JASMINE, Naked in School – chapter 1

Dedicated to my sister Rosie.

ROSIE’S WEEK

MONDAY

When Rosie walked into class naked, I couldn’t believe it. I was just dumbfounded. You have to understand that we’d believed that somehow God would protect us from this Program. Now Rosie was naked in the class. It sounds terribly selfish I know, but all I could think was, it could be me next week.

Then to make matters worse she fell off her chair, giving Kevin of all people a good look between her legs.

Of course he had to say something didn’t he?

I was going to talk to her at the end of the lesson but Karen got there first and Rosie started crying.

I freaked out and ran to the toilets and locked myself in one of them, crying. Some sister I was.

I didn’t see her until the final break before lunch and I thought she was letting a boy lick her pussy. (I might as well get used to that word. I can’t keep saying "between her legs") I was disgusted and walked away.

I avoided her at lunch, which was easy as all the proggies sat together. They were being entertained by Shelley from the Program Committee anyway, judging by all the laughter coming from that table.

I left the dining hall quickly so I didn’t have to watch Rosie pose.

I went to visit a friend so I could put off going home until later in the evening.

When I got home, Rosie yelled at me for deserting her after the first lesson.

"You seemed to manage quite well without me, from what I saw later," I snapped back. "Did you let him lick you on no touching day?"

"No, of course I didn’t."

"Why didn’t you just refuse to strip?" I asked and walked out without waiting for an answer.

Letter I felt really bad and went to apologise. I admitted I was just feeling scared about being picked myself.

"You’ll find a way," I assured her. Rosie was the stronger of the two of us. She might be only three months older, but it felt a lot more than that.

TUESDAY

I left Rosie at the school gates. Every time I’d seen her yesterday I made things worse, so I thought I’d make myself scarce.

As I ran into the school, I tripped and twisted my ankle. It really hurt and I had to go to the nurse. At least I got excused PE, which I hate anyway.

The next lesson we had together was the last one, and at the end we were given homework to write What I’d like to do to Rosie.

I couldn’t help it, I laughed when the others laughed, then felt awful about it.

I’d obviously upset her as she didn’t wait for me to walk home with her.

When I finally got home, I tried to apologise, but she just shouted at me and reminded me that I had to write that essay about what to do with her too.

It must have been obvious we were tense as our foster parents asked us what was wrong between us. I wanted to tell them, but the way Rosie was glaring at me, I thought I’d better not. I couldn’t exactly tell tales on her anyway, could I?

WEDNESDAY

Another horrid breakfast, with our foster parents trying to find out what was wrong and Rosie lying to them to put them off. On the way to school I begged her to let me tell them, but she said she could handle it and it wasn’t fair to expect them to understand. She got quite angry when I disagreed and told me bluntly to mind my own business.

Halfway through the morning we had English. Rosie came into the lesson, red and hot. She’d obviously just had an orgasm. When she saw me looking she turned her head away.

She was surprised I had written an essay, but she read it out. I tried so hard to make her understand I wanted to help even if I couldn’t.

I saw her mouth "Thank you" at me afterwards.

That bastard Delaney (Sorry, I’m not going to apologise for swearing,) didn’t accept that essay. As I need the marks and I thought he might not accept it, I’d written another one, pretending I was some lesbian who wanted to have sex with her.

I could see it was difficult for her to read it, as difficult as it had been for me to write it. I was so glad when she got onto other student’s essays.

One girl, Kara, actually made herself come while Rosie was reading her essay. How gross is that?

At the end of the lesson, she began to ask Rosie for a Reasonable Request and Rosie told her to do what she liked to her!

I walked out. I wasn’t going to watch my sister with another girl.

I didn’t see her until the second lesson in the afternoon. She came in fifteen minutes late to Sex Education and asked Miss Cedar to teach her how to make herself come.

So I had to sit through the rest of the lesson watching my sister play with herself.

If that wasn’t bad enough, one of the boys offered to lick her clean afterwards and she said yes. She ignored me glaring at her and the boy made her come again.

We didn’t speak at home that night.

I think she was angry with me and I know I was angry with her.

Our foster Mum tried to get me to say what was wrong, but I fobbed her off yet again.

THURSDAY

On the way to school Rosie changed her clothes for some really slutty ones and we argued about it. She accused me of wanting her to be a slut and I told her angrily, I didn’t make her masturbate in class or make a boy lick her clean.

Then she told me how she’d felt when she had to read out my second essay.

I explained I needed the marks, but she said she’d needed my support and I’d let her down.

She was right. I wanted to apologise, but she’d run off.

I saw her making a boy go down on her before school, and then in the ten minute break, she was having sex with Kara.

At the end of the next lesson, I said angrily, "What do you think you’re doing? You little slut!"

"If God made me do this week, how I get through it is my business," she retorted, equally angrily.

Stung, I answered that God wouldn’t love her being a slut like that.

She shouted that she didn’t care, God hadn’t protected her.

We’d been so close and this was destroying us. Then she actually went up to a boy and started masturbating him. He hadn’t even asked her to.

I just sat there, crying.

After lunch I left the dining room. I didn’t want to see what she did. Perhaps if I didn’t see, I could ignore it and we could be sisters again.

She got home quite late and I really tried to talk to her while we had the chance because our foster parents were out all evening, but she just cut me dead every time.

FRIDAY

I was on my way to school and Mrs. Chaplain, our headmistress pulled up beside me and told me to get in.

"I need to contact your foster parents," she said.

"They were going to the opening of that big Hypermarket today," I explained. "Why?" I suddenly felt worried. I hadn’t seen Rosie this morning. I’d assumed she’d got up early to avoid me. "It’s Rosie. What’s wrong?"

"Do they have a mobile number so I can contact them?"

"What’s wrong with Rosie?" I nearly screamed at her. "Tell me."

She pulled the car to the side of the road.

"Jasmine, Rosie took an overdose."

"Take me to the hospital. I want to see her."

"I’ve just come from the hospital. Rosie took the overdose last night. She died during the night."

I only remember screaming "Nooooo"

THE FUNERAL

The funeral was better than I’d expected. Everyone was so positive and they’d made it a celebration of her life. Mrs. Chaplain and some from the Program Committee came down and spoke briefly to my parents, but I stayed away from them.

NEARLY TWO MONTHS LATER

"Jasmine, can you come into my office for a minute please?"

"Yes, Mrs. Chaplain."

When I got there she made me sit down. "You know I suspended the Program after what happened to Rosie."

"Yeah."

"Well, I can’t suspend it forever. I’m not allowed to. So the Program Committee are sending some people to try to see what we did wrong. To try to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I think you should know what’s been said so far. Here is the report that was written about Rosie’s week. I’ll leave you here to read it alone. Ask my secretary to page me when you’ve finished."

She went out and I took a minute before I dared open the file. It’s weird reading about your dead sister like that. I thought I was cried out but this brought it all back. Most of it I knew, apart from the bit between her and Shelley in Mrs. Chaplain’s office. Shelley was different to what I’d thought. When she hadn’t come to the funeral with the others, I’d thought she was a heartless bitch. Now I read that she nearly killed herself because of blaming herself for what happened to Rosie.

I went to the outer office and the secretary paged Mrs. Chaplain. When she came back, she said, "Although it’s not a formal inquiry, it is bound to get publicity, and any report they might make will go on public file. I’ve decided not to tell them about you. And I think it best if you stay off school while they are here."

I was too numb to disagree.

After the "inquiry that wasn’t an inquiry" ended, she came straight away to see my parents and me. They were out, so she told me alone. "I wanted to tell you personally that the Program will be run next week. Your name has been deleted from the Program file, so you don’t have to worry about being picked, not just next week, but ever."

She sounded so firm about that, that I didn’t argue. I rang a friend. (Sorry Mrs. Chaplain – I didn’t want to get them into trouble so I’ve not said who was involved.) He was friends with someone in the computing club and gave me his number. The computing club guy might be a nerd, but he was a slimy nerd.

"They are running the Program next week," I told him.

"Great," he said. Then, realising who he was talking to, he said, "Sorry, I wasn’t thinking."

"It’s okay. Look I need a favour."

"What? Want me to get you out of the Program?"

"No. Mrs. Chaplain’s done that. She’s deleted my name from the Program file. I want you to put it back in."

"You want me to what?"

"I want you to put my name back in the file and…" I took a deep breath. "I want you to fix it so I get picked next week."

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"Are you there."

"I think so. But I must be having a weird dream. I just thought I heard you say you want to be in the Program."

"You did. I can’t explain. I have to do this for Rosie. Please?"

"What’s in it for me?"

I’d guessed he would ask that.

"You get ten minutes, after school, Wednesday. Just the two of us. You can do anything you like to me. Except fuck me," I added quickly, deliberately using that word.

He still hesitated, so I added, "Okay. And I’ll do anything you want, short of fucking you."

"Really? You’re not kidding me."

"I mean it. Honest. Please?"

"How do I know you’ll keep your word."

"You know I never lie. Ask anyone." (Almost never, I told myself.) "And it’s got to be worth trying hasn’t it?"

"Okay," he said finally. "But I want half an hour."

"Twenty minutes," I countered.

"Done," he said. "Now you can go to sleep and dream of of all those guys."

That was one thing I didn’t want to do.