By the time I got back to the car, a half hour had passed. Despite promising to be quick, Mr. Lunder had savored violating me. Now I was late for school. My body shuddered as I relived the sensation of being pinned down. I wanted to shower and wash the experience from my mind, but there was no longer time. I couldn’t afford to be late to school. Extra attention was the last thing a girl needed on her 18th birthday.
I knew my birthday would lead to heightened interest in me at school. If I didn’t show up on time, friends would talk and people would think I’d skipped out. Girls had tried running before, and they always got caught. Sometimes judges were lenient with first time offenders, but not always.
Mom looked me over when I entered the car, then she pulled me into a hug, “Oh Jessie, I can’t believe he did this to you.” I returned the hug, but I knew she was lying. I wasn’t naïve enough to think a man like Mr. Lunder hadn’t done anything to my mom.
I knew it was selfish, but I couldn’t help crying. Mom held my face to her chest and waited for me to pull myself together. Some of Mr. Lunder’s semen still clung to my face, but she pretended not to notice.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. I always carry some wet wipes, just in case,” mom said, “It might be good to get you your own too, now that I think about it.”
Using the mirror, I carefully wiped off my face. The task was made difficult by the fact his semen had started to dry. When I was done, I put the remaining wet wipes into my backpack. The whole process was humiliating. I couldn’t believe how fast my life had transformed. I felt like a different person, and my first full day of school still loomed ahead of me.
As mom put the car in reverse, someone slammed a door making me jump. Mr. Lunder stood on his porch looking directly at me. He wore a gigantic grin on his face. I looked away; I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. Suddenly, I felt very small. My brain screamed out to defy him somehow, but I was too weak. Thankfully, my mom started pulling out of the driveway.
“Have a great day at school Jessie.” I tried to hide my face as he called after me.
“Just ignore him,” said my mom.
I applied eye liner and make-up to my face as we drove. As a former Tom boy, I despised wearing make-up, but I had no choice in the matter. When I first reached high school, I was horrified to learn girls attended a mandatory personal grooming class.
Since the Right to Reproduce Act passed, some women had tried to subvert the law by completely letting themselves go. In doing so, they hoped to make themselves as undesirable to men as possible. Naturally, the men in charge decided to legislate the problem away.
In the present day, if a woman didn’t attempt to maintain her appearance, the police could issue her a citation. It was like a speeding ticket just for women, and a daily source of embarrassment.
After fixing my face, I took stock of my clothes. My skirt sported conspicuous stains from wiping off Mr. Lunder’s cum. There wasn’t any time to wash it. I’d wear it and hope no one looked closely. On the other hand, my blouse was completely ruined. Buttons were missing from Mr. Lunder tearing it loose. Hatred brewed inside of me. This was my only uniform, so I had no choice but to fix it.
I borrowed mom’s sewing kit, but there weren’t enough buttons. As a result, I had to pick and choose which spots to cover. When I finished, my blouse looked partially unbuttoned. Now my uniform would show even more skin than usual. I cursed. This was bad.
By the time we pulled into school, the entryway was vacant. Classes must have started. Seeing the school sent a flutter of anxiety through my chest. I forced myself to take several calming breaths.
“You’ll make it through this sweetie, and I’ll be right here after soccer practice to pick you up,” mom said. Mom’s support made me grateful, but I couldn’t take her with me.
My feet felt like lead as I said goodbye and shut the door. If I could get through the halls unnoticed, I could apologize for my tardiness and get through first hour with little drama.
The moment I walked through the door; my heart sank. Mr. Stevenson, the Compliance Counselor was talking to a student in the middle of the lobby. The second I entered; he broke off his conversation.
“I’m going to let you go with a warning Thomas, don’t be late again,” said Mr. Stevenson. I silently hoped he would walk away, instead he turned directly towards me. Thomas, the boy he had been lecturing looked relieved, but the moment he saw me his expression changed to a smirk. I tried not to notice him.
“Jessie Gartner, you are very late. This is unacceptable,” said Mr. Stevenson, “I was just looking at the October file, it’s your birthday today isn’t it?” Something in his tone changed when he said it. He was staring at me intently.
“Yes,” I mumbled.
“In that case you need to go to the office right away and get your pin,” he said. Shame and embarrassment flooded through me when he mentioned the pin. Adult women were required to wear the pin whenever they were in public. Some of my friends already had theirs. I was hoping to conveniently “forget” to pick mine up until the end of school. It would be impossible now.
I turned to go to the office, but Mr. Stevenson called after me, “We still haven’t talked about your tardiness young lady. I think a detention is in order.”
“A detention?” I couldn’t keep the resentment out of my tone. The last student had gotten away with a warning.
“Yes, well perhaps detention is a little too harsh, but we do need to have a serious discussion about timeliness,” said Mr. Stevenson. He looked me up and down, “Do you have a free period?”
The way he was looking at me made me nervous. I plucked at my skirt to relieve the stress. He had access to my schedule, so I shouldn’t lie, “Yes, I have third period off.”
“Good, I’ll see you third period in my office,” said Mr. Stevenson, he flashed me a smile, “And Happy Birthday Jessie.” His footsteps echoed through the hall as he walked away. I could hear him whistling.
The receptionist raised an eyebrow when I entered the office, I could see her staring at my shirt.
“It’s my birthday,” I explained.
“Well you’re certainly getting in the spirit, aren’t you?” She was still staring at my shirt as she handed me my pin. Fixing the pin to my shirt, I left the office as quickly as I could.
Hoping to avoid any further incidents, I hurried to my first hour class. The teacher was speaking when I entered, but that didn’t stop the entire class from turning to stare at me. My absence was noticed, hopefully news of my birthday hadn’t spread too far.
I tried ignore people whispering as I walked to my seat. Someone in the back of the class whistled, and a few boys burst into laughter.
“Save it for outside,” Mr. Schlid cut them off. He was mad I interrupted him. “Don’t be late again. Some of our students actually have to learn this material.” Some boys sniggered and Mr. Schlid glared at them.
I seethed as Mr. Schlid resumed lecturing. At the start of the year I had tried asking him about my math homework. His response was to say he wasn’t surprised I was struggling. ‘Most girls quit math at around this level.’ I had done poorly in class ever since.
“Nice pin.” I froze when the voice spoke in my ear. It was Matthew, the boy who sat behind me. Matthew was one of the few boys who also wore a pin. His pin distinguished him as an adult who could enjoy the privileges of the law. Unlike the girl’s pins, the boy’s pins were optional.
I ignored him by staring at the board, but I couldn’t pay attention to the lecture. Something brushed my leg and I shifted in my seat.
I tried to making eye contact with Emily across the room, but she wasn’t looking. Emily was the other forward on my soccer team. We practiced together and I was counting on her to help me get through the day.
Someone pinched my thigh and I jumped, hitting my knees against the desk. Several people turned to look including Emily. She stared at my outfit. Did she think I wore this on purpose?
When I turned around, Matthew was pretending to be oblivious. I imagined stomping on his smug face for a moment, but I bottled up my resentment. I knew I couldn’t retaliate without Mr. Schlid yelling at me. Matt smiled triumphantly as I turned back around.
“Jessie, do you have the answer for us?” Mr. Schlid asked. Adrenaline shot through me; I hadn’t been paying attention.
“No, I don’t, I’m sorry,” I said.
“I see, well let’s hope you can rely on your other assets, if not your math skills,” said Mr. Schlid. My face turned red as some of the class laughed. My unbuttoned shirt was more noticeable than I thought.
SNAP. For the second time that class I jumped in my seat. Matthew had timed snapping my bra with the laughter of the class. I buried my head in my arms to hide my embarrassment. If I could get through this class, I’d be one step closer to the end of the day.
The rest of first period, I periodically caught boys staring at my chest. The missing buttons on my blouse left my cleavage exposed. I found myself wishing the day could be over so I could get on the soccer field and clear my head. When class ended, I packed up my stuff and headed for the door.
“Hey, wait up.” It was Matthew. I had no interest in talking to him so I kept walking. “Hey now, don’t give me the cold shoulder. I want to apologize.” I stopped walking and glared at him, he stopped short.
“Woah, I love it when you look at me with those intense eyes,” Matthew said, “Listen, let me make things up to you. I’ll take you out for lunch today.”
“I’m not interested.” I turned and kept walking. Matthew pulled my backpack so I had to stop.
“Not to get technical, but lunch is a free period. Which means you’re not doing any official activities…” Matt trailed off, letting the implication linger. My heart sank. It seemed Matthew knew the law as well as I did.
I was free to perform school sanctioned activities without interruption, but if he made an advance during leisure time, I couldn’t refuse him. A single word from Matt could get me in a lot of trouble.
“You’re a jerk you know that,” I said, but Matt only smiled.
“I love how feisty you are, save that energy,” he said, “Oh and by the way, Emily told me your schedule, so I’ll be waiting outside your fourth hour. Don’t try giving me the slip.”
Matt walked past me and down the hall. For a split second I felt a hand brush against my butt. Realizing what he did, I stepped after him. I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to grope—I looked around. The halls were full during passing time. There was no way to stop him without making a scene. Frustrated, I watched him slip away.
I spent all of second hour trying to think of ways to avoid lunch with Matt. So far, there had been no good ideas. To make matters worse, I had lashed out at Emily when she confessed to giving Matt my schedule. Emily was still a junior and didn’t understand the position I was in.
When the bell rang after second period, I began making my way towards the soccer fields. Usually, I used my free period to get in some extra practice. I was halfway to my locker when I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. I had forgotten about my meeting with Mr. Stevenson. The sunny prospect of distracting myself with an hour of soccer vanished, instead I contemplated the lecture I was about to receive.
When I got to Mr. Stevenson’s office the door was already open. I knocked.
“Come in,” he called. His office had a chair and couch. Typical of most school counselors. “Please shut the door behind you.” I shut the door and sat down on the couch. I must have looked defensive, hunched over on the couch, because Mr. Stevenson smiled at me.
“Relax, it’s ok,” said Mr. Stevenson. His friendly tone wasn’t what I was expecting. “How has your birthday been so far?”
Truthfully, it had been the worst day of my life, but he wouldn’t understand if I told him. “It’s going ok, I guess.”
Mr. Stevenson nodded sympathetically, “I understand. This can be stressful time in any young woman’s life.”
His words made me angry, but I kept it off my face. How could someone like Mr. Stevenson, a man, possibly claim to understand what I was going through? Did someone three times his age force themselves on him during his 18th birthday?
I couldn’t hold back anymore, suddenly I was crying again. In a flash, Mr. Stevenson was on the couch with his arm around me. I stared at my knees.
“There, there,” he patted me on the shoulder and offered me a tissue. I took it and blew my nose.
“Thanks,” I said. It felt good to have someone comfort me, even momentarily. The spice of Mr. Stevenson’s cologne filled my nostrils as he held his arm around me. I wasn’t sure when we had gotten so close.
“I consider it my duty as a counselor to advise all of my students,” said Mr. Stevenson, “That means getting to know my students personally. I want you to think of me as your friend.” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but I nodded.
“I’m going to ask you something personal,” he said. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?”
“What?” I was sure I had misheard him. Mr. Stevenson cleared his throat, then I saw him glance towards my shirt.
“I only meant; this is a time with a lot of changes in a girl’s life. I want to make sure you are prepared for what’s out there—”
“No, I’ve never had a boyfriend,” I said. I didn’t want to hear whatever else he had to say.
The way Mr. Stevenson smiled made me feel claustrophobic. “Now, now, it’s nothing to get embarrassed over.” He patted my thigh. My skirt was too short to cover my leg, and his hand came to a rest on my exposed thigh. I shifted uncomfortably, hoping he would get the message. His hand didn’t move.
“To put things bluntly. Now that you’re a woman, you’re going to be exposed to a lot of adult experiences,” said Mr. Stevenson. “It’s my job as a counselor to make sure you’re prepared for whatever’s out there. Does that make sense?”
“I suppose so.” I pressed my legs against each other. At that moment I wished for nothing more than to be out playing on the soccer field. When I looked at Mr. Stevenson, I crashed back to reality.
“Good.” He smiled. “We’re going to try some role play. I want you to pretend I’m a man you know, and we’ve gone somewhere private.”
A lump caught in my throat, I felt paralyzed. Mr. Stevenson moved his face close to my neck, his goatee tickled against my skin. Slowly, he moved his hand farther up my thigh. The sudden change in the atmosphere made me tense.
“It’s ok,” Mr. Stevenson whispered in my ear. His voice was silky, but he made my skin crawl. His hand had found the edge of skirt, hopefully this would be his stopping point. I didn’t want to have to say anything.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. The touch on my thigh slipped under my skirt and made its way towards my underwear. He moved his lips to mine; I could taste the coffee on his breath. Suddenly I found my voice.
“Please Mr. Stevenson, I don’t want to do this,” I said.
“It’s okay to be nervous, it’s normal. You’re safe with me,” he said. I shook my head, as he started rubbing my crotch in circles. With his other hand he pushed my legs apart. I let out a whimper, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I wanted to clamp my legs shut, but I also didn’t want to offend him.
“Please, stop.” I said. Mr. Stevenson lifted his hand out of my skirt and for a moment I felt relief. Then he started to unbutton my shirt.
“I understand your hesitation, but it’s my job as a counselor to make sure your first experience is in a safe and controlled environment. I couldn’t forgive myself if your first time was with some awful stranger,” his eyes were looking down at my chest as he spoke. With his hands, he slipped my blouse off my shoulders. His hands were soft where they brushed my skin.
Whatever experience he was referring to, I wanted no part of it. Sure, I kissed a couple boys in the past, I even let one touch me over my shirt, but they had respected my boundaries. His arms were wrapped around me now, and with his hands he reached for the clasp of my bra.
I waited as he fumbled with the strap. I wanted to stop this as soon as I could. Even if it was only role-play, I didn’t want to makeout with Mr. Stevenson. He was scrawny, pale, and in his thirties. He wasn’t the type of guy I’d look twice at.
My breasts spilled out as my bra fell to my lap. Mr. Stevenson gawked for a moment. I had let this go too far. He took one of my nipples in his hand and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. An involuntary shiver went down my spine.
“I don’t want to do this,” I said, but he was no longer listening. Both of my nipples were between his fingers now. My skin was sensitive and I could feel my nipples stiffening as he pinched them.
He pulled one of my hands under his shirt. His body was soft and flabby and touching him did little to excite me. He took my other hand and pulled it toward his crotch. When I realized what he was doing, I balled my hand into a fist. I had no interest in touching him there.
His hand stayed clamped on my wrist and he tugged insistently. I felt uncertain. If I relented, it might send him the wrong message. Reluctantly, I uncurled my hand and placed it on his crotch. I could feel the hardness of his dick through his jeans.
In the interest of speeding things along, I decided to leave my hands where he put them. Mr. Stevenson waited. When I didn’t take my hands off his body, he resumed his groping. He nuzzled my neck as I held him.
“Your body is so sexy, Jessie,” he said. His tongue ran across my neck and he continued to pinch me. It was too many sensations.
Something wet touched my hand and I recoiled. When I looked, I could see wet spots on his jeans. The stains reminded me of my skirt. I decided things had gone far enough.
I pulled my hands off of him, “I don’t need any more role-play Mr. Stevenson. We should stop here.”
“I’m afraid I must insist. The whole point of this role-play is to make you accustomed to demands. You’ll understand once were finished, this is for your benefit,” said Mr. Stevenson, “willful girls have a hard time adjusting to adulthood.”
He grabbed my hips and lifted me onto his lap so I was facing him. His arms weren’t strong, and I had to support myself to keep balance. On my leg I could his erection poking me. I tried to imagine myself out on the soccer field.
Mr. Stevenson unbuckled his jeans and pulled his dick out. I found myself looking at a grown man’s penis for the second time that day. It didn’t seem very big.
“When you’re with a man. He’s going to expect you to know certain things,” said Mr. Stevenson. “Don’t worry I’ll guide you.” He pushed me onto the coach beside him. Reaching behind my head he grabbed my ponytail. Suddenly, I thought I understood what he wanted. Sure enough, he guided my head to his crotch.
I had heard about giving blowjobs from the girls in school who gave them. At this point I figured my best option was to give him what he wanted. If I did a good job, I could avoid things going further.
With a firm grip I stroked his shaft. He groaned, and pushed my head down. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and enveloped the end of his penis.
“There you go, Jessie,” said Mr. Stevenson. “You’re doing well.” He tasted slightly better than Mr. Lunder. I used this as encouragement and moved my head up and down his shaft with vigor. A minute passed and my jaw grew sore.
“Use more tongue,” Mr. Stevenson said. The entitlement in his voice made me angry. I considered biting down on him, but I realized it wasn’t an option. If I didn’t please him, I would have to keep going.
Instead of biting him, I swirled my tongue as I moved up and down. Mr. Stevenson responded by moaning and bucking his hips. His thrusts hit against the back of my throat. I resisted the urge to gag and picked up the pace.
“That’s it, Jessie,” said Mr. Stevenson. He pulled hard against my ponytail and my mouth popped off of him, breaking my concentration. My face had become flush and I was frustrated he interrupted my rhythm.
“Now don’t give me that look. We’re not finished yet,” said Mr. Stevenson, “stand up.”
As I stood, Mr. Stevenson pulled down my skirt and underwear. I tried to protest as my skirt reached my ankles.
“Can’t we just go back to what we we’re doing?” I asked. There wasn’t much beyond a blowjob, and sex wasn’t an option.
“Your education isn’t complete yet,” said Mr. Stevenson. “It’s my job to prepare you for everything that’s out there.” I felt the urge to argue, but I felt foolish standing in front of him. I was completely naked now. With the exception of his penis, he was still fully clothed. He pulled me onto his lap and spread my legs apart. I opened my mouth to protest, “I don’t want to have sex with you Mr. Stevenson.”
Mr. Stevenson paused for a moment, then wrapped his hands around my butt and squeezed me. His touch felt invasive, and I wanted to rip his hands away. He gave me another squeeze, before finally turning to look at me.
“You know that’s not up to you, Jessie,” said Mr. Stevenson. The tone he gave me was impatient, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Becoming a woman is about learning to have decisions made for you. I really hoped you’d understand by now. I guess I still have to teach you.” Mr. Stevenson pulled himself up so we were at eye level. I met his gaze.
“Now, were going to have sex with each other. You’re not going to cause a problem for us, are you Jessie?” Mr. Stevenson asked. The way he spoke was patronizing. He was a counselor and had no right to treat me with such disrespect. I opened my mouth to tell him off, then shut it again.
Mr. Stevenson had informed me of his intention to have sex. The language was clear. By law, it was all he needed to do. If needed to acquiesce now, or I would be the guilty party. The realization made my shoulders slump, and I dropped my gaze from his.
He patted my butt, “Good girl. I didn’t think you were completely stupid.”
Mr. Stevenson rubbed himself on the outside of my vagina for a moment before pressing at the entrance. I winced. The momentarily pleasurable friction turned into pain as he pressed into me. I was not even close to recovered from the morning’s events. I looked and saw his precum smeared across my leg.
“It’s ok,” said Mr. Stevenson. “It’ll hurt your first time, but then you’ll start to feel good.” His forward pressure hurt as my body slowly gave way to him. Slowly, I slid down him until I was spread on his lap. His dick felt painfully inside of me.
“Now Jessie. Some men are going to want a woman to know how to do the work. I’m going to guide you at first, but then I want you to make me cum with only your movements. You’re a very fit girl, so you should have no problem,” said Mr. Stevenson.
“Wait, I don’t want you to cumming inside of me. Can’t we do it some other way?” I asked. Mr. Stevenson laughed and stroked my cheek with his hand, then he gave me a playful slap.
“Cumming inside of you is the whole point, silly. I need to prepare you for what’s out there. Now.” He placed a finger over my lips to shush me. I felt indignant as he guided my butt up and down his shaft. He groaned, “now you’re going to do it all on your own.”
Mr. Stevenson took his hands off me and sat back. Uncertain, I began to mimic the motions he had guided me through. As I worked up and down, he sat back and closed his eyes. A serene smile passed over his face. I decided at that moment Mr. Stevenson was a bastard, just like Mr. Lunder. He didn’t care about me; he just was just another person looking to get himself off.
I slid up and down for a while. At first, it was uncomfortable, but then I discovered if I rocked forward into him, the sensation became more pleasant. I picked up the pace slightly.
“Now you are getting it, you’re such a good girl Jessie,” Mr. Stevenson didn’t even open his eyes as he spoke. Asshole. I would get him off and that would be the end of it.
Still, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get him off and avoid him cumming inside of me. As if he could read my thoughts, Mr. Stevenson opened his mouth.
“I know you’re nervous Jessie, but I’m going to need you to keep going all the way through completion. If you stop early, you’ll be in a lot of trouble and we don’t want that,” he said.
My mind ran through the options as I ground my hips back and forth. There was no misinterpreting what he said. I would have to make him finish, and then I would have to let him cum inside of me. It was a disaster, still maybe it would be ok. Guys didn’t always get girls pregnant every time. I might be lucky?
Pushing the troublesome thought out of my mind, I focused on the good feelings. Pleasurable sparks shot though my body every time I rocked forward. I repeated the motion, over and over letting the feeling build. I focused on my breathing. My hips were strong and smooth as I pressed into him.
Beneath me Mr. Stevenson’s breath became loud, “Get ready for me, Jessie.”
I frowned, I didn’t want him done yet, I wanted more out of this, “Wait, not yet.” I bucked my hips forward desperately trying to hold onto my pent-up feeling.
Mr. Stevenson’s sigh transformed into a groan of ecstasy, “yes, Jessie. You’re a good girl. Here’s your reward.” Inside me I felt his dick start to pulse. Horrified, I realized he was shooting his load into me.
I felt trapped as Mr. Stevenson’s groan continued.
“I’ll stretch your tight body, Jessie, take all of it,” he said. Alarm bells told me to jump off of him, but he had told me not to. If I stopped, I might be in trouble. Indecisive, I continued to rock up and down. The pleasurable sparks receded as he filled me up. Eventually, he put his hands on my hips and pulled me to a stop.
I could feel the wetness as I sat on top of him. My mind was still clouded with strange emotions. It took a few moments for the terrible realization of what happened to hit me.
My lingering hunger was replaced by cold fear.
Mr. Stevenson seemed to come back to himself after a long moment, “your work is done now, Jessie. You can get off of me.”
Slowly, I pulled myself off of him. As the seal broke, I saw his semen fall out of me. There was still time I realized, I needed to get everything out immediately. There was no time to lose. I reached for the tissue box, but his hand shot out and grabbed me.
“No, leave it. I’ll help you get dressed,” Mr. Stevenson said. Grudgingly, I took my hand off the tissue box and pulled my panties and skirt off the floor. He supervised me as I dressed, all the while my mind was whirring. Every second I wasted; Mr. Stevenson’s semen made its way further inside of me.
Oblivious to my panic, Mr. Stevenson insisted on buttoning my shirt. His hands moved agonizingly slow. He held his hand over my abs when he finished.
There wasn’t a single opportunity to clean myself off, or scoop out the semen left inside of me. He held me and stroked my face with his hand.
“Do you understand what I was teaching you now?” he asked. I didn’t want to sit here and be held while Mr. Stevenson justified his actions. Fuck you—you selfish prick. I needed to get out of here, precious seconds were ticking by. Silence, I realized he was waiting for me to speak.
“Yes, I understand. I need to go the bathroom; can I please go?” I asked.
“There’s no rush,” he said. I screamed internally as his arms held me tighter. Minutes ticked by. Third hour was nearly over. Finally, he let me go and I made for the door.
Mr. Stevenson looked me over and gave me a nod of approval.
“Good, you’ll be back here the same time tomorrow,” he said.
I looked at him incredulous, “You can’t mean it. I need my free periods to practice.” But Mr. Stevenson was already shaking his head.
“I’m afraid not. I only have two semesters to prepare you for the world out there, and I intend to make the most of them. Please go straight to your next class. No stops.” He walked to the door and held it open.
Outside, the bell rang signaling the end of third period. Feeling dejected I walked into the hallway which was now flooding with students. Thoroughly sore, I adopted a somewhat awkward gate as I walked through the hall. I stared longingly at the bathroom as I walked past. There might still be time to scoop some semen out, it was my last chance.
I looked over my shoulder and made eye contact with Mr. Stevenson down the hall—he had told me to go straight to class—I had no choice but to leave the bathroom behind.
Any hope of removing his semen was gone now. After fourth hour would be too late. At this point my hair and clothes were completely disheveled. I felt the wetness in my crotch grow as I walked. Mr. Stevenson’s semen was slowly dripping out of me. Every drip was a taunting reminder of the consequences. Drip.
People were staring at me now. Drip. I must’ve looked as worn as I felt. Drip.
Someone shouldered me hard making me stumble. It was Emily.
“So, you’re too mad to even practice with me now?” said Emily. “I already told you I was sorry for sharing your stupid schedule, how is this fair?”
I didn’t wasn’t sure what she was talking about. Then I remembered, I’d missed our third period practice.
“Wait, Mr. Steven—”
“Forget it,” Emily interrupted me. She took in my clothes and hair, “I’m sure you had a good reason.” She walked away before I could respond. Drip.
My day wasn’t even half over. Drip.
Reluctant Nora 
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