*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
The 2005 yearbook of St. Thomas Aquinas has the usual groups of photographs; graduating seniors, the other classes, faculty, sports and intramural clubs.
In the rear of the book are the various photographs of slices of life at St. Thomas Aquinas for the School year of 2004-2005.
One page is titled 'Crutches, braces and casts.' Kaitlin Monroe, broken arm in cast and sling, is the first photograph. More than one male developed an erection looking at this photograph; the strap of the sling drapes itself between Kaitlin's massive breasts and also stretches the white cotton blouse even tighter across her chest.
There is also a rare photograph of Elise Simone; she was more often behind the camera, instead of in front of it. She and Kelli Mouton and Rayne Sneed are standing, arms over each others' shoulders, all three smiling in exaggerated fashion, prominently displaying their bulky orthodontic braces.
At the bottom of the page is a photograph of Becky Trahan. It must have been a long day for the twenty year old girl; she is sound asleep in her wheelchair, head lolled back, mouth open in a silent snore, as Gretchen Dunbar pushes her across the parking lot toward the busses.
"Elise, get out of here!" Gretchen laughed as Elise Simone popped up, Yearbook staff camera in hand. "You know she'll kill you if take a picture of her like that!"
"Uh huh," Elise said and snapped two quick shots of her friends, then ran off before Gretchen could give chase.
Alicia Thibodaux Dunbar tightened her lips as her step-daughter sullenly pushed the scrambled eggs around on the plate.
"If you don't want to eat the damned things, don't," Alicia finally snapped.
"Bye," Gretchen snapped back and grabbed her backpack off the counter.
"Do my God damned best put a roof over your head, make sure you don't starve to death, no 'thank you,' no 'kiss my ass,' no nothing," she muttered.
"Okay. Kiss my ass," Gretchen chirped out brightly before slamming the door of the trailer she and her stop-mother lived in.
"God damned fucking smart ass bitch," Alicia screamed.
She had met Richard Dunbar on –line; the two shared a passion for Zydeco music and dancing. The fact that he lived in Brooklyn, New York and Alicia in Bender, Louisiana meant that their contact with each other was limited to instant messaging, on-line chats. They e-mailed each other photographs and Alicia drooled over his; he was a fireman, looking splendid in his uniform.
According to his profile, he was a thirty six year old single dad, raising a thirteen year old daughter. His ex-wife was nowhere to be found; she'd left for work one morning and never returned.
"I'd never leave you," the thirty eight year old Alicia wrote.
"It's not so much me, it's our daughter," Richard lamented in reply. "It's what it's done to her that bothers me. I can find another wife; finding a mom is a whole other ball game."
"Is she as wonderful as you?" Alicia replied.
The school picture that Richard e-mailed showed a piggish looking girl. She obviously took after her father, having his bulbous nose, thin lips, and small, flat brown eyes. She also had his blonde hair and cut her hair nearly as short as Richard did.
By the time Alicia arrived in New York, she was madly, hopelessly head over heels in love with Richard. Gretchen was surly, despondent, and angry that someone else was taking the affection of the man she admired and loved. Alicia quickly saw that she was fighting a losing battle, trying to win the girl over, so she quit trying and focused her attention on Richard.
Richard and Alicia married in a civil ceremony on August 11, 2001 and enjoyed a brief honeymoon in Niagara Falls, New York, before settling down to domestic bliss.
"You're not my mom," Gretchen shrilled at the woman.
"And thank God for that," Alicia shrilled back.
Richard Dunbar and six others of his firehouse died September 11 when the towers came down.
Step-mother and step-daughter numbly packed up their belongings and moved back to Bender, Louisiana.
"Why I got to live in this hick town?" Gretchen demanded.
"Believe me, if I knew where your mother was..." Alicia said through tightly clenched teeth.
"I am so truly sorry for your loss," Brother Dominick said to the sullen girl as step-mother and step-daughter sat in his office, trying to get her into class, even though the school year had already been in session for six weeks.
"Thanks," Gretchen said, sensing the man's sincerity. "So, um, if you a brother, that makes you kind of like a father, right?"
"Brothers or monks are a separate order from priests," Brother Dominick smiled at Alicia's obvious embarrassment.
"I think I'll like it here," Gretchen said to Alicia, a rare moment of agreement passing between the two.
"Good, good," Alicia said, happy. "I loved it here when I went here and Brother Dominick's a whole lot nicer than Brother Francis ever was."
The good feeling, the closeness continued for the rest of the day when step-mother and step-daughter went and bought the school uniform. Until Alicia pointed out that they would need to get Gretchen the appropriate undergarments.
"I hate bras," Gretchen complained. "I ain't got no boobs anyway, why I got to wear them?"
"Boobs or not, your nipples are quite visible in that blouse," Alicia said through pursed lips.
"I'll wear a tank, or one of those camisoles," Gretchen offered.
"Fine, fine, what ever," Alicia agreed, tired of fighting, wanting the camaraderie they had been enjoying earlier.
The eighteen year old now had boobs, but still balked at wearing a bra. She now preferred the attention her bra-less breasts received, giggling and gasping as her schoolmates grabbed and mauled her breasts and her often panty-less rear and crotch as well.
She really didn't like the sex, didn't enjoy the sex, but saw it as the only way she could get any attention out of the males at St. Thomas Aquinas.
Becky Trahan was her cover; Becky's step-dad and step-brother both worked the midnight to eight shifts at the Bender mattress factory, leaving the girl at home alone.
Becky's Ataxia had advanced to the point that the girl was largely confined to her wheelchair or bed. Seeking treatment for her ataxia had kept her out of school for two years, which is why the girl was two years older than her peers.
Gretchen would claim she was staying at Becky's house to care for her. She would have her dates pick her up at Becky's house, drive her out to the Basin where they'd fuck, then she'd have them drop her off at Becky's house.
She and Becky would stay up late, giggling and laughing at Gretchen's description of her sexual escapades. Then they'd fall asleep in Becky's large bed. Gretchen wouldn't admit it, but she felt safe, secure in Becky's bed, with the rails along the sides, keeping both girls safe and sound, safe from falling out.
It was a shame, Gretchen surmised, that none of the guys would ever look at Becky twice. She was so pretty, and so funny, and so smart. But she had a neuromuscular disease that had robbed her of the ability to walk and was slowly robbing her of her other abilities as well. Her speech was horribly slurred and shaky and she often had trouble feeding herself.
The night Richard Boudreaux had taken her out; she had felt a small spark of something inside. He didn't just drive her straight to the Basin; he took her to A Touch of Sicily for pizza first. He was cute enough, with his sandy blonde hair and strong face. He didn't even flinch at holding her hand and she definitely felt that spark with him.
But it quickly disappeared when he demanded anal sex. Gretchen had never had anal sex but knew that it probably hurt. A lot. A guy's cock was big enough when it battered into her dry pussy; it certainly would hurt battering into her rectum.
Then he said it out loud, what every one in school felt but none had been grown up enough to admit it. He told her she was ugly, that he didn't want to look at her face while they fucked, that she was nothing but a hole for him to throw his load into.
She was so upset that she didn't even bother to have him drop her off at Becky's house, had him bring her straight home to the trailer she and Alicia lived in. She couldn't face Becky, couldn't look at those deep green eyes that pretty smile. She felt miserable, and wanted to wallow in her misery for a while.
"My, you're home early," Alicia said bitingly.
If Gretchen thought Alicia did not know that Becky was just a cover for her whoring around, Gretchen was mistaken. Bender was a small town and the St. Thomas Aquinas community was smaller still. Alicia had put her step-daughter on birth control pills the moment they'd moved back to Bender and Alicia was more fanatical about Gretchen taking the little pill than she was about taking the pill herself.
"God, for whatever reason, you decided to put that girl in my life, but I'll be damned if I'm going to take her AND a screaming brat too," Alicia would mutter to herself as she doled out the pill,
"Uh huh," Gretchen sullenly sniffed and slammed the door to her bedroom.
A moment later, Gretchen's music, came blaring through the thin veneer walls of the trailer.
"Turn that shit off!" Alicia demanded, which only made Gretchen turn it up louder.
"Where are you?" Becky murmured into the phone.
"Home," Gretchen sniffed.
"Why?" Becky asked. "I sat up and waited and waited, you're never later than eleven o'clock and when you didn't come, I got..."
"I just didn't feel like it, all right?" Gretchen snapped and hung up.
Becky lay in her bed and sobbed; her best friend didn't want to be with her and wouldn't tell her why.
"Hey, hey, why you crying?" Marvin asked from her doorway.
"No, Dad, please," Becky begged. "What you doing home anyway?"
"Called in sick," he smiled as he entered her bedroom.
Gretchen spread it all over the school that Richard Boudreaux was a sick freak, wanting to fuck her up her ass. She was only slightly comforted by the icy reception Richard was now receiving from the other females at St. Thomas, though. His words still hurt.
And poor Becky. She assured and reassured her friend that the terse response she'd been given was not her fault; that she and Gretchen were still the best of friends.
"My step-dad's talking about taking my Mom's insurance money and getting me one of those vans, you know, with the lift on it?" Becky excitedly told the group as they ate their lunch.
"Like the bus?" Kelli asked.
"Yeah," Becky said and swatted at Rayne's hand as Rayne wiped the corner of Becky's mouth.
"Well I'm sorry," Rayne protested. "Had a big old chunk of Cole slaw just hanging there."
"Yeah, looked like dick juice," Gretchen chimed in, earning a slap from both Becky and Elise.
"Gross!" Elise screeched.
"Oh shut up!" Gretchen laughed.
"Ew, did he really want to...?" Rayne asked as Richard Boudreaux walked by their table.
"Yeah, believe that?" Gretchen said.
"How you, I mean, it ain't supposed to go up, oh God, I don't even want to know!" Kelli said and shuddered at the thought.
The four others laughed as Kelli's bright red blush matched her bright red hair.
"You come over tonight?" Becky begged, clutching onto Gretchen's arm tightly.
"All right," Gretchen agreed.
Tommy McElroy walked by, trailing behind Kaitlin Monroe, eliciting sighs from the five friends.
"He wanted to," Kelli said. "Um, you know THAT? I'd let him."
"After he got through with me," Gretchen agreed.
Alicia did not believe that Gretchen was really spending the night at Becky's house, but also did not care. She had a date with a nice older man, one of the floor supervisors at the mattress factory. If her step-daughter was out of the way, she didn't have to worry about maintaining a modest appearance in front of the girl.
Besides that, they couldn't very well go back to his place; he was married.
"But it's not like we've been happy for a long time," he confided to Alicia.
"But it's not like I give a shit," Alicia said to herself. "I just want some hot cock. Then you can go on home and leave your dirty socks on her floor."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Gretchen whispered to Becky as they lay in her bed. "But I felt so bad after he said all them things, I just didn't feel like..."
"But I would have let you cry it all out," Becky protested.
"I know," Gretchen said.
"I can't believe he said that to you," Becky said, her shaky voice becoming shakier with her emotions. "You're not ugly."
"Thanks, Becky, but look at me!" Gretchen laughed. I'm no hottie."
"I think you are," Becky admitted.
"You're so sweet," Gretchen said and snuggled up to her friend.
"Hey, um, Gretchen, right?" Marvin Stanford said from the doorway.
"Dad, what you doing here?" Becky asked, voice quavering slightly.
"Hi Mr. Stanford," Gretchen said.
"Don't go in until midnight; got..." the man said, looking at his watch "Almost three hours."
"Oh," was all Becky said.
"Y'all have fun," the man said and left the bedroom.
"Hey butt breath, Michael, her step-brother teased as he walked past the open door of Becky's bedroom.
"Shut up!" Becky shrilled.
They heard a baseball game playing in the living room and soon the sounds lulled both girls to sleep.
Alicia smiled; Gretchen had given in to Alicia's demands that she spend at least one night at home, and brought Becky into the trailer.
"And when I bought this trailer, they already had the rails in the bathroom and everything," Alicia told the girl.
"Oh cool," Becky said and dug into the spaghetti with determination.
Alicia watched the girl struggle with the slippery noodles and cursed herself. The poor girl was having so much difficulty and was getting most of it on her face and throat, that is, what wasn't falling onto her blouse and into her lap.
"Please, let me," Gretchen whispered and finally, shamefaced, Becky nodded her head in agreement.
She watched her selfish, self-centered step-daughter lovingly feed the other girl.
"Thank you," Becky whispered.
"Next time, hey, what's your favorite dinner?" Alicia asked. "Next time, I'll make sure that's what we have, okay?"
"Fried chicken," Gretchen answered for Becky.
"Yeah," Becky agreed enthusiastically.
"Oh yeah?" Alicia smiled. "And why's that?"
"'Cause, you can just grab it with both hands and start eating!" Becky said happily.
"And if it gets all over the place, who cares?" Gretchen finished for her friend.
In a rare moment of ease between step-mother and step-daughter, Alicia quietly told Gretchen, "I like your friend; she's sweet."
"Thanks, Alicia," Gretchen said sincerely.
"Now, what about breakfast?" Alicia asked Becky.
"Why don't you just overcook some eggs?" Gretchen said, letting Alicia know the warm and friendly moment was past.
"I like oatmeal," Becky said. "'Course, it's cold by the time I'm finished, but, ooh, you got that brown sugar kind? That's my favorite."
"Yeah, we got that instant oatmeal," Gretchen said. "I'll see if we got the brown sugar ones."
"I um, I like the apple and cinnamon one too," Becky said.
"How about the raisin?" Alicia asked.
"Raisins are gross," Gretchen answered for her friend.
"Yeah, I hate raisins," Becky agreed.
"Now, how you know Becky doesn't like raisins?" Alicia asked her step-daughter.
"Whenever we have carrot salad at school, I get all of hers," Gretchen answered. "There's two of the brown sugar ones left; that enough?"
"Uh huh," Becky agreed.
Alicia watched the two girls and wondered why Gretchen wasn't sweet and considerate like this all the time.
"Sorry, my bed doesn't have the rails like yours does," Gretchen apologized. "But, we'll put you up against the wall and I'm right here; you should be snug as a bug in a rug, okay?"
Alicia listened to the two girls as they settled down and again wondered why her step-daughter wasn't like this all the time.
"Where's that come from?" Becky asked.
"What?" Gretchen asked.
"'Snug as a bug in a rug,'" Becky asked. "I mean, where's that come from?"
"I don't know, they just say that," Gretchen shrugged.
"And who's 'They?'" Becky asked. "I mean, you always here people saying that, 'well, that's what they say,' but..."
"Becky, shut up," Gretchen laughed.
Alicia heard the two girls giggling and smiled as she turned off the lights in the trailer.
In the morning, she watched as Gretchen lovingly helped her friend get dressed and ready for school. Then she put the oatmeal bowls down on the table.
"Here, sweetheart, let's put this on you so you don't get your blouse dirty," she said and put a dishtowel around Becky's neck.
The spoon missed Becky's mouth and got her on the cheek instead.
"Please, let me?" Gretchen asked after the third attempt failed.
"But you got to eat too," Becky sputtered.
"You, then me, then you, then me, okay?" Gretchen said and guided the spoon into Becky's mouth.
She then stuck a spoon of her raisin oatmeal into her own mouth.
"How come you're not like that all the time?" Alicia finally asked as Gretchen gathered up their school books.
Gretchen looked at her for a long moment, mulling over several sarcastic answers, and then shrugged her shoulders.
"I guess it's because she needs me; you don't. You don't even want me," Gretchen said.
"That's not true," Alicia hastened to assure the girl, but knew Gretchen was right; she had not wanted her step-daughter.
"Where's your friend?" Marvin asked as Becky pulled herself out of the wheelchair into her bed.
"Date," Becky said.
"Yeah?" Marvin asked and licked his thin lips, a nervous habit he had.
"Yeah, but she'll be here right after," Becky hastened to warn her step-father.
"Means she'll be here..." he looked at his watch.
"No, Dad, please don't, it hurts," Becky began to sob.
Gretchen felt her tears running down as another boy climbed on top of her and thrust into her.
Jack had taken her out, picked her up at Becky's house and drove her straight to the Basin. Then he climbed on top of her, thrust twice and bellowed as he emptied his balls into the condom.
"Hey, wait a minute!" she protested when Mike Chamblee climbed into the rear of the car.
"Look, you ugly fucking cunt," Jack had hissed in her face, slapping her face several times to get her attention.
Mike was also quick to finish and she was sure her ordeal was over.
"How much for up the ass?" she heard a voice ask.
"Fifty," she heard Jack answer.
Her protests were unheeded and her screams did not stop the man.
"Go ahead," Jack laughed when Gretchen threatened to go to the police and press charges against him. "Like they'd fucking believe you? You're just the school cum dumpster, stupid fucking bitch. And you got no proof anyhow; we all wore fuck bags."
She wanted him to bring her home; she did not want to look into Becky's face, didn't want to tell Becky about this horrible, humiliating night. But she knew Becky would be upset if she did not come over, did not spend the night.
Plus that, she knew Alicia had her boyfriend over tonight. Alicia did not want to see her and didn't want Gretchen seeing who her latest boyfriend was. Gretchen had already deduced that her step-mother's boyfriend was married.
"So, what'd y'all do?" Becky asked as Gretchen slid under the covers next to her.
"Fucked, what else?" Gretchen said tightly.
"Was it good?" Becky wanted to know. "I mean, Jack's like a real butt hole, but I guess he's..."
"No, he's so small," Gretchen said maliciously.