Busted by Antony John Page A

speak without raising his hand. “It’s got everything … guys hitting each other, career-ending injuries, domestic violence.”
    Beside me, Taylor tuts disapprovingly. “What a profound basis for a movie.” Even when she’s pissed, her voice is rich and sexy.
    â€œYou just don’t understand it ’cause you’re a girl.”
    â€œAnother profound observation.”
    â€œ Now, now,” interjects Ms. K, “I think what Ryan’s saying is that he appreciates the way these movies affirm his masculinity. Isn’t that right, Ryan?”
    Ryan stares at her blankly. I think the tiny part of his brain that still functions is gradually turning to mush.
    â€œRyan?”
    It’s painfully amusing to watch Ryan stare. If it goes on long enough he may start bleeding from his ears. That would be kind of cool.
    â€œRyan? Do you think that’s reasonable?” Ms. K repeats, an encouraging smile pasted on her face.
    Ryan continues his audition for the waxworks museum, and eventually Ms. K looks kind of freaked out. She turns to the rest of the class.
    â€œAnyone else got a favorite sports film?” she says with decidedly less enthusiasm.
    Morgan raises her hand, and as she does her hair brushes against my arm. It’s soft and smells citrus-y, and it glints in the brightness of the room, and I suddenly have no idea what she’s saying.
    â€œThat’s a good example, Morgan,” Ms. K commends her. “I’m sure we’ve all seen A League of Their Own . But what’s the appeal?”
    â€œAre you kidding?” gasps Paige from her customary seat at the back of the room. “There’s the cute cast, for a start. Like, Geena Davis before she got old—hot chick. Madonna before she got pregnant—hot chick. And Tom Hanks has got to be the most adorable drunk guy in, like, forever. And even the fat chick gets to be funny, so she’s cool too.”
    Taylor sighs. “Maybe that’s why no one takes women’s sports seriously. They’re just interested in whether the women are cute or funny.”
    â€œWhich is why cheerleading is so important,” says Morgan earnestly. “It shows everyone we’re athletic as well.”
    â€œYeah, great. We stand on the sidelines cheering on the boys. And even then, nobody watches us.”
    She’s wrong about that, but it’s probably not cool for me to admit that whenever I’m forced to attend games I spend the whole time ogling the cheerleaders.
    â€œThat’s an excellent point, Taylor.” Ms. K claps her hands together. “And quite relevant to what our special guest has come to say.”
    Everyone seems as surprised as I am that there’s a guest, and that they’d arrive only five minutes before the end of class.
    â€œAs you’re probably aware,” Ms. K continues, “you have little more than a month of school left. And since it’s no secret that we don’t give a final exam at the end of senior year, I decided it might be preferable to some of you to broaden your horizons. So, for the rest of the semester, you’ll have the option to attend either my class or a class that focuses on women’s issues in modern society—like equal opportunities, and sexism, and feminism. It’ll be taught by a professor from Brookbank University, and it’s open to everyone—”
    Ryan snorts loudly, a characteristically intellectual contribution. But I’m not snorting. I’m taking deep breaths, trying to remain calm.
    â€œâ€”She’s an inspirational teacher, and will get you thinking about these issues in ways you may never have imagined. I’d recommend it to all of you, but obviously it’s optional.” Ms. K looks out to the corridor and beckons the professor in. “I’d like you all to give a big Brookbank welcome to Dr. Maggie Donaldson.”
    Dr. Maggie Donaldson enters hurriedly,