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Time seemed to drag slower than usual. I knew that once the bell rang, I would have to walk right next door to heaven for a weekend.
My mother signed the permission slip Ms. Fuentes drafted up without even glancing at it.

I was kind of scared, but kind of excited as to what was waiting for me. After her game night with the other ladies in the neighborhood, all these ideas ran through my head. Mrs. Price seemed to want to take me home after the night was done. She had won the biggest pot that night and when Mrs. Fuentes couldn’t pony up, she just looked me up and down and said she would come up with something. Was this weekend the something?

When class was done, getting home was more a straight sprint than a blur. I packed two night worth of clothes and toiletries. Mrs. Fuentes told me to have my mother drop me off at the school. To make it more believable.

The volleyball team was just finishing up practice. I heard Jeanette Fuentes’ laugh before I saw her. She was making one of her “fans” pay tribute to her.

Jeanette Fuentes was the top volleyball player in the county, almost state. And with being a 4.0 honor roll student her whole life made for quite the popular life. She was nice to who she knew she needed to be, AP teachers, scholarship speakers, etc. To people that could forward her career, she was a warm bubbly personality. Someone you would put on your college pamphlet. And she was absolutely brutal to everyone else.

There was always a news team on campus every other week to talk to her. In time this gained her even more popularity, winning game after game with talks of the Olympics on the horizon. She was always getting out of class to do interviews and missing notes here and there. I always wondered how she was able to keep a 4.0 grade average until I shared a class with her Sophomore year.

Stephanie Morris was a mousey, but smart girl. Straight A’s, never said a word to anyone. We were halfway into quiet reading when Jeanette was called over the intercom to do an interview. She got up and Stephanie, who was sitting right next to her, took Jeanette’s book and began to read it and take notes. I was right behind her when she did this and didn’t ask her anything. When Jeanette came back, she gave her the book back and her notes.

At lunch, Stephanie would buy lunch for Jeanette. It was the saddest thing to see this little girl who probably got very little to eat anyway, bring a tray of food to a table of girls who don’t even acknowledge her and just slide it over to Jeanette. I never even saw her thank Stephanie once. I finally asked Stephanie why she did this, she told me “Its my way of being in her life. I know I don’t even exist in her world.  The only way I can be near her is to serve. To pay tribute.”

So once Jeanette told Stephanie her volleyball shoes were dirty, no one blinked as she dropped to her knees and licked her shoes clean. All this happened not 50 feet from me as I watched with unease, but slight curiosity. How did they taste? Were they sweaty? How many days did she wear them? Were those her practice shoes? Jeanette caught me staring and smiled.

“You actually did it? Wow my mom is good!” Jeanette kicked Stephanie away and walked over to me with 4 of her friends. They stood over me as I sat on the bench looking up. Stephanie kept her head bowed and her eyes lowered as she stood behind them.  “Let me see the slip.” I handed her the permission slip my mom signed. She laughed loudly. She had a booming laugh, it always tapped into my mind to when we were kids and she’d laugh that way as she tied me up. She’d tease me by telling me how long she had her socks on for before stuffing them in my mouth. Laughing all the way. She showed her friends.

“I told my mom to put a fake city on here to see if she’d notice. Did she even read it?”
I shook my head and the others laughed. Jeanette tore it up and threw the pieces at Stephanie. “Eat those.” Stephanie didn’t even need to look up to know who she was talking to. She got on her hands and knees once more and began to pick the pieces up with her mouth. Chewing them as she went, she thanked Jeanette sincerely. I looked at Jeanette who was staring a hole into me. “Well, I guess you want to know what you’ll be doing for the weekend. Well, my mom has some plans. Come with us, first.”
I stood and followed the girls to one of their cars. Stephanie stayed behind to finish her task as Jeanette had tore it several times and by the time we reached the car the pieces were blowing away with the wind.

We drove to the mall, or rather I drove them. They were all on their phones giggling and talking about which boys were taking them out and which ones had crushes on them. They then began to talk about which boys would help them with their homework, which ones would carry their bags after practice. Some of them shared the same guys, while others had the same ones giving them their lunch money since grade school. They called some of them “piggies” and others they just called “losers”. A couple of volleyball players, like Jeanette had girls that were obsessed with them, or hated themselves. Either way it benefited them, since they were living like princesses. “My mom said you are to do whatever we say this weekend. How do you like that, ****?”
I told them I loved it and they all laughed. “I knew you would. My mom has been telling us all the perverted shit you’ve been getting up to these past few days. Did you really get a boner at my moms game night?”

When we got to the mall, the conversation didn’t stop. Jeanette even began to project louder so people in their cars could hear her. “So, is it the humiliation that got you hard or was it my mom and all her old friends playing cards?” Her friends laughed hard as people coming and going began to stare. One person pulled out their phone.
I put my head down, and walked a bit faster.
Jeanette noticed and pulled on my shirt. “Dont be shy, ****. No one gives a shit about you. You hungry? We’re famished!” We were going to go hit the food court. You’re coming with us. Our treat. We can share old stories about how we played games like cops and robbers, then girl meets boytoy.

As I was bringing everyone their lunch, I heard Jeanette finishing up a story. “So it was like eight o’clock at night and he tell my mom that he’s sleepy. We’re wide awake and decide to wait until my mom goes out with her date.” My stomach began to crawl as the conclusion to this story came to me in waves. It was something I repressed. “She tells us she won’ tbe gone until morning. She out the keys onto he counter and closed the door and **** goes to bed.” I noticed the girls were dropping fries here and there while they ate and no one was touching the burger still wrapped at the corner of the table.
“We go to the garage and grab some duct tape and a sheet from the closet. When we was snoring, we rolled him up and taped it till he looked like a silver nightcrawler. I still remember the look on his face when he woke up. It was the cutest little terrified face. He tried to scream for his mom next door, but we gagged him with our socks. He hated that so much! We kept him wrapped up all night!” As far as Jeanette remembers that night, that was the end of my torture. But when she finally fell asleep, her sister woke up. She played video games throughout the night, especially multiplayer games.
I would hear her talking trash to people as she destroyed them. When I finally fell asleep, sock gagged and mummified in the living room, her door crept open. I awoke to being dragged by my feet to Liz’s room, her whistling the whole way.
Her xbox turned on, and she strapped a controller to my crotch. “Time to play a little game.” She started a new game and as the bullets began to fly, my controller began to vibrate. Every death, shook the controller, which in turn tormented me to arousal. I was pleading with her to let me go, to stop. But she just continued to talk trash, even telling people she would play blindfolded. She must have died a lot because the controller vibrated to no end. I was on the brink of tears. And as I reached the edge, she paused the game and went to get a snack.  By the time I calmed down she would come back, chewing on some chips and put her feet on my face to repeat the process. It was agony and ecstasy. Towards the sunrise, she dragged me back to the living room and never said a word.

The girls laughed like it was the funniest story. “Well, were finished here **** but you’re just about to get started. Go ahead and eat your lunch as I tell them another story.” Some of the girls kicked their fries into little piles for me to scoop up. I was eating them as Jeanette unwrapped the burger and dropped it on the floor. She put her shoe on it and crushed it flat into the floor. A huge imprint was on the bun, criss-crossing it with black lines like a grill.  As I ate it and she broke into another story, I couldn’t help wonder, “How did they taste? Were they sweaty? How many days did she wear them? Were those her practice shoes?”
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