking at it.”

Ali flipped through the pages, but Helen could tell her eyes were barely taking in the words on them. Her classmates’ footsteps became distant echoes, and only a handful of guys were left clearing out. Now that the room was nearly empty, Ali kept peeking at the slowly closing door.

“Uh. Sorry. I forget what it was. Maybe I’ll come by your office later?” Ali said, fidgeting with her skirt. “I kind of need to run.”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “To the student center?”

“I should see what it is. The rule, I mean. I need to… read it…” Ali stared into the middle distance, trailing off.

“Sure Ali. I know it’s the big thing on campus. You gotta stay in the loop.”

“Uh huh…” Ali said. “Sorry. I don’t know why… I need to go. There’s a new rule.”

Ali bit her lower lip, lightly caked a muted rose. She looked at Helen from beneath her dark lashes as if asking for permission. Something felt off about her, like she didn’t actually want to go. But Helen didn’t know what else to do. What did Ali want her to say?

“It’s alright, Ali. I’ll see you. You did great work on that paper, by the way. If you want me to elaborate on anything, you know my office hours.”

Ali nodded. She slipped the essay back into her bag and turned, striding towards the door. As her steps become more and more purposeful, her skirt swayed from her hips. And then she was gone, through the door, on the the trail of the energized girls before her to find out what new thing she was forbidden to do.

Helen sighed and cleaned up her things. She had to admit that she too was curious about the latest development. Sure, the rules didn’t pertain to her. But if they were going to continue rippling through campus, Helen should at least be aware of what they were.

She should read it, she realized, as soon as possible. Right now, even. She had time. She wanted to know what it said. Needed to. As an engaged member of the faculty.

She rushed through the nearly emptied hall without her bag. It was still sitting at her desk… and, had she even finished packing it? When did she decide to just go.

She could come back for it after, she decided. It was more important to just read the screen. The knowledge that something new was there was too much of a distraction. It was like an itch that needed to be scratched.

Helen spotted Shannon across the way. The head of her department took quick steps in the same direction, almost power walking that way. She was on the phone.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be there in a moment. There’s just something I need to look at first. Did you hear he added another one?” She paused to listen. “Okay, well maybe we should just have our meeting there?”

Then there were the boys, who also were meandering that way.

“Can’t wait to see what they’re gonna protest next! Think it’ll be hair ties?” One laughed.

But the most enthusiastic of the crowd were the female students themselves. Many were jogging, their skirts blowing in the wind as they called to each other. “New rule on the screen!” “Hey Mallory, come with us!” “Let’s go, girls!”

The girls of Helen’s Shakespeare class were already out of sight. They were probably all there already, looking up and learning Henry’s latest demands of them.

As Helen rushed towards the student center, joining the disparate rivers of students and faculty all headed that direction, her stomach fluttered with peculiar excitement.

Like everybody, she just had to see what it said.