Whipping Girl - Pt. 01

Jemma chuckled. "Well, yeah. Of course. They're always bragging about them in the sports section of the college paper. One of the best in the state by all accounts." She nodded towards me. "You should totally try out. It's probably your best chance to escape this societal hell you currently find yourself in."

I smiled and realised at that moment just what a nice and caring girl this Jemma was. She could have encouraged me to stay in the library with her, but instead, she was steering me towards a direction where I could flourish. As I looked at my reflection in her glasses, I was already envisioning myself as captain of the team and the social points it would bring me. They'd probably be blown away by my skills and welcome me with open arms.

"There's just one problem," she said, her lips unsteady as she anticipated my reaction. "From what I've read in the college paper: Morena is the team captain."

Once my lectures were over that day, I headed towards the college gym and managed to catch the coach before he headed out. After some brief small talk, and him being suitably impressed by my sporting endeavours during school, he invited me for a try out at the next practice. I headed back to my dorm that day feeling like I finally had a place and that college could be a good experience for me. Being confident in my volleyball abilities, I was pretty sure I was going to make it onto the squad. From there I'd have a bunch of friends and no longer would I need to hide in the library for lunch every day.

Of course, the fact that Morena was the captain was an obvious problem, though, having thought things over, I figured this may be a way out of her bullying. I was actually a decent volleyball player, and I imagined that this Morena would be surprised and impressed by my skill. Perhaps through holding my own on the court, I'd gain a level of respect from her and an escape from her torment. Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer, after all.

After classes were over the next day, I headed towards the gym and took a deep breath before entering the court. There were a group of girls in kit gathered by the net, gossiping and messing around. Some were stretching their tight bodies while others were tossing up serves or smashing shots down the court. As the door slammed behind me, the court dropped into silence and they all turned to see who I was.

I smiled and waved at the group, and a couple waved back, but then, my heart dropped as the group dispersed and at the centre was revealed my worst nightmare: Morena. She took a step out from the group, then, with a grimace of disdain, she looked me up and down, wrinkling her face in disgust. "Eww," she said, while nudging one of her teammates. "Look who it is, little miss perfect. Does she think she's joining the squad? She can fuck right off."

I was completely taken aback at the forthrightness of her rudeness. I'd never been one for confrontation, despite my imposing physique, so, while my face reddened, just as it had done in the canteen, I shied away, heading to the bleachers and busying myself sorting my kitbag. I acted like I hadn't heard her insults and prayed for the coach to turn up before things got any worse. This only seemed to embolden Morena further.

"Ugh, look at her sneakers," she said while folding her arms and tapping her foot. "Bet she picked those up in the bargain bin." More sniggers and laughs followed. "I thought a princess like her would be all about designer brands. She must be queen of the thrift store."

I looked at my sneakers; they weren't designer but they got the job done and were definitely respectable. I mean, they were only for me to play volleyball in, even though I could afford it, why the hell would I buy designer sneakers to sweat up? They hardly needed to be a top of the range pair, did they? I'd previously bought an expensive pair during my naïve early days of playing and they'd pinched at my heels, so I went for comfort over looks these days. I wore enough designer clothes during my regular day, so it was obvious I wasn't poor. Judging me by some sports sneakers was just petty.

"God," Morena said while I adjusted my clothes. "Look at her hair, you can see her roots. I'm not playing in the same team as this loser.

With that, my head flicked up and I was about to actually say something. However, at that very moment, the coach swung through the door and the hostility immediately dissipated.

"Ah, Sydney," he said. "Good to see you're joining us." He raised his clipboard and addressed the other girls. "Sydney is going to be trying out today. She comes from a strong athletic background, so let's make her feel welcome and see what she can do."

"Don't be surprised if she expects you to walk the ball over to her for every serve," Morena said, barely above a whisper. "Apparently that's the kind of treatment she expects."

"What was that, Morena?" the coach asked.

"Nothing," she said, with a bright, huge smile. "I was just welcoming Sydney to the squad."

"That's the spirit," the coach said, with a similar, toothy smile.

As soon as he turned his back, Morena's smile morphed to a smirk and she glared my way. "Good luck," she said. "You're going to need it, princess."

I truly did. Morena made my life a total hell during that try out. Whenever we were on the same team, she'd bustle into me, disrupting my form, or deliberately lay up a pass for me that was either out of range or too low for me to do anything with. When I'd spike it into the net as a result, before I could defend myself, Morena was on me in a flash and berating me for my failure.

"Coach," she spat. "I thought you said she had skills? She's flunking every damn shot."

"Ease up," he said, almost in surprise. "Give her a chance. She's only been here a few minutes."

I was already dripping in sweat when he switched the teams around, and now free from Morena breathing down my neck, I figured I could finally excel. Wrong. I was so wrong. Being Morena's opponent only made things even worse. The girl was a complete bitch, but she was a fucking brutal volleyball player. She never seemed to tire and her offence was relentless.

I scored a couple of decent points now that she wasn't sabotaging the passes to me, and the coach and a few of my teammates congratulated me for my performance. In response, I noticed that Morena's spikes were directed specifically my way. Not only that, but seemingly with the intention of hitting and hurting me. At one point, she belted a spike straight at my face, when there was plenty of the court open for her to score an easy point. The blast took me by surprise, and left me sat on my ass and momentarily dazed. A couple of the girls checked I was alright, though Morena was on the receiving end of a few high fives on the opposite side of the net.

She walked around the net with her hands on her hips, obviously pleased with herself for having felled me. While I caressed my nose, she looked down her own at me, and sneered, "What's the matter, girl?" Before I could answer, she'd leant down towards me and lowered her voice. "Can't handle the heat, stay out of my fucking kitchen. Maybe you should go sit on the benches? Let the real girls play, eh?"

That only seemed to fire me up, and for the rest of the session, I committed extra energy to try and better that bullying bitch. I dove around, making sure I saved her brutal spikes, and I could see her frustration growing as I tried to turn the match around. However, by the end of practice, Morena's team had comfortably defeated us and I was completely spent. It was, without doubt, the most gruelling practice I'd ever participated in, on a whole other level than the civil affairs of my private school.

The coach left us to a final jog around the court to warm down, which ended with Morena slyly tripping me while playing it off as an accident. As I lay a crumpled heap, and the girls continued their laps, with my knee skinned and bleeding, I'd truly had enough.

I'd tried, I really had tried, but even if I made it onto the squad, I couldn't bear being around Morena on a regular basis. I figured she'd ease up on me once she realised I was a fellow jock, but she was ruthless in her disdain. Clearly, just from the way she carried herself and spoke, she didn't come from wealth, and she loathed the fact that I did. It was obvious that I would be receiving this kind of treatment on a regular basis.

While I was tending to my knee, and the other girls were filtering out of the court, Morena swerved over in my direction and I winced under the inevitable insult that was coming my way.

"Better luck next time," she said with a smirk, while swinging her gym bag over her shoulder. She stared at me through her piercing, brown eyes, each ringed with dark eyeliner. Her curly, black hair coiled around her shoulders, just revealing some kind of gang symbol tattooed on her neck. She looked like the sort of girl that had come straight from the hood, and for that reason, I found her all the more intimidating. She'd been unyielding and brutal with me throughout the entire try out. Even when I'd tried to let my playing do the talking, Morena had overwhelmed and bettered me.

While I looked up at her, I felt like the world's biggest loser. There she was, stood the victor, while I was sat on the floor at her feet, a trembling wreck with a bloodied knee.

"Maybe you could join the chess club or something?" she said. "You're obviously not cut out for a real sport, princess."

With that, she'd turned, and I was left staring at her peachy ass as she waltzed her way out of the court.

"My God," I whispered to myself. "I fucking hate that bitch." I punched the floor in frustration, annoyed that no witty retort had come to me while being stared down.

I was about to just pack up and get out of there, when the coach came back, before darting to his office for the first aid kit upon noticing my knee. "You alright?" he asked. "What happened?"

I thought about ratting on Morena, but I wasn't the sort to do that, and it would probably just lead to more attention from her, the kind I just didn't need. I was already settled in the fact that this volleyball squad wasn't for me, and I foresaw lunch with Jemma in the library as my enforced future. At least Jemma was friendly and nice, despite being a social outcast. I didn't have to constantly tip-toe around her and brace myself for inevitable insults.

"I tripped," I lied. "Scraped it on the floor."

"Well, let's get you patched up."

I spent the next few minutes cringing and gasping while he applied an antiseptic cream to the wound and wrapped it in a bandage. I looked like a total klutz as I hobbled to my feet, my knee plastered up like a war wound; Morena having left her mark on me. This was after one bloody session and I was already struggling. Just the thought of going up against her every week was enough to make me wince.

The coach helped me to a seat, then sat opposite and ticked a couple of things on his clipboard. "I have to say, that was a punishing trial you were put through there. The girls didn't go easy on you."

I dipped my head. "Yeah, one in particular."

He nodded knowingly. "Yes, Morena can be quite a force. But trust me, you'll be appreciating her fiery desire to win when you're on the same team. She never gives up and always wants to come out on top. Morena is a born winner and her energy is intoxicating."

"Too bad we'll never be on the same team then."

The coach blinked, and he scratched at his nose. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, obviously I'm not going to make it onto the squad after that performance, am I?"

He considered me for a moment. "Why do you think that?"

"I was useless. She completely destroyed me."

The coach smirked. "That's not what I saw at all. I saw her throwing everything at you and you trying your best to give it back. She's a top player, and you stuck with her for the whole match. I was particularly impressed with your defensive abilities; you even returned one of her spikes back over the net with your face!" He let out an amused chuckle. "I think you would complement Morena's attack. I can see you being a real benefit to this team."

I was now the one blinking with surprise. "You what? I actually made it onto the squad?"

He smiled. "If you still want to join, then we'd love to have you as part of the team."

Despite the brutal initiation that Morena had put me through, I left the court with my head held high. After all, I'd passed through everything she'd thrown at me and in the end, I'd come out the victor. I had a renewed determination to show her what I was all about and prove that I wasn't out of place.

The next day, I didn't bother going to the library for lunch. Instead, I ordered a lasagne at the canteen and sat right on one of the middle tables. Being a member of the volleyball squad had filled me with a confidence I thought I'd lost, and I figured that now I was one of them, Morena would likely ease up on her harassment; we were teammates after all. It would benefit the squad for us to come together, not be separated and at odds with each other.

However, Morena's face was a picture of disgust when she entered the canteen. She didn't hang around and was at my table in seconds. "I hear you're on the squad," she said, while brazenly grabbing an apple from my tray. While I watched, she took a bite, before letting it drop back down with a thump. "We'll see how long that lasts, princess. I'm the top dog around here."

The squad ate their lunch together, while I remained completely ostracised, all alone. A few of the other girls looked my way in sympathy, though after a harsh glare from the captain, they'd avert their eyes and leave me to it.

The volleyball practices were something else, and I seemed to be nothing more than a mouse for Morena to toy with. At times, as she verbally bashed me around the court, I wondered whether this had all been an elaborate scheme between her and the coach. Had he actually allowed me on to the squad just so that Morena could delight in abusing me? Served me up as her gullible punching bag?

She'd make a big scene of highlighting my failure whenever she spiked a point past me, or I subsequently missed my own attempt. After our practices, she'd either nudge me over or mock me in some way, just loud enough for the other girls to hear, while keeping the coach oblivious.

Gradually, after each practice, my confidence waned, and I figured that things weren't working out and it may be better off that I just left the squad. However, I didn't want to be a quitter, and some part of me still wanted to prove Morena wrong. The more she goaded and taunted me, the more I wanted to destroy her on the court. I could have easily resorted to the same insults she did, made fun of her upbringing or mocked her poverty-stricken neighbourhood. However, that wasn't part of my nature, and my private schooling had focused on instilling a high-class, ladylike manner. I used cutlery in the correct order, I didn't make fun of those less fortunate than me, even if I thought they were. Besides, if I had done, Morena would probably have kicked my ass.

When the team was listed for our first competitive match, I noted I wasn't even in the reserves. "I've spoken with the team captain," the coach said. "And we both feel you're not quite ready for a real match yet. Keep your effort up though and you'll get there."

I watched that match from the benches, and Morena bossed the whole game, winning the player of the match and getting a round of applause. Such was the ferocity of her performance, that even I was impressed, despite hating her. The other team looked truly exhausted and seemingly baffled that they'd been demolished in such fashion.

"Good job," I said after the match. "You played incredibly well, Morena."

I received a roll of the eyes in response. "No shit, idiot. That's because I'm the fucking best."

My jaw-dropped at the vulgarity of her; even in her victory she lacked any modesty. I was from a high-class family, with parents who never used profanity and provided me with a comfortable and generally easy life. I rarely interacted with girls like Morena, and now that I was forced to do so, I literally didn't know how to handle the situation. It was as if someone had taken me to the zoo and led me to the lion enclosure. I was staggering around with a bloody steak nailed to my back while the leader of the pride licked her lips.

Her treatment of me could have been considered initial hazing towards a new member of the squad I supposed. However, Morena's tormenting was unyielding; she didn't once ease up on me for the weeks that followed. At first, I considered that maybe it was just her personality, however, none of the other girls were treated with the same disdain she directed towards me. She'd just taken an initial dislike to my appearance and had decided to punish me for it indefinitely.

As she'd berate me, our teammates would snort in response, and though their glances my way were friendlier: none of them stepped in. That seemed to be the trend throughout my first weeks at practice. Despite Morena's pretty face, her tongue was both venomous and unmerciful. Most of the girls were friendly and welcoming, however, as the minutes ticked by, Morena's poison seemed to spread until most of them had turned against me. I became seen as a burden, rather than an asset. I was still eating in the canteen, scrambling for any semblance of dignity and pride, but I ate alone, while the rest of the squad ignored me, and Morena threw me daggers.

Things came to a head after one particular practice session. Morena was being her usual self, while I was gritting my teeth and getting on as much as I could. Despite her best efforts, I was holding my own in defence and returning whatever she was able to throw at me. Obviously, this was pissing her off to a whole new level, and her insults had upped since she couldn't better me on the court.

When she finally managed to smash a spike past me, her hair flailing out with streaks of sweat, she didn't hesitate in rubbing in the victory, however small it may have been. I was still sprawled on the court having unsuccessfully dived for the return. "Take that, bitch," she said, while approaching the net and flipping me off. "Right on the floor, where you belong." A few awkward sniggers followed from some of the other girls, before Morena turned and showed me the sole of her sneaker. "Eat my dust."

I groaned and rolled my eyes. By this point, I was literally sick of this stupid bitch's comments day after day. What had begun as some hurtful teasing during that first day in the canteen had escalated to constant harassment and bullying. Not only that, but there seemed to be nothing I could do to placate the treatment. Even when I played well during practice, Morena would still find any reason to put me down; one time my eye colour was up for abuse, even though they looked just like hers. I tried in vain for the rest of the session, but her treatment gradually demoralised me until my form waned and her score racked up.

After practice was over, all of the girls filtered out of the locker room except for Morena. She was sat up on the bench with her socked feet crossed up on her gym bag. She was completely invested in her phone and didn't even realise that I was still there. Evidently, bullying me was just a regular part of her day, and whereas I was rattled, Morena seemed unperturbed. Seeing how calm and placid she seemed, as well as being alone and not spurred on by her army of hangers-on, I spied an opportunity to settle our differences. The persistent harassment had to be exhausting for her too, and surely, she would prefer to just concentrate on our opposition and honing her performance. Despite Morena's persistent pettiness, it was time for one of us to act like an adult and show maturity.