Lies We Tell ✔

The Twenty-ninth Dance

From: BU Division of Public Safety and Security

Subject: CRIME ALERT #3 - Assault - 300 E. Woodrow St.

Date of Incident: September 26th, between 10 and 11 p.m.

Location: Near South Williams Ave. and Woodward St, on-campus

Offense: Ethnic Intimidation

Summary: As told to the Brookings Campus Police, a student pedestrian was approached by a male and female wearing all black, who yelled at her to leave America, made reference to race and then pushed her down a hill.

If you have any information, please contact the

BROOKINGS DIVISION OF PUBLIC SAFETY and SECURITY at (734)722-1890

*****

"And then what happened?"

It was Thursday night after dance rehearsal. Instead of going out to celebrate the weekend early, the Dance Sensasians were instead sitting inside Bubble Mania. We'd snagged a table near the windows and were listening with rapt attention to the star of the evening: Jessica.

Jessica shook her head and winced. She rubbed at the white bandage that had been wrapped around her chin. "Next thing I knew, I looked up and the two people were gone. That was when Amelia found me."

There was something different about my friend. The normally shy, mousy girl had a sharp, hardened glint in her eye. She was determined to tell her story fully—even as dramatically—as possible.

"Crazy," Sawyer said, eyes wide. She leaned back in her chair and sucked on the last of her strawberry milk tea, clutching Jessica's hand in hers. "I can't believe that happened to our precious newbie. I am so sorry, honey."

"What're the police doing about this?" Parker demanded. "Don't tell me they're going to sweep this under the rug." He cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Just let 'em try. I'll sweep them under the rug," he growled.

Jessica shrugged helplessly. "They said they were going to investigate this alongside the other hate crimes that have been happening."

I raised an eyebrow. "But this campus is so huge. It's so easy to just disappear after committing these crimes." My mind conjured the memory of Chris emerging, empty-handed and dejected, from the woods the other night. Jessica's assailants had disappeared without a trace. "How're the police ever gonna pinpoint who's behind this?"

Jessica shrugged helplessly. "Catch 'em in the act, somehow?"

"That would require stationing officers on every street at every hour of the day," Parker pointed out. "Think of all the money and manpower it would take. Our school would rather pour their funding and resources into the football team." He rolled his eyes and snorted in disgust.

"What did these people look like, anyway?" Sawyer demanded, leaning forward toward Jessica and propping her head onto her hands.

Jessica bit her lip and cast her gaze down at the table. "I couldn't really tell in the dark," she admitted. "What I told the police is all I can remember. A guy and a girl, both about a few inches taller than me—maybe five seven. And—and the girl might have been blonde." She looked at me when she said this, her bright eyes trying to tell me something.

"Well, that just leaves about one thousand possible suspects," Yong-bin sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Most of the people in this school are blonde. Even the ones who are not blonde have dyed their hair blonde."

None of us could argue with this observation. At one point in my life, I'd wanted to dye my hair blonde, too. Blondeness meant sameness. Blondeness meant power.