Praepostor Tales: Jean's First Assembly

Jean 'Lightning' Stanford was not always a confident, respected athelete. Even Praepostors were freshmen at some point. And some freshmen had it worse than others.

Jean Stanford was the class scapegoat.

Nervous as every freshman was on their first assembly, she had been looking at the stage when the foot had swept out of the aisle to her right and tripped her. 

She had fallen flat on her face. The rolled up socks she had stuffed in her bra hopped out and bounced away before she could stop them. The audience roared in laughter. She burst into tears.

Saul had caught the socks and walked up to her. She lay on the floor where she had fallen and began to weep.

To everyone’s surprise, he had dropped to the floor and lay next to her in the same position.

“Hey, if you had real b***s that woulda hurt like HELL,” Saul had stated “wait, lemme see how that’d feel like.”

He stood up and stuffed the socks into his shirt. She had stopped crying and was staring at him.

“Yo,” he had called to the girl who had tripped Jean “can I get a little help here?”

“What are you doing?” A prefect had called out while making his way through the row he had been sitting in.

Saul fell flat on his face next to Jean.

“I’d still rather be flat-chested,” he had remarked before pulling the socks out of his shirt.

She had burst out laughing.

“GET UP!”

“Why?” Saul had asked as he lay on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“That’s it!” The prefect had barked. “Get out! Both of you!”

They did just that- and Jean didn’t stop walking when she got out of the Auditorium.

“Hey where’ you going?” Saul had called out as he ran after her.

“I’m getting outta here,” she had announced.

“How?”

She was descending the steps outside the building.

“Look,” she had stopped and turned to face him “I’m gonna run at the gate and try to get over it. I probably won’t, and I’ll probably be expelled for trying. If you get caught anywhere near me you’ll get expelled too.”

“You’d be letting them win,” Saul had protested “even if you went to another school, someone else’d pick on you. Trust me, I know what it’s like.”

“So what would you do instead?” She had asked him.

“Follow me,” he had said enthusiastically before he strode into the building.

She had followed.

“Where are we-“

He had hushed her as they ducked into the 9NE girls’ bathroom right in time to avoid being seen by the flock of teachers who had walked past.

“Come on!”

They had got out of the building, past the garden, past the labs, the stadium and over the bridge without being detected.

“That girl who tripped you,” Saul had asked “do you know her?”

“She’s a b***h in 10 West,” Jean had replied.

He handed her a rock.

“Where the hell did you get that from?”

“That’s RD, right?” Saul had replied “Where 10 West sleeps?”

“Yeah it is,” the girl turned pale.

“Well?” He prodded while reaching into his pocket and taking another rock out, which he then handed to her.

She threw it, without hesitation, and despite the tricky angle and the fire stairs blocking the way, she broke the window in one go.

He threw his rock next and missed terribly.

A dog barked somewhere nearby.

“S**T!”

They ran: the river wasn’t fenced off those days. Both students waded through chest-deep water and scrambled to the other side.

When they had emerged from the river, they sprinted to the back of the stadium.

Jean felt exhilarated: running not because she was probably being pursued, but because the wind rushing past her and the way the water flew off her body made her feel like she was flying through a cloud.

The following week, she had walked up to the track and field coach and joined the team.

Author's Note

This story is part of a series called The Stray, which you can view here: http://www.kestrokez.com/books/the-stray/