But Izzy is Going Down.

As the day goes by, you continue to hammer down a plan to grind out **** against Izzy. By a cruel twist of fate, you don't share any classes with Penny, but of course you have to endure your final semester of English class with Izzy. Damn shame, too; if she weren't such a bitch, you'd have to commend her on her stellar grades. A rockin' bod, keen intellect, respect(garnered by fear), wealth and status? She really did have everything. Izzy reminds you of a meaner, more powerful version of Theresa, corrupted further by her own influence.

But now you have your own kind of power, which fuels your desire to level out the playing field. No material possessions of hers are safe as long as you have a marker in hand. Hell, if you wanted, you could systematically claim everything she owns, all the way down to her car and her home and her family—

Wait. Back up a sec. Remember your goal: You don't want to ruin Izzy's life, just get her to back off of yours. Don't fall into that dark pit of temptation, else you might not come back, and who knows what sort of chaotic debauchery you could get into if you let yourself go totally unhinged?

Just think for a moment. What can you take that would have a reasonable impact on Izzy? You're pretty sure anything that was lost from your locker purge will either be returned to her out of fear of invoking her wrath or simply replaced without another thought. All you really accomplished there was kicking the hornets' nest, perhaps giving her a sign of things to come. What is something valuable to Izzy that she can't write off as an unexpected expense?

Getting to English class early, your eyes scan around the room, looking for any possible sources of inspiration. You know where Izzy sits, grimly aware of the aura of cold ruthlessness that usually exudes from the back of the room. Maybe you could claim her desk? But what would that accomplish... there's several unattended desks in this room, the roster not filling them to capacity. Claim all the spare desks, then? It may be too much of a power play; an obvious show of intent that you're directly targeting Izzy. It may not even work if she decides to get to class early as well, taking a desk that doesn't have your name on it and putting some other poor sap on the spot. No, no... you need to target something that Izzy can't easily replace, not something that she just happens to use out of proximity. Think, Gavin, think!

Your back-and-forth thoughts wear away the free minutes between classes and before you know it, the teacher is in and everyone is already seated. Bummer. Ms. Bullara clears her throat and begins the lesson, although most of what you're doing in your last few months of classes is just wrapping up your folios. You still have reading assignments and a few vocabulary tests lined up here and there, but she's keen on giving you seniors as much time to polish your essays and short stories as she can, so the curriculum's ending throes aren't overwhelming.

Honestly, you thought the whole "student lusting after teacher" thing was a horrible trope that you wanted no part of, but... dangit, Ms. Bullara is cute as hell. Just because you didn't want to admit it didn't make her any less pretty. That was it, too: you don't so much lust after her as much as you... admire her. Sure, you can't say you haven't imagined on occasion what it might be like to hook up with a slightly older woman, fresh out of college and bold enough to teach high school, but the thoughts don't linger in your mind. Her bright ginger hair is quite voluminous, barely contained by scrunchies and pins into a poofy, stringy bun atop her head; a **** attempt at looking formal. Her hairstyle allowed a good look at her strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, making her look a bit less dainty that you'd prefer, but still quite lovely. With charming light blue eyes, modest makeup, and a slim physique, you could certainly appreciate how she looked in pencil skirts and light unbuttoned jackets. Her blouses always have colorful floral patterns on them, which you think is quite cute.

You're pretty sure she's been saying something about your latest assignment, but your mind has wandered anywhere and everywhere besides class projects. Refocusing, it seems she's emphasizing the importance of completing your folios, given how large a percentage of your final grade they are. Your eyes start to glaze over again, not really needing to worry about such things. You've already finished all but your last, current essay for the folio, and you're confident that your grades will not disappoint. At least not having many friends or a girlfriend to speak of means you've had plenty of time to keep your grades up. Silver lining! A good thing, too; you know many of the students in this class are pulling their hair out, kicking themselves for procrastinating until it's nearly too late. A bad grade on the folio is a **** sentence for one's GPA...

...That's it. That's it!! Your eyes flash and twinkle, a victorious grin streaking across your face as you finally figure it out.

Ms. Bullara notices your sudden jerk into an upright position, a wild look on your face. "Mr. Shaw, did you have something to add?"

"What?" You blinking, glancing around the room briefly. Perhaps you had made a little noise along with having your epiphany? "Oh, um... No, Ms. Bullara, sorry. But if it's no trouble, there's something I'd like to ask you after class, if you have a second?" You **** as disarming a smile as you can muster, trying to play it cool.

She smiles warmly, more surprised than anything that you would even disturb the class accidentally. You're normally so quiet and unassuming. "Very well, Mr. Shaw, we'll speak later. As I was saying..."

You can hear Izzy scoff in the back. You don't look back at her, didn't see her do it, but you just know.

~

After class, you quickly pack up your things and set them aside. You very pointedly wait for Izzy to leave the room, which is easy enough. She wouldn't give you the time of day if it weren't relevant to fucking you over. Once the bitch is off and away, you stride up to your teacher's desk, still wielding a relaxed smile. She smiles back for a blink, but her eyes quickly go back over some papers on her desk, trying to multitask.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Shaw? Are your assignments going well?"

"I'm doing fine, Ms. Bullara, thank you for asking. What I did want to ask, was..." You glance over at her computer, the large silver tower sitting near her feet beside the desk. You glance back between her and it, licking your lips nervously. "Oh... there's something stuck to the side of your computer," you lie. "Let me see if I can get it..."

Ms. Bullara groans softly, trying to peek over her desk to see, but quickly gives up for being too short. "Ugh, someone didn't block the vent again, did they? Thank you, Gavin." How rude! Who would be mean to a kind soul like Ms. Bullara? The very nerve.

"No problem, ma'am..." Of course, there's nothing there. Not yet. Silently prying the cap off your marker, you glance up at her again to make sure she's not looking as you quickly scrawl your name across the tower. With the deed done, you feign surprise once again.

"Oh, silly me! That's nothing, just my name on my computer."

"Your computer? Now wait just a second, what's—" With a rather unprofessional display, Bullara leans all the way across her desk, laying flat across it to peer down at the front of her computer tower. This gives you an unexpected peek down the front of her blouse, but she's a bit small for your tastes. Still, nice all the same. Looks like a simple black bra in there.

"Oh!" Her eyebrows lift, pushing herself back into an upright position. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Shaw, I had no idea I'd been using your computer in class all this time!" Ah, success.

"It's not a problem, ma'am," you assure her, hands gesturing calm. "It's just something on loan until the school can afford a decent replacement. I don't mind it being used, really." Lying really shouldn't come so easy to you, or so you think. "But, while we're on the subject, do you mind if I borrow my computer for a second?"

"Well, sure Gavin, it's your computer. I don't want to keep you from it, but whatever for?" She calms quickly as the situation resolves, smiling appreciatively at your generous consideration.

"Oh, I just wanted to take a quick peek at my folio, make sure all the files are up to date. I'd hate to get to the end of the year and not have the best versions submitted. I don't think I have time to run to the computer lab before my next class, and my computer's right here, so..."

Bullara nods, rising from her seat. "That ought to be fine, sure. I need to go down the hall for a moment anyway, so you go ahead and I'll be right back."

Ohh, that's perfect! Access to the teacher's computer and unsupervised? Your luck just keeps getting better. With a friendly wave as she exits the room, you wheel around your teacher's desk and quickly start searching through the files. It strikes you as a little odd that Ms. Bullara would be that accommodating to your request. Did owning the tower also mean you owned the files and access the computer had? Must be the case, else your teacher probably wouldn't let you snoop around through school data, even if you owned the physical equipment. That's handy information for the future.

Now is the time. Fishing through the document files, you find where Bullara is keeping your class folios, centering in on Isabelle Arlington's file. There's no reason to skim over her written pieces. You already know that Izzy has some of the best ones in classes, determined to secure herself a good GPA to make getting into a nice college more than just shoving money at it. Certainly got a lot to prove, doesn't she... you imagine you wouldn't have much of a problem letting your family's money speak for itself, if they had it. Do you even need to go to college, with the power you have in your hands? Focus!

Taking hold of Bullara's writing tablet and pen, you start making one small adjustment to each and every one of Izzy's documents she's accrued over her high school years. A signature. Your signature, laying claim to all of her work; without her folio, Izzy would be doomed to fail her senior English course, or possibly scrape by with a low D. Knowing how much pride Izzy has in any and all her accomplishments, this could be a deep wound and permanent stain on her otherwise clean and crisp record. You swallow hard, not entirely sure if a digital signature bears the same powers as the ones you make with a marker, but you feel oddly hopeful. If this doesn't work, you'll have quite a bit of explaining to do. If it does...

You can't help but grin. Now you're the one with leverage. You're the one with power over her. You're only exercising a tiny portion of the power you could have over her, and you can't ignore how excited that makes you feel. How merciful you are, to only toy with her a little bit, for all the beating and berating you've endured for years. This could be so much worse... it's a shame she can't appreciate it. Not yet, perhaps.