It was all Mike's fault. The whole damn thing. If he wasn't always acting like a total jerk none of it would have happened. Now I'm a reasonably intelligent person. I'm not any Einstein but by no means am I a dunce. If anything, I'm probably above average where my IQ is concerned, but Mike always seems to imply that, because I'm blonde and a cheerleader, all my smarts are in my boobs, and it's just not fair.
I suppose the real trouble started when we had that stupid debate in English class and I was chosen to debate with Mike about climate change. I had the pro-side, climate change is real, while Mike was the anti. A no-brainer, really. Everyone knows that climate change is happening. I had the whole thing won before we even had to talk.
So, OK, maybe I was a little careless in my preparation. I just hopped online and got a bunch of reports and put them together and prepared my argument from them. I led off and I thought (note the word 'thought') I put on a good presentation. Then Mike got up and he literally tore my presentation to shreds. He cited facts and figures and gave the lie to most of what I'd been saying. He made total mincemeat of me.
Just to make it worse we had to face questions from the class afterwards and Mike had answers to everything they threw at him while I was reduced to quoting from the article I'd read and subjected to pitying looks from Mike whenever I tried to answer. You try to gather a rational argument while your opponent is looking at you as though you were a trained baboon, going through the motions, and not a very well trained one at that. The whole thing was absolutely devastating.
After wards I was complaining to a couple of my friends about the whole thing and Mike overheard. He just laughed at me.
"You're supposed to be an adult and you're supposed to have prepared for the debate," he said in a very snide manner. "Stop whining just because you were shown up as doing a lazy and careless preparation."
Whining? I was not whining. I was just expressing my opinion to a few friends. I just gave him a nasty look and ignored him, swearing I'd get even somehow. A total jerk was what he was.
What happened next wasn't my idea. Paul and Chuck came up with it. They were hanging around after cheerleader practice, flirting with the girls, as is their norm, when they approached me. (They've both been trying to get into my panties ever since I turned eighteen, with no luck. They're not going to have any luck in the future, either.)
"Hi, Cheryl. Hear you had a debate with Mike," drawled Paul.
I gave him a cold look. He was not helping his cause by raising that debate, I can assure you.
"Yeah," said Chuck, grinning like a loon. "He don't show no respect. You really ought to teach him a lesson."
I could agree with that, at least.
"Chuck's right," said Paul. "Wouldn't you like to see him taken down a peg?"
"Love to," I agreed, "but how would I go about it? Talking about it doesn't do anything."
"Maybe not, but a bit of muscle might. How would you like to have him to roughed-up a bit?"
That was another thing entirely. That sort of thing could get carried too far and someone could get hurt.
"Um, that would depend on what you mean by roughed-up," I pointed out.
"Nothing permanent," Paul assured me. "What say Chuck and I just give him a few bruises? You can watch him back down and crawl."
Seeing Mike having to back down seemed like an excellent idea to me. The boys probably wouldn't even need to touch him. With those two looming over him he'd have to back down in a hurry. Mind you, I knew why they were suggesting this. My panties and getting into them. Not going to happen, but they were putting some effort in. I agreed.
Chuck and Paul had apparently planned this in advance. Paul had, anyway. Chuck was a bit gormless but willing to follow Paul's lead. However they'd worked it out, they knew where they could find Mike when he was relatively isolated.
That evening we turned up at the local park where the joggers ran. We waited near some trees and a short time later Mike came jogging along the path. Paul and Chuck moved into the path blocking his way, while I eased up behind them.
Mike slowed down and stopped in front of us.
"Problem?" he asked.
"Yeah, Mike," returned Paul, "and you're the one who's got one."
"Really? And what would that problem be?"
"Us. You've been rather rude to Cheryl and we don't like it. We're going to teach you to have some respect."
"Yeah. Respect," Chuck said, putting in his two cents worth.
Mike, the swine, just grinned and looked over at me. I smiled sweetly and wiggled my fingers in a friendly little wave. This was going to be fun.
"So exactly how do you intend to teach me to have some respect?"
"Easy," said Paul. "We're going to beat the crap out of you until you apologise to Cheryl for any offence you've caused her."
"Not going to happen," Mike said, totally calm.
Ha. I'll bet. Once Paul and Chuck really start things rolling he'd back down fast enough and we all knew it.
Well, all of us but Mike knew it, it turned out.
Paul laced his hands together and worked his hands, cracking his knuckles, and while he was doing that Mike kicked him in the balls.
True. He just up and planted his foot solidly in Paul's testicles and Paul just made this weird groaning sound and collapsed. I was looking on with shock, not having expected Mike to start the fight. Unfortunately, Chuck was also staring at Paul writhing on the ground, and he was wide open to getting a foot in his balls as well, joining Paul on the ground.
"If you're going to fight, fight. Don't talk," said Mike, stepping past his two groaning victims.
It suddenly occurred to me that discretion was better than valour and I turned to depart. Way too late. Mike had a hand clamped around my elbow. He let me continue turning but he moved with me and the next thing I knew we were walking past the trees by the side of the path.
"Hey. What do you think you're doing?" I demanded. "Let go of me."
