Shari Hails the Hero

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Content Warnings: Non-consent/reluctance, revenge, teacher-student dynamic.

This is a re-written version of a story posted in early 2021. With added content, characters and scenes are a bit more fleshed out, and the new version reflects a more darker theme along with some dark humor and romance to balance things out. There is reference made to the story,

Don't Stare.

If you are interested, please check it out.

P.S. If these themes are not something you like, please skip this story. For everyone else...please enjoy and thank you very much for reading!

*****

Shari Keefer stood beside the stairs descending from North Haskell library's double doorway when she caught the gimlet eye of a hard butch woman with very short dark hair. It was Miss Eddie Neal, a gym teacher from F.W. Harmony, the oldest high school in Thatcher Blake. Miss Neal was busy chatting with a small group of colleagues presumed to be from the same school. The butch woman glanced up, and for a second or two, their eyes met. For some reason, Shari suddenly felt uncomfortable, although she wasn't sure exactly why. The beautiful blond Social Studies' teacher looked down at her feet and turned away.

Groups of teachers and administrators from Thatcher Blake's four high schools were gathered around tables in the library's common space. A district wide meeting concluded earlier in North Haskell's main auditorium, and a light luncheon brought everyone here to fill their paper plates with sandwiches and other tidbits. Coffee and lemonade compelled others to gather around, water cooler style, exchanging gossip and news about the quickly approaching first week of the new school year.

"Afternoon, young lady. You dropped this on your way out of the auditorium." The butch woman, with who she locked eyes earlier, handed over a folder of notes.

"Oh, thank you." Shari flashed a nervous little smile. "Departmental stuff...Mr. Lightcap would probably kill me if I lost these!" Her lips stretched a little wider as she looked around and shrugged. "Glenn Lightcap...he's my department head. I'm still kind of new at this stuff."

"Don't think I've ever seen you around before. My name's Eddie. Eddie Neal. I teach PE at Harmony High."

Shari hesitated. For a second or two, she glanced around the overly crowded library, as if she were searching for help. At the main desk, she saw two of her colleagues discussing something over coffee. She was relieved to see two familiar faces towards the back. Miss Larsson and Miss Treadway, North Haskell gym teachers, were deep in conversation over coffee and an open lesson planner. It was business as usual; the requisite all-district meeting before the start of another school year. Nobody seemed to notice Shari Keefer who unwittingly caught Eddie Neal's apparent interest.

"I--ah--don't think I've had the pleasure of knowing your name." Miss Neal said.

"Oh...I'm Shari Keefer. I teach Social Studies at Talcott."

A wide grin spread across the butch woman's face. "Really, you don't say! Couldn't be for long though. I actually thought you might've been a student who wandered off and ended up in here with us teachers!"

Shari didn't smile back. She sighed and looked around the crowded space, searching for someone in particular. Not Glenn Lightcap. She knew where he was. Sure enough, the head of Talcott's Social Studies department helped himself to another sandwich and cup of coffee before exchanging greetings with Talcott's Principal, Mr. Bowen. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a student. This'll be my second year at Talcott. I taught at Walker before that."

"Shame we haven't met earlier." Miss Neal said. "How 'bout I get us both a cup of coffee? Or would you prefer something a little more refreshing?"

Shari's sapphire eyes darted sideways, unsure of where to look. A sudden bloom of heat flushed her cheeks. She held the retrieved folder close to her chest and replied with a nervous little laugh. "Thanks, but...I really need to catch up with Mr. Lightcap. We're supposed to start working on this project for our incoming juniors and seniors in US History. Thanks again for returning the folder, you're a lifesaver!"

Miss Neal's grin faded. "Oh, then maybe I'll see you around the Wellness Fair this weekend."

Shari shrugged. "Maybe." She said before walking away.

*****

The District Wellness Fair, held during the last weekend of summer vacation, was arguably the most popular and well attended event in the city. There was a giant fun fair and carnival downtown with games and food. Different sporting competitions were hosted at a few middle and high schools on a rotating basis each year since the first fair in 1958. The clear August weather promised another enthusiastic turnout for this year's event. It was Saturday, and Shari sat across from her colleague, Mr. Glenn Lightcap, finishing the last of her raspberry granita when she spotted an oddly familiar figure in the crowd.

Shari watched the Talcott Varsity and Junior Varsity Pom Squads perform a few routines while stopping to look at the Talcott Fan Association booth, found among dozens of other tents selling food and spirit wear with the purpose of raising funds for each middle and high school in the district. Kent Junior High Spirit Squad stood in formation before the sprawling crowd of onlookers who gathered to sit or stand curbside on the closed off section of West Main Street near the Sears and Roebuck.

Shari and Mr. Lightcap parted ways after a short conversation. His daughter would be starting eighth grade this year. She was a member of the Varsity Spirit Squad, and he reasoned that he and his wife wanted to grab a good curbside spot to cheer her on. It was probably time to leave the carnival and head over to North Haskell anyway. A tennis match between the Varsity coaches of North Haskell and Talcott would be starting in another hour or so, and Shari didn't want to miss it.

Miss Velma Blount, longtime Varsity coach and PE teacher at Talcott High School will be competing against Miss CJ Treadway in a singles match on the tennis courts behind North Haskell. Both the Varsity and J-V teams were set to compete first in a fun match followed by the faculty competition as a grand finale. Tickets were sold by the Booster Clubs for both schools with all funds benefitting the athletic departments of North Haskell and Talcott, respectively. Shari figured the bleachers surrounding the tennis courts would be packed, so she wanted to be sure she got a good seat.

Of course, there was another, more pressing, reason she wanted a good seat: Shari Keefer lived with Miss Blount. Years ago, the beautiful 30 year old Social Studies teacher had also been Miss Blount's former student. Since then, they became lovers. Miss Blount treated Shari as her "wife," though not officially, since nobody outside of their small circle of friends and trusted colleagues thought they were anything other than roommates.

It was a simpler time, long ago. And in those days, same sex relationships were not only socially unacceptable, they were simply unheard of. But still, the grind of the old rumor mill was relentless and ever-present. Most of the rumors that circulated revolved around the formidable Miss Blount and her unusual physical appearance with a few jabs about her sexual predilections thrown in for good measure. Shari was fully aware of this. And, although she got along well with her colleagues in the Social Studies department, she was always careful to be discreet.

But almost as soon as she started to leave, Shari was distracted by the sight of a vaguely familiar person. She thought it was a man at first, but she was mistaken. A woman of average height with an almost military style brush cut--Shari guessed she was middle aged, it was hard to tell--quickly moved through the crowd towards her. The blond Social Studies teacher paused for a minute or so to say hello to one of her former students from Walker High, Curt Rippentrop, when she recalled last week's district meeting at North Haskell. It was the woman she met in the library; the gym teacher from F.W. Harmony.

As Shari said goodbye to Curt, she remembered seeing the woman earlier--not once or twice, but three times today. The first time was when she watched a skit performed by members of the Harmony High Student Council. A sudden burst of applause rippled through the crowd watching the Kent Sprit Squad performance. Loud, rhythmic clapping accompanied a small chorus of chanting eighth grade girls' voices. From this distance, the noise was echoey and dreamlike.

The woman with the brush cut caught up to Shari, compelling her to stop. "You seem to be in an awful rush, young lady! Where's the fire?"

Shari's lips formed a strained smile. "Not really, uh, Miss..." She paused, struggling to remember the woman's name.

"Eddie Neal. My friends call me Ed. We talked last week at the district meeting, remember?"

Shari sighed; her smile softened. "Ah yeah, the folder. Thanks again for returning it by the way."

"Oh, it's nothing. Besides, I got the pleasure of meeting a pretty new face--beautiful--if you don't mind me saying so. Your husband is a lucky man." Miss Neal glanced at Shari's hands and noted the slender fingers, each one lacking a ring. But that didn't really mean anything. An absolute knockout like this girl probably had a boyfriend or two if she wasn't already married, not that Eddie cared. She just wanted to be sure.

Shari hunched her small shoulders up as if to shrug and responded with a nervous laugh. "Thanks, but I don't have a husband."

Another sudden burst of raucous applause burst through the crowd before the rhythmic clapping resumed. The sound, like a steady heartbeat, swelled and echoed, rippling through the hot summer air. "What's that, dear?" Eddie Neal shouted.

"I'm not married!" Shari shouted back, trying to make herself heard over the din of the spectators. She didn't expect the reaction that followed. A wide smile, practically a full-on rictus grin, spread across the butch woman's face. If she didn't know any better, Shari would have thought she'd won the grand prize in a sweepstakes drawing. "Oh, sorry for the mistake." Eddie Neal replied with a raised voice. "I guess I shouldn't have assumed--"

Shari cut the woman off, hoping to make a hasty retreat. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't stick around to talk right now. I'm on my way over to North Haskell." Her eyes desperately scanned the crowded sidewalk, hoping to ask a spectator what time it was, or get a glimpse of a passing wristwatch. She walked to the carnival from North Haskell a couple hours ago. The school was only a mile or so away from where she stood. But now Shari regretted her decision to leave the car. Velma told her to take the keys and drive to the carnival. Why didn't she listen?

Eddie Neal's smile softened a little, sensing the urgency in the girl's voice. "Must be off to catch the big tennis match then." She surmised. "A couple of my colleagues are helping out over there and I'm headed that way myself. Why don't you ride along with me? It's a short enough distance, we'll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail!"

Shari looked up at the sky for a few seconds, mulling things over. The offer was especially tempting; too tempting to pass up with the heat of the August sun bearing down on her. "I really should've left earlier." She sighed. "Sure, why not!" She said, and followed Miss Neal through the crowd.

*****

"Have you seen Shari Keefer around?" Miss Lusby asked. "The match is starting any minute now, and I know she wanted to make sure she had a good seat."

The Talcott PE teacher, known by friends and colleagues as Diane, stood near the end of the chain link fence surrounding the tennis courts, chatting with friend and fellow PE teacher, Miss Birgitta Larson. The fun match between North Haskell and Talcott's teams wrapped up with the girls from both sides shaking hands across the net. A dizzying sea of spectators filled the bleachers while others had brought lawn chairs or stood around and behind the fence, jockeying to get the best view they could.

"I was talking to Jude a few minutes ago. She and Janie said they saw Shari stumbling out of a car in the faculty parking lot. From what they said, she ran like someone was after her."

Miss Lusby mashed her lips together and her brows knotted. "She said she was going to meet up with Glenn Lightcap and his wife at the carnival. Maybe she caught a ride back from someone else." She speculated.

Kssshhh!

The sound of audio feedback pierced the humid air like a lancet. A man's voice boomed with a greeting. "Once again, I'd like to thank everyone, for joining us here on this mighty fine afternoon! There you are, and here I am..." The voice laughed before announcing the anticipated battle between two of the most formidable tennis coaches in the history of Thatcher Blake Public School athletics.

Before it even began, the match became part spectacle, part local pop-culture phenomenon; another epic folktale soon to be added in the annals of the area high school sporting events. A very tall, lean middle-aged man with jet black skin manned the loudspeaker. Mr. Ike Linley, known to the student body of Talcott High as "Coach," introduced the two opposing players while the audience roared with an earth shattering chorus of shouts, whistles, and applause. "I know you're all itching for a battle, so let's get to!"

It depended on who was asked, but Miss CJ Treadway often came across as standoffish and curt. She stood about average height for a woman in her 50s. Her face was frozen with an ever-present stern and steely guise. Dark, calculating eyes stared straight ahead through the lenses of equally dark framed glasses. Her short sleeve shirt, in North Haskell's red and black, said

Ibizan Pride: The Coach is In!

The small, black silhouette of a sighthound embellished the small pocket over her right breast.

Miss Velma Blount appeared, racket in hand, and approached the net to shake hands with her opponent. The 56 year old veteran gym teacher towered over her adversary at an intimidating 6'2". Her height, athleticism, and physical appearance never failed to elicit reactions of alarm with both students and parents. No one could dispute the fact that Miss Blount turned heads wherever she went. Her exceedingly butch appearance commanded respect in some and fear in others. The very short, blunt locks of her light sandy hair reflected the afternoon sun. Equally short, blunt bangs and thick eyebrows drew attention to the Amazon woman's flinty gaze. Her eyes, like chips of clear ice, narrowed as she stared down her opponent. The deep lines etched into the rugged features of her face crinkled. Her lips stretched in what could be interpreted as a vulpine grin. She approached the net while the crowd watched.

With her racket tucked under her arm, Miss Treadway's hand clasped her opponent's to exchange a firm handshake. Her dark eyes settled briefly on the solitary bulging vein forking up along the length of Miss Blount's forearm like a faint bolt of lightning. The Talcott coach wore a light blue shirt with white shorts.

This is Harrier Country!

was printed above an image of the school's mascot, mid-sprint, on the front of her shirt.

But she hardly felt intimidated. Miss Treadway and Miss Blount had known each other for many years, both on and off the courts. And although Talcott's head coach possessed an impressive talent and skill with a racket, tennis was not her sport of choice. Miss Blount was a runner. She always preferred distance and endurance over speed, and it showed in her profoundly slim, almost underweight frame.

Coach Linley's disembodied voice wished them both "Good luck," and the match began. Miss Blount, holding the bright fuzzy yellow ball, assumed her position. She tossed it up before sending it over the net.

POCK!

The serve, though basic, is the one stroke over which the player (whoever it is), has total charge. Miss Blount's serve was flawless, sending her opponent dashing to the far side of left court. For a split second, Miss Treadway was caught off guard, but she was quick on her feet. Her racket made contact, sending the deadly first volley screaming back across the net to the other side.

POCK!

Miss Blount won the first set 6-3. Velma's focus stayed within the bounds of the court, mostly on the ball. Although it was a fun match, she knew North Haskell and Talcott's Booster Clubs worked very hard to promote the match and sell tickets. The crowd expected a show, and Velma aimed to give them what they paid for. She wanted Miss Treadway to scramble all over the courts.

POCK!

And while she was at it, she aimed to make it look as comical as she possibly could.

POCK!

Miss Treadway lunged at the bright green bullet streaking at her from across the net. She stabbed at it and stumbled. Talcott's head tennis coach claimed another victory.

It was during the third set when Miss Treadway started getting the better of her towering adversary. But neither she, nor the crowd of spectators, knew that something else wrested Miss Blount's attention from the match.

POCK!

The bright, fuzzy projectile flew a few millimeters past the rim of Velma Blount's outstretched racket. She swiped at air while the ball bounced off the court and rolled away. But it barely elicited a reaction in Velma. Her icy blue gaze fixated on the crowded bleachers. She saw a beautiful nimbus of light blond hair coursing straight down, like a waterfall, obscuring the hunched and shuddering figure of a young woman.

Miss Blount recognized the diminutive build and sweetly innocent facial features revealing themselves as the girl finally looked up. Shari Keefer, the beautiful girl she called her wife, was also her former student. The towering butch fondly reminisced over the strong bond she'd developed with Shari during the girl's senior year. And it was on a hot summer night in July after Shari's graduation when the intensifying slow burn of their mutual bond came to a head. That fateful night marked the end of their relationship as teacher and student, and the beginning of their relationship as lovers.

Velma, trying her best to conceal the trembling in her voice, told Shari to close her eyes. They were in the living room sitting close together on the sofa when they shared their first kiss. Velma couldn't resist the look on Shari's face, or the pull of her soft, full lips. Hard to believe that a minute or so before, the girl had been crying. They were talking, but for how long, Velma couldn't recall. But she did remember the sudden, fluttery outburst of sensation in the pit of her stomach; the release of a thousand butterflies. It felt like she was falling, but she wasn't afraid.

Her surroundings that night seemed to waver and fade until all she could see was Shari Keefer's beautiful face. That first kiss was soft and sweet; pure innocence. Before she knew it, their lips met a second and third time. Velma slipped her tongue in the girl's mouth, embracing her little body and wanting more. "Come with me." The butch woman said. She took hold of Shari's arm, helping the girl up from the sofa, and guided her down the hall to her bedroom.

THWACK!

Miss Treadway lobbed another brutal backhand shot across the net, forcing Velma back to the present. She wasn't ready. Something was wrong. Shari looked like she'd been crying, and Velma wanted to know why. The ball barely kissed the edge of Velma's racket, causing her to stumble and miss the shot. The match was over with North Haskell claiming victory. Miss Blount stood there, holding her racket, and extended her hand across the net to exchange a final handshake with her (now victorious) opponent. She watched the restless crowd stirring. Some stood up and left the bleachers while the others were packing up their lawn chairs and milling around the edge of the courts.