This choice: Maureen, dirt poor tomboy who loves fighting • Go Back...Chapter #5Maureen, dirt poor tomboy who loves fighting by: Gerbil54378   The door creaked open slowly, cautiously, and whoever opened must’ve been ashamed, as they slinked in slowly. You tried to steal a look from your metal and flesh prison, but Mrs. Damien drove the ball of her foot deeper into your trachea with every squirming motion you dared try.
“Oh Maureen, what a pleasant surprise! How could I help you today? Are you coming in for your grades? That’s largely on you, you know. I know you work really hard out there, but you don’t show up to practices nearly enough to even get pity points for participation. You’re skating on thin ice with eligibility for next year missy.”
A meek voice replied, a drastic change from her usual deep and confident tomboy-ish voice, “Yeah...yeah I know. I know, it’s just, well you already said it missus. I try hard, I really do. Don’t ya think we could uh, work somtin out. I’ll show up more, swear on it. I really do.”
The two of them stood in an awkward silence for a moment, Maureen resting her not fat but kind of bulky frame against the bandroom door, and Mrs. Damien rubbing her feet onto your concealed body with absent minded roughness, trying to think something out. “Well...no. Hmm, well what do you have right now, an F? What is the minimum grade for eligibility? A C? That’s would be a lot of work on your end. Even if you showed up for everything, optional and mandatory, I’m not sure we could fix that.”
“Oh please missus, ya have to have sometin, anything. I’ll do work, real work. I ain’t afraid of that. I need school. I can’t fail another subject.” Just as her voice started trembling and her voice descending even further away from proper English, your band teacher accidentally pushed too hard on your throat, completely cutting off oxygen. Panicking, you thrashed, hands and legs lashing out and banging against the cheap metal of her desk and filling the room with a deafening clang.
Mrs. Damien jumped up, violently kicking you back into submission for putting in her in such a situation. In the most cordial voice she could muster, she offered the deal of a lifetime to her now very very confused student in the doorway. “Maureen dear, I have just the solution for both of us. You help me get rid of a burden, a pest, and I’ll just give you that C, scratch that. How’s a B sound? I’ll even pull a few strings in the office to get some of those fighting records of yours erased. You do like fighting don’t you?”
Nearly squealing like the other schoolgirls she despised so much, she practically threw herself down in front of her teacher’s desk. “Absolutely, anything. Anything at all for that missus. Thank you, thank you”
Mrs. Damien smiled, instructing her to remove her shoes. Agreeing without only a moment’s hesitation, Mrs. Damien watched as her new apprentice kicked her ragged old keds over to a corner before kicking you out from under the desk. “You see, the problem is little ol Alex here. And believe me, they’ve been quite the pest the last couple hours, and I just need you to teach them a lesson or two, really knock their block off. You see, he’s been caught doing some rather bad things in my office, so I’ve been making him smell my feet as punishment, but he’s been resisting. You don’t mind beating up just one more kid do you?”
You looked up to see the smug and diabolical grin of your new opponent before your band teacher piped up again. “Now to make things interesting. Alex, if you somehow beat Maureen or just escape the school entirely, you’re scot free. I’ll delete everything and take care of every single one of your problems that’s occured over the last twenty-four hours. That’s all you have to do to win here. So either fight really well or run as fast as those twig legs will take you. Alright everyone, ready? 3, 2, 1. Go!”
Maureen stepped over to you, smiling and raising one muscular leg high above you, aiming to kill with her first blow. You glanced at her stained black, holey socks for a second before deciding that you wanted to take the chance of not submitting. With what energy you had left, you launched yourself through the gap between her legs, tumbling into the bandroom, hoping to make a dead sprint for the doors across the room. Make it there, and you’re outside. However, the square faced girl had been in a fight with a chicken before, and pivoted, crashing after you.
You fell on your back, toppling a stand in the process. Shocked, you scooted away from her angrily amused, hulking form as it rose from where it landed on the floor. Still smiling, but now eager to win, she dived after you once again as you flailed away. This time you weren’t so lucky, and Maureen latched herself onto your ankle, using it as a tether for her to pull herself up your terrified self. You started to yell and kick, landing one or two of them, which only served to anger her more.
Mrs. Damien stood in the doorway, still barefoot, and rooting for the only other girl in the room, reminding you that the school was empty. You could scream as loud as you wanted, nobody was going to save you. You landed one to your attacker’s shoulder, causing her to fall back with a frustrated cry of anguish. Quickly, you got up on your legs and bolted for the door while Maureen temporarily paused to nurse her wound. You hit them at a super speed, only to collapse again. They were locked. You went for the wrong doors. You came in the other set. No. The other set led to the school. These were the ones you came in, as these were the ones that led to the outside. You stood there dumbfounded, surely there was a janitor or someone had locked them. You stepped back and turned, only to see Maureen’s outstretched arms blocking your escape.
Seeing the color drain from your face, her lips went from ear to ear. “Awww, quittin’ so soon? Here, gimme a hug, I’ll squeeze those sad feelins all out. And if I ain’t able? Well I think my barking dogs will distract ya just nicely. Oh god they’re so sweaty, say, did I ever tell you I turned a sky clear puddle green with these monsters?” She advanced, hoping to pincer you between her two arms, but you ducked, instead making a break for the other set of double doors across the room.
“Oh no no, you can fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice? Foot on you!” Giggling, she laughed as you had to go low to avoid her. It was the perfect opportunity to bring her knee up with the force to break a board, instead connecting with your windpipe. In an instant, you were a crumpled, coughing mess on the bleak carpet of Mrs. Damien’s band room. Through teary, irritated eyes, you were barely able to make out the rough shape of a now asphalt colored sock descending down upon your poor face. Without even a fight, Maureen now had complete superiority over you, and she knew that.
With an air of superiority, she grinded the tough, reeking fabric that encompassed her foot down onto your cheek, which in turn was then grinded into the barely scratchier floor. With her full weight bearing down on you had no room to resist or squirm out. Instead you were forced to lay underneath her while she molded your face to her foot. Bitter tears of pain and humiliation ran down your miserable face, stale fumes now entirely engulfing you. Bits of debris ran off her sock, covering your face with lint, dirt, grime, sweat, and whatever else she had built up on those in the years she had probably been wearing them.
The smell of hot garbage overcame you, and you stayed in a curled up ball on the floor, desperately trying to curl away from the cruel devices of Maureen, to no avail. With little effort, she was able to squeeze out any fight in you with one, grinding, punishing foot. She let you loose for a moment, to turn and talk with Mrs. Damien. Sputtering, a now crushed and stinking human, you tried in vain to crawl away. You managed to pull yourself a foot or two before the full weight of your tormenter came crashing down on your abdomen. Straddling you, Maureen turned and threw both of her legs in the air before sending them crashing upon your face. “Sniff, go on sniff. Don’t make me give ya anotha whoopin. We both know it that I would. Sniff.” She forced herself down, putting a significant amount of pressure down on your chest and lungs. You gasped, unwillingly sucking in the only oxygen available to you, the same supply being filtered through her socks.
Retching you writhed underneath her, flailing at the raw onslaught of stench she brought with her. She giggled, forcing herself further down, forcing you to inhale the aroma of her beaten and worn feet. Caught in the midst of it, she didn’t realize Mrs. Damien approach, leash in hand. “How about a project Maureen, for extra credit? Take him, show me you’re...responsible enough to handle, maintain, and train a...an instrument like Alex and I’ll boost your grade?”
Giggling now turning to sadistic laughter, she bounced up, sending you into another coughing fit as you tried to roll over back into a ball. Kneeling, she planted a foot on your back while she adjusted your collar before hauling you up. "Cmon, boy, I think it's about time you met the family, especially all my sisters. Man. they're going to love you." She pulled you close, wrapping her hand in the rope multiple times before saying her goodbyes to her teacher and dragging you outside for the walk home.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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