Page 4 of Heartbreak Kings
A security camera in my hallway had stopped the notes on my door and the random banging in the middle of the night. Professors had embarrassed the worst of them in class. One or two persistent idiots had gotten thrown out of my English class altogether. My forwarding threatening emails to faculty and administration, and to one or two mothers, had slowed them to a trickle.
But nothing had made more impact than the vlog post the assistant dean wanted so badly to be taken down, because it had gone viral—thanks to the tantrums and threats thrown around in the comments. By trying to harass me into silence, those same boys had confirmed my stories of harassment.
I played that video again, narrowing my eyes slightly as I critiqued my work. I needed to use a little more hair oil before going on camera. My hair got all frizzy from the dorm room being steamy. Cute, but not professional enough. My makeup was on point, forest-green liner bringing out the red and gold tones in my bright brown eyes, and my confident smile didn’t waver.
“Good afternoon, everyone. This is Sabine here with Adventures at Markinswell. It’s my first day here. I just got dropped off at my dorm by my mom and have gotten everything set up. As I promised, I’m checking in as soon as possible after arriving.” I beamed at the camera—actually just my phone on a tripod sitting in my closet on top of the bureau. It had done the trick, thank God.
In the video, I sat in my chair with my laptop open and the monitor on, displaying as many of the hateful and threatening emails I had received as would fit on my screen. I taped the note to the wall beside the screen, proudly displaying its single word:
CUNT
And yet I smiled like nothing was wrong as I went on.
“The weather’s lovely here, a nippy fifty-eight degrees.” The screen switched to the photos I had taken on the way, the trees, monuments, buildings, and the angry crowd. I included that last one without comment, letting it pique my viewers’ curiosity before explaining it. “Fall colors are perfect, and the campus is beautiful. I’m scheduled for eighteen units this semester. It worried some of you that I would overtax myself between school, the blog, and visits upstate, but I promise, I’m doing fine. Also, one of my professors is apparently a Pulitzer Prize winner. I’ll search for the details for you and add them in the comment section. I’m so excited to be here!”
In the video’s background, someone started pounding on the door. I managed not to jump. My smile died, and I sat patiently as the banging drowned out everything else.
“Come on out, slut. I want a blow job.” Three male voices laughed, then more banging. “Come on! You know that’s why you came here to be around all these guys—you’re a straight-up cock-hungry whore, so give it up.”
I kept my composure. “Unfortunately, while the maples and aspens all over campus have been showing their colors, so have the delightful men of the Markinswell student body.”
More banging. “Come on and suck it, slut!”
On-screen, I smiled tightly. “Their response to the administrative decision to allow women to enroll as students has not been taken to the administration. Instead, it is being brought to me.”
More banging.
I spoke a little louder, making my words very clear. “Even before I arrived” —the screen switched to a close-up of the threatening emails— “they made it clear that not only I am not welcome, but that a significant number of them are men no woman would want to be around.”
The banging halted. “Dude,” a male voice hissed audibly. “I think she’s recording this or something.”
I stifled a laugh. The few seconds where their conversation was recorded was definitely the best part.
“Shit,” muttered the first boy. All his bravado faded fast. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
My stage smile went a little more genuine as the feed switched back to me, and the insult still glared from the paper on the wall, its significance unmistakable now. I didn’t have to go off about finding it on my door. I didn’t have to explain the emails. I didn’t have to tell them that repulsive bullies had been banging on my door and yelling through it like that for hours off and on. All the evidence was right there for them to hear and see—thanks to the timely idiots who had dropped by to demonstrate.
“I’ve made it very clear from the beginning that my sole goal for being at Markinswell is academic achievement. That is what I will continue to pursue, despite all this…” I glanced back at the sign and smiled sweetly at the camera. “…pushback.”
Somebody kicked my door hard enough to make the chair propped against it shake. On the screen, my composure wavered.
“As for a bunch of insecure guys who think the best way to maintain their boys’ club is to drive me away, even if they could, this was an administrative decision. I’m not trespassing.” I sighed, then put a small, polite smile back on. “I never advocated for Markinswell to become co-ed. I couldn’t care less that male-only colleges exist or that female-only colleges exist. All I did was pursue the best educational opportunity available to me. The whole debate should be with the administration.”
Someone started rattling the door handle. They stopped after a few seconds, and my smile briefly wobbled. I was crumpling in front of the camera—just a little, but enough that I could see the stress. And so could my viewers. And that was half the point, so I didn’t care if it made me appear a little unprofessional.
On video, I lifted my chin confidently. “But I’m not going anywhere. Instead, I’m going to document everything. Every harassment, every theft, every death threat, every nasty note, everything. What I do after that depends on how I’m treated.” For a second, my smile faded, and I stared into the camera, then I turned it back on like I had flipped a switch.
“But enough about that. It’s not as if every guy in this place feels threatened that one member of their class isn’t male. Anyway, they should feel a lot more threatened that I’m going to ruin their grade curve. Which I will.” I winked at the camera.
I stopped the video and glanced down at the comments again. I’d deleted many after I had followed up on some non-anonymous death threats, but I had already documented everything.From what I had seen so far, it was only about five percent of the student body that had any obvious problems with my presence. Of those, only about a quarter seemed like I would need to report them. The only problem was, that was over sixty students, some of whom I shared classes with.Am I really going to take that many idiots to the brink of expulsion before they will back down? That will eat up all my time. I can’t afford it.
I was puzzling out that problem when I heard a much more polite tapping on the door. “Hey, sweetie. It’s Billy. Are you in?”
I smiled. Billy lived two doors down and had been getting the business too, though not quite as badly. He and I, and a few others from the scholarship crowd, had banded together quickly—mostly to have someone friendly to eat meals with and talk about the school situation.
I opened the door. Billy reminded me of my favorite Spider-Man—small, slim, with big brown eyes, medium-length natural hair, and a preference for hoodies. “Hi!” he exclaimed brightly as he bustled in carrying a grocery bag.
“Hey, little bro. How did your day go?” He got a hug. He smelled faintly of weed.
