Sandy's mouth was dry as the coach closed the door of his office, but he smiled at her encouragingly, and she relaxed a little.
"I got your letter, Sandy," he said. "I understand your concern, and I'll certainly have a word with the guys on the squad."
"Thanks, Coach," she replied, then hesitated a little before going on. "But I feel I really must get through to you that we could have a real problem on our hands. This really has gone beyond what you might think of as 'high jinks' on the part of the guys - some of the cheerleaders are really scared."
"Look, Sandy," said the coach, his brow furrowed. "I've got one major priority this year - to win the State Championship for the third season running. We've got three stand-out performers on the team and I need all three of them to play every game if we're to win that title again."
"And two of them figure in nearly every serious complaint I've had," rejoined Sandy.
"Yeah," he agreed, reluctantly. "Well, Joe and Tommy - they're a coupla lively guys - specially Joe! For Chrissake, Sandy, they're practically men. It's only natural they're interested in .... you know. And let's face it, you girls, in your short skirts an' all - well, you can't complain if the guys get .... well, a bit aggressive from time to time."
"That doesn't give them the right to touch us in ..... places we don't want them to," retorted Sandy, angrily. She could feel her cheeks burning as her anger rose, and her voice became shrill.
"Hey," he smiled. "Some of them don't seem to mind too much. I saw Joe on the back seat of the coach with Karen after the last away tie - she wasn't complaining, and I wouldn't like to say where Joe's hands were."
Sandy's throat tightened at the mention of Karen. It was an open secret that she was Joe's 'steady lay' and Sandy wished she wasn't on the cheerleading squad. She was the least hard-working of all of them and Sandy was sure she had only joined so that she could parade her 'charms' to as many people as possible.
"Well, anyway, Coach," she said, biting back her anger, "if you can't get them to cut it out, I'll have to go to the Principal and make a formal complaint."
"Yeah, okay, Sandy," he replied. "Just leave it with me."
As she left the office, Sandy knew she had achieved precisely nothing. The dim-witted coach would have a 'quiet chat' interspersed with a few near the knuckle jokes, and things would go on as before.
She recalled the panicky expression on Ruth's face as she had stumbled off the coach from the training-ground three days earlier and her heart sank.
"What's wrong?β she had asked the little dark-haired girl, and had thought she was about to burst into tears. She would say nothing until they were in Sandy's bedroom, with the door tightly closed - then she opened up.
"I was sitting at the front of the coach when we drew up at the school yard," Ruth explained, "but the guys said the door was jammed at that end, and I'd have to go out the back. So the guys at the front of the coach stood back to let me walk back down the aisle but, when I got a little way down, they were all standing up, all over the bus, and I was hemmed in amongst them."
"Then someone touched the inside of the top of my leg. It was a shock, and I - well, I guess, I screamed a little. The guys laughed and the hand came back, but this time it grabbed me, and squeezed, then started sliding ... up. You know?"
Her mouth suddenly dry, Sandy nodded. "Go on," she said, in a low voice, her mind full of images of - inevitably - herself, in Ruth's helpless situation.
"Well, I grabbed the hand, but then there was another one - and another, and they were all laughing. I started pushing desperately down the aisle and they sort of let me keep moving, but only very slowly and, all the time, their hands kept coming at me. They touched my panties - front and back - and one tried to pull them down! And they were on my ... my chest, too. Pushing and .. and squeezing and making comments."
By now, tears had welled up and were rolling down Ruth's cheeks, and Sandy put an arm round her, instinctively. Ruth looked at her, gratefully, and held Sandy's hand.
"Did they .... do any more?" Sandy had asked, and Ruth shook her head. "No," she replied, shakily. "I got to the back door and jumped out, and then I saw you!"
Since then, Sandy had asked around the girls and had uncovered at least half a dozen stories of similar instances. As their leader, she knew she had to battle on their behalf, hence her report, and abortive visit, to the football coach that afternoon, but she felt the trouble was only beginning ...................................
"We gotta teach that tightass, Sandy, a lesson!" Joe McQuire's handsome face was twisted in a snarling leer. He was still burning with suppressed rage after his confidential chat with the coach. Tommy seemed dubious. "Dontcha think we'd better go easy for a bit, Joe? I mean, he might dump us off the team, or suspend us, or something."
"Oh, use your head, dummy," sneered Joe. "He drops us - he loses the title. He's on a $10,000 bonus to win that title. Hell'll freeze over before he dumps you and me - well, me anyway. No, I'm gonna sort that frigid little bitch out - and you and Karen are gonna help me."
Tommy felt a flutter in his guts as he eyed Joe's determined face. "What can Karen do?" he asked.
"She can set her up - somewhere quiet where we can have a private little chat. I think I know what's wrong with Sandy Jackson .......... "
****************************************
Karen watched covertly as the dressing-room slowly emptied, but continued to engage Sandy in conversation. God, how she hated the stuck-up bitch! Asking her advice - on math, of all things! - was about as much as she could take. It was only the thought of Joe sorting her out good and proper which kept her going, feigning interest in Sandy's condescending replies to her guileless questions.
Now, only Ruth was hanging around. "I'll walk you home," she called to Sandy as she left.
"O.K.", called Sandy. "I'll see you in a couple of minutes."
"I'll have to go now," she said to Karen, starting to pack her gym clothes in a hold-all. "I hope that helped."
"Yeah, thanks a lot," Karen flung over her shoulder as she hurried from the room, into the corridor. She knocked softly on the door of the boys' changing-room. It opened, and Joe looked out.