Tim: "I have Psych lab in a minute..."
Virginia: "This is just a preshow. I've divided up all the subjects among us, so here are your packets, and then we'll each present."
Travis: "Hey, did DePaul slip you the..."
Virginia: "Hell no. There's no sisterhood, if that's what you're thinking. She hates me for being a woman."
Mason: "But then how did you possibly excel?"
Tim: "Are you pre-med?"
Virginia: "I don't know. I just want to graduate."
Charles: "[Nearly a compliment, but then it turns into ten shitty things.]"
Virginia: "All right, Sweater Vest. Take it easy. I'd put my kids in time out for..."
Charles: "You have children? Nobody has children!"
Virginia: "You really have no idea what is coming out of your mouth, do you? In honor of that, I'm switching your study packet to the colon, bowel, and rectum."
Charles: "That seems fair."
She settles into the Wendy Darling thing they're putting on her fairly easily, because it only accesses the parts of her that she likes best: It's not about caring for them, like it's her natural role as a woman or some shit; it's about shepherding them, like she shepherds Bill, because she's the only person who can see where they're going.
She didn't exist above the neck until they saw that 99 on the top of her paper, and now they'll follow her anywhere. She isn't a woman but she's not-not a woman; it cancels out; she can't have kids because women have kids; she can't have kids because they are her kids now; she can't have kids because we do not love where we desire. She provokes so many contradictory responses at once -- involuntary, on both sides -- they can't even debase her: She can just be this. Just be a shepherd.
And maybe they'll talk about her breasts when she's gone, or wonder if she's fucking her boss; maybe they'll imagine her and DePaul, at each other like lions on a desk somewhere at night, when the hair comes down. But that was going to happen anyway, wasn't it? So they stretch out under the sun, on a green lawn their tuition pays for, in their lab coats and sweater vests, and wonder aloud how smart she really is, how high she'd test, if a test were ever created that could measure something as large as what goes on in there.
BE YOUR OWN BEST
Libby: "Help me bury this bird, it's freaking me out."