This is an original work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only.
"Jonnie's a girl! Jonnie's a girl," the crowd of teens around him chanted maliciously as he stood there trying to hold the tattered remnants of his shirt around his exposed chest.
Jon Collins grimaced as he fought the tears that welled in his brown eyes as he cringed from the press of bodies around him.
Four days. Just four days.
That had been how long it took the usual bullies to target him in his newest school after his mom's job transferred her here. Jon, however, was not a girl, and arranged classes to stay under the radar, and even had legitimate doctor's excuses to avoid P.E., and the inevitable issue of dressing out.
Because Jon was a true, and fully functioning hermaphrodite.
He had been raised as a boy at his late father's insistence, but about the time he hit puberty, one full year after his father's death at the hands of a drunk driver, Jon's body decided that twelve years of pseudo-masculinity was enough. For the next four years, he suddenly filled out, swelled in the wrong places, and became a very androgynous creature that could technically pass as either gender.
Only he wasn't sure any longer if gender even applied to him.
He wasn't even sure if he liked girls, or boys, even if a very large part of him still identified as mostly male.
The world, to him, was a very confusing place.
The now sixteen-year-old hermaphrodite couldn't stop the tears from brimming as the mocking taunts filled his ears, and he tried to find someplace to run. Only they surrounded him, pushing, shoving, trying to pull what remained of his shirt from him, and then the crowd froze as a booming voice demanded, "What in the hell are you thugs up to now?"
Everyone tensed as a very large, very unyielding form pushed through the ring of suddenly cowed teens, and Mr. Robert Jamison, the brawny black school vice principal with a military crewcut suddenly stood before him while eyeing the boys around him.
"I asked a question. As this is still a school, that implies I expect an answer," the big man all but growled.
Jon had little doubt that the tone implied any reply had best be a good one.
Jon took one look at the stern, ominous features, and burst into tears.
"Not our fault the little fruit can't take some ribbing."
Robert spun around to glare at Billy 'Big B' Rogers and glowered.
"I should have known you were here, Rogers," Robert spat at the burly senior. "Office, now. And if you aren't there when I arrive, you can consider yourself expelled."
"You can't just…"
"Expelled," the vice principal snarled and meant it as he pulled off his gray suit coat, and dropped it around Jon's slender shoulders. "Come on, Jon. Let's get you sorted out."
Jon trembled, unable to stop crying as he was led away in the big man's surprisingly gentle embrace as the man led him toward a nurse's office.
"Uhm, Mr. J," a younger boy spoke up and held out a worn backpack. "His bag. He dropped it back at the door when B's posse first ambushed him," Dillon Spheres told him.
"I take it you saw what happened?"
Dillon, a young, much smaller freshman sighed, but glanced around noting all the eyes on him, and sighed as he daringly made a stand.
"Yes, sir. I saw it all," he nodded firmly without showing any fear. Which shocked more than a few of those staring at him.
"My office. I'll see you in a few minutes," the vice principal declared in an authoritative tone.
"Narc," someone sneered, and the adult's eyes flashed as he glanced backward just then, and not one teen there doubted that the man had already identified the speaker.
"The rest of you thugs get to class. The bell is already ringing in case you're deaf. Go, clear these halls, and I'd better not hear about anything else like this again this week," the tall man known for discipline barked.
The teens dispersed faster than usual because every one of them knew Mr. Jamison was not the usual apathetic bureaucrat. He was the sort that took his job, and school, seriously. God help you if you crossed him because he was not the kind to offer second chances or joke about consequences. Even the principal, a more indolent man, tended to let Robert Jamison virtually run the school since he was also the sort to back up his threats.
It didn't help that in his second of five years at the high school, five teens had jumped him in the parking lot of a local grocery, intending to impart a lesson to the stern educator.
The lesson was learned as the former Marine took apart the five jocks like child's toys, and then pressed charges, sending them to juvie atop all else. Word was, two of them had to get out of the hospital before they could even face charges. Mr. Jamison was not the type to play games.
"You okay, son," Robert asked Jon now as his crying faded, and only a few soft sniffs were heard as the smaller boy sheltered against him as the man led him down the hall.
"Y-Yeah. Th-They just….surprised me, and….I…..I g-get scared in crowds. S-s-s-still," he shivered.
"That's understandable in certain crowds," he said quietly, and opened the nurse's office, and ushered him in.
"What now," the iron-haired woman inside turned to regard the skinny boy.
"Billy found a new target. I need you to make sure this student is okay, and then get him sorted out. They tore off his shirt, atop all else. Do you have something else to wear," he asked only then as the silent boy just huddled in the oversized jacket draped over his shoulders.
Jon shook his head.
"I'll sort something out from the lost and found," the nurse told him. "Wait… Him," she frowned, eyeing part of Jon's still exposed chest with small, but obvious breasts that jutted out pertly without his special shirt to compress his curves.
"Jon is a hermaphrodite, Mrs. Anders. Billy chose to taunt him over it," Roger told her.
"That boy is going to end up poorly," the older woman grumbled, and carefully lifted Robert's jacket off Jon's shoulders, and then handed him one of the paper gowns everyone in the medical field seemed to use. "Here, sweetie. Just put this over you, and wait right in there," she pointed at an open room with several cots. "I'll be right there, and we'll see what we can do for you."
Jon sniffed, nodded at the two, and slinked into the room used for sick students for whatever reason.
"That poor kid is really facing it, isn't he," she murmured as she closed the door behind him.
"Billy had most of the team harassing him, and apparently Jon's also a borderline agoraphobic."
"I don't have to guess why," she nodded. "Poor kid is going to have a hard time here. And he's likely got four years of it, too."
"Two. He's a junior."
"He…..is? He looks…."
"That doesn't help either. Obviously. But he is sixteen. Smart enough based on his file, but he obviously has a lot of issues. Make sure they didn't hurt him beyond the obvious, and get me a full report," he stressed. "I need to do something about Billy before he does go too far," Robert told her.
"Define too far," the nurse scowled, having had a lot of the burly teen's victims in her clinic before now. "That boy has spent most of his years here giving me more business than I'd ever seen in the ER."
"Well, I intend to curb his….enthusiasm this year. Starting today. Get me that report. Mr. Rogers is about to have a very bad day."
"Good," the stocky nurse grunted, and lifted a clipboard with an altogether too familiar form on it. "And it's about time that little hooligan learned he can't use this school as his private hunting preserve."
They both knew what she meant.
Billy had been a trouble-maker from day one, but he was also clever enough to keep himself protected, and sheltered by friends or those too afraid to testify. Only this time Robert had seen the altercation himself since he was looking out for the new students this year. He suspected that while new himself, Dillon Spheres wasn't the type to be intimidated as he considered that daring eye-witness.
Not if his suspicions were correct. And he usually was when he drew certain conclusions.
Dillon sit four seats down from Billy in the office, taking one of the chairs along the wall nearest the door.
Habit, really, but he had learned a long time to always give yourself an out. Just in case.
He not only had the door, but he was close to the dividing rail that led behind the elongated counter where the secretary did her business with the students that had to enter the office for any reason. He had the door, the office beyond that table, and if necessary, the window.
Dillon was a careful sort.
Something that his two years of experience had given him since his had not been the usual upbringing.
"Hey," Billy Rogers growled just loud enough to be heard by him, and only him.
Dillon glanced the brawny teen's way but said nothing.
"Listen, squirt, you ain't local, but I'm telling you now, rat on me, and your life will be hell. Got me? Hell."
Dillon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Talk about big fish in small ponds.
Billy less than subtly slid over, and sit right beside him to lift a big fist in his lap.
"Listen, nerdboy, I'm not kidding. You develop amnesia and fast, or you are looking at some serious payback. You understand me?"
The boy elbowed him, hard.
"I said, capiche, nerd-o? Just tell the old man that tranny fag tripped, or something. We were just helping the fruit up," he sneered. "Got it?"
Dillon glared at him and simply nodded.
"Oh, I understand you," he affirmed in a bland tone. "I understand you quite well."
"Good," Billy nodded, and slid back over a few seats, and smirked coldly at him.
Dillon seriously had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.
He would wonder if anyone could be that clueless, but apparently, they could.
He had been hard-pressed not to act when he had seen the local team ambush that small, obviously helpless boy, and it had shocked him to see him outed as he was. Still, wrong was wrong, and he had been about to intercede, his dad's rules be damned, when the vice principal had shown up.
Billy would never know just how lucky he had been at that moment.
"All right," Mr. Jamison growled as he walked into the office just then, holding several papers in one big hand.
Even Billy had the sense to shrink from the big man's gaze. Not just because of his very stern expression, or his rep, but because at six-seven, Mr. Jamison had a power Billy likely only dreamed of possessing. Dillon merely met his gaze, and the big man merely nodded at him.
"You first, Dillon. My office, please."
"Yes, sir," he nodded back politely, not missing Billy's smug grin as they passed him, heading to the VP's office.
James shut the door behind them, walked around his desk to take a seat, and gestured to one of two obviously very uncomfortable, wooden chairs.
"Have a seat," he more ordered than not.
Dillon, knowing the big man's past well enough after he realized who was in that simple suit in spite of not seeing him in some time, simply took a seat, and pointedly sit on the edge, rather than try to lean back in the chairs meant to unnerve, and discomfit those invited to the man's office.
A clever, and likely effective tactic for most, Dillon suspected.
"So, Dillon. I know your….special history, of course. Per the Special Services Act, that knowledge stays in this office, and only this office. I also commend you for keeping yourself from exposing yourself out there. That said, you were obviously the only witness out there that I suspect won't hesitate to tell me the truth. So, let's have your version of that little drama, shall we?"
"Of course, sir," he nodded, saying nothing of his own suspicions about the man, and began with his arrival at school, seeing the senior members of the school football team gathered near the door, and obviously waiting on someone. Someone that proved to be the younger teen who stepped off a late bus, and headed immediately for the door only to be ambushed by Billy, and his teammates.
He told the vice principal all he had seen, and even concluded with the fact that Billy had just blatantly threatened him bodily just before his arrival, demanding he claims he had seen nothing. That Jon had simply tripped, or something.
"I may have to call on you again to testify before authorities. Are you willing to take that step, too, if required," he asked Dillon bluntly.
"Yes, sir," Dillon nodded. "I cannot imagine how hard that poor kid's life has been, but I would like to think not everyone still follows such outmoded clichés. Despite the current evidence," the teen added with a grimace.
"Indeed," James nodded. "That will be all. Have Ms. Franklyn write you a pass, and if I need you again, I'll call."
"Of course. Uh, if you like, I could keep an eye on the boy, too. Is he in special classes, or….?"
"No, he has a regular schedule."
"I just wondered," Dillon said as he rose to his feet. "I haven't seen him in any of my classes yet, and….."
"Ah. I understand. Jon does look younger than his age, but he's actually a junior," James told him.
"I see. That likely only adds to his problems with some of our…..peers, I wager."
"Yes. A shame they aren't all as mature as you, Dillon. Still, I appreciate you stepping up as you did."
"Father would insist," Dillon admitted.
"No doubt. Tell him Robbie says hey," he added, proving he knew Dillon, too, then bit back his grin before he dismissed him. "And send in our wannabe felon on the way out, would you?"
"With pleasure, sir," Dillon nodded and headed for the door even as he wondered if he knew the man. He certainly seemed familiar with his father.
Billy was envisioning another free pass when the nerd came out of the Veep's office with a bland expression.
Not that it meant anything. All those nerds had that weird, blank expression. It was like none of them lived in the real world, and didn't seem to know what was important.
He watched the boy go to the old bat, and get a pass before he headed for the door. The nerd paused at the door, eyed him, and said, "Mr. Jamison will see you now."
Then he walked out like he was going to a meeting or something.
"Weirdo," he snorted, and pushed carelessly to his feet, his six-two, muscular frame giving him a confidence that all would be right soon enough.
After all, he was the new quarterback this year and had a winning year as a junior player last year that got him the top slot. He was already envisioning pro scouts and more as he prepped for the first game of the season and felt that gave him the right to do as he pleased more than ever.
Being, admittedly, a bit of a bully from the start that only translated into more and bigger pranks on the losers that didn't seem to realize how big a deal he was. When the newbie in the junior class ignored one of his boys who thought 'she' was cute enough to sound out, he felt they needed a lesson.
Especially when they realized the boy-girl wasn't quite right.
When they realized he wasn't a normal kid, his boy only got the more embarrassed, and then Billy felt they had to out the little freak to ensure he got the message.
Said message being that freaks weren't welcome in his school.
"You called," he drawled carelessly as he walked into the Veep's office once he made a show of stretching, and showing his indifference to the others in the office.
"Shut the door. Have a seat," Robert Jamison said in that low growl he had.
Billy played at being respectful, but he wasn't that worried. In his mind, everything was fine, and that little geek had gotten the message.
"Do you know what these are," the man asked him, holding up several sheets of paper.
"Clever," Robert grumbled. "But insolence does not help you just now, boy," he called him.
"Hey, I'm a man….!"
Robert slammed a big hand down onto the desk, the echoing bang making Billy jump in the very uncomfortable chair he had sat in more than a few times over the years.
"Men do not act like you do, little boy," he stressed. "For your information, these are a medical report, and a formal charge, respectively. Criminal charges," he added just for the frowning teen.
"I didn't do nothing. That geek just tripped, and we were helping it….."
"It," Robert echoed coldly.
"Well, hell, it's not like you can even tell what those tranny-fags are…."
"You do realize, per the new state codes, all of these interviews are recorded, and you are making yourself look very….unsavory for those sure to review this matter," Robert informed him coolly.
"Uh, so, what's the bottom line, man…? Uh, Mr. Jamison," he frowned, belatedly remembering he should be cool until he got out of here.
"The bottom line is that you premeditatedly assaulted, injured, and traumatized a fellow student."
"Hey, I didn't do none of that…!"
"And you then threatened another student, trying to force them to give you an alibi. I suspect even you know the seriousness of those charges were I to call the authorities. Which I would be very justified in doing at this very minute."
Billy, knowing he was caught just then, could only grimace.
"Now, I can and will call the law on you, boy, unless you show yourself very, very penitent, and accept the punishment I'm going to hand down. Along with your naming every single member of that mob you gathered to assault that poor boy out there."
"Crap! That's wasn't even no real boy….!"
"So, you want me to go forward with formal charges?"
"No! No, I'll….. I'll be cool. What's the game plan," he asked somberly, looking uneasy just then as the Veep's hand hovered over his telephone after his threat.
"Names. All of them. Then, you will accept my punishment, and follow it to the letter. Failure to do so automatically involves the law. And I have the evidence, the witnesses, and the testimony to have you in jail in the same instant. Not juvie. The state pen. You're about to be an adult, William," he called him now, "And that implies adult penalties."
Billy's eyes rounded at that.
"I'll play ball," he rasped with a grimace.
"Good. Names," he barked, moving his hand from his phone to a pen he lifted, and held over a pad of paper. "All of them," he echoed.
Billy grimaced and did the one thing he never thought he would ever do.
He squealed on his friends.
To Be Continued….