tagNovels and NovellasYearbook 2005--n/c

Yearbook 2005--n/c


*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Ch 1

In the St. Thomas Aquinas yearbook of the 2004-2005 school years, the thin volume held the usual groupings. The graduating class of 2005, followed by the various seniors that won various awards, such as 'Best Christian Example,' (Elise Simone) and 'Friendliest,' (Rayne Sneed) and so forth. Then there are the other classes, the faculty, the intramural sports and extra curricular clubs. The rear of the book is filled with various groupings highlighting various activities, highlights of day to day life at St. Thomas Aquinas.

Bernie Melancon's shy smile and David Melancon's sullen scowl were one of the four photographs on the page titled 'New Friends.' Richard Boudreaux had been standing next to Bernie, part of the reason for her shy smile, when the photograph had been taken, but he was cropped out, only his forearm visible. He was not a 'new Friend' at St. Thomas Aquinas.

Bernadette 'Bernie' has short red hair, very thick and very tightly coiled. Even though the photograph is black and white, there is no mistaking the fact that her hair is a carrot orange in color. Her hazel eyes are large and expressive, and her nose a snub little Bulb above thin lips and a receding chin.

She stood at four foot eleven (she swore she was five feet tall) and sported a thirty four C chest, which looked substantially larger on such a small frame, a twenty five inch waist, and thirty inch hips.

A few of the boys asked the new girl out, but the eighteen year old had eyes for only one boy in the Senior Class, the eighteen year old Richard Boudreaux. Besides, she noticed, that when the boys asked her out, their eyes never went above her chest.


"Ah come on, boy, Aunt Maggie'll pay you for it," his dad had said, growing irritated with his sullen son. "And what you got better to do anyway? Hanging out with Mike and what's that little loser's name, Jack?"

"And Bernie will be right there; she'll probably do most of the work anyway," Beth had said, knowing little smirk on her lips.

"Yay, whoopee," Richard had sullenly muttered.

He remembered Bernadette Melancon from the wedding when dad and Beth got married; she had been a scrawny ugly little fourteen year old red head that followed him everywhere at the reception, wanting to dance, wanting to eat, wanting to have his attention.

Beth and Aunt Maggie and Uncle Joe had thought it was so cute, 'Puppy Love,' they kept calling it.

Then his mother had moved to Houston, Texas and he very rarely got to see his dad or Beth or his new Aunt and Uncle and their seven children.

Two years later, his mother, fighting a losing battle with clinical depression and chemical addiction finally succumbed to the disease and slashed her wrists. Her latest boyfriend found her lifeless body in the bathtub, sparing Richard that horrific ordeal.

Richard moved back to Bender, Louisiana, moved in with Dad and Beth. They tried to help him, but he withdrew from them and from anyone else that tried to reach out to him.

At St. Thomas Aquinas, a welcome change from the hostile public school of Houston, he gravitated toward Jack Vogel, whose own father had committed suicide, and Mike Chamblee, another boy that felt like no one understood, or cared about him.

At least Bernie wasn't there, stuck up his butt the whole time. Uncle Joe had moved Maggie, Bernadette, and the other six Melancon brats nearly one thousand miles away to Atlanta, Georgia.

"Good riddance," Richard thought, smirking to himself.

Bernadette and her six brothers and sisters were brats, noisy and irritating brats as far as Richard was concerned. The whole world was full of brats and people that deserved to hurt as much as he was hurting.

Whenever Joe and Maggie and the Melancon clan trekked the one thousand mile drive for holidays or summer breaks, Richard made sure he was anywhere else but home.

"Hey, don't you need like, gas money, or insurance money for that car I bought you?" Beth snapped, also tiring of Richard's sullen behavior.

"Yeah, fine," Richard snapped and slammed his way out of the house.

Maggie and the kids had moved back to Bender two weeks ago, when Uncle Joe had come home and announced to the submissive, docile Maggie that 'he'd found the love of his life' and was leaving them for his twenty two year old secretary.

Georgia is a 'No Fault' state so the meek Maggie would not be awarded alimony of any sort. They'd not been able to afford a home big enough for all of their children and themselves, so they were still renting. The remainder of the marital assets was split up easily enough; Maggie got the large van and Joe ran out and bought a brand new Lexus for himself.

Child support, however, was a non-negotiable expense and Joe was stunned to find out just how much he would be paying for several more years.

His girlfriend, once she deduced how little of his meager income would be left after child support, saw that she would be expected to help out with the household expenses and 'fell out of love' with Joe Melancon.

In a rare moment of strength and fortitude, Maggie Melancon told Joe she wished him well, but he would not be living with her and her children. She packed the children into the van, hooked up a trailer to the vehicle, and carted them back to Bender, leaving Joe to fend for himself.

That sort of determination was rare indeed for Maggie Melancon and even Richard had to nod his head in admiration of her for standing up for her and her children.

{"How many Maggies does it take to change a light bulb?" his dad would joke.

"How many?" Richard would ask; Beth wouldn't ask, she'd just glare daggers at the two of them.

"Oh no, don't bother, really, I don't mind, it's all right, we can just sit her in the dark, really, it's no trouble, I wouldn't want you to put yourself out," his dad would answer and they would laugh.

"Y'all aren't funny, you know that?" Beth would hiss at the two of them.}

All of Joe's e-mails were deleted, his phone messages erased, and, on the rare occasions that Maggie would answer the constantly ringing telephone, she'd tell him she wished him all the happiness in the world, but she wasn't coming back and he wasn't welcome there.

"Plus that," Beth said. "Bernie's quite the cutie-pie."

Richard groaned; Beth's idea of 'cute' left a lot to be desired. And of course she would think her own niece was cute.

"And she's still carrying a torch for you," Dad said, smirking.

He cranked up Rage against the Machine's Bulls on Parade, knowing that Beth really hated the way his subwoofer shook and rattled the windows, then drove away. She would tell him it sounded like that gang down the street, the Angels 270.

Dad and Beth thought it was so cute, an ugly little bitch having the hots for him.

"Wonder how fucking cute they'd think it was if they came in and caught me jamming the stupid cunt ups her ass?" Richard muttered to himself as he drove to the address Beth had given him.

He had a bit of an anal fetish; searched for pictures and mpeg clips on the internet all the time. He'd even taken Gretchen Dunbar out on a date; she was easy enough, fucking anyone who asked, but she balked at anal sex.

"No, that shit fucking hurts," she said. "Why we can't just fuck, huh?"

"'Cause I got to look at your fucking ugly face when we just fuck," Richard had spat at her. "Least if I fuck your fat ass, I ain't got to see your face looking at me."

"What the fuck ever, ass hole, just takes me home, huh?" she demanded.

She told everyone at school about his 'weird' desire and very few girls would accept dates with him; most of them wouldn't even talk to him.

He rolled his eyes; he could hear the cacophony as he walked up the steps to the front door. He had to knock twice, the second time almost pounding his fist on the door before it was yanked open.

He looked at a somewhat homely girl, about his age, sporting a really nice set of boobs in a snug tee shirt. He'd do her. He just wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he'd do her.

"Mom!" the girl screamed out. "Richard's here!"

"Okay, I won't be long, we're just going out to that new casino, y'all behave yourselves, y'all pay attention to Richard, I better not hear that y'all was bad or you'll really get it when I get home, my goodness, Richard, you've really grown! You're eighteen, right? My God, you're just as handsome as your father, oh you're going to be quite the heartbreaker, come give me a kiss, Philip I'm talking to you, come give Momma a kiss, y'all behave, you hear me, we'll probably be back about eleven, no later than eleven thirty, okay, your dad said you can sleep on the couch if you're tired before I get back, love you, it's so good to see you again, bye," and the short red headed woman left a cloud of her overly done perfume and was gone.

True to Beth's prediction, Bernadette did do most of the work; Richard just provided the muscle to back up her demands.

"Aw, why I got to take a bath?" five year old Philip whined.

"Yeah, huh?" his twin sister, Phyllis joined in.

"'Cause neither one of you knows how to wipe your butts and you stink," Richard said, which sparked loud raucous laughter out of all of them.

"Yeah, come on, stinky butts, bath time," Bernadette ordered and marched the children up the stairs.

"I'm going to be taller than you," David, the sixteen year old, challenged.

"Uh huh, and I care why?" Richard shrugged.

"Okay, David, Bee, Tammy, Patty," Bernadette barked, clapping her hands to get their attention.

"Don't call me that!" Patrick screamed.

"Whatever, Patricia," David sneered.

"See? See?" Patrick screamed.

"Sorry, Patrick," Bernadette said. "Come on, dinner."

Dinner was hot dogs, chili, and macaroni and cheese and Bernadette was an expert at separating the portions so that each child got the right amount and no one child seemed to get more than any other child.

"You want some?" Bernadette asked, already fixing Richard a plate.

"Um, yeah, sure," Richard agreed.

"Okay, what you want to drink?" she asked, swinging open the refrigerator door.

Richard looked at her round little bottom in her cut off jeans.

"We got strawberry, orange, this stupid grape stuff..." Bernadette itemized.

"Hey, I like that grape stuff!" Patrick screeched.

"You want some?" Bernadette asked him.

"Yes ma'am," he said, prompting David to comment about what a sissy Patty was.

"Shut up," Richard ordered.

"I want some grape stuff too," Bee demanded.

"Orange for me," David demanded.

"Orange for me, what?" Bernadette prompted.

"Please," David said, and then paused for a long moment. "Fart face."

"Uh huh, now you get nothing," Bernadette said, serving the others their drinks.

"I'm bigger than you," David threatened.

"And I'm bigger than you," Richard threatened back.

"Not for long," David shot back.

"Then I guess I better kill you now so you don't get bigger than me, huh?" Richard said.

"Richard, that's not nice," Bernadette chided him lightly, touching his arm to let him know she wasn't really angry with him.

Richard scowled into her large hazel eyes. Her eyes held him for a long moment and he finally looked away.

"Now, what you want to drink?" she asked him. "Orange, grape, strawberry?"

Then she mouthed the word 'beer' and he smiled and nodded his head yes.

"Oh damn it!" she shrieked. "Forgot about Philip and Phyllis!"

She dashed out of the kitchen-dining area and Richard heard her feet as she ran up the stairs.

"Hey," Bee whispered to Richard.

"What?" he snapped.

"Bernie likes you," Bee said, prompting giggles from herself, Tammy and Patrick.

"Yeah?" Richard said. "And?"

"What is going on in here?" he heard Bernadette demand. "The soap isn't even wet!"

"Do you like her?" Tammy prodded.

"Um, I don't remember that being any of your business," Richard said, prompting more squeals and shrieks from the three younger children.

"I swear to Jesus, y'all better get busy or you'll be seeing Him real soon," he heard Bernadette yell.

"She says that all the time," Patrick confided to Richard.

"Yeah, but she don't mean it," Tammy assured him.

"And?" Richard said again.

"Richard!" Bernadette yelled out and he got to his feet.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Need an extra hand," she called out.

"Just fucking great," he muttered, earning gasps from Bee, Tammy, and Patrick.

Richard roughly dried an uncooperative Philip while Bernadette dried a docile Phyllis. Then they helped the twins into their pajamas.

"Now, who's hungry?" Bernadette asked the two and herded them out of the disaster area.

"I'll get that," Bernadette hastened as Richard began to mop up the massive amount of water the twins had splashed onto the floor.

"Fine," Richard sullenly said.

"I mean, I do appreciate it, but I can do it," Bernadette hastened to placate his feelings.

"Whatever," he said and stomped back down the stairs.

Typical. Even when he tried to help, tried to be a part of the team, he was pushed away.

Ch 2

"What?" Patrick screamed. "Why I got to go to bed? Mom ain't home yet!"

"Because it's ten o'clock," Bernadette screamed back.

"So? You ain't my mom, you don't tell me what to do!" Patrick argued back.

"No, but I do," Richard said, getting to his feet.

"Then Tammy and Bee got to go to bed too," Patrick whined as Bernadette marched him up the stairs.

"What, you the bed time police now?" Bernadette asked.

"Yeah!" Patrick yelled, giggling. "You're under arrest!"

"What time you got to go to bed?" Richard asked David.

"When Mom gets here," David snapped, matching Richard's sullen attitude.

"Nuh uh!" Bee said. "Ten thirty!"

"Tattle tale," David yelled.

Richard grabbed another beer out of the refrigerator and drank from it quickly, even though he didn't particularly like the taste of it.

"Give me some," Bernie begged, pressing herself tightly against him.

He gave her the can and she took a hefty gulp, and then smiled up at him.

Despite his bad mood, he couldn't help but return her smile.

"Thanks," she whispered after taking a second hefty gulp.

He finished off the beer and jammed it into the recycling bin Aunt Maggie had set up in the kitchen.

A quick survey of the pantry revealed a half gallon of whiskey, a half gallon of vodka and a couple of smaller bottles of rum, gin, and tequila.

"That's for when Mom and Dad was having parties when we was in Atlanta," Bernie said from behind him, startling him.

"Oops, sorry!" she giggled then lost her smile as he scowled darkly at her.


"What you want to watch?" Bernie asked when David finally fussed and whined and stomped his way upstairs to his bedroom.

Anything but you, bitch," he thought.

He'd drank enough of the whiskey, that bottle held the most liquid and would most likely not be noticed to give himself a bit of a buzz and a bit of a headache.

"We got, um, I'm still trying to learn these channels, in Atlanta we had this satellite stuff and their numbers were all different than this cable junk, man, they ain't got anything here, huh?" Bernie rattled, very nervous, finally alone with Richard.

He was so handsome; dirty blonde hair cut short, light blue eyes, strong square face and a nice smile, when he did smile. He was taller than her, easily six feet tall, and muscular. Not overly muscular like a body builder, but you could see his muscles in his nice polo shirt and cargo shorts.

She found MTB and they watched a rerun of a reality show and both sat, watched, and groaned at the stupid antics of the show's stars.

"So, um, we're going to be going to St. Thomas you know?" Bernie suddenly said.

"Yeah? School year's already started," Richard said, not really paying her any attention.

"Um, yeah, but all our records transferred. I'm a senior," Bernie pressed on.

"Yeah, me too," Richard said, only slightly interested.

"Yeah, It a big school?" Bernie asked. "We were at Holy Cross? In Atlanta? And that school was HUGE! I mean, got lost just going from one class to the next!"

"Nah, St. Thomas's like this real little bitty shit whole dump," Richard groused.

"There any, um they got lots of cute boys?" Bernie asked.

"Yeah, like I pay any fucking attention to how many cute GUYS they got there," Richard spat.

"Well, I'd tell you if they had any hotties there," Bernie shrilled in response.

"Don't need you to tell me; they got a bunch of them," Richard grumbled.

"Yeah?" Bernie asked. "Um, they cuter than me?"

"They all are," Richard said, not thinking.

It took a moment for his alcohol addled brain to register why, all of a sudden, Bernie was running up the stairs, sobbing.

"Really smooth, sport," his dad would have said.

"Yeah, well fuck her," he answered his father's voice, answered out loud.

"Double bag her," Jack Vogel would laugh. Put one over her face, one for you in case herb's falls off!"

"Put a fucking bucket over her head; swing from the handle," Mike Chamblee would say.

He poured himself some more of Aunt Maggie's whiskey, adding quite a bit of diet cola. Diet cola was the only soft drink he could find, other than the strawberry, orange, and grape juices. Even as inexperienced as he was at drinking, he didn't think any of those would mix very well with whiskey.

He shuddered as he drank the foul tasting drink, but drank all of it, and then put the glass in the sink. A thought came and he put the glass into the dishwasher, toward the rear. Wouldn't do for Aunt Maggie to know he'd been in her liquor.


Maggie's face burned in shame. She wasn't even divorced yet, and yet she'd just had sex with a man she just met tonight.

Carl had looked so handsome in his baby blue sport shirt and khakis and had bought her a couple of drinks, then suggested they have a little bite to eat in the casino's restaurant.

Her cheeks burned even hotter when she reminded herself that sex was the very reason she'd gone there tonight, the very reason she'd put her diaphragm in before leaving the house.

She wiggled her bottom slightly; she could feel Carl's semen pooling in the crotch of her panties.

"Damn you, Joe Melancon," she thought as she turned the van into the driveway of her house.

"But Carl was a whole lot better than you've been in years," she smiled to herself as she opened the door to the house.

Richard lay on the couch, afghan covering him. Impulsively, she bent down and kissed his cheek before staggering up the stairs.

Richard felt his mother's lips touch his cheek, felt his mother's loving hand on his shoulder and softly began crying.

Maggie went into her bathroom and gingerly tried to retrieve her diaphragm. She felt around and could not locate it. She looked on the vanity and felt sick; it was still in the case.

Tammy had distracted her, whining about being left behind, and she'd comforted the child, intending to put the birth control device after she hustled Tammy out of the bedroom.

"Oh well, she half giggled, half sobbed. "What's one more?"


Breakfast was a loud, disorganized chaotic ordeal and Richard was grateful to finally be free of the Melancon Household. He and Bernie had been the only quiet ones; she avoided speaking to him, avoided even looking at him.

"Um, listen, I might need you again tonight that are all right?" Aunt Maggie had asked as she fished a ten and twenty out of her purse.

"Um, yeah, yeah, I guess so," Richard mumbled.

He felt guilty about how much Aunt Maggie had given him; Bernie did all the work. All he did was sit there. The hardest part was putting up with that snotty David.

He didn't even turn his stereo on as he drove the half mile to his own house.

"Loser, I mean Jack called for you," was his father's greeting.

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