Chapter 6

Linda wasn’t the only person that Sunday morning to take note of Mike’s comings and goings. From her bunk, high on the fourth floor of Overton House, Endora Hardin watched through the window as Mr. Messina drove the large moving truck onto school grounds shortly after ten and disappeared behind Leavitt Hall. Less than a minute later, Mr. Bingham and Ms. Stafford pulled their cars into the small administrative parking lot and walked around the building to join him.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered to herself. Were they there to clear out the lab? Should she call the others and tell them?

The true status of Mr. Messina’s employment at Scirewood had become a bit of a mystery, and a matter of intense debate and speculation over the past twenty-four hours. Shortly after the Robotics Club left the pool yesterday, new rumors began to circulate that Mr. Messina had not been fired after all, but was merely on vacation. Lexi Campbell overheard Ms. Rosen talking to someone about it on the phone, but she couldn’t get close enough to hear all the details. Something about attorneys and lawsuits and, at one point, Ms. Rosen called Ms. Linda a fat bitch and Ms. Richardson her ugly dyke lapdog.

Then, a short while later, Ms. Linda sent a bulletin to the entire school forbidding students from entering Mr. Messina’s lab until further notice. But why? No explanation had been given. Only the promise of suspension for those who got caught.

If Mr. Messina was supposed to be on vacation, then why was he here now, and why had he brought a moving truck to his lab on a Sunday? And why would students be barred from entering the lab? It made no sense unless he really was fired. But if that was true, then why would Ms. Rosen say he wasn’t?

Maybe she was mistaken and he hadn’t been fired at all. Maybe he was quitting instead. Maybe he found a better job at a better school with prettier girls. Girls who weren’t shy, awkward losers like the girls at Scirewood, but hot, confident, popular girls who weren’t afraid to let a man know how she felt about him. Cheerleaders and prom queens and teen models with thousands of Insta followers. Vacuous airheads with gorgeous faces and perfect bodies and big tits who knew how to seduce a hot man like Mr. Messina. Girls with experience, because they’d had sex with boys.

If anyone knew what was really going on with Mr. Messina, it would be the teachers of course, but Endora couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject with any of them. Especially not with the pretty and fit Ms. Rosen, who intimidated her terribly and made her feel like a fat, useless nobody in comparison.

Endora had cried her first day at Scirewood when she was told she’d have to wear the V-neck t-shirt and small gym shorts provided to her for Ms. Rosen’s PE class. She hated the way her body looked and did everything she could to hide it. Pale, almost ghostly skin dotted with moles, and almost no muscle tone to speak of. Skinny fat was the term. Her underarms and thighs jiggled when she ran, and she had a large butt, but it wasn’t round and shapely like Olivia’s. Instead hers was flat and dumpy, and could never quite fill out the seat of her pants. And her breasts, while not small, were different sizes, with large, oversized areolas, and they were already beginning to sag.

And then there were the scars. Tiny parallel lines marring her arms and thighs. She first began cutting herself in middle school to take away the emotional distress and pain of puberty, and to diffuse the confusing and inappropriate thoughts that sometimes invaded her mind when she looked at other girls.

She often stared at them, daydreaming about what they looked like naked. She fantasized about being with them. She thought about kissing their slender necks and soft, pouting lips. She wondered if their nipples were as sensitive as her own. What did their pussies smell and taste like? Could she bring them to an orgasm by licking them down there?

She thought about boys too, but not as often as she thought about girls. In fact, she often wished she had been born a boy instead of a girl. Not because she felt like a boy trapped in a girl’s body, but because boys had it so much easier. Girls were expected to be beautiful and perfect all the time, and other girls viciously attacked anyone who didn’t conform to their impossible standards. She envied the way boys could dress and look and act however they wanted.

Plus, she thought she could make someone a pretty good boyfriend. She didn’t consider herself a full on lesbo like Ms. Richardson, but the idea of having a relationship with a girl intrigued her. She would understand her insecurities because she had them too. She would hold and comfort her when she felt sad. She would tell her every day how beautiful she was. She would bring her flowers and take her out to dinner and, when the time came to finally have sex, she would know what to do because she already knew what felt good to her own body. She would know exactly where and how to touch her to bring her so much pleasure.

Other thoughts quickly followed this one and she opened her mind, allowing her imagination to run wild and carry her deeper into the realm of forbidden sexual fantasy. She thought about being in a relationship with not just one girl, but with many. To be shared among a harem of beautiful, young teenage girls. She imagined losing herself in a swarm of naked girl flesh, kissing and licking and touching them, eliciting moans and soft cries of pleasure. Faces contorted in exquisite delight appeared in her mind’s eye. Olivia’s beautiful face, and Mia’s, and Sophia’s, and Michelle’s, and Izzy’s, and Chloe’s, and Madison’s.

Try as she might to hold onto this idyllic image, however, her mind conspired to thwart her happiness as it always did, until dark, terrible thoughts shrouded her fantasy in shadow. Instead of imagining herself as an object of desire, someone to love and be loved, she imagined herself as an object of derision.

The girls mock her and laugh at her and call her a fat, ugly weirdo. They strip her naked and force her to crawl around on her hands and knees like a dog. She’s made to lick the bottoms of their dirty feet and the sweat from their armpits. And while they victimize her with their taunts and jeers, Mr. Messina stands behind her, abusing and punishing her with his dick.

He fucks her aching pussy with his big, thick cock, pounding her until she can hardly breathe. Spanking her and choking her and slapping her. Spitting in her face and pissing in her mouth. Even putting it in her butt. Using her and calling her terrible, awful names, just like he did to those girls in the videos. Treating her like a worthless whore who deserves only pain and suffering, because she’s nothing but an ugly, worthless cunt. A useless piece of human garbage.

Even as she spiraled further and further into a miasma of self-loathing, Endora found herself getting more and more turned on. The idea of being publicly humiliated and degraded in such an awful way caused her pussy to throb. The thought of Mr. Messina’s big cock violating every one of her tender holes while the other girls watched and laughed at her brought her hand sliding beneath the waistband of her panties, and what she felt there shocked her. A profound wetness unlike any she’d ever known before.

Her fingers moved of their own accord, first cupping her plump, furry mound, then stroking her frilly labia, before quickly seeking her slippery clit. It took only a few seconds of furious rubbing before she hunched over and stifled a cry, unprepared for the suddenness and intensity of the orgasm that seized her. She nearly wept for how good it made her feel, and fought the urge to pull off her soaking wet panties to do it again. Only more purposefully this time. She ached to feel something inside of her. To plunge her fingers into her pussy and aggressively fuck herself to a quivering orgasm.

She wouldn’t risk it though. A couple of her bunkmates were currently off campus visiting with their parents, the rest downstairs or outside somewhere with Ms. Rosen, but any one of them could stroll through the door at any moment. She couldn’t live with the embarrassment if they caught her masturbating, even though the thought of being discovered naked on the bed with her legs spread, shamelessly fingering herself, turned her on even more. God, what was wrong with her? Why did these awful, terrible thoughts constantly torment her? Why was she such a disgusting, perverted freak?

Endora struggled to clear her troubled mind, distracting herself by looking out the window toward Leavitt Hall. What was Mr. Messina up to? If he really was packing up to leave them, then there was a chance he might open the flight case and discover the contents within. What would happen to them then? Would they all be expelled? Or even worse, thrown into juvie? The very thought of it made her shudder with fear.

She had to find out.

Forcing herself from the comfort and safety of her bed, she quickly dressed and hurried downstairs. Sophia and Madison were hanging out in the common room watching television with several other girls, but none of them paid her any attention as she scurried by, on her way out the back door.

Along the grassy banks of the large green pond behind Overton Hall, more girls lay out in their shorts and swimsuits. The pond’s warm, dark water, the color of black tea, and the soft, slimy mud that oozed between your toes when you waded in, grossed Endora out. Despite that, a few girls, either brave or stupid, chose to take running leaps off the tiny dock that extended into the fetid, leach-and-brain-eating-amoeba-infested waters and swim around in it anyway.

Endora carried on down the hill. A four-hundred yard hike that left her puffing for breath by the time she reached the parking lot in front of Leavitt Hall. How disappointed Ms. Rosen would be to see her in such a sorry state. Normally, she rode in one of the three white shuttle buses that transported students between the dorm and their classrooms. Her utter lack of physical conditioning to walk even this modest distance without becoming winded was yet another black mark of shame against her. Another line to cut into her tender flesh when the self-loathing became too much to bear.

Following the same path taken earlier by Mr. Bingham and Ms. Stafford, she skirted along the perimeter of the stately old building, feeling the great weight of its thick stone walls rising up over her head. As she came around the side, a set of concrete steps carried her down a steep embankment to the rear of the building, where she slowed to peek her head around the corner. The front two thirds of a blue and white moving truck projected from the shallow tunnel leading to the basement’s loading dock.

Seeing no one else around, she crept forward, keeping one hand on the wall as she edged closer, until at last she reached the tunnel. The box on the back of the truck completely blocked her view through the small rollup door, but a set of steel tread stairs directly next to it led to a human-sized steel door used for regular foot traffic in and out of the basement. Loud bangs and a voice she recognized as Mr. Messina’s carried from inside the truck.

“Both of you, go inside and push from that end, and I’ll pull, okay? We need to get it over the top of the dock plate. And watch your feet. On three now. One, two, three, push!”

A loud rumble and another bang caused the truck to rock on its suspension. Then came Mr. Messina’s triumphant voice.

“That’s it! We got it! Nice work!”

More rumbling, but this time leading away from the back of the truck. They were unloading something. Something big and heavy by the sound of it. But what did that mean? Was he moving other things around in there too? Would he have any reason to look through their flight case?