Primrose High Ch. 01

This story is a prelude to a longer story I'm writing. It's the first erotica piece I've decided to write down. I have a story outlined and drafted but I wanted opinions, ideas and suggestions before I continue. Any ideas in the comments will be considered so please give me your feedback. All comments and critiques are welcome. If I get positive feedback you'll be getting a lot more very soon. While the first part mostly is establishing the background for the story I think you can see where I'm plan to go and I hope that you'll be looking forward to more.

All characters are over 18.

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You can't go home again. Or, perhaps more accurately, you shouldn't go home again. Josh had no choice in the matter though, and no nostalgia for home or family; the absent mother, the cruel and dismissive sister, the family that had, quite literally, abandoned him. Almost two years of his life had been wasted thanks to them, two years of his life because the people who were supposed to be on his side wouldn't back him up. Now the prodigal son was returning and there was no welcome or fanfare, only his sister waiting at the bus stop texting in her car. She didn't look up as he tugged open the door

"About time you you go here, idiot."

"Thanks Beth, I'm sorry I couldn't make the bus run any faster. Good to see you too. I can see that you managed not to gain any more weight. "

"Yeah, well because of you I had to cancel a night out with Meg, all because mom couldn't bother to pick up her own delinquent crotch fruit."

Josh put on an insincere smile, "The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree. I had to ride that bus for 6 hours without anything to eat."

"Like I give a shit. They may have let you out but I still think you're defective. You could have done us all a favor and just left. You're 18, what's stopping you? I could have had your room. Instead I get to 'take care' of you while mom is away."

Nothing stopping him but a lack of a diploma, money, a job, hell, any options. Josh though. "I'm such a disappointment, I know it." He said, "At least mom has one child that's a super hero, Beth Herman," Josh puffed out his chest and shouted in a dramatic voice, "Super sen..." Josh's bellow was cut off as Beth's fist slammed into his stomach. Josh wheezed, turning to the window to not show Beth the tears that welled up in his eyes.

The ride home was long and the music loud. Neither of them talked.

Josh had taken some small comfort while he was away when he heard that Beth had failed and been forced to repeat her senior year. Josh stared out the window and imagined Beth as Super Senior, the 19 year old with the power to repeat her senior year, the amazing ability to be mediocre and somehow still feel superior to her brother and be favored by their mother. Josh had always been the smart one and Beth had always been the one to torment him. His mom would say Beth was just jealous, as if that was supposed to make Josh feel better.

The house was empty when the two arrived home. Beth marched into the house and slammed the door. Josh stood in the cool September evening air and sighed. There were no lights on, there was only Beth's car in the driveway.

"Welcome home," Josh whispered to himself.

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The Delinquent, the word seemed to deserve a capital letter in Josh's mind, now had the special privilege of going to a new private school. People had told him that it was because his mother only wanted the best for him, but Josh was sure it was to put him somewhere out of sight and hide the family freak. It didn't help that a brief web search showed that the school had been founded as a school for, "...turning difficult, troubled adolescents into model citizens." In the last year there was some small press about happy parents and faculty surprised at the results. The a member of the state board of education had mentioned interest in evaluating the school's methods later this year for wider implementation, though their FAQ mentioned that so far only students that were 18 or older were accepted due to the nature of their unconventional rehabilitation program. This didn't prove a problem for enrollment due to the likelihood of its target clientele likely not being on track to finish their education in the normal amount of time.

Josh was sure to his mother it sounded delightful. He wouldn't know, he had not spoken to her in one year, six months, seventeen days and it seemed neither of them was going to break the running streak. To Josh, however, the school was a nightmare. He had never felt like a rebel or particularly controversial, not until he came to Primrose School for the Betterment of Tomorrow. In his old school what seemed like a lifetime ago he'd been 'normal' whatever that may be, maybe a bit of a prep, he begrudgingly admitted to himself. He'd taken AP classes, none of his shirts praised Satan, his hair was the color he'd been born with; you know, normal. He was 18 and, he thought, a mature young man, not the kind of teenager that old men would shake their cane at and call a punk, or scallywag, or whatever they yelled at kids. And yet he felt like the most bizarre of the bizarre, despite the group he had entered the school with.

It was the start of a new school year and Josh wasn't the only student who was nervous and didn't fit in.The other kids wouldn't look out of place in any other high school but here the piercings and tight clothes practically screamed for attention. Together the group of kids sat in the main lobby and waited for their tour guide, a chipper young guy with a baby face and slicked, shining, lacquered hair. No one listened to a thing he said.

From the moment Beth dropped him off something seemed off. Everything was too neat, the halls too quiet between bells, the bathrooms lacking any graffiti at all. Josh had seen kids putting their trash from lunch in the right recycling bins. If anything should have made his skin crawl it should have been flickering lights, litter strewn halls, students dragging machetes along the floor, not eco conscious, well dressed kids.

Maybe it was the khakis. For some reason everything was tan. Sand, wheat, beige, egg shell; it made his skin crawl. Maybe it was a cult? Perhaps a clandestine splinter group of radical Mormons set out to indoctrinate the next generation. Just as likely it was brainslugs or lizard people or the Illuminati. If one of the faculty peeled back their face to scratch their scales Josh wouldn't have been surprised. Scared, yes, but not shocked.

It was his third day at Primrose High and Josh was feeling less comfortable, not more. He had caught himself putting on a button up shirt and a little more effort into his hair than the usual amount, which was none. He wasn't the only one. The second day most of the new recruits' clothes had been more moderate and none of them had been told a thing. A few of the new students still refused to buckle to the silent, overwhelming peer pressure. As Josh got out of the car and started through the milling crowd he caught a glimpse of one of them through the crowd.

Three days in and one girl still stood out. Bethany, disturbingly the same name as his sister, stole the show. Probably soft rock should be playing now, Josh thought, a slow motion montage of Bethany's glorious exit from the provided transportation. Her hair was bleached platinum, cut short in a pixie cut and the ends neon pink, dark brown roots showed along her hairline. She had maybe a hint of Pacific islander to her features that gave her a warm copper glow and tilted her dark eyes just a bit. She was tall, slim, and her tattered ancient jeans showed more of her long legs than they covered. Her tank top hid nothing, managing to be loose and cling at the same time. Josh strained to see through the milling students as Bethany hopped down from the bus and hoisted her bag onto her shoulders. The neckline of her shirt swung almost low enough to see everything as she bent forward. As she stood the thin white fabric stretched tight across her chest and display her hard nipples. For just a moment a hint of dark brown peeked over the top of her shirt before hiding away as she readjusted her bag. Her shirt read Free Pussy Riot. Bethany caught Josh's eye as he stared at her. She smiled and winked at him. Josh grinned and winked back.

A year ago he'd have gulped and blushed and stammered. What he'd been through had at least taught him a little confidence. Somehow, despite his best effort, he didn't manage to bump into her all day.

Later that day the moment of thrilling promise was no comfort. Walking between classes Josh's heart was pounding in his chest and he wanted to bolt. Being late to class seemed the obvious thing to do but the empty, immaculate halls made him even more nervous. Faced with the sea of helpful, consoling looks when he lamely mumbled about getting lost he worried he'd made a mistake.

When they assigned him a guide he'd known it in the pit of his stomach. When he saw her, he felt a sliver of doubt. Christie could have been quite lovely to look. Her long blond hair was, unfortunately, tied severely up in a bun. Her wardrobe left this a mystery but Josh felt she had a good figure under the baggy cardigan and calf length skirt. She could have been a dowdy 80 year old woman with that ensemble. Or Amish. She did have a face though. Brilliant green eyes, a perfect smile and a dainty nose.

She'd told him that she'd be with him throughout the week, that she was supposed to help him be comfortable, to make him feel welcome, to help him with whatever he needed. She was so earnest that any crude jokes withered and died.

"Primrose is just the best. We're all so clean. We want to be the best us." Christie said, smiling. That same slogan was slapped on more than a few signs. Every ten feet, neatly taped, was a colorful memo reminding students that they should behave, tuck in their shirt, be considerate. It was like a Communist wet dream; Kim, Stalin and Mao would have cried with joy at the sterile, uniform perfection. Christie started walking, smiling and gesturing for him to follow. His own little shepherd. Someone had given her a copy of his schedule.

"What grade are you?" Josh asked.

"I'm a senior."

The silence stretched and Christie showed no sign of intending to break it. Josh began to squirm. "That's a nice broach." He lied. Even his grandmother would have thought the cartoonish metal blob too old-lady for her.

The smile never left Christie's face, though it went up a Watt or two. "Thank you! It was for my 19th birthday. Nikki gave it to me."

"She's your grandmother, sister, girlfriend?"

Christie's smile strained a bit and her step faltered, she laughed, "Silly! Good girls don't like girls! No Ms. Willis is our new guidance counselor. I wish she'd been here for my whole high school career, she's helped me so much. A year ago things were so different, now it's so clean here and we all try to be our best."

"I've heard."

Christie stopped, stepping in front of him. "Josh," she said cheerfully, "I think you should meet her, you'd really like Ms Willis. She'd open your eyes and show you just how good you can be."

The hairs on Josh's neck rose. "I think I should wait. I want to spend some more time at the school on my own. I want to be able to tell her my independent opinion when we do meet."

Christie nodded slowly, "That makes sense only... Independence isn't a virtue, you know, we're all in this together!" I glanced over her shoulder and in 60 point Arial the wall shouted the same slogan in unison. The sliver of doubt that Josh had felt early plunged into his heart.

For the first time in his life Josh knew true terror.