The Female of the Species by Mindy McGinnis

left you.”
    I swing. It’s so simple I don’t understand why I never did it before. My fist is on an arc that will break her perfect nose when it’s stopped in midair, my elbow locked with Alex’s, her strength so superior to mine that her arm is like a steel pipe and mine the pipe cleaner.
    â€œGet your shit under control, Preacher’s Kid,” Park says, and I lunge at him before the last syllable is out of his mouth. Alex spins me into the wall, the knuckles of her fist in my spine pinning me in place like a butterfly.
    â€œYou need to calm down, Claire.” It’s the same voice she uses on the cats at the shelter, the one that makes them melt a little bit. I kind of get their reaction, because I understand that if I’m unable to do it on my own, she will make me.
    I take a shaky breath. “Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
    Alex relaxes her grip and I turn to see Branley nestled behind Jack, her boobs pushed up against his back. Sara rustles around in the corner and picks up Branley’s lipstick. “Here,” she says, handing it over as if restoring it makes everything better. Branley takes it as Miss Hendricks walks into the room, the bustle of the hall dying behind her.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” she asks, eyes narrowing at the sight of the tears that finally spill over onto my cheeks.
    â€œPeekay lost her shit,” Park says.
    â€œ Parker Castle ,” she screeches at him, but he only shrugs. She narrows in on me. “What happened?”
    â€œNothing, it’s fine,” Branley says suddenly. “Don’t worry about it.”
    â€œI’m the one who decides what’s worth worrying about,” Miss Hendricks snaps back, but Branley walks away, leaning into Jack more than necessary.
    My breaths are coming deep and heavy now, the tears running down my cheeks freely. Sara has one hand on my shoulder, and Alex stands on my other side in what feels like support, but I’m pretty sure she’d gladly face-plant me right into the tiles if I flipped again.
    â€œI think I need to go to the guidance office,” I say.
    Hendricks nods. “One of you go with her.”
    â€œI will,” Alex volunteers, and I swear there’s the tiniestbit of relief on Sara’s face when she does.
    We’re halfway to Miss Reynolds’s office before I get my breath to stop hitching in my chest and it occurs to me to wipe my face. “Bathroom,” I say, ducking in because a cold sink and some running water sounds a hell of a lot more comforting than trying to decipher what kind of judgment Miss Reynolds’s eyebrows are delivering. Alex leans against the wall, eyeing me in the mirror while I splash my face.
    A flush of embarrassment rises up my neck and into my cheeks, underscoring the hot tear tracks. “I’m sorry,” I say.
    â€œWhy?”
    I watch the water sweeping away the salt on my face, the drops collecting on my chin as I lean my forehead against the mirror. “Because that’s not me,” I say, closing my eyes. “I don’t hit people. That’s not who I am.”
    And Alex’s voice in the darkness. “Wrong. That’s exactly who you were in that specific moment. That was Claire at her most basic, unaltered by expectations.”
    I open my eyes, the blue of my irises so much more intense now that I’ve been crying. “But you stopped me.”
    â€œVenting your primal self in an emotional moment can be more than your socially constructed self can handle after the fact,” Alex says, her eyes gliding over me. “Look at you. Your hands are shaking. Your voice isweak. And your conscience is reasserting itself.”
    I heave a sigh and pull back from the mirror, my forehead leaving a smear behind. “Yeah,” I admit. “It totally is.”
    All I did was smack Branley’s hand a little, dent her makeup, and give her a lesson on what her new