Swearing Off Stars

by Danielle Wong

  “Liberal Arts,” I answered. “But I’m only here for the academic year.”

  “Same here. Regarding the major, not the length of study at Oxford,” she clarified. “It’s one of the few majors afforded to us female students.” There was an air of bitterness in her tone.

  “Mmmm . . .” I really couldn’t think of a decent response.

  “You do realize that as women, we aren’t allowed to matriculate with the male students.” The sentence hung there, something between a statement and a question.

  “I—I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, it’s an awful rule. I’m surprised that you hadn’t heard . . .” There was an odd levity in her voice that starkly contrasted with our conversation topic.

  “Well, like I said . . . I’m new here.”

  “It upsets many of us,” Ida continued as she tugged on the hem of her lilac dress. “Not just the ladies, but some of the men too.”

  “Oh?”

  I honestly wasn’t that interested. I would be graduating from a university back in the States, whether I wanted to or not.

  “Yes, Lia. It’s a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Most men think that we’re lucky to even be here at all.”

  She shuffled through her black book bag. “Please at least take a flyer.”

  “Of course,” I said, reading the thick pink paper:

  WOMEN’S RIGHT TO MATRICULATE AT OXFORD

  Align with the movement and fight for equality!

  “Our meetings take place in a secret location so they can’t shut us down,” she said proudly.

  “So who can’t shut you down?”

  Ida looked at me as if I had just asked the daftest question. “Them.” She gestured toward a black police car pulling up the drive.

  As the car drew closer, the rolled-down window revealed two angry men in uniform.

  “You lot! Not this again! Get a move on, will ya?”

  I turned back to face Ida, but she was long gone, leaving only a trail of pink paper in her wake.

  No sooner had I leaned down to pick up my book bag than a large hand grabbed my shoulder. I whipped around as quickly as Ida had run away. The officer looked surprised.

  “Eh, I’ve never seen you before. We’ve got a new girl, Jim!”

  “I—I’m a new student,” I stuttered. “Sir.”

  “Then what are you doing hanging around with this crowd?”

  He waved a pink flyer in front of my stunned face.

  “Really, I was just on my way to class—”

  “Tell you what. Don’t get mixed up with these blighters anymore. You hear me?”

  His tone was less threatening than before, but all I could do was nod my head.

  “Go on!” He gestured toward the campus buildings, pointing a plump finger at the path Ida had taken. I hurried off before he could say another word. Although I did catch the last thing he muttered under his coffee-scented breath: “Crazy girls. When will they give it up, Jim?”

  I hadn’t even noticed the sun come up during that confusing series of events. Still shaken from the proceedings, I sat through three classes uninterested and finished out my week in a similar manner. I managed to arrive on time each day, though after that day I chose to ask for directions instead of using my map. It had already gotten me into trouble once now, and I wasn’t interested in running into any more students with agendas and pink flyers.

  Chapter 2

  As a new month began, I vowed to spend more time around campus and less time stuck inside with the Watsons. Although I was grateful for their hospitality, one could only tolerate so much conversation with Mr. Watson. He drank too much almost every night, which turned him into an even angrier narcissist than he already was. I even heard him telling Mrs. Watson one night that I should be more appreciative and start helping their maids clean the house. She protested at first, but quickly gave in when his tone reached a threatening pitch.

  I’d never seen the maids around the house, but figured that they cleaned while I was in class—the house was always in good order, and I was under the impression that they were more than capable. But apparently I was mistaken, since from then on I got assigned domestic chores any time I wasn’t doing homework or reading in my room.

  I started to take more notice of the couple’s weekday behavior. Mrs. Watson woke up early and put on a full face of makeup before creeping downstairs to brew coffee. Mr. Watson’s alarm rang at exactly seven each morning. His bedroom door creaked open about an hour later, and he emerged showered, shampooed, and shaven.

  Unlike Mrs. Watson’s soft footsteps, Mr. Watson’s stride had a way of shaking the entire house. This naturally caused the children to jump out of bed and run downstairs after their father, which meant they all arrived in the kitchen at approximately the same time—and Mrs. Watson was always ready for them with a freshly cooked breakfast.

  I heard and smelled all of the morning commotion from my corner bedroom on the second story. Sometimes when I didn’t have class, I’d just wake up and lie there, listening to them start their days. Only after the family’s driver, Vincent, picked up Thomas and Christian for school would I ease my way into the kitchen and brew another pot of coffee.

  I’d sit at the table and say good morning to Mrs. Watson, who was usually dressed in an expensive floral number that belonged on a store mannequin. She would pause only briefly to say hello, then immediately resume her erratic house-cleaning routine, shuffling around the lower level, dusting fine china, and attending to the occasional fern. I began to wonder where the maids that Mr. Watson had drunkenly boasted about weeks earlier were.

  One morning I found a handwritten list on the kitchen counter. It was damp and laid underneath Mr. Watson’s pricey cigarettes. The note read, Chores for Lia and maids: wash dishes in sink, sweep living room, etc. I rolled my eyes and walked over to the sink. There wasn’t a dish in sight. I turned around to see Mrs. Watson carrying a broom into the other room. As I opened my mouth to say something, she winked and began to sweep the shiny hardwood floor.

  I realized that I had two hours before my final class on Wednesday, perfect for a late lunch break. There weren’t as many students roaming around the campus as earlier, so I walked up to a woman in a black beret to ask where the cafeteria was.

  “Excuse me, I was wondering if—”

  She turned around before I could finish my question.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize it was you,” I said, shocked.

  “It’s the beret,” Scarlett whispered with a playful smile. She held her finger up to her lips, like she was hiding from something.

  “It is.” I smiled back, wondering how she managed to fit all of those blonde locks into such a tiny hat.

  “Where are you headed, Amelia?”

  “Oh, it’s just Lia,” I corrected her. “And I’m off for lunch.”

  “Amelia suits you better,” she teased. “I was going to eat something too. Do you want to join?”

  “Sounds good. Where to?”

  “Just follow me,” she said with the quick flick of a red nail.

  We walked in silence for what felt like ages. The clusters of buildings had evolved into trees and hilly gardens.

  “Um, Scarlett, aren’t we going a little far?”

  The truth was that my new boots were killing me. We were treading through some sort of off-campus forest.

  “Tired already, Amelia?” she teased.

  “No, it’s just . . .” She was right. I was winded after a mere cross-campus walk. “Never mind.”

  “Ah, that’s the spirit,” she winked at me. “Don’t worry, love. This place is worth it.”

  A sudden breeze blew open the flap of my bag, exposing the pink flyer Ida had so kindly left me with the week before. Scarlett noticed it before I could close the flap.

  “The women’s movement. Are you a supporter?” She raised a steady blond eyebrow in my direction.

  “That depends,” I ventured. “Are you?”

  She looked at
me in surprise for a moment. “Of course,” she said firmly, adjusting her silver bracelet. “Now your turn. Are you?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” The words came out before I could craft a proper response.

  “I see.” Scarlett stopped dead in her tracks. I wondered if she was going to leave me for dead just because I didn’t support the cause.

  “It’s . . . I’ve only just heard about it. I need to learn more, I think.” That was the simple truth.

  “Fair enough, Amelia. We’ll just have to give you an education.”

  Scarlett put her arm around my shoulder and led me closer to the lodge-like building in front of us. I was so distracted that I hadn’t noticed it, or the sign next to it that read Wonderland.

  She quickly ushered me under two ivy arches and through a rosebud-covered courtyard. Suddenly we weren’t at a University but wandering through some sort of secret fairyland in the middle of the woods.

  “Well, look who it is,” echoed a lively voice from across the courtyard.

  “Shhh,” Scarlett said coyly. “We’re trying to make a grand entrance.”

  A tall figure walked toward us, a man’s body with boyish features. His dimples grew more defined as he approached. He slid his hand around Scarlett’s tiny waist and planted a soft kiss on her pink lips. I felt simultaneous pangs of protectiveness and curiosity.

  “No one’s here at the moment,” he told her.

  “Darn.” She sighed. “I wanted to introduce her to everyone!”

  Then she turned to face me.

  “Amelia Cole, meet William Masterson.”

  “Pleasure,” I said with a nod.

  “Just Will,” he said and shook my hand with a quick wink.

  “And I’m just Lia,” I said, smiling. “But she won’t call me anything other than my full name.”

  “She’s oddly formal like that.” He laughed and scooped Scarlett into his arms. “C’mon, just Lia. Follow us!”

  We walked into a cream-colored building with a wooden door that didn’t look tall enough to fit someone of Will’s stature. Even Scarlett had to hunch just to make it through the entrance.

  “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.” She must have noticed my confused expression.

  “What is this place?” I wondered out loud.

  We were making our way down a spiral staircase, which explained the shockingly low entrance. A musty scent emanated from below. We were getting farther and farther underground. Glowing lanterns illuminated an otherwise dim hallway at the bottom of the staircase. They cast a warm, amber light on several floor vases lining the hall—bright poppies and lavender bunches peeked out of terracotta cylinders and emerald glasses.

  “This,” Scarlett whispered, “is Wonderland.”

  We approached a large room at the end of the mysterious hallway. It smelled of lavender oil and cigarette smoke—an odd combination that caught me off guard. I stared up at the room’s high ceilings and noticed a tiny rectangular window. It provided a refreshing light source in the otherwise shadowy room— thick vines and rich green ivy crawled through its opening and reminded me of Scarlett’s eye color.

  The rest of the room was filled with red leather armchairs spread out around a thick wooden table. Stacks of paper covered its surface; file folders occupied the tall bookshelves leaning against a set of yellowing walls. I recognized the pink papers as the protest flyers Ida had been passing out. As if realizing this, Scarlett broke the silence.

  “Welcome to our headquarters, Amelia.”

  I looked up in disbelief. “You’re . . .”

  “Yes.”

  “But . . .”

  “What, I don’t seem like the protesting type?”

  I blinked twice, trying to take it all in. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” I said, suddenly wanting to leave.

  “You didn’t already tell her?” Will sounded surprised.

  “Tell me what?”

  “We want to recruit you. For our movement.”

  “If this is about the women’s rights issue, I already explained to Ida that I’m not even going to be here next year . . .”

  “Christ, Ida . . .” Scarlett trailed off, rubbing her temples. “Look, we’ve known that there was going to be an American student here for a while now. And to be honest, the team thinks that it would really help our cause. You know, to have some different voices involved.”

  “So you’ve been waiting to snatch me up?” I was suddenly confused—disappointed, even.

  “I won’t lie to you, Amelia,” Scarlett said. “I sort of sought you out the other day. I mean, I wasn’t expecting to find you in such a . . . vulnerable state, but—”

  “Well, I don’t want any part in this. I’m just here to study and experience a new country for a few months. That’s it.”

  “Will you please just listen to what we have to say?” Will pleaded. “It’ll only take a couple moments.”

  I stood there staring at them, withholding my response just for the sake of it.

  “Fine,” I finally said. “Just for a few moments.”

  They told me all about their mission. The team wanted equality for male and female students. There were important disparities that I hadn’t even realized existed. Women couldn’t truly matriculate at Oxford, regardless of their academic performance. We were allowed to attend lectures, enroll in classes, and even take exams. But none of that really mattered, did it? We couldn’t earn an actual degree.

  Scarlett, Will, and their friends had come together to try to change this. They were doing everything in their power to transform the system. I was skeptical at first, but listened intently as Scarlett told me about women’s suffrage in England. The war started a political movement that resulted in certain women being allowed to vote—some, but not all. Scarlett and Will realized that parliament still had a long way to go, but that they could start small. If they achieved their goal at Oxford, women would be able to graduate from the university alongside men.

  It didn’t take much more to get me interested. My stubborn resistance quickly dissolved as I heard Scarlett and Will speak about their cause with such passion. They believed in academic equality and were fighting for it. I longed to be part of something so genuine.

  We spent the remainder of that day discussing plans and backup plans. I was shocked at how intrigued I became in such a short time. They were both so brilliant, so well-spoken. I wanted to be like that. I wanted a reason to be like that. As the afternoon sun set into a dusty pink sky, I realized that I had skipped my late class without a second thought. My long walk back to the Watsons’ took me through a winding patch of oak trees. They reminded me of the ones from home—dark and solid in their depth. My mind wandered as I remembered scaling the tree near Robbie’s house. We were probably too old to climb trees, but we did it anyway.

  “Grab that branch to the right,” Robbie suggests as he lifts me up.

  I reach for the thick brown branch and come up short.

  “You’re getting heavy, Cole,” he jokes.

  “Oh shut up,” I laugh as I try to reach higher.

  “Have you been eating too much of your mother’s pasta?” he continues to prod.

  “Got it!” I yell victoriously as I pull myself up the to the next branch. I keep climbing until Robbie looks unsettlingly tiny.

  “Hello up there,” he calls.

  I laugh and delight in my tree-climbing success.

  “You’re almost to the top. Just go for it!”

  I glance up nervously and see the highest point of the tree I’m wrapped around.

  “C’mon Cole!”

  I swallow hard and dig my shoes into the ridged trunk. After I reach the top, I manage to get myself onto a branch thick enough to support me. I sit on it nervously, scratched legs dangling as Robbie cheers from below.

  Just then, I see two uniformed figures approaching the house behind my best friend. I convince myself that they’re salesmen, but I know that they’re probably soldiers. I point ca
utiously while my other hand grips the trunk tightly. Robbie turns around as they knock on the door. I watch it open slowly, Mrs. Wells standing in the arched doorway. One of the soldiers shakes his head and says something inaudible. Robbie runs toward the house as his mother drops to her knees.

  THE next week passed quickly as I tried to balance my academics with these new meetings and rallies. Scarlett and I ate lunch together regularly. The more I got to know her, the more attractive and mysterious she became. A dichotomy of sorts: classy and sophisticated, but surprisingly unpretentious. Serious, but mind-numbingly funny when she wanted to be.

  “Everyone will be there today,” she told me as we paced through the woods one day.

  “I’ll be happy to meet them. So far I only know you and Will,” I realized out loud.

  “You’ll love them,” she assured me.

  I hoped she was right. As we approached the magical lodge known as Wonderland, I paused to find my compact.

  “Oh, we haven’t got time for that now!”

  “I just want to look presentable . . .”

  “You always look great, Amelia. Really.”

  “Always?” I said. “If you think back to a couple weeks ago, I didn’t make the greatest first impression on you . . . salty tears and mascara running down my cheeks sound familiar?”

  She stopped walking. “That’s when I knew you were perfect.”

  “What are you talking about?” I searched her face for something I didn’t yet realize I was looking for.

  “For the team, I mean. The movement. You were so helpless that day, but you also possessed this quiet strength . . . It’s fascinating, really. I knew we could put it to good use.” She shrugged.

  “Scar—”

  “Amelia. We don’t have time to stand around and talk all day, you know. We should go inside.”

  There it was. A moment of vulnerability, cut off by Scarlett’s sense of urgency.

  “Okay,” I sighed. And once again, I followed her inside.

  She was right about everything. I loved the other members and their different points of view. There were men and women of different ages, all united by their desire for this change. With each person I spoke to, I felt more connected to the group as a whole.