Chapter Nineteen: Wet Noodles and Broken Noses

The Day I Became a Feminist Vigilante (With a Breakfast Sandwich in Hand)

Mrs. Fowler used to say she’d “whip me with a wet noodle” if I didn’t do my homework.

That was her way of being nice. She was soft-spoken with a steel core. She never yelled. She never needed to. You felt when she was disappointed. You also knew she’d fight for you — and probably win.

Most mornings I got to school early.

Not because I was dedicated. Becaus…