doesn’t want to be seen with a naked girl

Now the line moved up and Tami went up to the other step she hated, the one where everyone could see her pubic hair.  It had grown fluffy and abundant in the open air.  Jen, who was gay, worshipped it, kissed it every chance she got.  She wanted Tami to have it colored!  Tami supposed she should be flattered but it was only another reminder of her nudity.

Relax, she told herself.  I’m going up to eat dinner with my friends.  Not undergoing those humiliations Wanda and the Dean had maneuvered her into agreeing to.  Not spreading her legs as a model for “sexual health” workshops in the dorm lounge, right in front of her friends.  Not doing figure drawing modeling for Professor Brignon’s class in that freezing studio in the art building.  Not having orgasms in front of leering men at the Chalfont Institute as part of some kind of “sexual research” . . . oh God . . . that was the worst . . .

She cleared her throat, reminding herself that she was doing something mundane now.  As they gave Mrs. Magnuson their meal cards Terri looked out at the tables.  “There’s Rebecca.”

“Who’s that girl with her?” Jen said.  Rebecca, ultrasmart divinity student and a Vermont native, was sitting in her usual flannel shirt and jeans next to a tiny Asian girl in a white blouse and sweatpants.

“That’s Mei-lin,” Tami said.  “She’s in my Advanced Yoga class.”  Tami’s scholarship was in gymnastics; with her flexibility it was easy to do those yoga contortions.  But Mei-lin was expert.  She could do even more positions than Tami.

“I don’t think I’ve seen her before,” Terry said.

“She’s an exchange student,” Tami said.  “I heard Varsha mention it once.”  Varsha was the yoga teacher, Professor Choudhury, who liked to be called by her first name.  “She just got here this semester.  From Japan, I think.”

“Mei-lin is a Chinese name,” Jen pointed out.  Jen, daughter of a wealth lawyer, had traveled widely and knew such things.

“Oh, sorry.”  Tami blushed.  “Sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t worry, I’m the same way,” Terri said.  “We Americans can’t tell Asians apart.”

They got their food -- Tami, as usual, piled her plate high with protein; in this cold weather she had a huge appetite -- and made toward the table.

“Hello -- ” No sooner had the three girls sat down across from Rebecca and Mei-lin, and Terri tried to say hi to the new girl, than the Chinese girl abruptly took her tray and stationed herself at an empty table halfway across the room.

Terri was not happy.  “What the -- ?!”

They all watched, or in Terri’s case glared, as Mei-lin resumed eating her yogurt, resolutely staring out the window, though there was nothing to see out there.  This time of year in Vermont, it gets dark early.

In a distracted state they started picking at their food.  Nobody said anything but they had an idea why the girl had run away.  Finally Rebecca said, “She comes from a very conservative culture.”

Tami felt miserable, once again ashamed.  She couldn’t blame the Chinese girl for being offended by her nudity.  Maybe if, in her former life as a normal clothed person, a naked girl came to sit next to her, she would have moved away too.  Tami had lost her appetite but, aware of the calories she needed to survive the winter without clothing, forced herself to eat.  She occasionally glanced over at Mei-lin.  Terri and Jen were clearly pissed, and Rebecca, who normally had a calm center, was visibly uncomfortable.  Tami went from miserable to curious to ashamed to sympathetic.  And then back to ashamed.  And it was a situation she couldn’t avoid.  She would see Mei-lin tomorrow morning in yoga class.