Shut Up And Put Up

Havermouth High School, Five Years Before

Cameron and Heath circled like the wolves that they were as Rhett and Aislen joined them at the table in the shelter of a large tree. Aislen could see some of the celtic knotted triangle designs that decorated Rhett’s knuckles had been scratched into the wood of the picnic table.

Other than the four of them, the park was empty.

“My, my,” Cameron purred, sliding his hand over Aislen’s shoulder to her arm and sending flashes of her shirt buttons popping as he tore the shirt open in order to expose her breasts through Aislen’s mind. “Just look at what was hiding under that f-king ugly jumper, Heath.” He stole Aislen’s cigarette, which had gone out, relighting it and holding it between his teeth as he leered down at her.

“We have to work,” Rhett stubbed out his cigarette onto the ground. “This piece we’re working on is worth thirty percent of our grade this term, and we’ve only got four weeks to get it done in, so if you’re going to distract us, f-k off.”

“Rhett thinks we’ll c-ck block him,” Heath sneered teasing his friend. “He wants to draw every part of her. I wonder if we could persuade her to drop her panties and pose on the table for us.”

“F-k off or you’ll scare her,” Rhett sighed, but his cheeks had coloured as he cracked open a can of beer and took a mouthful. “Aislen?” He offered it to her, and she reached out and took it, the temptation to place her mouth where his had been too strong to resist. The beer was cold, and its bitter flavour made her wonder why people made such a big deal over it.

She placed the beer back near him, and bent over her sketchpad, working on another angle of Rhett’s face, trying to ignore the alarm bells that the two drunk boys were setting off in her mind as they laughed and joked around, many of their jokes innuendos about her that she did not quite understand the meaning of, though their tone of voice left her in no doubt that it was her that they were talking about, and that the meaning was lewd.

She met Rhett’s eyes and under the table felt his hand rest on her knee. She saw him a vision of him cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, his hair falling over her face, his tongue flavoured with cigarettes and beer, and knew that she was seeing his thoughts of the moment, what he wanted to do.

She swallowed and tried to concentrate on her drawing. It was what she wanted, too.

Heath slid onto the seat, straddling her so that she sat between the v of his thighs, his hands cupping her breasts and then sliding down and delving under her skirt before she could recover from the graphic images of him bending her over the picnic table and thrusting into her from behind that his touch bestowed on her. He sucked on her neck above the collar of her shirt and for a moment she leaned her head to the side, as it felt fantastic...

And then she shot to her feet as his fingers went under the elastic of her panties. “Stop that,” she was leaning over the table, her palms on its surface in her effort to get away from Heath and realised that she had put herself into the position that he wanted her in, as he pulled her underwear down past her knees and they slipped to her ankles.

She scrabbled to pull them up as he stood, caging her onto the table surface, pushing her forward over it so that she knocked the beer over and Rhett grabbed his art supplies up and danced away from the table cursing.

“F-k, Heath!” He was angry. “I have to hand this sketch pad in to the teacher at the end of term. I can’t have it reeking of beer!”

Heath’s hands stroked over Aislen’s bare arse under her skirt, and he ground himself against her, his fingers travelling around and over her clit. “She’s au natural down here,” he laughed. “We’ll have to make her an appointment to get the bush waxed.”

“Get your f-king filthy hands off of me,” she struggled against his grip. “I will scream!”

“Heath,” Rhett said, his tone dark. “Not here. Not now.”

“Ah, f-king hell, I’m horny and you’re c-ck blocking me, Rhett?” Heath complained, but he moved away. “She loves it, she’s f-king creamed against me,” he grinned pointing to his groin as Aislen hastily repaired her skirt and pulled her underwear back up her legs. “Begging for us to f-k her.”

Aislen stuffed her art supplies into her bag, her hands shaking, and tears threatening.

“Aislen,” Rhett said softly. “They’re just mucking around. Don’t be upset. We all think you’re f-king hot.”

She jerked her head up in anger, his face distorted by the tears that were just beginning to fall, and then she turned and bolted back towards the school, hearing Cameron’s and Heath’s laughter ring out behind her, and Rhett’s complaint. When she cast a look over her shoulder, Rhett was sitting on the tabletop opening a can of beer, a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip, watching her leave.

At school, she ran into the bathroom, startling a group of younger students who left in a hurry. She washed her hands and face at the sink trying to compose herself. What they had done was not alright, she told herself. She needed to report what they had done to a teacher, to the headmaster, to someone. They couldn’t just handle people in such a way…

“Are you alright?” A girl came out of the toilet cubicle and washed her hands next to her.

“F-king Triquetra,” Aislen spat out angrily. “They just f-king do as they f-king please, as if there’s no repercussions. Well, there will be a f-king repercussion this f-king time. I’m going to tell the headmaster.”

“They raped you?” The girl said with empathy. “You wouldn’t be the first and won’t be the last. Others have reported them and the guys from the football team, but somehow it never sticks. They don’t even get a reprimand or made to say sorry or anything. The girls though, they get f-ked over for making a fuss,” she added quietly. “Suddenly their parents don’t have jobs, and their banks call in on their mortgages, and before you know it, they have to move away.”

“No way,” Aislen stared at her in the reflection, shocked.

“Yes way. No one bothers reporting them anymore,” the girl was apologetic, shrugging as she reached for the paper towel to dry her hands. “It’s just not worth it. You’re new, but you’ll learn. The Triquetra, they’re protected by the community, just like all the other jocks and cheerleaders – they can’t do anything wrong here, as long as it is to someone who doesn’t matter, like you and me.”

“Oh,” Aislen realized that the girl spoke from personal experience. “You too?”

“Me too,” the girl’s smile was sorrowfully rueful. “Shut up and put up, and you’ll survive here. Complain, and you might as well pack your suitcases ready to leave.”