Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to Fox and co.; title belongs to Hawthorne; inspiration comes from "Thank Goodness" (shocker, I know) from Wicked
A/N: So, I know I'm all alone in my obsession with the Dean and Taylor. I'm probably even alone in the fact that I actually like Taylor. But I do. And I loved them together. I'm terribly sad that things have come undone for them so quickly. They should have drug it out, fleshed it out a little more. I'm rambling, I know, but I really liked the Dean and Taylor together! Sorry, I'm done. Read and review and enjoy, fellow Taylor and Dean fans!
Somehow, it had gotten out. No one was entirely sure who had started the rumor, which turned out to be more then just a rumor, a story based entirely in fact, but it had gotten out there and taken on a life of its own. It was uncontrollable and unsettling. The students at Harbor High loved gossip, that was for certain, and this was one of the best stories they had heard yet; it would certainly take over the tale of Marissa Cooper's murder spree.
The only reason the story was so intriguing to the students of Harbor High, who were far from decent citizens themselves, was because they had never expected someone like Taylor Townsend to stoop to their level. Not that they had a level, in their minds, but she believed herself to be on a pedestal, to be smarter, prettier, better then they were. Now she was on the ground with the rest of them.
Some of the girls figured they couldn't blame her. Maybe they should have had the bright idea to sleep with the Dean. But they talked about her, about it, nonetheless, hiding smirks and giggles behind perfectly manicured fingernails when she passed. Taylor pretended not to notice; that was something she was good at. And the guys, they figured they couldn't blame the Dean for getting someone like Taylor Townsend in the sack, the sort of girl she was, but they resented her for not going to bed with them. She was the sort of girl to go for power.
Everywhere she went, people stared at her. Her fellow students made no attempt to hide their stares, nor the fact that they had just been talking to her before she had stepped into the room or down the hallway. Taylor stared straight ahead and pretended not to notice. It was hard enough without him around and now she had to go it alone, carry the blame, the act, herself. Not that she would have penned it on him if she had been given the chance. Even her teachers stared at her with funny looks gleaming in their eyes, realizing that their teacher's pet might have taken the nickname a little too far. She could tell that they were wondering, somewhere in the back of their minds, whether or not she had slept with any other teachers at Harbor High. Taylor wouldn't give them the benefit of an answer.
A part of her had expected that there would be some students, some faculty that felt sorry for her. That believed that she had simply been taken advantage of by a man that used his position to his advantage, used it to abuse the chastity of students. Even though Taylor didn't like the idea of people believing that she had been taken advantage of, that she had been used by the Dean, she would have appreciated a little sympathy. The closest she got were the looks that Summer Roberts gave her from time to time, an expression of muddled regret, that suggested that, while she wasn't sorry she had done what she had done, she was sorry that everyone had found out about it. Not that Taylor wanted her sympathy.
The only person she wanted to speak to on the ordeal was gone now, chased away by a righteous man who believed that anyone who would sleep with a teenage girl was crooked, confused and sick. She wanted to tell him, quite frankly, that he knew nothing, didn't know what he was talking about. But she knew it wouldn't have mattered anyway, he had gotten what he had wanted and she had to pay the price. The one time Taylor had tried to phone the Dean, Jack as she called him whenever they were alone (so personal, so intimate) her parents had found out and taken away her cell phone, looking at her with a mixture of shame and horror on their faces. Who is this girl? Their eyes seemed to question. Surely our daughter wouldn't allow an older man to take advantage of her. Mostly, they didn't speak of it at all.
So, she was cut off from the only person that could make things better, make them decent again. Taylor wished she could make one person, just one person, understand the way she had needed Jack, the way things really had been. Instead, no one would listen, no one cared, the story spreading now was much better then the truth. So, she was forced to wear the scarlet letter publicly, when all other students had managed to keep their sin on the inside.
The stares, she figured, would never stop. Not until she had put New Port behind her, something that she had never expected to do, seeing as she had spent her whole life steadily attempting to make a rise towards power. She wanted to be different then the other New Port wives and residents, wanted something more to show for herself. Now she had nothing; nothing but the brand of being a slut, or someone easily taken advantage of, or both. She was tainted, she was ruined, she was alone.
Somehow, it had all crumbled down around her. Everything. No one respected her any longer. No one feared her, which Taylor often though was better then being liked or even respected. No one could look at her and see the woman that she was; instead they saw the person that they had painted her to be. Boys that never would have come near her before now tried to grope and grab her whenever they caught her alone. She was easy now, that was what they thought. Taylor wanted to prove them wrong, wanted to show them how it was between her and Jack but it was impossible. He was gone, she was alone.
Had he been there, things would be different, she knew. He would have explained them, would have made it seem as though what they were doing was not wrong, but even more right then some of the affairs that other New Port residents invested in. Even if he hadn't been able to do that, he would have been there to make things better for her and Taylor figured that was all she wanted. One person, just one, to understand.
But people saw only what they wanted to see. Someone to wear their sins for them so they didn't have to. Someone to be open about, to be branded for, to be ridiculed about their sexual habits, their partners. It was easier to force the blame on someone else then to carry it yourself; it was easier to make someone else out to be wicked so you didn't have to admit that you were yourself.
Apparently, Taylor was the perfect scapegoat. A perfect girl who had fallen so far. She's no better then the rest of us, they would say; in fact, she's worse. That wicked, ruined girl.
Never before had Taylor wanted so badly to be off everyone's radar, to never have existed at all. She wanted so badly to go up to Summer, to ask her if she was happy that she had gotten what she had wanted, if it had been worth it. Was getting her way worth ruining the life of someone else?
But Taylor never would have done such a thing, not so soon, because she wasn't quite sure she wanted the answer.