Seeing from the clock on his wall that the pep rally was nearly at hand, and to ease the tension developing in his office, Dr. Eric Bloom was the next to speak.
"Why don't we all go to the stage together," implored the addled administrator.
"We can address what happened here today and also show the boys that ultimately our differing views are what make us a stronger community."
"Fine," snipped Danielle who, disgusted by Eric Bloom's naive Kumbaya approach to life but always eager to be the center of attention - particularly in front of an auditorium full of strapping young men and with only the likes of Emily Duncan, Rachel Miras and some pathetic high school cheerleaders as "competition" - arrogantly led the way followed closely by Dr. Bloom, Will and Calum.
If any one of them had taken his eyes off Danielle's imperiously swaying ass he may have noticed that the bottom of her knit pencil skirt - where it fluted out from her leanly muscled calves - seemed a tiny bit shorter than it had just moments before. That fact of course was not lost on either Emily Duncan or, as she continued to pull on the ever-lengthening black thread in her hand, a smiling Rachel Miras.
* * *
As was the case for all of Gonzaga's senior class pep rallies, particularly those like this one that included a show by the Georgetown Visitation senior class cheerleaders, each of whom was at least eighteen years old, the school's gymnasium was packed to the gills. In addition to the 500 or so virile young Gonzaga men who occupied the bleachers along each side of the gleaming hardwood basketball court, chairs had been set up behind the half court line for parents, faculty and guests and a stage had been assembled under the basket at the far end of the court from which Dr. Bloom would address the gathering and upon which would be seated certain students, senior administrators and honored guests, including Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh who, although a graduate of Georgetown Prep, on of Gonzaga's fiercest rivals, was on this day the proud father of one of the Georgetown Visitation cheerleaders.
The open floor between the stage and the first row of chairs was where the cheerleaders had already begun their performance and where the football team and small pep band - each member of which was watching the cheerleaders' every move - were seated. In keeping with school tradition, at the conclusion of the rally, a senior boy - this year Adam Sanin - would let loose from the back of the room "Claude," the school's American Eagle mascot, who would swoop over the crowd in the gym before alighting back on Mr. Sanin's gloved hand to be re-caged by his trainer. Adam, Claude and Claude's trainer - Sister Beatrice - were already positioned in the highest row of the bleachers.
With the team's bright prospects, the cheerleaders' provocative choreography and the pep band already in full swing, excitement was at a crescendo as Dr. Bloom, Danielle and Will Parnell and the Duncan and Miras mother and son duos entered the gym - and Danielle loved it. It was in moments like this, when distractions were everywhere and the pulse of a crowd was at its most dynamic, that Danielle genuinely relished here ability to steal focus. Nothing - she would think to herself - is ever going to prevent the limelight from finding me. And so it was, as she made her way from the back of the gym through the crowd and toward the stage, that Mrs. Danielle Marie Parnell, by adding a little extra sway to her already spectacular high heeled strut, began to turn the heads of every man and boy in the crowd and likewise attract the anger and jealousy of every woman and girl.
Fathers and sons alike swallowed (and became) hard as the imperious uber-MILF made her way to the open floor and - despite the cheerleaders being in mid-routine - held out her bejeweled hand to stop them while, as their mouths gaped open in the shock and humiliation of this diva's gall, striding superciliously through their ranks and toward the small set of stairs leading to the stage.
"Hey lady," came the voice of the cheerleader's captain - one Sharon Miras - "what do you think
you're
doing?"
Relishing the challenge of the smaller, younger woman, Danielle spun around on her high Prada heels and, with an icy stare, cowed Rachel Miras' daughter just as she had so often silenced Rachel herself.
"I'm doing whatever I please
little
girl," Danielle remarked disdainfully, "none of which involves gyrating half dressed in front of a roomful of testosterone charged men. Now mind your place. Or is there something you'd like to
do
about it.
Well
? I didn't think so."
Cut to the quick by the woman's unexpectedly harsh rebuke, Sharon Miras turned three shades of red before slinking back to her team. And although the music almost instantly began playing again, prompting the cheerleaders to resume their show, nary a male eye noticed the nubile young woman any longer. Instead - and as usual thought Danielle - those eyes were all glued to her. Although she smirked at them outwardly, on the inside Danielle was smiling ear to ear at how simple it was for her to stir the lust of this pathetic assemblage of men. That she also was able to humiliate that Hobbit Rachel Miras' daughter in the process was just icing on the cake. After all, hadn't that little trollop turned down Will's invite to the junior prom. No one messes with my boy she thought, thrilled that once again she had avenged the Parnell family honor.
Rachel Miras was distraught. Had that hussy just humiliated her daughter in front of both her cheerleading team and the entire student body of Gonzaga. It was definitely time to teach the arrogant little tease a lesson she thought but, despite her best efforts, Rachel's seemingly ceaseless pulling on the string she held had barely taken an inch off the bottom of Danielle's fashionable skirt. Worse yet, once they sat down on stage, it would be virtually impossible to continue her plan. How could it be that once again the officious Mrs. Parnell would get one over on her and her family. And then she saw it . . . at the rear of the stage positioned to launch a net full of purple and white balloons skyward during the rally . . . a large industrial fan.
