Houlihan wouldn’t be satisfied with just spanking and tickling Monica. He’d heard bits and pieces from students, heard Monica’s history from those who’d talk about it, and he wanted to make her suffer. Yes, the thrill of punishing her by giving her the kinky attention the boys didn’t want to give was exciting enough, but Monica was unaware that Houlihan would spread the word that she was to be on her best behavior. No picking on other students. No problems. As the afternoon waned, he realized he needed to contact Monica’s teachers and tell them to keep him posted on her grades. And to make some extra credit work mandatory. He also needed to chat with Brenda. He felt sorry for her. He suspected she wrote the nasty note out of spite, but he wouldn’t let on that he thought it was her. Like himself, Brenda was a victim of a woman. His little sister had gotten it all. Brenda was smart in her own right, and would get those scholarships, but she’d need them in order to get into college to land a career. It’s possible she could land a husband, but he didn’t sense that would happen. Brenda didn’t have any street smarts, it was all book smarts. She would have a rude awakening some day. But Houlihan wanted her to know that if she wanted to tell Monica how she felt about her, she should do just that—and it would be okay. He jotted down his reminders on his calendar, then stepped out for his late afternoon coffee. He’d call one of his Georgetown contacts, and then he’d go home. It was the weekend. He was excited. He took the pictures of Monica with him. The paddle and feather he left in the drawer.
Monday rolled around, and Houlihan decided he’d speak to Brenda that day, if he could. He also sent a note to her via her second to last class of the day. She showed up after school let out.
The difference between her and Monica was night and day. Brenda had a sullen, broad face and was on the chunky side. While Monica looked like a grown woman, Brenda looked like she was still in the awkward phase of adolescence … and would remain there until her mid-forties, when she would start looking old. The braces would come off, of course, but Houlihan fervently hoped Brenda was aiming for a lucrative career. She’d be no one’s trophy wife.
“I understand you’ve been having trouble with Monica,” he said. “This is my first fall here, but I’ve been trying to get a handle on the senior class and perhaps straighten out any problems before they escalate.”
Brenda shook her head. “Monica has been a problem ever since she’s been here. We went to middle school together, and it actually started then. She’s always been a little slut. No one says much about it because she gets good grades. There’s a double standard, because there was another girl in middle school, Kaley Hutchinson, and she did all sorts of things with the boys and they always got on her case … but she didn’t do well in school. She was smart, but she just didn’t like school. She was only good in one or two subjects. She skipped a lot of school too.”
“So what does Monica say to you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
Brenda looked away. “Just … mean things. Like I’ll always be fat and never have a boyfriend or get married. Boys have teased me all through school. I don’t look like anyone else. I don’t think like anyone else. And sometimes I think I’ll never belong, anywhere.”
Houlihan sat back. The usual teenage thoughts, that is, if you weren’t one of the chosen. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t dare say that life was sometimes like high school, that it was who you knew, and what you looked like and joining the clubs even if you didn’t want to join just so you could make contacts that might help you out later on.
“You have excellent grades. I’m sure you’ll do well wherever you decide to go to school. You just have one more year.”
“Yeah, but Monica has always been on my case. Always. I feel like a little nothing next to her, and even feeling superior to her doesn’t work because if you’re not a slut, you’re not popular with boys. And it’s not like they like me in the first place, and I’m smart enough to know that even sleeping with them won’t make them like me. They’ll just end up using me.”
She was probably right about that. He’d known a few girls like Brenda, unattractive but they slept with boys anyway, and it didn’t help their popularity. They just became known as the girls who were so desperate, they’d do anything.
“Why don’t you stand up to Monica? Tell her exactly how you feel?”
Brenda looked puzzled. “You mean, tell her that she’s a total slut? And she’s just … disgusting?”
“She does that to you, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she say mean things to you?”
“Well, yeah.