CHAPTER THREE

In Antiquities, Ali Burke couldn’t concentrate.

It wasn’t the first time. Classes were becoming onerous, with professors droning on as usual like there wasn’t a civil rights movement happening on campus.

To compensate, she’d taken to sitting further back each lecture. Today, she’d finally made it to the last row. Here, it was easier to zone out, and she was less likely to be noticed. Or called on. She also wouldn’t have to face Scott, who still sat in the front.

Not that he said anything anymore. After a couple days, his jokes ended and were replaced by thinly hidden looks of concern. Which was only more disconcerting.

Ali’s notes were scarce. Halfway through today’s class, she only had a blank page to show for it. She doubted she’d write anything there at this point. Craig’s lecture had fully gotten away from her.

Part of the problem were the other girls. There were a lot of them in the back, and they whispered back and forth to each other non-stop. Ali couldn’t help but try and hear what they were saying. What was so important that couldn’t wait until later? Talking during class like this was not…

APPROPRIATE.

The word flashed in Ali’s vision, as if the LED board were right there in front of her.

Female students, keep all discussions in class ACADEMIC and APPROPRIATE. You are here to LEARN.

It was the latest rule from a few days ago. All things considered, it wasn’t that out of left field. Staying on topic in class should be a given. It was the first rule she didn’t object to. But it only applied to female students. The double standard made Ali steam. And she couldn’t get her head away from it, which was an issue because she was here to LEARN.

You are here to LEARN.

But how could she learn with all of this bullshit going on? It was easier to just stew in her thoughts.

The girls in front of her were hunched over Triss’ phone, not even pretending to listen to Craig. Ali craned her neck to see what they were watching.

“Psst!” She said. She had to tell them to quiet down. It was so distracting.

“What’s up?” Triss said with a bright smile.

Her make-up was gorgeous. Compared to her, Ali’s own mediocre work felt embarrassing. She’d been doing her best every morning. And she was okay with the results, until she saw a face like Triss. The contours and shades stoked a yearning inside Ali for more.

Soft Dahlia blush, Dusty Mauve lipstick, Golden Dew and Starlit Lash. Colors, textures, luster and sheen.

“What are you watching?” Ali asked.

“Make-up tutorials!” Triss said, completely unaware of Ali’s inner conflict. She tilted her phone towards Ali. “See?”

A girl in close-up shallow focus applied powder to her face. Ali leaned forward to get a closer look.

“She teaches make-up?” Ali asked in a low voice. She had never heard of such a thing, or thought to even look for it. But now wasn’t the time to get into this. Craig was lecturing. This wasn’t…

APPROPRIATE.

“Yeah! This channel is my favorite but there’s like, so many.” Triss said.

“Your make-up is really good…” Ali said, blushing.

“Oh God, I just follow these videos!” Triss said. “They’re super helpful. And fun! I’ll send these to you.”

Professor Collins’ voice boomed from the lectern. “GIRLS.”

They all straightened in their seats. Ali’s heart pounded in her skull. She’d just been caught talking during class, and about make-up no less. She was so embarrassed.

“Anything you want to share?” Craig asked sternly. “Triss? Ali?”

“No, Professor. God!” Triss said, exasperated.

“Eyes up front. Save it for later.” Craig said. “Ali, can you remind me where we left off?”

Panicked, Ali looked down to her notes. The empty pages were a harsh reminder that she’d absorbed nothing of what Professor Collins said today. She searched her mind desperately. The room was dead silent. Not even the other girls were chattering now.

“The, um. Constellations. As they relate to agrarian societies.” She stammered.

From the front of the room, Scott made an audible wince.

“Please try and pay more attention, Miss Burke.” Craig said. “We all have off-days. I was speaking to religious and spiritual practices in Cyprus…”

Ali’s ears burned red in humiliation and frustration. She was a good student. She didn’t deserve to be singled out like that. She was here to LEARN. And that was more than could be said about Triss and the other girls.

If this is where trying got Ali, she didn’t see why she should even bother. It wasn’t her fault the code of conduct had become such a distraction, that it had inspired the other girls to whisper amongst each other all class instead of participating.

Until the rules ended, this inability to focus wasn’t going to stop. And that meant that Ali had to try harder with her own rebellion, too. To help put an end to it.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Triss. “Enjoy! Love how u do ur eyes btw”

Warm fuzz bubbled around inside of Ali’s stomach. She always spent the longest on her eyes. Desert Dusk and Moonlit Opal were her favorites. But she could do better. For the protest, she had to do better.

She propped her phone against her book surreptitiously. As Professor Collins continued his lecture, Ali played the video that Triss shared and started to learn something that mattered.

When Helen passed through the student center, a hub of flurried skirts and giddy girls, she checked the massive screen. Looking towards it was habitual now. The static image drew the eye, magnetic in it’s brightness. The girls in the center would glance at it regularly and fume, their faces reddening at its sight. Helen hoped they were reminding themselves of what they were fighting for, but she feared they were growing addicted to the outrage.

The latest rule still hung below the others, fuzzy and warbling.

“Female students, keep all discussions in class ACADEMIC and APPROPRIATE. You are here to LEARN.”

What was Henry thinking? Given the social climate, it was fuel on the fire.

Sheena held a rally on the very subject now. She stood on a table, and stomped it with her clunky tall boots. Her eyes were foxy and her lips frosty, an eye-catching mix of red and black. She clutched her megaphone with shiny, hot red nails.

“Remember what this is all about! They know that coordinating fashion is the key to our resistance!” She yelled. She adjusted her skirt, high-waist leather with a deep slit up the left side.

“Think about it! What is this movement based around? Skirts and make-up! First they tell us what we can’t wear, and now we’re not supposed to talk about it either! They are trying to quell our speech under the guise of keeping things academic. Well fuck that!”

Her corner of operations had doubled in size. There were now more tables, and more volunteers to man them. They’d started taking donations, so now the team had endless amounts of blushes, primers, powders, glosses, mascaras and creams to work with.

Helen was particularly impressed by their latest innovation, a large rack labelled “Take-A-Skirt, Leave-A-Skirt.” Girls idly browsed the selection as if they were at the mall.

At one table, a stenciled poster board read “OUTREACH: Get every girl on board!” There, students could write the name of girls that they knew who weren’t yet protesting, like some kind of make-up gestapo.

“Never stop sharing beauty tips!” Sheena declared. “In fact, it’s our duty as women of this campus. Don’t let them tell you what’s appropriate! We decide what’s appropriate! It’s time to lift each other up and elevate our fashion game, right ladies?”

The whole crowd erupted. Helen could see where Sheena was coming from, but it didn’t change the fact that it was getting a lot harder to keep girls focused in class. They were becoming increasingly drawn into off-topic conversations, and getting more unwilling to engage in class discussions by the day.

Which is why she was headed towards Henry’s office for the third time.

“Ah. I was wondering when you’d stop by again. Please, come in.”

Helen stepped into the warm musky air. He was at his desk as usual, but today Helen’s seat was occupied.

“President Redmare was just reviewing my latest reports.” Henry gestured to Agatha Redmare, the President of the university. She wore a large tan overcoat that nearly reached her ankles.

“Hello, Agatha.” Helen said politely.

Helen wasn’t that surprised that the stern woman didn’t acknowledge her, though she expected at least a nod. Agatha’s attention was drawn to the tablet in her lap. Her eyes scanned it. They bounced from left to right in slow rhythm.

“Sorry, Henry, if this is a bad time, I can come back.” Helen said.

“No, no. Not at all. I take it you still have concerns about the students?” Henry stroked his mustache.

“And I take it you don’t?”

Henry smiled warmly. “All is proceeding as I expected.”

“You expected a clothing swap co-op to be established in the student center?”

“Those girls are creative ones! No, I didn’t see that coming. But they need to get their rebelliousness out of their system somehow.”

In the chair, Agatha Redmare’s swaying head fell forward. With a jump, she caught herself and snapped to attention, the tablet falling flat in her lap.

“Oh. Helen. Hello.” She said, a little harried.

Agatha shifted in her seat and sat up straighter. She pulled a strand of blonde hair away from her face. It had fallen out of its tight bun. “I was just reviewing Henry’s findings on the student behavior.”

“Yes, that’s what I was here to discuss.” Helen said tentatively.

She hoped Agatha could be an ally in this fight. The President was a serious woman. She could not be happy about the chaos on campus. “I have… reservations about how things are going.” Helen finished.

Agatha nodded enthusiastically. “I agree completely, Miss Paisley. Henry, your report says that things are going, quote, smoothly and according to plan. I’m sorry but that is not my read on the situation. These girls are out of control. I seriously object to what’s written here!”

Agatha waved the tablet in the air, and Helen saw the same intense blue hue on its screen that characterized his code of conduct. Helen tried to read the text that was on it, but Agatha shook it too wildly, and the words were flickering and tiny.

Still, Helen was overcome with relief. Somebody with power was on her side.

“Is that so?” Henry asked with bemusement.

“Yes.” Agatha said. “Your report is telling me that your new rules have worked, but they most certainly haven’t. Nearly all the girls are wearing skirts shorter than ever, coming to class in make-up, and disregarding their lessons in favor of asinine gossip.”

Helen nodded along. Finally, somebody was talking sense to Henry.

“These rules aren’t working, despite what you’ve reported. I find myself in full disagreement with everything written here.”

Agatha set the tablet on Henry’s desk. She smoothed out her jacket and wriggled a bit in her seat. The strand of hair fell back down over her eyes, but she didn’t bother to fix it.

“What we need are more, stricter guidelines.” She announced.

Wait… what? How was that the conclusion that Agatha came to?

Henry smiled. “Well President Redmare, if you have any suggestions, I am all ears.”

“Wait, Agatha–” Helen started.

“Yes. Yes. Together we can come up with some ideas.” Agatha interrupted.

She shifted in her seat again and traced a finger idly over her lips. “I do apologize for my bluntness. I appreciate that you share these daily reports with me. You know I’ll read…”

Agatha swayed, blinking a few times.

“…Anything. You have to show me. Naturally.”

Agatha’s legs widened, and her coat gave way to much more leg than Helen was expecting to see. Beneath it, Agatha must be wearing something short.

“I know, my dear. I believe we can fine-tune this to an outcome we’re all happy with.”

Agatha bit her finger softly. “Happy. Yes. I can… make you… happy.”

Henry looked towards Helen with a knowing glance. “Miss Paisley. If you don’t mind giving me and Agatha some privacy.”

“Sure. Thank you for your time.”

She stormed briskly out of the room. As she closed the door behind her, Henry pulled up an interface that looked like a mirror image of what was being displayed downstairs.

“Agatha. What was your first idea, sweetie?” His muffled voice said through the door.

Helen walked downstairs with a pit in her stomach. The fluttering activity that waited there was starting to feel normal. Girls browsed skirts, chatted animatedly, and took selfies in their latest get-ups of make-up.

None of them knew what was about to happen, but Helen did.

She could feel a new rule coming. As much as she wanted to return to her office and put the latest debacle out of her head, she felt obligated to stay and see the screen update. To read the screen, as always. Read the screen.

The longer Helen looked at it, the more she was certain that the text was expanding and contracting, slowly, like it was breathing. Or could that be a trick of the eye?

And then it happened. The screen turned black for a second before that ugly blue filled its space again. White text repopulated the page line by line, like it was loading through an old broadband connection. Except now, a fourth rule was written below the rest.

Soft, airy swells of surprise emerged from seemingly every girl who saw it.

And every girl did see it. Their eyes were drawn to the board as if by instinct. Gasps popped in clusters.

It wasn’t only gasps. Once Helen noticed it, she couldn’t unsee it. When a girl saw the screen, her eyelids fluttered. There was almost a whole body tremble. Then she would stare blankly, mouth agape, arms falling to her side.

And for a brief moment, as every girl took in the updated screen, the student center was silent.

Not entirely silent, Helen realized. With the crowd quieted she noticed for the first time that the TV buzzed softly. It emitted a low, harsh “zzzzzzzzzzzzzz,” like a digital fluorescent bulb.

Sheena gawked at the screen, arms limp and legs in a wide stance. Her chest heaved with slow, deep breaths. Her lips moved a little, but her open mouth never really closed. A small glistening bead of drool appeared at the corner of her mouth.

The megaphone slipped from her slackened fingers, then clattered on the ground.

In that afternoon’s Chem lab, Ali’s mind turned back to the code of conduct. The itch to read it again intruded on her thoughts like a sudden flare-up.

She flipped out her pocket mirror and inspected her make-up. Grace, her lab partner, did the same. The two girls tilted their heads in tandem as they examined their angles.

Ali had never worked with the basketball player before. She normally partnered with her roommate Danica. But Danica was getting increasingly irritable towards Ali as the protest continued. With the tension rising between them, it was starting to look like she was avoiding Ali entirely in class.

It would make things so much easier if, when Ali carefully applied her make-up every morning, Danica wasn’t rolling her eyes snidely across the room. Life would be better if Danica got on board with the protest. If she read the screen. But as discomforting as it was to see her roommate refusing the campus wide movement, Ali couldn’t bring herself to tattle to the outreach table.

“Thanks again. My usual partner Cayla skipped. She’s totally caught up in this protest thing. Probably at the student center now manning the make-up table.” Grace said.

The tall brunette popped her creamy pink lips at the mirror before putting it away.

“Yeah. My friend Sheena’s gung ho on that.” Ali said.

“It’s weird, right? I can’t stop talking about make-up. Like all I want to know is where you got that color lip stick.”

“Anastasia Peach.” Ali blurted. “Sheena lent it to me.”

“So cute.” Grace said. “Fuck. Sorry. I never say things are cute.”

“I get it.” Ali said. “I never cared about being cute. Nice skirt, by the way. You have, um. Really good legs.”

They were supposed to be reading the lab brief, but now that Ali had broken the seal in Antiquities, this stupid shit just spilled out of her. If she had known she’d be opening a floodgate, she would have never let herself stray off topic.

They set up next to Grace’s other two basketball friends, Mae and Annie. The girls were twins, identical redheads with mops of curly hair and freckles. They held out small, circular folding mirrors as they touched up their make-up. Ali remembered seeing them drag Grace to the code of conduct when the rule about the make-up dropped.

“I mean I know it’s so basic but like, I really do like missionary. For like, the closeness.” Mae said.

“What are you guys talking about now?” Grace asked, exasperated. Ali quietly started scanning the lab brief, hoping to stay out of whatever it was.

“Sex positions.” Annie said. “What’s your fav?”

“Oh guys. Come on. I dunno, let’s not, okay?” Grace laughed.

“Oh don’t be so stuck up, Grace. We’re teammates! Hey, you’re Ali, right?”

Ali was halfway down the page when she realized she hadn’t read a single word on it. “Yeah?” She asked, feeling nervous.

“What’s your favorite sex-po?”

Ali blushed. “Um. I don’t know. I’m not sure that we should be talking about this now. It’s not…”

APPROPRIATE.

Ali’s fluster exploded into a dizzying array of scattered thoughts. It wasn’t APPROPRIATE. And girls should always keep discussions APPROPRIATE. But that was what that stupid rule said, and Ali was supposed to be sticking it to the rules.

“Come on, Grace. You have a boyfriend. How do you guys like to do it?” Mae interjected.

“Ali’s right. This isn’t approp.…riate…” The athlete wrinkled her brow and her eyes went unfocused.

Her creamy lips parted, the lipstick clinging sticky to them. “He’s really good at… eating me out.”

It came out as a mutter while she looked into empty space. Ali wasn’t even sure if Grace knew she was saying it out loud. But then, she blinked and jolted back to attention. “I know that’s not a sex position. But Tom’s great at oral.”

“Jealouuuus!” Mae said. “God I wish I had a guy to get that regularly from.”

“Oh man, like Matt from the men’s team. He is SO hot.” Annie said.

“What about you Ali. Got any boys you like?” Mae lobbed the dreaded question at her like it was the most harmless thing in the world.

ACADEMIC and APPROPRIATE.

“I guess Scott Lyman’s kind of cute.” Ali answered softly.

Wait. What the fuck did she just say? The answer had been locked and loaded at her Anastasia Peach lips, fired off without a second thought. Scott?? It must have a snap decision out of panic. Just a white lie to move the conversation along. She didn’t actually feel any way about Scott.

“Oooh shit, I know him! Yeah, he is cute!” Annie giggled. “Aren’t you guys like, tight?”

“Yeah. He’s chill. Kind of a dick. But in like, a charming way, I guess.”

Ali shouldn’t be talking about this. She shouldn’t be gossiping about boys, or… Scott.

“So how would you want to do it with Scott?” Mae probed.

ACADEMIC and <APPROPRIATE.

“I don’t– I mean– I don’t really want to talk about it.” Ali stammered.

She picked up the disorganized pages of the lab brief and pulled them to her nose, but they were all mixed up, and one was upside down.

“Come ooooon. You think he has a big dick?”

“I– No. I mean. Maybe. But I don’t want to talk about– Scott’s dick.” Ali stressed.

And then a new floodgate opened. Boys. Scott. Scott’s dick. Dicks.

So not… APPROPRIATE.

“My boyfriend Tom’s got a nice dick.” Grace blurted out.

She’d been staring into the middle distance while the twins grilled Ali. She twirled some hair in her finger. “An amazing cock.” She reiterated dreamily. “God, he knows how to use it.”

“Keep it down!” The professor barked. “Watch your volumes girls, Jesus.”

The table fell to a hush. Ali poured herself into the sheets of paper in front of her. She read the same lines over and over again, willing herself to absorb it.

“Doggy style.” Grace stated finally in a low voice. “I think doggy style is my favorite sex-po. If oral doesn’t count.”

She sighed. “But fuck, he’s so good at eating my pussy, guys.”

An involuntary shiver washed over Ali.

Somehow, the girls stumbled through their labs and walked away with something resembling a finished result.

It had been difficult.

None of them cared. And they weren’t the only ones. Not a single girl in class could keep her head down and work for longer than a few minutes at a time. Nobody, it would seem, was here to LEARN.

That was probably why it took them three extra hours to even finish. By the time they did, the daylight outside had turned into a late dusk, and rumblings of a new rule had reached them.

Only Danica managed to get her work done in the allotted time. And she didn’t even have a lab partner.

Together, the girls made for the student center. Before today, they were basically strangers. Now, Ali knew exactly how Grace liked to be fucked. Doggy style, with his hands on her hips.

Maybe there was something to this gossip thing. It made girls closer. Ali wondered how Sheena liked to be fucked. Shouldn’t friends know that about each other?

They floated on easy steps as if on auto-pilot. Walking in a skirt had become more than comfortable. It felt really good. The freedom, the lightness of the fabric, the breeze… All of it added up to an indescribable pleasure.

The student center was scarcely populated. This late in the day, people didn’t need their make-up done anymore. Only the skirt swap had any traffic, as girls passed by to look at options for tomorrow’s outfit.

Ali spotted Triss comparing two slutty looking tops. And there was a bin of loose accessories now, hair ties and bracelets and even stockings. Since when was all this stuff a part of the protest?

Triss bent over to examine a shoe rack overflowing with flats and heels and pumps. A luxe satin mini skirt pulled tight against her butt. A passing guy whistled, and Triss shot him a flirty smile. She wiggled her butt playfully.

What was going on?

“Unh!” Grace shivered.

The sound was involuntary, a deep sudden moan, and it drew Ali’s attention away from the clothes to see what had happened. Grace was looking at the screen, blue light reflecting from her eyes. Beside her, the twins were also looking, eyes tilted up and heads rocking slightly back and forth.

Ali needed to know what it said too.

Ali looked.

The blue screen had hit her like a blast of hot air. Her heart raced, pumping warm blood through her body. She thought she made a small gasp.

There wasn’t just one rule. There were two.

“GIRLS. Class is not a FASHION SHOW. STOP showing off your BODIES. Have some SELF-RESPECT.”

Have some SELF-RESPECT. This whole thing was about self-respect. The girls were rebelling against disrespectful rules. The hypocrisy made Ali’s head filled with steam.

What even was that feeling? It felt like a dizzying, bubbly excitement worming its way into her nervous system. Here was some new fucked up rule, and Ali’s first reaction to seeing it was a warm thrill.

But this was another opportunity to stick it to the Dean. Why wouldn’t she be excited?

And she was warm. Overly so. Her corduroy shirt suddenly felt stifling, and now the code of conduct said she couldn’t take it off. Couldn’t reveal her shoulders or back or stomach or…

Fuck.

Ali wanted to show skin, right then and there. On principle.

Because this rule was an insult. An expansion of the controlling precedent that they were supposed to wear long-ass skirts, even though short ones were so freeing and comfortable and fun.

Ali read the second rule.

“BOYS are reminded NOT to get distracted by their ATTENTION HUNGRY classmates. Keep your eyes OFF the GIRLS.”

Ali fumed.

The girls weren’t ATTENTION HUNGRY. The protest was about drawing attention, but it wasn’t because the girls enjoyed showing off their bodies. Ali didn’t wear shorter skirts every day for boys.

Grace was muttering something beneath her breath. It was quiet, almost inaudible. But Ali was so close to her that their hips were nearly touching.

“Show off… my body… Show off my slutty body…. Debase myself… for boys…”

Grace’s words went in one ear and out the other. It was just noise. Ali was reading. And her own lips were moving as she processed what it all meant for the protest.

Like how there was a rule for the boys this time. The guys would probably get pissed being talked down to like that. Well, it was about time. If boys couldn’t handle a little skin, how was that Ali’s problem? In fact, if the girls could get the boys looking at them, that’d put even more students in violation of the code.

It would expand the protest to everybody.

She’d just have to get a little ATTENTION HUNGRY. Wear skimpier clothes. Tighter tops with skinny straps and low cuts and open backs. No more heavy corduroy, large sweaters and long sleeves. They wouldn’t do.

Class is not a FASHION SHOW.

And she needed to accessorize. To do her hair and wear jewelry and level up her make-up. She needed to create ensembles. Short skirts, of course, but with tops to match.

Anything to get the boys looking.

Show off her body. Show off her slutty body. Debase herself for boys.

“Are you kidding me with this!” Grace said.

The sudden exclamation snapped Ali’s attention away from the board. She swallowed a mouth of saliva and wiped her lips, her head achy from the harsh LED screen. Whatever she had just been thinking about scattered to the wind, and only one impulse remained.

“Do you guys want to pick out outfits for tomorrow?” Ali asked. She had her eye on a cute top already.

“And now they’re asking questions in class like, ‘What bra size is Juliet?’ Or like, if Romeo wore boxers or briefs!” Helen took the last sip of her Old Fashioned to numb the pain.

Colleen snorted. “I’m sorry, I’m just. That’s really funny. They’re being funny on purpose, right?”

“I really can’t tell.” Helen sighed. “I mean, obviously they’re trying to make a point. The clothing and the make-up, and now this ‘Stay On Topic’ rule. But it’s making my job hell.”

“For real.” Colleen stirred her tiny straw around her cocktail, the ice clinking in her glass.

“Meanwhile the President of the goddamn University is all-in on getting stricter, as if that’s going to solve anything. She was acting really weird. And she added these rules slut-shaming the girls and patronizing the guys.”

“Maybe I don’t want to teach there.” Colleen said.

“Don’t say that!” Helen shot a serious glare across the table, then smiled. “Don’t!”

“I dunno. Seems like a lot of trouble over at Monroe.”

“No trouble at all. Everything’s fine! Join us!”

Colleen laughed and took another sip through her straw.

“Hey ladies. What are you drinking tonight?” A man approached with a sly smile. Helen could smell his cologne from her seat.

“Nothing, thank you.” Colleen answered for them both.

“You sure? I’m buying.”

“And we’re heading out soon.” Helen jumped in. Her drink was empty, and a second one would probably be a bad idea anyway.

When the two ladies went out, they got hit on a lot.

Helen tried to keep her attire modest on nights like these, but even in a parka, men would be drawn to her green eyes and teardrop face. Helen contemplated chopping off her auburn back-length hair just to stand out less.

And Colleen of course, was gorgeous. She was graced with what she liked to call “good Korean genes.” Her sharp nose and eyes were offset by a waifish frame, her elegant crisp blazer draped over narrow shoulders. Styled her black hair in a bouncy bob with wispy bangs.

Colleen finished her drink and stood up. “Guess that’s it then, huh?”

“Yeah. I should turn in early anyway. Got another long day ahead of me.” Helen said.

Tomorrow, she expected to see an army of girls dressing even skimpier than before. She only hoped that a student body dressed for the dead heat of summer, in the middle of autumn, would smack some sense into the Dean and Agatha.

But then she thought back to the way Agatha was absorbed by Henry’s tablet screen, to the way her eyes had gone vacant and her body relaxed into a swaying slump as she read it. And she saw the same behavior in all the girls reading his code of conduct.

They’d gasped. And shivered.

An irrational fear that something more was going on tickled the back of Helen’s mind. But it couldn’t be. That was ridiculous. She’d sound crazy bringing it up to Colleen, anyway. There was nothing wrong with Henry’s screens.

There was nothing wrong with Henry’s screen.

Still, she should keep checking it every day, just to be sure.