2. Sophie #2
Sophie faced the class, but her body language—shoulders squared, arms loosely folded—was aimed at me.
"Power is adaptation, Iris. The world always looks.
Femininity is a visual field we're forced to operate in, whether we wear a dress or a hoodie.
The Shield argues that since you cannot escape the looking, you must control the interpretation. "
"Interpretation doesn't equal control," I countered instantly. "It's a rationalization for conforming. The minute you rely on being 'unexpected,' you've conceded the baseline assumption that you should be underestimated. You waste energy on presentation that should be spent on performance."
Sophie's eyes narrowed slightly, acknowledging the strength of the point.
"And you waste energy on being prickly. My argument is that the Shield provides an 'unassuming vessel' for subversive action, as Butler suggests.
It's a strategy of survival. For instance," she continued, her voice dropping a fraction, "I am able to get funding for my all-women soccer clinic because I present as the harmless, golden girl captain, not the aggressive revolutionary. I use their assumption against them."
I pressed the attack, driving the point toward her personal life.
"And what about personal performance? You're playing to the expectations of a specific audience. That doesn’t challenge the norm but supports it. You’re trying to act like everyone else around you, to play the roles that are socially acceptable instead of the ones that are true.
Isn’t that the role women have been subjugated to for years. ”
There was a personal agenda under my argument. She’s brought her boyfriend to the party despite confessing her disinterest in men. And it made me uncomfortable that she was unexpectedly smart.
“The shield can be honest too. The choice to dress a certain wat to leave a certain impression, is still a choice. On the contrary, you assuming I’m a dumb jock because of the way I dress proves my point.
That’s how powerful the shield is. Even an intellectual like you is unable to look beyond first impressions.
Why shouldn’t women use it to their advantage? ”
I inhaled sharply as Dr. Alvarez smiled, my weakness out in the open. She had argued well, pointing out my own prejudice to me. And she’d maintained her composure perfectly, however, before delivering her final strike. I felt cornered.
“That was a good debate,” Dr. Alvarez said as the bell rang. “Good point, Sophie.”
My blonde roommate beamed, making my heart skip a beat.
I turned away, slightly nervous and miffed.
I realized, with a sickening mix of defeat and the thrill of having been truly challenged, that I had failed to take her down.
Instead, she had seen through my academic argument, identified the source of my hostility, and used it to land a devastating, personal counterblow.
I hadn't just lost the debate. I had just lost control of the war.
As we went back to our seats, Sophie said. “It’s good to hear your voice, finally.” I blinked, realizing she was referencing our cold war. Her blue eyes met mine and I felt winded from walking two steps. “I thought you’d lost it.”
“Oh, I very much have a voice,” I replied. “And you might be hearing a lot more of it during the debate.”
She smiled, never taking things I say personally, whic
I realized, with a sickening mix of defeat and thrill, that I was completely, utterly outmatched. Sophie Mercer was not a shallow attention-seeker. She was an intensely focused, frighteningly intelligent woman who saw the entire field.
And now, she saw me. And I loved it.
The intimacy of the debate had left me vibrating with a tense, manic energy.
By the time I returned to Room 418, I felt utterly exposed and desperate to rebuild my walls.
The room was blessedly quiet. Sophie’s side was empty; the assumption was that she was at practice, sweating out her intellectual triumph.
I hauled my chair to the easel, intending to attack a fresh canvas, but I couldn't focus. I needed a witness, a reset button, someone to confirm that I was right to hate Sophie Mercer.
I sent Maya a frantic text: EMERGENCY. Code: Yellow Cadium. Bring wine.
Maya arrived five minutes later. She didn't bother with the door; she just walked straight to the small bathroom connected to our dorm suite to fill up my tiny water jug.
"I can't believe she quoted Butler at me," I groaned, pacing my half of the room. "She was supposed to be easy. She was supposed to be vapid."
Maya emerged from the bathroom, looking thoughtful. "Maybe your perception is the problem, Iris. Maybe she is exactly who she said she was—"
"No, Maya, she's a liar!" I erupted, the control I'd maintained for two weeks finally snapping. "She’s a tourist! Just like Riley!"
I didn't notice the shadow outside the half-open door, the first warning of Sophie’s presence.
Maya sat on the edge of my bed, her voice lowering with concern. "Talk to me, Iris. Why does she feel so much like Riley?"
I sank onto the floor amidst my spilled tubes of Payne's Gray and Cadmium Yellow. The anger was gone, replaced by the raw, humiliated pain I usually kept locked down.
"It wasn't just the cheating, Maya," I whispered, the words catching in my throat. "Everyone saw the screaming match in the cafeteria. Everyone saw me fall apart in critique. People stared at me for months, pitied me, said I’d move on. But I felt so used…like I meant nothing to her while she meant everything to me.”
I looked up at Maya, tears finally stinging my eyes. "She said... she was using me as an 'experiment’, trying me out before going back to her ex, and I was the one who got too serious and started expecting long-term."
I balled my fists in the soft, worn fabric of my jeans.
"I can't be someone's passing fancy again, Maya. Seeing Sophie with that guy, with Mark, hanging off his arm and laughing —it just felt like Riley all over again. The casualness. The ease of it. I can't risk being the messy practice round, can’t risk getting my heart involved again.”
I buried my face in my knees, shaking with the shame and fear. "I hate her because she represents the danger of falling for someone who isn't safe. And I hate myself because I still want her to look at me."
A long, heavy silence descended on the room, broken only by my shaky breathing.