The laughter was deafening and the catcalls were even worse. All the boys were pointing their fingers at her and calling her names.
She'd known it was going to be difficult to have them accept her at first, but she had thought she could eventually win them over. She'd been in shop class for three months now, and the taunts and rude comments were only getting more severe. To make matters worse, Mr. Papadellis, the industrial arts teacher, encouraged the boys' behavior and refused to discipline any of them, saying "boys will be boys."
The teenaged boys resented her for pushing herself into their world and trying to show them up. A girl getting a better grade in shop class than the boys would be too humiliating. They were determined to make her quit. It had started out with them teasing her about almost flunking out of home economics and having nowhere to go but shop class. They insultingly insinuated that she couldn't cook or sew or do any of the things girls were supposed to be good at. They sabotaged her wood-working project, tripped her as she walked down the halls and, in general, harassed her daily.
Even the girls in the school had taken to sniggering at her behind her back. During lunch, no one would sit at the same table with her. And all because she'd rather learn how to make a bird house or a hope chest instead of learn how to cook the perfect pot roast.
Her father had warned her. Hell, he'd led the charge complaining that she was "going rogue," as if a teenaged girl taking shop class was some subversive un-American plot. He'd never supported any of her choices unless they were his choices. And his choices were always about the status quo, don't rock the boat, don't draw attention to yourself, especially if you were a girl. He had let her know how disappointed he was with her decision to transfer out of home ec, saying it was the beginning of her downfall. That no boy would ever want to date her and that she would be an old maid to her dying day.
Today, the name calling had escalated to a point where the guys were making fun of her gender, saying that she really wanted to be a boy. Or that maybe she was one of those kind of girls. A girl who liked only other girls. The taunts were getting raunchy, even disgusting. One guy asked her to lift up her dress and show them her balls.
That had been the last straw. She couldn't take it anymore. The young girl hung her head, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks as she turned and ran out of the classroom. She fled down the empty hall, just wanting to crawl into a deep dark hole and disappear. She felt completely alone. All she could think of was, Why me?
After stumbling along for several minutes, she pushed her way into the girl's restroom and leaned against the closed door, relieved that the room was empty. It was eerily quiet and the small space was filled with a haze of smoke that hung at eye level. Sniffling, she made her way over to the row of sinks and turned on the water, wanting to drown herself in it, but settling for washing her tears away.
She was drying her face with a wad of rough paper towels when the door of one of the stalls slammed open. Startled, she flattened herself against the wall as a teenaged boy stepped out of the stall. He was tall and lean, and dressed all in black. He was movie-star handsome, but with a dangerous aura about him. His dark hair was a little long for the current style and he hadn't shaved that morning. Or, if he had, his beard grew rapidly and he had a dense five o'clock shadow, unusual for a high school boy.
She recognized him and cringed even further into the corner. This guy had a reputation as a badass, and for being fast and loose with the girls. She couldn't help but be attracted to him, but she was scared of him, too. Over the past three and a half years of high school, she had watched him from afar, but had never spoken a word to him, nor he to her. But today was a day of firsts.
"Hey, sweet thing," he drawled, a slow smile changing his dangerous badass look to one of dangerous Lothario. He flicked the cigarette he held into the toilet and let the stall door close as he advanced toward her. "I was expecting someone else, but you're a pretty little thing. I wouldn't mind spending a little time with you." He loomed over her, leaning one arm against the wall above her.
She tried to duck under his arm, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her up against him. "Not so fast," he coaxed. "Let's you and I get to know each other." He bent over, intending to kiss her, but she pushed him away.
Moving to the opposite wall, she responded bitterly, "I know you well enough, Morelli. And I have no interest in 'knowing' you better."
"What's with the attitude, sweet thing?" he said, studying her intently. "What did I ever do to you?"
She turned away and began primping in the mirror. "I've had my fill of guys making fun of me," she replied.
"I wasn't making fun of you. Though I think we could have a lot of fun together, if you know what I mean." He sidled toward her, grinning.
She spun around to face him and held her hand up. "Not gonna happen, buster."
He frowned. "I guess it's not true then, what they say about you."
"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked hesitantly. "What are they saying? And who are they?" She had a pretty good idea who they were, but his answer surprised her.
He was studying her again. "They say you are one of those feminists. A free thinker." The grin was coming back to his face. "You're the kind of girl that can make her own decisions, and not be swayed by conventionality."
"Oh, yeah," she agreed sarcastically. "If I was all that liberated I wouldn't be in here hiding right now." She shook her head. "It shouldn't matter what people … what guys … say about me, but ... it does."
"Well, baby, one thing you should know about me is that I don't kiss and tell. I'll never say anything bad about you. You're safe with me." He moved closer and she felt a ripple of excitement course through her. He was going to try to kiss her again, and she thought she might let him. In the girls' restroom! What could one kiss hurt? He'd said he wouldn't tell.
He leaned forward and lightly brushed his lips across hers. A tingle shot through her, and she brought her fingers up to her lips. He reached out and held her palm in his while he lowered his lips to the tips of her fingers, kissing each one separately. Each kiss sent sparks coursing through her. He took a step closer, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. He was going to kiss her, really kiss her.
If finger kisses sent sparks through her, what would a real kiss do to her? This boy, this almost a man standing before her was dangerous; she knew that. She'd been hearing stories about the Morelli men for as long as she could remember. Even her mother had warned her about them, saying they were nothing but drunkards and wife beaters. Who was she to fight those stories? She couldn't even fight the guys in shop class. Feelings of shame flooded through her as she remembered their earlier taunts of her "butchdom." Being associated with a womanizer like Morelli would put to rest those rumors, but it would give her another kind of reputation, one that she might never live down.
She couldn't do this any more. No one was on her side. She had to put an end to this.
Once more, she ducked under his arm and then raced toward the door. She looked back at him before she fled out of the room, her own grin slowly forming across her face. He was definitely one good-looking guy, and he was interested in her. She touched her fingers to her lips again. She would remember this day always, partly for the awful way the boys' taunts had made her feel, but also for the feeling of empowerment Morelli had made her see in herself. "Thanks," she shot back at him. "You've put things into perspective for me."
With a determined step, she made her way to the principal's office. When she was ushered in to see him, she stood up straight and with a firm voice, asked, "I want to transfer out of shop class. I want to go back to home ec." He didn't even question her choice. He simply signed the proper form and handed it to her.
As she turned to go, he said, "Miss Mazur ... Helen ... you have made the right choice. You will learn all you need to know in home economics. If you had continued on the course you'd started, it would only lead to trouble. You are a good girl from a good family; you don't need that kind of trouble."
Helen stared at him for a moment before nodding once. Then she walked out the door and back into conventionality.
AN: This is another addition to my A Father's Influence series. The characters are not mine, and I am not making any money from this little piece of fanfiction. A good friend, sonomom, helped me write some of the dialogue and put me on the right path for this story. I am grateful for her assistance.