Page 5 - My FlipBook

Students Against Sexual Assault and Harassment. SASAH.
I started attending a few weeks ago, but we haven’t spoken
much outside of meetings. I shoot a text to Kale telling him
about the Sherlock Holmes stuff and slide my phone into
my back pocket before pushing through the double doors
and walking into the Reno sunshine.
The wind blows a piece of my fiery hair into my face. I
spit it out as I head toward the grassy area in front of Truckee
Meadows Community College. The sun glitters over the
still-snow-dotted Sierra Nevada mountains off in the dis-
tance. Sure, it’s not the quad at UNR, where Jess and I used
to plan on hanging out in between classes. But it’ll do. I put
my legs out in front of me as I sit on the grass. Stare at the
kids walking around. Some are sitting under a tree nearby,
laughing together like they’ve been friends for years. Maybe
they have been. My phone buzzes in my pocket—Kale texting

back—and I smile as I reply with several heart face emojis. I
sigh at the now familiar pang in my gut. I miss him. Sitting
outside texting Kale for the few minutes between class and
the SASAH meeting has become a Tuesday ritual for me.
I found the group on the school’s website when I was
looking for clubs to join. A way to get involved. Maybe meet
some new people. The old Victoria, who I was last year when
I was trying to hide from everything that happened with Dad,
would have never joined a club, any club, especially not one
that focuses on preventing sexual assault.
I breathe deeply. That’s not the only reason why I joined
the club. Sure, I want to make friends, but there’s more to it
than that. I want to help others from becoming victims—no,

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