The Truth Commission by Susan Juby

noncommittally, like a cop interviewing a witness.
    Zinnia sighed. “She had some trouble a few years ago. You know, online.”
    Dusk waited. She was getting pretty savvy with the silence. It was no longer companionable. Now it was an interrogation technique.
    Neil and I were leaning against the gym, which is a halfhearted building, especially compared to the rest of Green Pastures’s facilities. It’s more often used for art installations and performance pieces than for sports. Other than an elite hopscotch team and a nearly unbeaten three-legged-race squad, we aren’t really known for our athletics. Oh, and we have a pretty stellar badminton team, but I think they practice in one of the hallways.
    â€œShe got a little too . . . comfortable on a webcam. She put up a few profile pictures that were kind of revealing.” Something in Zinnia seemed to rouse as she spoke. She blinked rapidly and then leaned forward. “Would you listen to me?” she said. “This is incredible! I’m using the same language as that cop who said women have to cover up or risk getting harassed. Oh, man.”
    She turned in a circle, still holding on to the length of chain. When she was facing Dusk again, she spoke in a rush.
    â€œThe negativity just gets
in
a person. The sexism. The oppression. Why
don’t
I talk about what happened to my sister? It was totally not her fault! She looked beautiful in those pictures. Because she
is
beautiful. That bra was, like, the most gorgeous color! It was mine. New. She snuck it from me and wore it for this guy she met in a chat room. She took it off when he asked. She’s beautiful. Why not? Then everyone in her school found out. The kids in her school weren’t cool about it. Oh, my God. This is unbelievable. I can’t believe my language.”
    Dusk had taken a step back, perhaps alarmed at the flood she’d released.
    â€œYou know what else?” said Zinnia. “I had sex.”
    â€œWhoa!” said Neil.
    â€œOh, shit,” I said.
    â€œI did. Unprotected. When things were going so bad with Camelia, I got with this guy and we didn’t use protection. Because I was tired of being careful. I could have gotten an STD. I could have gotten pregnant. I
never
talk about that at my Student Artists for Choice events.”
    â€œOh,” said Dusk. “Well—”
    â€œYou are absolutely right,” said Zinnia, turning in a circle. “It’s not enough to protest. You’ve got to stand up and be counted. It’s got to be personal. No more secrets.”
    â€œWell,” tried Dusk again. “You might want to keep
some
sec—”
    â€œAbsolutely not. Silence makes us part of the problem. No more silence.”
    Zinnia had begun swinging the fat chain like a cowboy who wanted to lasso a steer or maybe kill one.
    Dusk took a step back.
    â€œYou know, I felt so bad about that bra. Camelia just, you know, developed and she loved that color. I felt like that stupid bra started it all. The kids were so awful. She ended up dropping out of school and moving to live with my dad in Edmonton. And we’re hippies! Self-esteem to burn! Imagine what happens to kids with straight or mean parents.”
    She was jerking the chain back and forth so hard, I worried that she might dislocate her arm.
    â€œThis year Slut Walk is going to be personal. And it’s going to be militant. It wasn’t my fault or the bra’s fault or Camelia’s fault. A girl can get naked if she wants. Boy, I’m really mad right now.”
    â€œOkay,” said Dusk. “I’d like to thank you for sharing your—”
    â€œEvery day is going to be Slut Day in my world,” said Zinnia. She dropped the chain and it clunked to the ground. Then she began stripping off her big sweater.
    â€œOh, jeepers,” said Neil.
    â€œDo something,” I told him.
    â€œCan’t,” he said. “Too