Christina gloats

Christina struts through the halls of the school in her slacks, ignoring the phalanxes of students left and right as she bares straight toward Mr. Doe’s nine o’clock class. Most of her fellow classmates pay little attention to the young woman with the confident smile. But on this particular morning the spicy Latina is a little more assured than usual as she walks toward the classroom. Her gait is aggressive, direct, and not a little cocky.

She quickly unzips her book bag as she settles into her desk, reading the day’s chapter over and over again, her notebook at her side. She scans her bloodshot eyes along the cryptic notes in the margins, trying to remember their meaning in the ten minutes or so left until the teacher walks in and shuts the door behind him.

She suppresses a yawn as her eyes glaze over the blackboard. She wishes she went to bed earlier, but there is only so much an eighteen year old soccer player can do. Between practicing her serve in the backyard, helping her mother around the house, and writing papers for her other classes, something had to give.

That she’d devoted a good portion of her evening to boning up on today’s discussion speaks volumes. It didn’t help that her thoughts drifted back to the teacher, fantasizing about what he’d do to her next. She fought off the urge to stick her hands down her pajamas and pleasure herself the whole night, though she was sorely tempted to do so.

Thank God for Starbucks.

The door slams, jarring her awake. She glances up at Mr. Doe, clean shaven in khakis and vest, looking more like an accountant than the man-beast who ravished her the day before. She blushes at the thought of the tryst, glancing occasionally at her classmates to see if they’d notice. Fortunately, they have other things on their minds, though she wouldn’t put it past them if they were entertaining fantasies of their right about now.

No accounting for the seduction of low hanging fruit. After all, she should know.

“Anyone read chapter six?” The instructor’s voice is pleading. “Anyone? Anyone?”

Christina raises her hand.

“Yes, Ms. Sanchez?”

“Is it true that poets still use iambic pentameter today?”

“Why, yes, Ms. Sanchez. In fact, Edna St. Vincent Millay is considered the 20th Century’s foremost expert in the style, and so did several others. Wallace Stevens, W.H. Auden, the guy who wrote the Prufrock poem…”

“T.S. Eliot.”

“Thanks. You really did read it last night.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

Mr. Doe calls on another student as the class becomes more animated. More students raise hands or simply chime in, offering their two cents even if it’s tangentially connected to the subject at hand. Without realizing it, Christina has saved the day, or rather, the morning.

The only person not interested is Evelyn, who buries her face in her book in an ill-disguised effort at catching up on her sleep. The teacher smacks her desk with his ruler several times, eliciting growls and whispered profanities from the Asian. Despite her experiences after school and in his own home, she’s still the same as she ever was: stubborn and unwilling to learn.

“Enjoying your nap, Ms. Lu?”

She narrows her eyes at him.

“Not as much as the other day.”

He glares at her.

“Something you want to share with the rest of the class?”

She bites her tongue, remembering the torrid trysts with Mr. Doe a few days ago.

“No sir.”

The class resumes its discussion sans Evelyn, who resumes her sleep. As the class files out, she spies Christina and the instructor chatting. Her face grows red. The nerve of that girl! How dare she even speak to him!

She watches the Latina covertly as the day goes on, becoming increasingly envious of her. She recalls the arrogant gait of the girl as she walked to class, brimming with a confidence that defies description. No doubt she’s sampled some of Mr. Doe’s decadent wares. Evelyn may be a bit of a slut, but if there’s one thing she doesn’t like, it’s a show-off. And as far as she's concerned Sanchez is the biggest show off of all.

She corners Christina as she walks to her car, flanked by Dani and Becky.

“Going somewhere, Christina?”

The midfielder instinctively turns around, fists balled in anticipation of a fight. It’s no secret that she and Evelyn have had their differences—ever since Evie was passed over during soccer tryouts she’s had it out for her enemy. Cheerleading filled that hole in many ways, but not as satisfying as it would’ve been to taste soccer glory.

“Evelyn Lu.” Christina smiles facetiously. “Is this a social call or have you come to have it out with me again? I guess a black eye wasn’t a strong enough warning for you.”

Evelyn grimaces, remembering the horseplay that earned her a black eye and a stint in ISS for a week. How Christina got out of it unscathed and squeaky clean is anyone’s guess.

“Don’t you have a softball game to run to, you overweight little—“

“For the last time, I’m not gay.”

“Well you certainly act like it.”

“Says the slut who fucked Dani and Becky.” Christina shoots a look at the two cheerleaders.

“How’d you know about that?” Evelyn growls.

“Heard it from the grapevine, just like everybody else.”

“You bitch! You slept with Mr. Doe, didn’t you?”

Christina smirks.

“You’re not the only one who’s in need of academic assistance.”

“That’s it, puta. You’re on!”

The two grapple each other, struggling to remain planted on the ground despite their attempts to knock each other down. Evelyn gasps as Christina knees her in the stomach, doubling over. The Latina yanks her hair, eliciting cries.

“OWWW!”

“That’s what you get for calling me fat, you chino slut.”

Christina slams her against the pavement, skinning her knees and earning Evie not a few scratches on her face and hands.

“You hurt her!” Dani yells. “You’re gonna pay!”

Evie waves her lover off, dismissing her offers for help even as she whimpers in pain.

“Please, girls. This is just between me and her.”

She glances at Christina’s frame towering over her, looking superior as she gloats at her bruised opponent.

“I’ll make you a deal.”

The soccer player looks askance at the offer.

“What is it?”

“You beat me and my friends over there.” Evelyn points at Becky and Dani. “And I’ll never call you bitch, fatso, whore or any of those other names again. In fact you won’t have to see my face. Ever.”

“Okay. And if I lose?”

Evelyn grins.

“You have to eat out the entire cheerleading squad. While I watch.”

Christina takes a moment to let the consequences sink in.

“Okay.” She agrees. “But no wussing out.”