Naked In School

Mike and Lily were there. "Somebody’s number got called!" Lily teased.

"You just make sure there’s no line drives hit at the third baseman’s naked hiney, Pedro," I grinned.

"Hey. Natalie Weinberg, huh? Wow. Who knew? She’s stunning," Mike said.

"She’s stunning, she has no idea how stunning she is, and she’s absolutely terror-stricken," I told them.

"Not a good combination," Mike agreed.

I tried to get Natalie’s attention, but she was surrounded by guys. She looked like she wanted to die as they touched her. Then, something strange happened. She was standing, crouched a little, arms tight at her sides-like she was trying to pull herself in-until someone stuck a finger in her pussy. When that happened, she stood ramrod straight, arms at her sides, legs spread apart a bit. In other words, she clearly let him do it with no protest. The frightening part was her face. Her eyes were practically glassed over. And, though the guy diddling her was being gentle and obviously trying to make her feel good, there was no reaction. Just a steely glare. She was obviously getting no pleasure from the act. After a minute, he withdrew her hand, she slumped herself together again, and tried to get out of the crowd.

"Pal, there’s something seriously wrong there," Mike said astutely.

"I was thinking the same thing," I told him. "Natalie! Come on," I pulled her out of the crowd. "Our first classes are close, I’ll walk you there." I did, arm around her, as she miserably shuffled down the hall. I delivered her to her first class and said, "See you in Accounting," which was both of our second period class. Then I went to my class.

Depressed, if you want to know the truth. I had counted on a good Program week. Now, it looked like I had been buddied up with someone who was on the verge of a nervous breakdown over it. I suppose I could just ignore her and go on my merry naked way.

Yeah, sure I could. That’s not me, it’s just not me. I can’t pass a wounded animal without trying to help it. I was just going to ignore this terrified girl-who, don’t forget, I had been assigned to buddy up with? Not my style.

So, I had to try to help her get through this. How was the question.

CHAPTER TWO NATALIE

You ever want to commit murder? I mean, really want to? If I had had a gun and my mother in front of me, I don’t know if I would have been able to hold myself back.

I’m Natalie Weinberg, I’m almost seventeen years old, I’m naked, and I’m a mess. A complete mess. I have no friends, I have no one to talk to, I have no life-and I have the mother from hell. And now I had to show my body off to everyone in the school.

When I ever got called down to the office, I figured it was something else. I thought I was on the opt-out list for The Program. When I ever found out, I almost died.

And they paired me up with Ed Bauer! Ed’s one of the nicest guys in school-I know that-but he’s also notorious for fucking anything that moves. Although he was nice this morning. Telling me I was gorgeous was nice. Of course, that was probably just a line.

I don’t think I’m gorgeous. I don’t like my body. My boobs are too big, my ass is too big, I’m a ‘dumb blonde’-I’m like a Barbie Doll come to life. It doesn’t help that my mother treats me like one. "You got a body, you’d better use it, because that’s all you’ve got." I’ve heard that since I was twelve. My mother got knocked up by some asshole at seventeen. Why she kept me-or even had me-escapes my comprehension. She must’ve had some sort of maternal instinct flash when she was pregnant. Trust me, she hasn’t had much of one since then. Abortion is pretty nonexistent nowadays, due to the effectiveness and availability of all types of birth control-but it was available back then. Of course, decently effective birth control was available back then, too. My mother says she was pressured by her parents to not have an abortion-they were into that whole religious "right to life" movement back then. How people think that a seventeen-year-old who was too stupid and irresponsible to carry a condom in her purse was equipped to raise a child is beyond me.

Westport’s a nice town, but it has a small "bad side." That’s where we live, in a rathole apartment. All my mother wants is out, and she’s gone through more guys than I can name looking for a way out. Of course, when you work as a cocktail waitress in a dive, you don’t exactly meet a high-caliber class of guys. So, now all her hopes of getting out are on me. If she had her way, she’d just whore me out to the highest bidder, and come along for the ride. A year or so ago, she took to arranging "dates" for me. She fixed me up with guys-older guys-and made it clear that, if a guy showed you a good time, you were obligated to "repay" him. I had my virginity taken by a thirty-year-old stockbroker. I was fifteen at the time. This happened twice more. The fourth time-with a guy who was completely disgusting-I revolted. I ran out of the car and ran home. My mother was furious-but stopped arranging "dates" for me.

This must be Plan B. Make me parade my grotesque imitation of a Barbie-doll body around school naked, and have some rich guy "claim" me. Lovely, huh?

I know nobody at school. I have no friends. I’m scared to try to make them. I can’t bring people home to my apartment-and I can’t go over someone else’s house without getting a third degree. I go to the mall, I get grilled. So I go from a school where I’m nobody to a home where I’m a set of tits to be used as a meal ticket. And people think I’m shy. Which I am to a point. What I more am is scared-scared people will use me, scared people will find out about all the bile I have stored in my gut, scared that I’d have to explain my life.

Suicide? You bet your ass it’s crossed my mind.

However, contrary to what my mother thinks, I do have other things going for me. I’m smart. Really smart. Mother never cares to read my report card-if she did, she’d see a whole list of A’s. So, I have a way out. College scholarship. My grades are good enough to get one. Then I’m getting out of here, without selling my body, and my mother’s not invited. A year and a half-that’s all I have to wait it out.

Of course, this week looked to be longer than the rest of the year and a half combined.

First period was miserable. I just wanted to crawl under a rock. Second period was better, only because Ed was there. I’ll say this for him-his antics take attention away from me. I’ll say another thing for him-he’s funny. Genuinely funny. He actually made me laugh. I went from looking for razor blades to laughing out loud. That’s a pretty neat thing to be able to do to someone.

The next two periods were torturous.

I kept getting fingered in the hall. I hated every minute of it. I hate being touched. Everyone just wants something from you-a touch here, a fondle there. It was excruciating. Like I said, I’m afraid of being used. And I was being used left and right. And all I could do was sit there and take it.

Anyhow, I got to lunch. And got my customary table in the corner, away from everyone, where nobody could find me. I was wrong about that. Ed found me.

"Hey," he said, sitting down. "How’s the morning going?"

"Hellish," I admitted.

"You need to loosen up," he said.

"Yeah. Right," I snorted.

"Is it really that bad?" he said.

"Yeah, it’s really that bad," I told him.

"Why?"

Now, there was a question. A question I didn’t want to answer. I barely knew this guy. "Because," was all I said.

"Hey, Natalie, I’m trying to help."

"Why?" I asked him back. "Because you were assigned to be my buddy by Mr. Tilling? Because you’re obligated? Don’t bother."