She is invited to a costume party

The hours dragged on in a monotony of dirty water, bleach, and cold. Magi lost track of time, submerged in the automatic rhythm of scrubbing, rinsing, and scrubbing again. Her hands, inside the grotesque rubber gloves, were numb. Her knees ached from the pressure against the hard cement, and the thin fabric of the thong, soaked with the dampness from the floor and her own sweat, had become a cold, repulsive second skin.

When the bathroom floor finally gleamed with a damp, artificial shine, the door opened again. It wasn't Costa, but a cadet Magi vaguely recognized by sight: Valeria, a short-haired girl with an easy smile who always seemed to be whispering with someone in the hallways.

Valeria stopped dead, her eyes widening as she took in the scene: Magi, kneeling, with stained rubber gloves, her body covered in splashes of dirty water, and dressed only in the unrecognizable scraps of the pink uniform and the dark lace thong, now dull and faded by the chemicals.

"My God, Rojas..." Valeria exhaled, with genuine astonishment. "Are you... okay?"

Magi couldn't answer. She just looked down, ashamed. How could she be okay?

Valeria glanced down the hallway and then closed the door.

"Listen, this is... this is too much. Even for Costa," she said, lowering her voice. "The weekend starts in an hour. Do you have plans?"

Magi shook her head, almost imperceptibly. Her plans consisted of dragging herself back to her apartment and crying until she fell asleep.

"Look, there's a costume party in a loft downtown. It's hosted by a friend of my brother. Nothing to do with this," she said, gesturing toward the bathroom with a look of disgust. "You should come. It'll do you good. To forget... all of this."

The proposal sounded so absurd and alien to her reality that Magi almost let out a bitter laugh. A party? After this?

"I... I don't have a costume," she mumbled, offering the simplest excuse.

"Exactly!" Valeria exclaimed, as if that were the best part. "We'll go find one together! I have my car here. I'll cover your shift, you shower in the girls' locker room, and we'll leave. What do you say?"

There was a spark of genuine solidarity in Valeria's eyes, an offer of normalcy that was a lifeline in the sea of humiliation Magi was drowning in. The need to escape, even for one night, was stronger than pride.

"Okay," she whispered, surprising herself.

The shower in the locker rooms was the quickest and most furtive of her life. She scrubbed her skin until it was red, trying to wash away the feeling of the bleach and the stare of those cadets. She put on her civilian clothes (a loose sweatshirt, worn jeans) and, for a moment, felt almost human again.

Valeria was waiting impatiently. The car ride was a liberation. Leaving the confines of the academy, seeing the city pass by, felt like breathing for the first time after being underwater.

They went to a crowded, colorful costume shop. The atmosphere was chaotic and cheerful, so opposite to the academy's severity that Magi found it difficult to adjust. Valeria energetically browsed the aisles, pulling out extravagant outfits.

"Look at this zombie one! Or this cowgirl! This superheroine one would look great on you!"

Magi smiled weakly, letting herself be carried along by the other girl's enthusiasm. For a moment, she forgot. Until Valeria stopped in front of a section and let out a triumphant "Aha!"

She pulled a costume from the hanger. It was a police uniform. But not just any uniform. It was the caricature and sexualized version of a "sexy cop": a blue vinyl miniskirt that barely covered the backside, a top with a fake gold star, a tiny tie, and a ridiculous cap. All made of cheap, shiny materials.

"This is perfect!" Valeria announced, her eyes sparkling. "Ironic, fun! You have to try it on!"

Magi paled. Her smile vanished.

"No. Not that one. Please, Valeria. Any other."

"Come on!" the other cadet insisted, holding out the costume. "It's a costume, Magi. It's for laughs. Isn't therapy supposed to be about facing your fears or something? This will be cathartic! Turn it into a joke before the joke is you."

The phrase hit Magi harder than Valeria probably intended. "Turn it into a joke before the joke is you." Was that a way out? To appropriate the mockery? To turn the symbol of her humiliation into something under her control, even if only for one night?

She looked at the plastic costume. It was everything she hated: vulgar, sexualizing, a parody of authority. But it wasn't real. It wasn't Costa's rough fabric, nor the lace that bit into her skin. It was a silly fantasy. A mask.

With a sigh that came from the depths of her being, Magi took the costume off the hanger.

"Just for tonight," she said, in a voice that was firmer than she expected.

"That's my girl!" Valeria cheered, victorious.

Stepping out of the dressing room, Magi looked at herself in the mirror. The figure staring back was absurd. The vinyl miniskirt crinkled with every move, the top left her midriff bare. She felt ridiculous. But also, for the first time in weeks, she was the owner of her own ridiculousness. This was not the humiliation imposed by Costa. This was a choice. Silly, perhaps, but hers.

Valeria gave a playful whistle of approval.

"You look... memorable! Come on, officer, the night awaits!"

Magi adjusted the ridiculous cap on her head, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, an authentic, though shaky, smile touched her lips. She was going to a party. Dressed as a sexy cop. It was surreal. But it was a night that did not belong to Sub-Officer Costa. It was all hers.