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even bigger, and shoved extra eyeliner on around my green eyes.
    Just before I left for college, I applied a second coat of red lipstick.
    I’d rummaged in Mum’s top drawer that morning and nabbed her old mobile phone. We’d bought her a new one for her birthday but she didn’t understand how to use it. I’d only receive nonsensical text messages saying things like GARDEN COMING ALONG NICELY and IT WILL BE COLD OUT COAT .
    It was colder than yesterday – all grey and cloudy – with no sunshine to even trick you into thinking it was warmer. My stomach was freezing – and my breakfast hung out below my crop-top, my belly spilling over the top of my shorts.
    Would this attract unnecessary attention? Yes.
    Did I care?
    No. Today I did not.
    I strode with purpose, my scarf flapping behind me in the wind. It was a gamble – assuming the builders would be parked in the same place, assuming, if they were, that things wouldn’t get out of hand.
    I was going to gamble though.
    I turned a corner onto the road they were on yesterday, and paused for a second. There, there was the van. And the same two men were in it, sharing a Thermos of tea.
    I punched 999 into my mum’s phone, and shoved it into my shorts pocket, my thumb hovering over the dial button.
    I closed my eyes, took three very deep breaths and started walking towards them. I saw the younger man spot me and nudge his friend through the smudged windscreen. He looked up, surveyed me, my outfit, and they both grinned at the same time.
    The van door opened, but I strode straight towards them.
    â€œLook who it is,” the younger man said. He blocked my path again, but I didn’t care today. My thumb was still poised over 999, while my own phone was in my other hand.
    â€œRed lipstick girl. I like what you’ve got on today, red lipstick girl.”
    â€œYou’ve got lovely curves,” the older man said, getting out and walking around the bonnet. Like it was all okay. Like they hadn’t made me run away in sheer terror only the day before.
    I held out my phone ostentatiously, and took a picture of them. The loud clicking sound filling the air between us.
    â€œHey, what you doing?”
    I didn’t reply. I just punched in the phone number plastered across the van with shaking fingers, and hit call . Praying, praying to God even though my parents tried to raise me a Buddhist – praying it wasn’t their company…
    And thankfully, it wasn’t their phone that rang. I felt a small trickle of relief, though my hands still shook.
    â€œ Hello? ” said a gruff voice down the line.
    â€œHello?” I said, staring the builders down with the stinkiest of stink eyes a stinky eye could muster. “Is that U&T Scaffolding Ltd?”
    The whites of both their eyes doubled in size.
    â€œWhat you doin’, lipstick?” the younger one asked.
    â€œ It is ,” the phone echoed.
    I took a step forward, even though everything in my body told me to take a step back.
    â€œCan I speak to the manager, please?” I said.
    The moment the words were out of my mouth the older man kicked into action, putting his hands up. He yelled “Hey hey hey, come on. Whatcha playin’ at?” The hand in my pocket quivered uncontrollably over the 999 button, but my voice didn’t break.
    â€œ You’re speaking to him. ”
    I took one more step forward, so I was almost chest to chest with both men. Our breath mingling in the frosty air. I wanted to talk fast, to get it over with, but I resisted. Speaking as slowly and confidently as I could, I said, “Two members of your staff are sexually harassing me every time I walk past their van.”
    â€œHang on a minute!” the older guy protested.
    I ignored him again. “I’m just trying to walk to college,” I continued. “But they’re blocking my path and pestering me. Now, do I need to call the police or are you