Page 235 of Tell Me I'm Enough

Lani turns, placing the hot glue gun down on the desk. “It’s a sculpture.”

I take a few slow steps closer, hands on my hips. Mounted on the wall is what I can only describe as anart installationmade entirely of…vibrators.

Different sizes. Different shapes. Different colors. Some sleek and minimal. Some are aggressively intimidating. Some that look like they came straight out of a sci-fi movie and are absolutelynotmeant for beginners.

I tilt my head. “Is this…a shrine?”

“It’s art,” Lani says defensively.

“Forwhatclass?” I ask.

“Advanced Contemporary Art.”

“Hm, yeah. That checks out,” I mutter.

Lydia is full cry laughing now. “She made a masturbation collage.”

I look back at Lani. “Of course you did.”

“It’s titledRe-clamation,” she says, crossing her arms.

“Should be called Re-climaxation,” Lydia quips.

I crouch slightly, inspecting it like it might explain itself if I get close enough. Then my voice drops. “Are these…used?”

Lani gasps. “No! What kind of freak do you think I am?”

I slowly turn my head toward Lydia, and Lydia slowly turns her head toward me. We lock eyes, and our mouths twitch.

Lani points at us. “Don’t do that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” I defend, raising my hands up.

Lani reaches into her tote and pulls out a folded-up sheet of paper. “There’s a poem that goes with it.”

I straighten instantly. “Oh. There’s apoem.”

“It’s…confessional poetry,” she says defensively.

“Please tell me it’s not erotic,” I say.

“It’s not,” she replies. Then pauses. “The opposite, actually.”

I plop down on the bed next to Lydia and pat the mattress eagerly. “Please. Read it out loud.”

Lani hesitates.

She’s suddenly quieter, a little less sharp around the edges now.

“You don’t have to,” Lydia says gently.

“No. It’s okay,” Lani tells her. “I should probably practice.”

She unfolds the paper, clears her throat, and then starts. “It’s titled ‘Your body was stolen.’”

“I learned as early as a child—earlier than I should have,

That being a girl was dangerous.