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Karen Williamson stood, tray in hand, looking for a place to sit. Her options were limited; the sitting areas were essentially run by the various school cliques, and Karen absolutely did not belong to any particular group. As a matter of fact, she was commonly the object of derision of many of these groups. It was not that she was particularly ugly, although she was a bit on the heavy side and had something of an acne problem, or that she was antisocial. Her isolation stemmed from a discussion in one of last year’s Social Studies classes. In a "Current Events" module, the class had been discussing some recent controversies concerning homosexual rights. Karen had been arguing in support of those rights and had, in the heat of the debate, let slip the fact that she herself was gay. Word had quickly spread, and before long she was virtually an outcast at Greenwood. She had quickly learned that if one is going to come out of the closet, a high-school class is just not the place to do it. Her life had been hell ever since.
Desperately lonely, Karen had hoped that things would have blown over by this, her senior, year, but that hadn’t proved to be the case. In fact, the abuse had even gotten worse. Just last week, she had found her locker plastered with pictures of naked women torn from a Penthouse magazine with the words "Dykes Anonymous" scrawled all over them. As a result of these and similar events, Karen had largely withdrawn from school social life, and now spent much of her time alone, often drinking (an activity which had helped neither her weight nor her acne problem). In fact, she had been drinking the previous night, and was now suffering from rather a bad hangover; this probably explained her lapse in judgment in choosing and sitting down at a table near the back of the room.
Even before the table fell ominously silent, she knew that she had made a mistake. A bad one. She looked up from her tray to see who she was sitting with. Across from her sat Stacy Richards and Ashley Peters, easily the two most popular girls in school. The rest of the now-silent table was filled with students of an equally exalted social level.
"Well!" Ashley took the lead, as she always did in making fun of Karen. "Aren’t we lucky. A visit from the school dyke!" Karen flinched as Ashley’s cutting voice drew attention. The other students at the table were smiling and laughing, knowing what was coming.
"What’s wrong? No other dykes to eat with… or eat?" Ashley’s voice was getting louder. Students at nearby tables were now looking over and joining in the laughter. Her face burning, Karen stumbled to her feet and fled the table, leaving her tray of food behind.
"Come back anytime," Ashley called after her. "Feel free to bring your girlfriend." The entire section the cafeteria was laughing now, as Karen, now in tears, burst through the exit and disappeared from view.
At a table near the door, Gary and Sharon watched her run out. Silently, they exchanged glances and looked over at Ashley as she laughed with her friends. Stacy laughed right along with them.
Tim smirked across the room at De
Finally, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.
"OK, everybody," Stacy yelled, clapping her hands for attention. "Into the dressing rooms. That’s it for today." While the rest of the kids ran into the dressing rooms as directed, Tim and De
"Yes?" She asked coldly. "What do you want?" She didn’t seem happy to see them.
Embarrassed, De
"That was last week," Stacy told him angrily. "Don’t expect it to happen again." She put her hands on her hips and glared at them. "I don’t expect to hear about it again from either of you. Is that understood?"
De
"OK, you won’t hear about it from us, then," he told her. "You’ll be hearing about it from Mr. Tilby, though."
The thirteen year-old grabbed his friend by the arm and turned to go.
"Wait!" Stacy, no longer confident, called after them. Mr. Tilby was the teacher in charge of the grade 12 supervisors. "What do you mean?" She had a sick feeling that she already knew the answer.
Tim turned and faced her. "We’re going to tell Mr. Tilby what happened. I bet he’ll be interested."
Stacy felt her face flush with panic; Tilby would get her expelled for sure!
"Unless…" Tim’s voice was sly.
"Unless?" Stacy knew what was coming. Unconsciously, she crossed her wrists in front of her and began fiddling with her charm bracelet. There were now almost a dozen metal "F"s hanging from it.
"Unless you become a lot more friendly," Tim finished off his sentence. "Like last week."
Stacy looked at the two of them - Tim looking cocky and sure of himself and De
"If I agree," she said slowly, fighting back the tears, "you’ll keep quiet about it. No one else will know." Maybe she could minimize the damage.
Tim gri
"OK. It’ll be our little secret." A slow smile began to form on De
"And just this once," she bargained. "After that, I don’t hear about it again?"
Tim began to nod, flushed with success and ready to agree to anything, but this time it was De
"OK." De
He started walking, pulling an astonished Tim behind him. This time, the two boys actually managed to get a few steps away before Stacy called them back. Trembling, she agreed to their demands; there was no way she could let them go to Tilby.
Ten minutes later, she was stretched out naked on a pile of stored gym mats, with De
She did, however, start crying when Tim crawled on top of her to take his turn at sticking his cock into her now sopping pussy.
With the footlights shining bright and hot directly upwards into her face, the men in the audience - she instinctively knew that they were men - were visible only as vague outlines; dark shapes and shadows which seemed to shift and pulse in time with the thick bass throb of the cheap rock music. She could hear the quiet rumble of conversation from beyond the lights, but as the dance began, the shapes fell silent. They almost appeared to lean forward towards the stage, focusing intensely upon the actions of the dancer.