Gertrude The Prude

Every school has one, don't they? The kid who was home-schooled until the neighbor's judging eyes became too much. The sheltered, spoiled brat who was given everything they wanted, except common sense. The insufferable know-it-all who could quiet a room with their wrongness. Every school in America has at least one: a Jesus Freak.

I know how that term sounds, and personally, I'm not a big fan of it, either, but what else do you call someone who says skirts or dresses shouldn't go past the knees, or petitioned for a confessional to be built on school grounds, or that exposed shoulders invite the Devil to sit on them? No, really, what do you say to that last one, I honestly don't have a rebuttal. Any advice would be appreciated.

But I, and the rest of the student body, call it like we see it. And what we see is a Jesus Freak.

It's not even like she's a bad person, really, she's just...overzealous. She's not going around telling people they're going to hell for being left-handed or gay or Fortnite fans. She's a good person at heart...just that her heart is at 200% when she could reasonably function at maybe 30%. 40% tops.

By now, you're probably wondering who I'm talking about. Her name is Gertrude Simmons. Ordinary enough name, and you wouldn't tell from it that she's kinda...off-kilter. And, if I can open the dam a bit, she's not that bad-looking. She's chubby, which I like, and rosy-cheeked, so when she smiles, she gets these adorable dimples. Not that I stare, or anything. And her red hair's always in this cute messy bun. She wears glasses, too, big round ones that do her brown eyes a lot of justice. Gertrude's got buck teeth, too; not super prominent, but noticeable, a bit like a hamster. And she always wears dresses, plain ones with big waistbelts. The modest, humble style definitely suits her, but the dresses always seem to have a bit of trouble "containing" her, if you know what I mean.

...Okay, so I

do

stare. Sue me. She presses a lot of buttons.

As you might expect, she's not super popular. She gets a decent amount of nicknames that one wouldn't call flattering; Gerbil, Trude the Prude, Gerprude, The Nun, Miss Vanilla, it's a pretty long list. Our school's fairly nickname-heavy. Hell, everyone just calls me "guy". Personally, I just call her Gertrude. Or Gertie, if I'm feeling playful.

So, there you have it. Our own personal Jesus Freak. Thing is, I didn't really know how far down the well went in regards to the "freak" part, until one day...

-/-/-/-/-

"Guy!"

"Aw, nuts." I muttered half-heartedly to myself. I recognized that voice. I turned around to see Gertrude briskly walking towards me, black Mary Janes clacking on the tile as she approached. Same messy bun, same big round glasses. The only thing different was her dress color; a rather dowdy-looking beige.

"Hi, Gertie."

She sighed as she stopped, resting her hands on her hips and regarding me with an, admittedly, adorable frown. "It's 'Getrude'. I must've told you a thousand times."

"Well, then this is a thousand and one."

She puffed out her cheeks and pointed at me. "Don't get smart with me! And are you going to do something about your shirt?"

I quirked an eyebrow, glancing down at my shirt. It wasn't anything special, just a simple black tee. "Something like...?"

Gertrude sighed again. "Tuck it in! It's so sloppy-looking! 'Cleanliness is next to godliness!'"

I rolled my eyes. "Gertie, I'm pretty sure The Big Man has better things to worry about than my caj look."

"'Gertrude.' And you presume an awful lot for someone with no faith!"

"That's not true!" I replied in mock-hurt. "I actually have quite a lot of faith!"

Her look softened. "Really?"

"Yup! I have a lot of faith that if you got yourself a partner and maybe got a kiss, you'd be a bit less of a nag."

Her cheeks bloomed red as she stomped her foot. "You

heathen

! How dare you! A-And kissing!? Before marriage!? Have you no shame!?"

"Not really, no. But are we done here? It's almost time for lunch, and I wanna get the least-sticky table."

"No, we are not done!" She stamped her foot again. "Apologize for your disgusting words!"

This could go on for a while, and those tables are just so sticky. "Okay, alright, I'm sorry. Better?"

"Yes. You're very lucky the lord teaches forgiveness. But I still want you to tuck in your shirt. And fix up your hair, too! And--"

Before her list of demands could grow any further, the lunch bell rang, and I silently cheered in my head. "Oop, sorry, Gertie, duty calls! See you in bio!"

"It's

Gertrude!

"

-/-/-/-/-

Good news. I was able to get a non-sticky table. In high school, it's all about the small victories.

Bad news. They were out of pudding.

I should've seen it coming. It was the best kind, salted caramel, with bits of crushed cookie on top. The kind of pudding that could start and end wars. Heal the sick, feed the hungry. Except me, apparently, because there wasn't a cup left, not even a crumb.

Even the perfectly cooked meatloaf and lumpy potatoes couldn't lift my spirits. What's a good meal without a better dessert to cap it off? I sighed and took my tray, making my way back to my sanctuary, when I saw it. A pudding cup. In delicate, milk-white hands. Hands that belonged to...

"Heeeeey, Gertie!"

"Ger. Trude."

"Sure, sure. Sooooo...pudding, huh? I didn't know you were about that life. Aren't you more about yogurt?"

"My diet is none of your business. And as for this," she gently shook the pudding, my eyes locked onto it. "I consider wasting food a sin. No one else was taking it, so I figured I might as well."

A smirk crossed her face, and I felt a chill.

"Do you...want it?"

"More than

anything

." I replied, feeling my mouth water.

"Alright. Come with me, then." She turned around and strutted off, me close behind. Speaking of behind, though I wouldn't dare say it out loud, her ass looked really good in that dress. Hey, I'm only human. Jesus was perfect, not me.

Gertie had found another non-sticky table, and motioned for me to sit across from her. She'd gotten pretty comfortable, her Bible out, opened to a passage that I really didn't care to analyze. All I cared about was pudding. "I'll give you this pudding on one condition."

"Name it." I said, already thinking about just how damn good that pudding would taste at the first spoonful.

"You're going to sit here and say grace with me. Then you get your pudding."

I blinked. "Is that all?"

"That's all."

"...This isn't some trick, is it? Like, if I say it wrong or something, you're gonna hit me with that?" I pointed at her Bible.

"Even if I didn't abhor violence, I wouldn't use the word of the lord." She held out her hands across the table, beckoning me to take them. "Come now, let's say grace."

I grinned. "Hand-holding? Before marriage? Gertie, you surprise me."

"It's Gertrude!" she snapped with a blush. "And don't try and pervert this! Do you want your pudding or not?"

"Alright, alright." I took her hands, which were surprisingly warm, and closed my eyes.

"Lord God, Heavenly Father, bless us and these Thy gifts which we receive from Thy bountiful goodness, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. Now, you."

I mentally rolled my eyes but repeated the prayer, and she let go of my hands. "There, see? That wasn't so hard."

"Sure, sure. Now, then, I believe I'm owed some pudding?"

"Is that really all that's on--"

"Yes."

"Oh, fine. Here."

I all but snatched the pudding from her hands and set it aside with a gentle pat; soon my sweet. I practically tore through lunch while Gertrude gave me disapproving looks as she gently ate her garden salad.

The thing about Gertrude; she attracts more attention than you'd think. Not because of her whole bookish girl-next-door vibe, but more the reputation she has. That confessional proposal? It

almost

went through. And because of that, she's often the target of a bully or two. This time it was some no-neck jock who's name I don't remember. "Oooooh, what's going on here?" he drawled. "Guy and Gerprude having a lunch date?"

"Gertrude. And hardly." Gertrude scoffed. "I'm here to make some attempt to guide him back on the path of righteousness."

"Pffffft, good luck. You ain't exactly the Pope, Gerprude."

She glared. "I should hope not, seeing as I'm female and

Christian

."

"Potato, potato." he dismissed, before sauntering off. "Pick your lunchmates better, Guy. I don't think you want her Jesus germs all over you."

Gertrude scoffed, returning to her meal.

"You really don't let that stuff get to you, do you?" I asked.

"No. I'm strong and resolute in my beliefs. I don't care what they think. If a life of hedonism appeals to them more than one bathed in the light of our lord? So be it. I show them a path; it's up to them to take it."

See what I mean? Zealous. But there's something endearing about it, isn't there?

"That's pretty damn insightful, Gertie."

There was no mistaking the dusting of pink on her cheeks. "Don't swear. And eat your pudding."

-/-/-/-/-

Biology. Sucked. No other way to say it, really. All it was was learning the same things about the human body over and over until it felt like the very air was triggering brainrot. I swear the teacher hadn't moved on from chapter seven since the school year started back up after winter break.

The upside, we could pretty much do whatever we wanted as long as we were stealthy about it. Meaning "not super obvious". Some students texted or played video games. Some read or did work from other classes. Guess what Gertrude did? If you thought "reading her Bible", you'd be right.

Which comes to me. I'm not really a "texting" guy, and I never saw the point of playing a game if you have to watch the teacher more than the screen. So I'd resort to watching Gertrude.

Not in, like, a creepy way. More of a "man, she's really cute" way. I wasn't kidding about the girl-next-door vibe. Sure, she dressed frumpy and plain, but that was part of the charm. Especially in a sea of vest tops, crop tops, miniskirts, and whatever the hell was going on with skorts.

As she read, she'd occasionally mouth out the scripture, usually before turning a page.

Cute.

To the shock of everyone, the teacher broke pattern and announced that we had a project to do over the weekend. This alone brought up a lot of groans from the class, but it got even better (worse).

He

was assigning the partners.

I know what you're thinking. It would be absolutely kismet if I got paired up with Gertrude, right? That absolutely seems where it's going, yeah?

Well, you'd be wrong. That's what you get for making assumptions. I was paired up with this bratty cheerleader, and Gertrude with the jock from before.

As you might expect, neither of us were happy about this, so we immediately asked to trade partners. There was a round of laughter and teasing, people saying I must have a thing for the Jesus Freak. And they were right, sort of. Not that

they

needed to know about it. The teacher, who really didn't seem to care either way, went for it, and just like that, we were partners.

However, there was another wrinkle. Topics. Which were chosen by random draw.

And I give you three guesses on who was stuck with the reproductive system, and the first two don't count.

Needless to say, a weekend with Gertrude, who was fire and brimstone as she objected to the topic, discussing the reproductive system, was not how I saw things going. Life's funny, huh?

-/-/-/-/-

"...disgusting, perverted, depraved! Just...just thinking about it makes my skin crawl!"

"It's just sex, Gertie. It's not the end of the world."

"

Gertrude!

And it might as well be! Even thinking about such things is horrendous, and now I--"

"We."

"--

we

have to come up with a report for it!?" She stomped her foot. "Unacceptable!"

"You heard the teach, though. Either we do it or we get a zero, and that's a huge hit. We might go down letter grades."

Gertrude looked on the verge of an aneurysm, but eventually, she relented, but muttered about it all the way to the pickup and drop-off area.

"Want a ride home?" I offered. "We could get a headstart on the project."

"I can't."

"...Why's that?"

There was a

long

pause before she replied. At least two minutes.

"My parents are out of town until next weekend. I can't have people over." She regarded me with a frown. "Especially a

boy.

"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's improper! A boy and a girl alone...there's no telling what could happen! No, no, no, out of the question!"

I rolled my eyes. "Then how do you expect us to do our project together? Over Zoom?"

A moment of silence.

"Wait, seriously? That's gonna be such a pain..."

"If it means less dealing with your antics or whatever sinful thoughts are floating around in your mind, so be it."

I could tell she wasn't gonna budge on this. "Fine, fine. Can I at least still give you a ride home? I can get you there faster than the bus."

Gertrude paused, likely thinking it over. "I'm sitting in the back. And no heathen music stations."

"I'll play only the finest country."

Huffing, she followed me to my car, giving a soft "Thank you." as I held the door open for her.

True to my word, as soon as I got in and started the car, I turned it to the only country station I knew of. Getrude lightly pouted, but said nothing as we drove off.

-/-/-/-/-

"It's the last house on the left."

"Oh, that's a great movie."

"Pardon?"

"Nothing, nothing."

I never knew where Gertrude lived; I figured it would be some gilded gated community where everyone had a Lexus or something. The reality, true to form, was more humble. It was a quaint little cul-de-sac only twenty minutes from the school. Her house was a humble two-story tudor that looked more like a fantasy cottage than a standard house. As I pulled into the driveway, Gertrude was already gathering up her things. "Thank you for the ride home. You're a...surprisingly safe driver."

"A compliment! I'll take what I can get." I replied.

There was another pause, and I wondered if I offended her, when...

"Would you like to come inside for a snack?"

I gasped theatrically. "Miss Simmons! Are you inviting me, a

boy

, into your home, with no parents? Scandalous! What shall people say?"

Utterly unimpressed, she said "A favor must be returned in kind. It's not right for you to help me and I don't repay your generosity."

"Works for me, Gertie."

"

Gertrude.

Do I have to write it down so you don't forget?"

She let me in, motioning for me to take off my shoes and set them by the cubby near the door. "I'd rather you not track dirt." she explained as she discarded her Mary Janes.

"'Cleanliness is next to godliness', right?"

"You

do

listen. If only you were that attentive when it came to my name."

"Whatcha mean? I know your name, Gertie."

Her frown deepened. "Getrude."

Her house looked like something out of a catalogue. White carpeted floors, cream-colored walls peppered with pictures of the family at all kinds of events; charities, fundraisers, church meet-ups. And of course, there was a cross in every room.

The kitchen was equal parts roomy and cozy. It felt warm, inviting, with butter-yellow walls and powder blue tile.

"Sit." Getrude commanded, pointing at the table. I sat. She moved fluidly as she put a kettle of water to boil and piled cookies onto a plate. As I reached out for one, she batted my hand away and wagged a disapproving finger. "Not until the tea is done, we are

both

at the table, and we've said grace."

I wondered if this was going to become a regular thing when she offered me sweets.

Thankfully, the tea finished quickly, and she set down a mug in front of me.

"What kind is it?"

"Rude to ask, but if you must know, it's chamomile with cinnamon and honey."

"Thanks, Gertie. This is really nice of you."

She sighed and held her hands out to me. "I'm not even going to bother this time. Grace."

I took her hands and we went through the prayer. The tea, while hot, was delicious, and the cookies were a great match, peanut butter and sugar. I must've polished off at least ten, while Gertrude only had two or three.

"These are amazing." I said through a mouthful of cookie. "Did you make these yourself?"

"Yes, and don't talk with your mouth full."

I swallowed. "Sorry. You're a great cook! I could eat these every day."

She blushed and took a sip of her tea. "Th-Thank you."

After I finished up my tea and the last of the cookies, Gertrude gathered up the dishes. "Oh, here," I said, standing up. "Lemme help...you..."

I sat back down, my head feeling about ten times heavier. Did I have too many cookies? Eat too much too fast?

"Is everything okay?" asked Gertrude as she rushed to my side.

"Fine, fine, just...my head hurts...I think I ate too fast or something."

"Come with me." Leaving no room for argument, she took my arm, guiding me to the couch. "Lie down and rest. I'm sure it'll pass soon."

"Hope so..." I said, letting out a groan. Exhaustion took over, blackness swarmed the edge of my vision, my eyes growing heavy...

-/-/-/-/-

When I woke up, it wasn't on the couch.

My head was clear, but something was very, very wrong. I'd been fully clothed when I lied down, but now I was wearing only my briefs. And even though my eyes were wide open, I couldn't see anything, my vision pitch black. The final surprise came when I tried to lift myself up. There was a creak of leather as the shackles around my wrists and ankles kept me firmly secured to the bed.

"What...the hell...?" I mumbled, pulling on my bindings. "What's going on? Hello? Is...is anyone there?"

I tried to gather my thoughts. Focus. What was I doing last? I drove Getrude home...Getrude! Was she okay!? "Gertie! Gertie, where are you!?"

"It's Getrude."

Her voice had come from my right, but I couldn't see her at all. "What's going on? Why can't I see you?"

"Because you're blindfolded." was her simple reply.

A moment of silence passed as I processed what she said.

"I'm...blindfolded? Did...did you do this?"

"Yes."

"...Did you also...strip me and tie me down?"

"Yes. I did."

I couldn't form words for a solid minute.

"W...Why the hell did you do that?"

"Don't swear. And to answer your question...I did it because I had to."

"What do you mean 'you had to?' If this is some kind of prank or something, it isn't funny. You went on about us being alone together and how that was sinful, but taking advantage of me when I fell asleep, tying me down in my underwear, that's not!?"

"You didn't just 'fall asleep.'" Gertrude said. "I drugged your tea."

"...You...did...

what

?"

"It was only a mild sedative, I knew you'd be fine. And out long enough for me to get you secured."

My head was spinning again. This was so weird, so messed up. This had to be some kind of fucked-up joke. This couldn't be Getrude. "Take off the blindfold. This can't be you, this is some kind of prank."

"I assure you, it's me. No one else. Just you and me."

"Take off the blindfold!"

"No."

"Why not!?" I tugged hard on the shackles.

"Because right now, I can't look you in the eyes. I'll take it off when I'm more...confident. But not before then."

I was about to demand she take it off again when I felt her hand on my right side, slowly moving down. I let out a yelp of surprise at the ticklish feeling, trying and failing to pull away. "Don't do that!"

"I knew it...I had a feeling you were ticklish."

"Gertie, what the fuck are--AAAAAAH!"

I shrieked as her hand returned, skittering up and down my side. A smattering of giggles burst forth as her nails danced on my exposed flesh.