All persons in this work of fiction are figments of my imagination and as such, are over the age of 18, the age of consent for figments.
Born into a family of wealth and privilege, she was the third and last child of Emerson and Maitlyn Lasiter. They named her Bailey Brea. The silver spoon that should have been in her mouth was, instead, lodged firmly in her tiny ass. She was taught from the beginning that with wealth and power came responsibility. Her siblings embraced the concept and treated their peers as equals and tried to make the world around them a little better than it had been. Not so with Bailey. She was the princess and expected to be treated as such, not just from her peers but from her family as well. Try as they might, her parents never quite removed this elitist attitude from their petulant daughter. School was a turbulent time for Bailey. At home, she would toe the line, behave properly or incur the wrath of her parents, especially her mother, who had little tolerance of her daughter's snobbish attitude. Away from home was a different story. Surrounded by like minded classmates, she became the stereotypical 'mean girl' and by Junior High had a reputation as a bully and a total bitch. Jock or geek, cheerleader or girl-next-door, all ran before her, scattering like leaves in the wind. She and her clique of friends, euphemistically called the 'cunt club' cut a wide swath through her school.
Then I showed up.
Who am I? My name is James Thomas Redding, JT to my friends. My family and I moved here between my Sophomore and Junior year. My father had just retired from the Marines and was looking for somewhere for he and a group of his military buddies to start full service security and safety company. Weapons training, self-defense, home security systems and the bread and butter, commercial security, both electronic and on-site.
Being a military brat, this was not the first time I found myself in a new school, knowing nobody and having no friends, but, thankfully, it would be the last, well at least until college anyway. Several weeks into the school year, I had made a few friends, I never seemed to have trouble in that area. I'd also noticed the cunt club. Nathan, my first friend here and on the fast track to being my best friend, warned me about them.
"Dude." He whispered, looking around, lest one of them overhear. "Stay away from them, especially the queen of mean, Bailey. They're all bad news, but she's just brutal."
I'd seen her type before. If she expected me to fall at her feet and worship her, well let's just say, that's not happening. I wouldn't look for trouble, but I would stand my ground.
I'd made it nearly to Christmas break before my first run in with the cunt club. Sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch, alone, they swarmed me.
"You're sitting at our table asshole." One of them spat. "Leave."
Looking up, I saw four of them. "This is a six person table." I observed. "Feel free to join me."
The one who originally spoke stepped back as Bailey came forward. "Maybe you didn't understand." She seethed. "This is OUR table. We don't want you here. Leave now, or..."
It certainly wasn't hard to see she was the queen bee. Dressed just slightly better than the others and exuding that unmistakable air of utter superiority, she attempted to intimidate me. This wasn't going to go well... at least for her, anyway.
"No." I said, flatly.
"WHAT!?" She hissed.
"You heard me, no." I repeated. "I have just as much right to sit here as you. You can join me or find somewhere to sit. Those are the options, pick one."
Bailey turned about fifty shades of pissed and slammed her tray down on the table. "YOU. GO. NOW!"
I smiled up at her and continued eating.
Bailey was beyond angry, nobody, but nobody defied her. Who did this jerk think he was?
I had pretty much figured out what her next move would be. My dad, being a Marine, specializing in hand-to-hand combat and small arms, had been training me for years. She was a 17 year old girl, of course she telegraphed her intention. She drew back her right hand to deliver a slap to my left cheek. Without even interrupting the bite I was taking of my lunch, I grabbed her wrist with my left hand, just before contact.
I held her in my grip as I swallowed my food. "That wasn't very nice." I chided, then I released her.
"You assaulted me." She screamed, rubbing her wrist. "I'll make sure you're expelled."
I chuckled, causing Bailey to turn even deeper red. "Look around." I said. "I see at least 10 people with their phones out recording this. It'll be on social media before the school day is over. Go ahead and report this, your ass is hanging further out than mine."
"AHHHHH!!!" She shrieked, spinning and walking away at a rather exaggerated pace, the rest of the cunt club following suit. "This isn't over!" She spat just before exiting the cafeteria.
More than a few students that witnessed the altercation offered me copies of the videos they'd shot. "Hold on to them, just in case." I instructed. "Thanks for the back up." After lunch, I did visit the assistant principal to let her know what had occurred.
"Son, you must have a death wish." She shook her head. "Sooner or later that girl will get her revenge. I hope you know what you just stepped in."
Overnight, I achieved legendary status among the other students. Seldom had anyone stood up to Bailey and her bitches and none had done it quite so spectacularly.
Nothing came of the incident, at least not immediately, but any time I saw or passed one of the club members, I got a world class stink eye, sometimes a snarky comment. And here I thought High School was about maturing and growing up. Guess they didn't get the memo.
Little things started happening, strange things. My clothes disappeared one day during gym. Thankfully, I always carried extras in my truck. My locker was super glued closed. That required some rather serious work. My project for art class was vandalized. I knew who was behind it, but I was determined to deny them the satisfaction of seeing it get to me. In fact, it really didn't. Petty, juvenile BS, I had no time for it.
Not long after that, I went to the parking lot to go home and all four tires were flat on my truck. Bailey's work, no doubt. A quick check confirmed they let the air out, the tires hadn't been cut. I had a small battery powered air compressor locked in the tool box in the bed, so I aired them up, flipped a 360 degree bird (I assumed she, or at least one of her crew were watching) and drove home. I could almost hear her scream.
After that, I installed cameras in my truck. I was sure this was going to escalate. People like her don't usually give up. Sure enough, a couple weeks later someone smashed my windshield. I got a very clear image of the perpetrator, none other than the quarterback of the football team, Ryan Knowles, Bailey's boyfriend. Camera in hand, I returned to the school. Since my first interaction had been with the assistant principal, I sought her out.
"You need something Mr. Redding?" She asked.
"JT please, Ms. Leeds." I instructed. I keyed the camera and handed it to her. "Watch."
She watched the video, her eyes widening as it unfolded. "Oh, this isn't good." She frowned. "Not good at all. I thought he was smarter than that."
"What's the usual punishment for something like this?" I asked.
"At least suspension, he'll be lucky not to be expelled." She answered. "Either way, it won't go well."
"Can I suggest an alternative?" I inquired.
"I'm listening." She said.
