I raised my hand. “It’s an important topic no matter who the author is. That’s the point.”
Anthony turned back to me. “Of course you’d say that.”
“Excuse me?” I leaned forward in my desk.
“You’re a sorority girl.”
“What does my being part of a Greek organization have to do with my thoughts on literary analysis?”
“Everything.” He cocked his head to one side and shifted in his seat to look at me. Everything about him screamed arrogant.
“Oh yeah? So, if that’s the case, then your all white boy New England prep school background influences yours.”
“How so?” he asked. “It just means I’m well educated.”
“Well educated? Are you implying public schools don’t educate well?” Kyle jumped in.
“No, I’m just saying that doesn’t color how I view literary analysis the way being a sorority girl would.”
Professor Grayson cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s move this back to the books. Cara? Do you have anything more to add?”
“Yes.” I tried to calm my bubbling anger. After the Aaron run in, I wasn’t doing well with it. “I believe this discussion is about whether the representation of women in lit accurately reflects their place in society. My answer is that it depends on the author. That’s what I was going to say before I was attacked.”
Anthony smirked. “You weren’t attacked. If you can’t handle a discussion, then don’t participate. Sit back and listen like the rest of your sorority friends.”
I refused to take the bait. “Whether we’re discussing the representation of women, or children, or anything, it depends on the author. It’s impossible to leave your own identity out when writing.”
“That’s an interesting point, Cara.” Professor Grayson smiled. “Does anyone else agree? Disagree?”
“I agree.” Kyle jumped back in. “If I were to write the same story as Cara, it would turn out differently because we’re different. That’s not to say that a woman can’t accurately depict men or vice versa, but our version would be different.”
Professor Grayson nodded. “Nicely said. On that note, let’s end a few minutes early.”
I let out a deep breath and started to stuff my books into my bag.
“Cara?” Professor Grayson asked as I headed toward the door. “Can you stay back a second?”
“Sure,” I answered nervously. I hoped he wasn’t going to reprimand me for being late. It was my first time, and I was hoping for a one time grace. Professor Grayson was one of my favorites. I’d taken American Lit with him the semester before.
He waited until everyone else filed out. Kyle gave me a look. We usually walked to our next class together.
“How are you doing?” He paused briefly. “You’ve seemed distracted this week. And as much as I love the enthusiasm you showed today for the topic, it doesn’t seem like you.”
“I’m sorry if I was out of line. I just can’t stand when someone tries to marginalize me because of an organization I’m part of.”
“You weren’t out of line. You just weren’t Cara.”
“I had a rough break. I’ll be back to normal soon.” I’d just have to make sure to steer clear of Aaron.
“Anything you want to talk about?” He packed up papers and a few books.
“No. Just boy drama.”
Professor Grayson laughed. “Believe it or not, I was young once. I’m happy to listen if you need to talk. My office hours are for more than discussing literature.”
I laughed. This was only the professor’s second year on faculty. He was in his early thirties. “All right, I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Good. And I am glad to see you connecting with the subject matter. Maybe you can use Zora for your term paper.”
“Oh. That’s a great idea. Maybe I’ll come by your office hours next week to discuss it.”
“All right. Have a good weekend.”
I headed to the door.
“But, Cara?”
I turned back.
“Don’t let boy troubles get in the way of your life. No guy’s worth it at your age.”