This Is Our Story

After his fainting spell Thursday, it was decided that Angelica would handle the driving for the last day of the semester. Conner tried to take his time getting ready. The less time he had to spend in the hall before first period, the better. Classrooms promised some small measure of safety. During final exams, they would be quiet and under the watchful eyes of teachers at their sternest. The halls were a lawless place, thronging with savages. Conner's own first period was merely finishing student presentations; he'd given his Wednesday, and was in no rush. Had he been behind the wheel, he would have gladly come in late and simply taken yet another first period tardy – his first since he'd broken it off with Hailey – but Owen and Angelica needed to be on time for their own exams.

Things were about like he expected. Thanks to the miracle of social media, everyone had heard about the incident. No one had been crappy enough to actually share a picture of him lying zonked out on the floor, but some sophomore he didn't even know had caught him being dragged down the hall by DeShaun on his way to Mrs. Bissell's office. The image was captioned with a version of the story that painted him in an even less flattering light.

People pointed. People laughed. People taunted. Always a true friend when it really mattered, Owen shot back a few retorts, but there was only so much he could do. He passed Hayleigh McKnight and Jayce Deacons; she treated him to a look of condescension so profound that it if he hadn't already been so thoroughly demoralized, he might have showed everyone then and there the empress's new clothes. (Admittedly, he thought she'd lost some of Hailey's ample weight in the past few months, but still probably competed with her jock boyfriend pound for pound.)

He even passed Hailey McManus, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with her. She'd always been so kind to him, and after their breakup, he couldn't fathom the notion of seeking a sympathetic glance for his girl troubles. He even saw Heather once, a ways down the hallway. Conner about-faced immediately and hoped she didn't see him.

He made it to his locker without quite dying of embarrassment, where he saw another kindred spirit, Miss C. She was standing right next to his locker, and locked eyes with him as he approached, smiling sweetly and looking even prettier than usual in her festive holiday garb.

"Morning, Miss C," he said, trying to will the red out of his cheeks.

"Hi, Conner. How are you feeling?"

"Crash and burn, Fishers!" someone yelled as they walked by. He winced.

"Ya know. Like you'd expect."

She gave his shoulder a little squeeze. "I was wondering. Do you have a first period exam? It's my prep period, and I could use a hand with a few things."

"Um, we're doing presentations, but I already did mine. I could check with Mrs. Schmidt, I guess."

"Tell you what. I'll come with, give you a nudge. OK?"

Conner simply nodded and unloaded his backpack. He had to admit, there was a big change over his walk into the building and now walking alongside the young English teacher. There were still looks, still some grins, but as someone had literally thrown a bag of Beggin' Strips at him on the way in – word had it that had been his approach to asking Heather out – this was a marked improvement.

Indeed, Mrs. Schmidt looked to be overwhelmed dealing with students who'd come in with excuses rather than presentation materials, so when Miss C interjected to ask to borrow Conner, the woman just waved a hand dismissively and off they went. She didn't say a word until they were alone in the editor's office. He couldn't help but notice the sprig of plastic mistletoe over the door to the office, and once more thought bitterly of yesterday.

She invited him to take the desk chair, and perched herself on the desktop next to him. He always tried not to notice that Miss C was a flesh and blood girl – a woman, that is – but he was only now realizing how high her skirt was cut along the side, and the sheer quantity of slender thigh was immensely distracting.

"So how are you feeling today? How's your head?" she began.

"Pretty bruised... kind of a headache, but I'm binging tylenol to keep it manageable. It's definitely doing better than my ego."

"Yeah, I thought maybe. I know how kids can be."

Conner shrugged. "It happens."

"It does? Because I've been teaching for seven years, and this is a first in my experience."

"OK, so maybe it doesn't happen. Let's just hope it doesn't happen twice," he said with a weary but sincere chuckle. "Man, the party this afternoon is going to be so awkward."

"Because of Heather?"

"And Jordan, yeah."

"You don't have to worry about him. I saw to it he was suspended. I tried to get him expelled, but that was the best I could do."

"You...?!" He looked up at her in shock. "Wow, Miss C. You didn't have to do that. But thanks. That's nice of you."

She patted his cheek softly; now he was hoping his cheeks were still red from before so they wouldn't suddenly become so at her touch. "How many times do I have to tell you, Conner? When it's just us, call me Kristy."

"Right. Kristy. Sorry, I keep forgetting."

She gave one last gentle swipe with her thumb before pulling her hand away. "It's OK. Do you wanna talk about it yesterday? Might feel better to get it off your chest. I hate seeing you unhappy."

Conner shrugged. "What's there to talk about? She said she'd like to, but she's leaving for college next fall, so she doesn't want to start a relationship when she's about to leave for California."

"Well that's something, right? That she'd go out with you if not for that."

"Now if only I could get that news to spread as big as the fainting thing."

"It's her loss, Conner. You're a sweet guy, funny, cute as a button... if I were ten years younger..." She was clearly joking. He was ninety-nine percent sure. She gave him a coy wink.

Ninety-eight.

Conner blushed. "Thanks, um, Kristy. Though careful, I don't want Brent to beat me up."

"He'd have to go through me," she said, suddenly rising and heading into the classroom. She returned only a moment later with some papers from her desk, handing it to him as she sat back down. He tried not to notice that she was a little closer this time, her leg resting against his arm. It was rather distracting.

"What's this?" he asked, glancing down. He saw it even as she was answering.

"Some good news for you. Great job on your final. You nailed the essay, and only missed two on the multiple choice. Solid A!"

Normally that would have merited a victory whoop, but a feeble fist raised half-heartedly over his head was all he could manage. "Awesome. Thanks, Miss C. I can't believe you have them graded already."

"Not all of them, but I thought my star pupil might need a pick-me-up and I thought it'd be an easy source of good news. I was a little nervous when I saw how fast you finished it, but shame on me for doubting, right?"

"I try not to let you down."

"Feeling any better?"

"Some," he admitted. "So anyway, you didn't bring me here to talk about girls or cheer me up. What was it you needed a hand with?"

"Cheering you up," she answered with a smile. "I mean, unless you wanna talk about girls. I got some killer advice for ya if you do." Did her leg rub his arm, or was he imagining it? This was starting to get very distracting indeed. He folded his hands in his lap to keep her from seeing just how distracted he was.

"Well, when I find a girl who actually says yes, I'll have to take you up on that."

"I'm serious. If I can help, I want to. Suggestions, advice, practice... I'm your girl."

Conner's eyes bulged. "Practice?!"

"Yeah. You know, a little role play to build up your confidence. Try out some dialogue or whatever." She arched an eyebrow. "Why, what'd you think I meant?"

***********************

That was merely the first of Conner's uncomfortable encounters of the day. The second came during lunch. Owen and Angelica were doing some last-minute cramming, and he didn't want to be a bother to them with the attention he was likely to draw. (Indeed, once Miss C was no longer at his side, the mockery had picked right back up.) So rather than sit by himself, he went to the one place he knew he could be alone: the nook under the stage in the auditorium.

It was dark in there, but he knew his way by now. Trying to crawl while using his phone as a flashlight was too much of a pain to be worth it. Down here, nobody would bother him, and the peace and quiet would be good for his throbbing head, too. He shuffled forward, waiting to feel the familiar rubber of the gym mat under his palms.

Instead, he bumped head first into something yielding, but quite solid. It surprised him so much he yelped in panic, instantly regretting it on account of the headache. He raced to get out his cell phone, quickly turning it on and holding it in front of him to reveal...

"Hailey?"

"Hi, Conner," she said. She was sitting on the mat cross-legged; he chose to ignore the way it let him see right up her dress. She was wearing panties at least, but what a reminder of what he'd passed up.

"I didn't think anyone would be down here. Sorry, I can let you have the place."

She snatched his wrist before he could turn away. "No! We can share. I, um, actually thought you might be down here. After yesterday."

"You heard too, huh," he said with a sigh. Deciding to stay, he scooted onto the mat and lay down on his back. The pillows Hailey had transported here for them were still there, he was relieved to discover.

"Everyone heard. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, come on. You're the last person who should have to feel bad for me for getting rejected."

"Maybe. I was telling my mom about it last night, and she was like 'serves him right' and then Doug started in laughing like it was some joke, but I said I felt bad for you. At least I got let down easy and in private. You had it happen in front of a whole classroom, and then turned it into a sensation with the fainting. They say being unconscious is, like, really bad for you, you know that? Do you feel any different? Not that I'd expect it to–"

"My head hurts," he interjected, chuckling softly. Conner had forgotten what a chatterbox she could be. It got old pretty fast, but it was endearing in sporadic doses.

"Yeah. Man. So... Heather Blake, huh? That's your type?"

"I guess."

"I mean, I guess I get it. Once you've had my tig ol' bitties, it's hard to downsize, right?" She giggled, but it sounded forced.

He let himself laugh, though not at her joke. Heather was incredibly stacked in that department, true, but for Hailey, breast size was probably the only thing the old Hefty had had over Hottie. Along with the shift in weight, she'd probably gone down two or three cup sizes. "Looks like."

Hailey lay down next to him on her side, head propped up on an elbow. Lord, but she was gorgeous. Hayleigh may have lost some weight in her new body, but he was pleased to note the reverse had not been the case for his ex. "Heather was stupid to turn you down, you know."

"Hailey..."

"I'm just saying. You're a cute guy, smart, know how to treat a girl like she wants to be treated. You may think I'm just crushing on you, but I'm telling you. It's a rare thing, the ability to accept and like people as they are."

Conner grimaced, considering the source of the statement. "Yeah, tell that to Heather."

"Yeah, some people don't know how to appreciate what's in front of them." She brushed a strand of her silken hair aside. She let her words hang in the still, warm air of the storage area, and for a time, the two lay there silently. It was peaceful. Hailey McManus had somehow become the one beautiful woman he knew who didn't make him nervous. He loved her right then, for that.

"You know, back when, you said you weren't ready, and didn't wanna rush things. And I wondered, you know, if you were feeling more ready."

In spite of himself, Conner let himself look her over. There it was, that dynamite body he'd inadvertently given her. Slender waist, athletic legs, perky butt and perkier tits, and a face just made to be stared at.

If he didn't have a shot with Heather... why not give in? He didn't have to use TIOS or anything; she was all too happy to be with him all on her own. Sure she was a little tiring socially, and he could only imagine hearing the jibes that he'd stooped to Hefty Hailey levels after being rebuffed by Heather Blake. But like Angelica and Heather had said, high school was coming to an end all too soon. With the morning he'd had, Conner was beginning to see how silly it was to feel like this was eternal. Why not have a fun final semester, enjoying the rampant sexual appetites of a genuine submissive who was clearly infatuated with him?

Only then he remembered some advice his mother had given him once, advice which had saved him no small amount of grief on numerous occasions.

Avoid making big decisions when you're upset

, she'd said. It seemed obvious, but how often did people rush into things without a level head only to have it blow up in their face?

Before he could say anything, Hailey responded to his hesitation. "Look, Conner. I don't want to pressure you. If you're not into me, you're not into me. And you got hurt only yesterday, so it might be you're not feeling ready anyway. So maybe for now just think about it, and get back to me?"

Conner smiled at her. "You're a very rare person, Hailey. Thank you. I don't know right now. But I know I left you kinda hanging before, and I don't want to do that to you again. So I tell you what. Why don't we meet up after school and talk some more, and I'll have a decision. Sound good?"

"Sounds great." She rolled onto her back, the two of them staring up into what felt like the darkness of space. "I don't suppose you want a blowjob to help you mull things over."

Conner sputtered, but his voice literally broke when he tried actual words. Hailey immediately burst into a fit of giggles. "I was only kidding, but wow, your face. I mean, I would if you wanted, but only 'cause you already know how I feel about things. Cards on the table here."

***********************

Conner did not take her up on the offer. That it was offered at all, and so freely, definitely made it harder to clear his head. Still, even if it was stressful to have to make such an important decision in the scant few hours he'd allotted to make it, it was nice to know that a beautiful woman was eager to get intimate with him. It made all the other stuff much more bearable.

He took his final two exams, and walked away feeling reasonably confident. He wasn't the straight-A student that Heather was, but he thought he'd do well enough that, when report cards arrived, he'd earn one of his mom's great big hugs, and an approving grunt from his stepdad. At least, he felt like he was a shoe-in to upstage Angelica.

Then last period came. Yearbook, and the holiday party.

Anxiety was hitting Conner pretty hard as he made his way down to Miss C's classroom, hard enough that he stopped in the restroom to stave off a panic attack. After all, this was a group of people who had all seen it firsthand. Moreover, Heather herself would be there. He hoped she hadn't had her own day ruined by all the talk going around.

After a few minutes of breathing exercises and splashing cold water on his face, Conner felt as ready as he was going to get. He strode into the classroom, the holiday music already audible from the hallway. Inside, everybody was nibbling at Miss C's homemade Christmas cookies, sipping punch, and relaxedly sitting on top of desks and unwinding. Finals were over, and vacation was fifty-five short minutes away.

When he entered, suddenly all the conversation in the room stopped. As did Conner's heart, quite nearly. He'd hoped to lay low, wait it out in the corner and pretend he was invisible. Instead, everybody was staring.

"Uh, sorry I'm late," he said. He looked around. Heather wasn't there, nor was Miss C, nor Jordan; as an afterthought he noted that one of the freshman staff members, Robbie, was gone, too, probably having left for break a day early.

Everyone kept staring; for the first time in his life, Conner understood how someone could be so afraid they'd pee themselves. Right before he turned and ran out of the room, it was DeShaun who broke the silence to stand up and approach him. The rest were still watching; Conner braced himself for yet another clever joke at his expense.

But that's not what happened. DeShaun put one hand to his own chest, and said, "Conner, man, come on in. Look, I know some shit went down yesterday. But we all talked it over, and man... yesterday wasn't right. We got caught up in the drama and I know some of us was laughing and said some stuff, and... well, look. We want to apologize."

To Conner's incredible shock, throughout the room the other staff members echoed DeShaun's sentiment. Some only mumbled it, but many gave an open and hearty "I'm sorry." It was good that it took some time for them to all get the words out, because it took that long for what was happening to sink in.

"You had a low moment, and that dick Jordan went and made it worse, and it wasn't cool. We know and you know and we know you know we know that you basically do half the work around here. All semester long you been covering for us, trying to help us out without being too in our face about it. Though sometimes you do get in the face, but that's cool, you got a job, man."

He paused at a ripple of laughter. "But Conner, man, you're like the Rudy of yearbook. That scrappy little dude who just don't quit. I mean, you basically

are

the story behind

This Is Our Story

, ya know? So we hope you forgive us for forgetting that yesterday."

Conner was still recovering from the shock of it all. "Oh. Yeah."

DeShaun took Conner's hand in a firm grip. "Come on, man. Let us hear the words. You feel us?"

"Yeah. I feel you. I... I forgive you."

These people... all year long, he'd been nudging and nagging and revising and demanding, and he'd always thought it was tolerated but never appreciated. DeShaun cracked a big smile and pulled the editor-in-chief for a firm bro hug. He was pleased to see Siobhan was taking a picture of it with her phone; this would be great for the meta-spread.

"Thanks, man," DeShaun said quietly into Conner's ear, the sound covered by the cheers of the staff. "We're your people. Had about enough of Jordan's lazy ass dragging us down."

They really were the best staff an editor-in-chief could ever ask for, Conner noted. If he hadn't loved them before, he did from that moment on.

With that, the party resumed. Rather than lurking in the corner, Conner accepted an invitation to sit in the center of the circle with most of the rest of the staff. He didn't dare ask where Heather was. Besides, for now, he was actually having a good time, and he was in no rush to ruin it with more reminders of yesterday's debacle.

He half-listened to the banter of the staff, but he was mostly looking inward, trying to come up with an answer for Hailey. Hefty Hailey McManus, the awkward, nerdy outcast who was covertly one of the hottest girls in school. He tried to remember all the reasons he'd called it off two months ago, but really what he remembered were two factors: his aspirations to date Heather, and his guilt that he'd been manipulating Hailey's feelings for him.

Now, the Heather situation was good and resolved. As for the other, Hailey clearly didn't have any hard feelings about the sexual tone of their little fling, and still was interested in him. If Hailey wasn't someone he wanted to marry someday, she was at least somebody who made him feel good about himself and whose company he generally enjoyed. The same seemed to be true for her. With Owen so often occupied by Angelica's endless appetites, it might be good to have a girlfriend of his own.