I was sitting in civics class my senior year of high school. My teacher said, “Amanda, looking hot as usual, I see.” I was mortified. I slunk out as soon as the bell rang. “See you tomorrow, Amanda,” he called drawing my name out long and slow. I held on to my backpack strap with one hand and wiped my other on the frayed edge of my cut off jeans to wipe away the feeling of his stare. Later I was told by an adult, “He’s entitled to say that. No harm.” Guess he didn’t mean it like that. Three months later I stood in a line for the bathroom at a party about four blocks from my house. I had not had anything…

+Read more