Her warm breath snaked around my neck, enveloping it in a blanket of pungent perfume. My fingers leafed through the pages, my eyes and voice converting strings of letters into a melody of adjectives, nouns, and verbs until there were no more left. I looked up, anticipating a smile and a gold star, but instead was confronted with a smug, wrinkled face. “No,” she said, “You aren’t reading. That was too fast” I opened my mouth, preparing to challenge...

I sat down in an old wooden chair and took out my notebook, glancing around the tiny room expectantly. Students began shuffling in, sharing a laugh and a scone from Liz’s place as they took their seats. Laptops were unfolded to reveal cases covered in stickers from the Met, local artists, and political campaigns as Professor Kato walked in. We discussed Obama’s nomination of Merrick Garland to the Supreme Court and the Senate’s refusal to hold the...

Her mouth freezes in a perpetual scream, hatred burning in her eyes. “Go back to Africa!” A shrill voice pierces the cacophony of protesters and National Guardsmen, her words a comforting melody to the herd of white women behind her and a dissonant chord to the girl in front of her. Off to her right, journalist Will Counts peers through his viewfinder and captures her scream on a roll of film. Frozen in time. It’s a still image, but...

Fourteen chairs are lined up at the back of the stage, anxiously awaiting the girls who will soon grace their scratchy cushions. The theatre lights dim as I file into the auditorium alongside 800 other girls, casting a myriad of dancing shadows on the walls, all drifting to their own individual melody. “The Girls Nation nominee for group 14, Katie Smith” I climb up the stairs onto the stage and take my seat next to thirteen other girls vying for the two...