AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a re-written version of the story originally published in 2017. This story takes place decades in the past. I leave it up to you, dear reader, to decide the year. The story has been fleshed out more, and includes several more pages of content. If you enjoy this story, please take a look at the other stories about Shari and Velma. As always...if large age differences and student-teacher dynamic are not your thing, skip this story. For everyone else...enjoy, and Thank you for reading!
*****
To the average observer, fall might seem like the saddest of seasons. For one thing, it meant summer is truly over and the nights would soon get longer and colder. It also meant the start of another school year with no end in sight for students and teachers alike. It was Friday in mid-September, and Shari Keefer put purpose in her steps as she hurried across the faculty parking lot towards her car. She glanced over her shoulder back at Walker High School, and noted that the first clouds she'd seen all day quickly multiplied, creeping over the sun which hung low in the sky, plunging everything around her in a drab sort of twilight.
It was Shari's second year of teaching Social Studies', and while she enjoyed the daily challenges of teaching US History to dozens of hormone-addled juniors and seniors, her job sometimes filled her with apathy and frustration. Shari's appearance often meant being mistaken for a student. And too often, parents refused to take her seriously about her concerns and suggestions. Shari Keefer is still the same blond beauty she was during high school. At 23, her figure matured slightly, taking on more womanly curves. She was still quite slender, but more toned and less girlish in appearance. Her face, framed by her light blond hair was very thick, wavy, and abundant. She was blessed with delicate, doll-like features with sparkling blue eyes and full, pouty pink lips.
It had been a fast-paced and exhausting day that started with chapter tests and ended with the fall sports pep assembly. Shari could hardly wait to get home even though she knew she'd probably spend most of the weekend grading papers. She reached her car and tossed her bag filled with test papers and overdue assignments before shutting herself in. As she started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, she reflected on the day's events.
The first few hours were uneventful, and even a little boring. There was a chapter test on the Revolutionary War. Her planning periods this year were during 3rd and 7th hour. But 4th, 5th, and 6th hours were chaotic. She was starting a new unit in these classes. They were covering the Louisiana Purchase starting with a word scramble activity. Shari allowed the students in these classes to work in pairs. But the unusually hot weather drew most of her attention towards the windows. Others sat there and loudly complained about the heat until Shari relented and brought a box fan into the room.
The kids weren't wrong. As a matter of fact, Shari was feeling just as miserable from the heat. She didn't expect the temperature to rise so much today! As it was the last day of the weeks, Shari dressed simply in a plain light cotton dress and dark dress flats. But by lunchtime, the box fan was doing little more than swirling the hot, sticky air around the room in spite of the open windows. All Shari wanted to do now was get home and relax!
After a nearly half-hour drive through Thatcher Blake, she was home at last. Shari pulled her car into the garage and let herself in the back door through the kitchen. She glanced around for a second or two and noticed how quiet it was. Velma wasn't home yet, but Shari wasn't concerned. It was normal for her to get in late most Fridays because she coached the varsity girls' tennis team.
Shari dumped her bag next to the sofa in the living room before heading to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable. She peeled off her sweat dampened clothes and started rummaging through a few dresser drawers until she selected a t-shirt and an old pair of shorts. Once she was changed, she wandered back to the kitchen in search of something to eat.
She paused for a second or two in the hall. Jesus, it's so hot in here, she thought. It's like an oven! She wondered if she should switch on the air conditioner—just until the heat broke. That's the funny thing about September. One day it might be hotter than mid-July, and the next day might bring on a chilly rain that often turned into snow flurries. And all of that was likely to be accompanied by a stinging, icy wind!
During her first planning period, Shari listened to the weather report in the teacher's lounge. It was due to storm sometime later in the evening, and the temperature for Saturday was supposed to be somewhere in the low to mid-50's. Shari sighed. No, she thought. No use running the air when a fan would do just as well. There was a box fan in the living room which she switched on before opening a couple of windows. A moderate breeze blew Shari's light blond locks away from her face. By now, the sky darkened considerably to a deep, gunmetal gray. It certainly seemed like it could storm any time!
Shari turned away from the window and headed into the kitchen. She stood at the refrigerator for several seconds, holding the door open. She was grateful for the sudden blast of cold, moist air that caressed her feverish skin. She spotted a few bottles of soda towards the back and grabbed one.
Now she went over to the counter, pulled one of the drawers open, and grabbed the bottle opener. Shari was hungry, but she didn't feel like cooking anything. Oh well, she thought. Maybe I'll just make a sandwich instead. Since it's Friday, Velma might've taken the girls on the tennis team out to eat somewhere. Shari made her sandwich and then went back to the living room. She sat down on the sofa and took a couple bites of the sandwich while her mind started wandering. She thought about Velma who always came across to all who met her as intimidating and very sharp. Still, in spite of some people's opinions, Velma was one of the most respected teachers at Talcott High.
Miss Velma Blount has been teaching at Talcott for over 25 years now. In fact, she had been Shari's gym teacher not so long ago. A wistful smile crossed Shari's lips as she recalled how much Miss Blount intimidated her and how fascinated she was (and still is) with the strapping butch woman's appearance. To Shari, Miss Blount was an abstraction. A confounding display of masculinity. A total bewilderment. Back then, the school grapevine was like a four-party line in a rural telephone system, and Miss Blount was as talked about as a knocked-up preacher's daughter. What Shari had heard about Miss Blount was considerable—particularly during her freshman year. She'd seen the mere threat of being assigned a gym make-up under Miss Blount's watch send even the toughest girls to apologizing for all real and imagined transgressions, and to promising to keep her feet on the path of righteousness for all time.
But Shari always thought the reputation Miss Blount had was exaggerated, because high school girls tend to hyperbole. Just the same, Shari was often apprehensive in Miss Blount's presence—at least until they started really getting to know each other.
Shari remembered one particular class period when they were outside, and Miss Blount told the girls in her class that the first one of them to reach the school building would be excused from wearing her gym suit in class the next two days. Velma Blount is a runner, but she ran more for endurance than speed. Just the same, she gave everyone a 10 second head start before dashing towards the group of girls who haphazardly scrambled to reach the building before their teacher. Shari remembered that no one made it before Miss Blount shot past them all. Everyone was pretty upset about it until the gym teacher announced a compromise. Miss Blount allowed everyone to come to class the next day in their street clothes.
After she'd finished her sandwich, Shari drank the rest of her soda and stared at the bag, sagging and heavy with papers, propped against the sofa. She dreaded having to get started on all those tests, but they certainly weren't going to grade themselves! She heaved a gusty sigh, pulled the bag closer, and reached inside. The first test in the pile prompted Shari to scowl. Ugh, Kevin Laskey! Kevin is a senior, and since the first day of school, he's been a real pain. Besides the fact he'd established a reputation for being the class clown, he quickly developed a crush on Miss Keefer. Although to be fair, Shari was flattered when she caught Kevin in the hall just before 1st hour telling a couple of his friends how he lucked out getting the prettiest Social Studies' teacher in the whole school.
Shari rifled through another pile of papers and found the answer key she'd written for the test. She'd gone through one class, and was just about to start on the next when the desire to use the bathroom suddenly became urgent. When she returned to the sofa a few minutes later, she intended to continue finishing up the last of the tests. Maybe it was the unusually hot weather. Maybe it was the soothing, low drone of the box fan causing her to yawn uncontrollably. Either way, Shari tossed the remaining tests aside. "I need to rest my eyes," She muttered softly. "Just for a little bit." Shortly after she situated herself into a comfortable position on the sofa, Shari Keefer drifted off with visions of dark thunderheads streaked with lightning; their otherworldly forms dumping torrents of rain to quell the stifling heat.
*****
Distant flashes of lightning streaked the murky evening sky, bringing on the first signs of rain. Velma Blount pulled into her driveway and let herself in through the back door of her house before the light sprinkles transformed into a sudden gulley washer. Thank God it's Friday, Velma thought as she heaved a gusty sigh. Although practice ended a little early, things were a bit hectic. It also didn't help that her assistant coach, Miss Jane Dowd, was absent today. Thankfully her star player, Lisa Tronc, was always eager to help.
Lisa helped divide the team into two groups (blue and white) for a serve drill. While the girls positioned themselves on opposite baselines, Velma watched them while she took note of the number of girls who executed a successful serve. When one side was finished, it was the other side's turn to serve. Everything seemed to be going well until a few girls on the blue team began complaining that the white team had an unfair advantage. Not long after Velma thought she had settled the argument, Sue Patterson lost her temper at her partner while they practiced volleys. She tossed her racquet in the general direction of the net.
"Are you finished, Miss Patterson?" Miss Blount asked in her characteristically low, domineering voice. Of course, Sue said nothing. "You owe me five laps for that, young lady." Several seconds passed, and a sudden bright flash of light caught Velma's attention. She heard a crack in the distance followed by a prolonged rumbling. The Amazon woman clapped her hands sharply and several of the girls froze in place, staring up at the darkened mass overhead. "It's—ah—the heat is probably getting on everyone's nerve. Let's just pack up and call it a day, shall we?"
Although Miss Blount was notorious for being a rather unpleasant and domineering sort of woman, none of her students could accuse her of being unfair. Just as Sue was about to start her laps, Miss Blount stopped the pretty, dark-haired senior.
"I'll—ah—let this go on account of the weather." Miss Blount said in her trademark clipped voice. "Just this once...understand?" The tall butch gym teacher looked up at the churning mass of blackened clouds and blinked when she felt a stray droplet of cold rain land on her cheek.
Sue looked shocked. "Thanks, Miss Blount." She said softly.
"Well...I won't ask you what set you off over there. But I am going to tell you to control your emotions and watch your language in my class. I heard what you said to Emily over there. I may be old, but I'm not deaf—yet! I know the heat has us all on edge today, but that's no excuse to lose your cool. Good sportsmanship means learning to pick your battles."
