LINDA'S NEW SCHOOL

BY JOREYMAY

[ part 2 ]

Arrival

Two hours later, the car was passing through a heavily wooded area. It slowed, then turned through an unmarked gap in the trees. The track was barely drivable, covered in spots with a thin layer of gravel, and pitted with muddy potholes. As the line of vehicles which had queued up behind them sped up again, the police car slowly bumped its way through the woods and up to the looming front of a sombre looking Victorian manor house, complete with gloomy windows and peeling paint.

The policeman remained in the car and kept the motor running as the WPC freed Linda and pointed her toward the front door. Wearing that mysterious little smile, she stroked Linda's short hair and affectionately told her to ring the bell and she would be taken care of. Linda shook herself free, and the WPC got back into the car and left.

Linda's first thought was to turn around and follow the car out of there, but she knew she couldn't really act on it. As she stood there wondering whether the house was as haunted as it looked, the door burst open. The tweed covered apparition which emerged almost convinced her it was. She was the image of the no-nonsense housekeeper from the old movies, with her muscular arms and legs and impeccably groomed steel grey hair. She smiled in a professional manner as she walked up to Linda.

With a booming voice, she exclaimed "You must be Linda, the new girl. Excellent! My name is Miss James. I am your new headmistress. Welcome to Sands", as she placed a beefy hand on Linda's shoulder and guided her briskly towards the house.

Linda found herself propelled up the walk, through the door, and into an enormous, dimly lit forier. She wondered whether she would be marched up the polished wooden stairway , which dominated the room. At least up there were windows, however small, to let the light in. The solid front door closed with an ominously reverberating thump.

"This way, dear. Come along," the redoubtable Miss James encouraged. "You will be needing your uniform, then you can start your classes."

Linda had been less than thrilled with her previous school uniforms. She shuddered to think what monstrosities this prison would force her into. She found herself hustled along the hardwood floor of a gloomy passage, into a wider, brighter hall flanked by well lit classrooms. At the end of the hall, she was swung to the right and almost collided with a group of girls. Their uniforms were worse than she imagined, navy blue in an antique cut, with white blouses and school ties patterned in depressing colours. To finish the look, sturdy black brogans and straw hats. Ugly, she had imagined. But these girls looked like poster children for the late nineteenth century.

"Ah, excellent," the headmistress exclaimed, "Classmates of yours from 4C. Girls, this is your new classmate, Linda Magnesson. She is joining you for the rest of the term. I am confident that you will make her welcome here. Victoria Gilbert, what is your next lesson?"

The curvaceous young redhead promptly replied "PE, Miss James."

"Very good. Nothing like a bit of exercise to work out the knots of a long journey. That class does not require a uniform, so go ahead and follow these girls. You can join Miss FitzGibbon in the gymnasium. Then you can report to matron afterwards to have a check-up and pick up your kit. Run along now girls, don't keep Miss FitzGibbon waiting!"

As she watched the headmistress march away, Linda was a bit surprised. The girls were not what she had expected. While their antique uniforms and plaited hair were more suited to an historical melodrama, the girls themselves seemed cheerful enough. Dressed more reasonably, they could be in any other school she had visited. She did not trust them enough to completely lower her guard, but smiled and politely replied to the inevitable questions.

They entered the changing room, joining a dozen others who were in the process of getting ready. Victoria seemed to have decided to take Linda in tow, and showed her to a bench with a vacant peg. Then she turned and started undressing.

"O. K. Where do they keep the gym kits?" Linda asked her mentor.

"There aren't any. They say it would be a waste of money. We have to do PE in our underwear. Miss FitzGibbon says it's much better for us to go barefoot and to be able to move around freely."

"She's never heard of Athlete's foot?"

"It's not that much of a problem here. And since it's girls only around here, nobody really bothers too much what they wear in the gym".

It bothered Linda, though. Casual dress was one thing, but this was taking it too far. Despite her good physical condition, she had never really liked PE. She was a bit of a prude, as well. Especially when it came to changing and showering with other people. When she was younger, she had developed early but unevenly. At a time when most of the girls were still quite flat, she was, of necessity, wearing a bra. And she still had occasional nightmares about the ways they taunted her about it. Especially the time in the changing room, when one girl had grabbed her bra and dashed out the door with it. Barefoot, and naked from the waist up, she had unthinkingly given chase. She realized her mistake as soon as she had burst into the hallway, running into a crowd of people, students and teachers alike. She covered herself with her arms and tried to get back through the door, but several girls were leaning against it on the other side and she couldn't budge it. She finally got back in and finished dressing, sans bra, after a teacher stepped to the door and ordered it released. She felt exposed for the rest of the day, even with the rest of her clothes on. And many of the other girls treated her as though she was still topless, taunting her. And then the missing garment had reappeared, on the Founder's Bust at the front entrance. She had been called to the office to explain how it had gotten there.

That teasing still haunted her when she had to do things like gymnastics or dance in what amounted to an extra thin swimming costume. Especially because anything which was, or wasn't, worn under the thing was clearly visible in form if not in colour. And even more so when she was doing so barefoot, as she had been in that hallway. And now she would be wearing even less, in front of a group of complete strangers!

She knew she was trapped, and would stand out even more if she didn't get ready. First, she pulled off her warmup hoodie and hung it on the peg. She stepped out of her laceless trainers, and used her foot to shove them against the partition. She worked her loose denims down past her hips, then sat on the bench. After peeling off her socks and dropping them in her trainers, she pulled her denims the rest of the way off, and hung them over the hoodie. Flinching as her feet met the cold concrete floor, she stood and removed her T-shirt and hung it with the rest. She quickly sat back down, clamped her thighs tightly together, and folded her arms across her chest.

Looking around, she noticed that she was still at odds with the class. Apparently, the Sands uniform extended through to the skin. The others were wearing oversized navy blue knickers and a sort of heavy vest that reminded her of the whalebone corsets of another time. The vests seemed designed to conceal all signs of development above the waist. Quite a contrast to the white cotton bra and well worn boy-cut briefs she was reduced to. She noticed the girls darting covert glances at her and talking in excited whispers, reminding her even more of the Day of the Disappearing Bra.

She was jolted out of her memories when an athletic young woman strode into the changing room and clapped her hands to gain the attention of the class. She seemed no more than twenty-five, and her blond hair was pulled back from her crown and nape in a severe looking bun. Her eyes were a striking blue-grey and their coldness was complemented to perfection by a cruel little smile that seemed to be fixed permanently on her thin lips. Her attention went almost immediately to the new girl, fidgeting nervously on the bench and whose face and neck were rapidly turning a striking colour.

"You will be the new girl, Linda Magnesson", she spoke rapidly in iron tones that left no doubt that she was in charge. "The headmistress has just informed me of your arrival. Why are you incorrectly dressed?"

Linda knew that this was where things could get dangerous. She would have to play things just right. "Sorry Miss Gibbon," she stammered, unable to keep a vivid image of a monkey out of her mind. She used the tension of trying not to respond to that image as a way to help herself look confused and overwhelmed. "I've only just arrived and Miss James said I was to collect my uniform after the lesson".

"You will kindly note for the future that my name is /Fitz/Gibbon, girl. Well, we obviously cannot argue with the headmistress, but I will not tolerate girls coming to my lessons dressed like tramps, no matter how much that may fit their character. Remove those slutty rags at once".

Linda reacted as though she had been slapped in the face. She had just endured the indignity of stripping down to her smalls in public and now this woman, not much older than herself, was apparently telling her that she would have to go into the gym wearing nothing but her birthday suit! She acted shocked and said nothing.

"Come along girl, I haven't got all day. We've much to get through in this lesson".

Linda had a good idea what kind of lesson she really had in mind, but continued to play the part. The nudges and scarcely stifled giggles emanating from other members of the class confirmed that she had not misheard. And that this was not unexpected. If she was going to be forced to centre stage, she was going to give them the show they wanted.

"If you fucking well think I'm going to take off my clothes for your perverted little lesson, you must be even more of a fucking lunatic than I thought!"

Miss FitzGibbon barely raised an eyebrow at this outburst, too experienced to lose control of the situation that easily. "Kindly moderate your language when speaking to me, young lady. You will do what I have asked you to do in the next ten seconds or I will come over undress you myself, and believe me you will like that even less. Don't be such a silly girl. Do you imagine I, or any of your classmates, have never seen a bare bottom before? We take pride in our appearance in this school and girls who are unable to obey simple rules go without uniforms at all. Why do you think you should merit special treatment?"

There it was, the rest of the setup. An excuse for the teacher to assault and strip her, and a demoralizing vision of a future filled with naked humiliation. It was time to bring things to a head. "Do you think it's my fault that I haven't got any fucking uniform. Just fuck off, you fucking lesbian!" she screamed, rising from the bench and planting her feet in a seeming show of defiance.

The impassive teacher said nothing but strode over to the furious girl and laid a powerful hand on one pale shoulder. With the other she spun her around and whipped down the white knickers in a single movement so deft that Linda had no chance to protest.