Chapter Text
This recount of unlikely events is written purely for my future self, to make sense of when her own memories seem too unbelievable. It also serves to archive written pieces of erotic fiction based on real people, and when I use the verb archive I mean archive in a deep dusky box which will never see the light of day.
Hopefully the successful, brilliant and awarded future Beatrice Trudeau can look upon her past self with kindness. Mayhaps even lay a steady surgeon’s hand on these papers and smile, fond of these childish adventures she once experienced. I hope she will. I really do.
But let it be known that I look on my fiction with a mangled mess of pride and shame. It was never my intent to be a writer! I simply wrote for the fancy of reading my own thoughts more slowly than they hit my brain matter. I wrote these positively filthy stories simply because they made me happy. As hard as I study my dear STEM subjects, I wanted to treat the creative humanities as a respite. To leave my shame at the door, and only pick it up once I leave my sanctum of smut.
For fear of these precious papers being stolen again, I wish to claim that any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely intentional. Truth is stranger than fiction, and that is something I learned the hard way.
It all started an innocuous afternoon at Bullworth Academy. Me and the rest of my clique were studying outside, at the benches near the main entrance. I happened to look up from the biology book just in time to witness true biology at its worst: Jimmy Hopkins kissing Mandy Wiles!
For reference, should my future self ever lose her memory in martyrdom for experimental brain science, Jimmy Hopkins was my teenage crush. We had a few tête-à-têtes, some of which are detailed in this story, and made out on a multitude of occasions. Love is a strong verb, but in this youth I fully believed I loved Jimmy. My private writings prior to this incident mostly contained mine and his imagined future together as husband and wife. Jimmy isn’t an ideal partner, but his brutish charm and social capital as the king of the school was enough to fan my flames. Actually, I fell for him long before he rose to the top of Bullworth, for the record. I was one of the first.
Mandy Wiles on the other hand, is a nasty, elitist, jock-strap-sniffing, cheerleader, faux princess, full on BITCH!!! Also my roommate.
Picture my surprise when I stood up, ready to storm down the stone stairs and pull Mandy’s hair out, when I wasn’t alone in that desire. My compadre Cornelius rose to his feet as well, just as furious as I! We both had a halt when we recognized the other’s indignation, but as he had to pull up his trousers in preparation for the battle I was the first to speak.
“Why are you mad? Mandy doesn’t even care about you!” I accused, knowing very well of his crush on her as well as her open distaste for him.
“It’s not about Mandy, it’s about Jimmy!” Cornelius exploded. “We made out in the library just this morning!”
“You WHAT?”
Safe to say, our war path never made it down the stony steps to neither Jimmy nor Mandy. Me and Cornelius were at each other’s throats like feral cats. Luckily, thanks to the spirit of friendship, the rest of the nerds broke us up long before any prefects could come and give us disciplinary remarks that would haunt us for the rest of our lives. I did however crack Cornelius’ glasses, an expense which I had to reimburse from my very own college fund.
Ever since Jimmy brought peace to Bullworth, Earnest has started keeping a judicial court. It’s mostly us in the gang taking any and all infractions to a legal debate on Earnest’s initiative. He keeps saying that it will prepare us for the real world.
So there we were, all sat down in the observatory, Earnest as head judge, me and Cornelius on opposite ends of the floor, and all of the other boys playing witnesses, jury, and audience. First we gave our recounts, which were honestly not that different right down to the motives, and then Earnest opened the discussion with this literary gem:
“In my judiciary verdict: Jimmy’s a hoe.”
The peanut gallery went up in a roar of laughter. Me and Cornelius sat silent, brooding even, since none of these men cared to wonder what it’s like to be fond of a “hoe” like Jimmy. Despite the mutual violence that had brought me to this position, I felt a certain kind of kinship with Cornelius during that moment. Earnest had to bang his authentic don’t-ask-me-where-I-got-it gavel to bring order to the court again.
“No but really amigos, think about it. We’ve already settled the in-fighting! Both Cornelius and Beatrice have apologised, and come to an agreement about the breaking of optical property. In the honour of being a nerd, this scuffle is set and settled, except-!” With dramatic flourish he stepped onto his judge’s bench assembled from boxes. “The true criminal isn’t even present! We have not been able to discuss or judge James Hopkins blatant promiscuity!”
Algie raised his hand, and was given the word. “Do you want to bring him to justice?”
Melvin stood up and spoke out of order, with great flair: “Shall we challenge him to a duel for besmirching the hearts of our fairest maidens, regardless of gender?”
“Uh, actually, I never got the memo-” Bucky squirmed in his seat. “Are we okay with the gay, or are we-”
“NO, NO!” Earnest shouted loud enough to rattle the observatory railings. “We do NOT have any issues of homophobia! Think Bucky, think, you C minus of a man! JOCKS hate gay people, despite being the most GAY people in the entire world with their communal showers and intimate wrestling matches! THOSE PEOPLE are the REAL homophobes!”
This outburst that leaned equal parts ally and equal parts enemy of the LGBTQ+ community left everyone in stunned silence. That proved necessary, because the next thing Earnest did was to carefully climb off his soap box and say in his meekest voice:
“Also we will not say a word of this incident to Jimmy.”
“What? Why?” Donald hissed. “He caused trouble for us! Shouldn’t we at least let him know how we feel about it?”
“No, because then we have to tell him about our court.” Earnest admitted. “I never got the king’s permission to hold this power, and I fear what he will do to us if he finds out.”
I find it funny how that little word ‘us’ could change the meaning so much. If the danger had been no one but Earnest getting pummeled into a pulp it would have been seen as a natural consequence of his hubris. But as soon as he suggested that there will be an equal distribution of pulping the whole clique unites to resist the imagined tyranny of Jimmy vs World. I don’t know, I’m still a little upset with Earnest and how he treated this case, because when I lived these moments I was about to lose it.
My hair was a mess, might even have torn some out, I had bruises on my knees, aching muscles from fighting myself, a broken nail, and throughout the trial I had picked on one of my cold sores to the point that it stung and probably bled a little too! So with this in mind I kind of understand the hysteria that was about to possess me.
“Well then, is the jury adjourned? Cornelius? Beatrice? Do you feel like this is fair?”
“No!”
It was the first time I spoke since giving my testimony, and that simple interjection was all I needed to let the dams loose. I went on a rant, started crying throughout it, and spilled secrets I had in hindsight rather kept. I told them all about how much I like Jimmy, and how I fantasise about a future together with him despite my better judgement. Nobody dared stop me so I just went on! They listened as I explained how Jimmy and I were already married and had a wonderful five year old name Arnold in my imagination! They took me seriously as I confessed that seeing Jimmy kiss Mandy out of all possible people felt so much worse than whoever else he might hoe it up with. Nobody giggled as I repeatedly cried about how it felt like even the Jimmy of my dreams was cheating on me!
All because Mandy is so pretty. All because she’s easy, and I’m too smart to ever connect with Jimmy. I’m not what he needs, and it kills me inside.
Thankfully Bucky dared to step up when I hit this low. The simple touch of his half hover-handing pat on my back was enough to snap me out of it. He stayed there, and I stayed silent in shame.
“Your honour,” Melvin said, hand on his heart. “I, if anyone, know very well how real the realms of fantasy may appear to the ones gifted with that type of intellect. My suggestion is that we continue this trial, and that we do bring Jimmy into it. The imagined Jimmy. He is the criminal we have the power to punish.”
I’ll never forget the look on Earnest’s face. It spelled out so clearly “is this what my life has come to?” without any of the malice I would have expected. He slicked his hair back, corrected his glasses, and took hold of the gavel with confidence.
“Bring the accused to the witness stand!”
Cornelius got a seat in the audience. On his previous chair a sack of nuts and bolts (unsorted) as well as a cardboard box labelled “canned potatoes” were assembled to represent Jimmy. I don’t know who drew the face in all of the chaos, but it was a charmingly close match as far as scowling doodles go.
“James Trudeau Hopkins is charged with the morally reprehensible crime of cheating on his wife! The other party has explicitly requested to avoid a divorce, and thus we need to find a different mode of paying these dues. Jury, discuss!”
I won't lie, I thoroughly enjoyed the hour that followed. It solidified the belief that I do love my friends. After having a mental breakdown in front of them, they stepped up to support my maladaptive daydreaming to the most extravagant of extents. They asked me genuine questions about mine, Jimmy and Arnold’s life together. I had fun! I never thought I could have such a deep discussion of crime and punishment in the realm of imagination. (Well, maybe in a game of Grottos & Gremlins, but that’s besides my point.)
The suggested solutions ranged from cheating on him back (I would never, and there’s nobody else I want) to excruciating torture of his genital area (no thanks). We spent a lot of time discussing if killing off the imaginative Mandy would help, but the verdict was that it does not absolve Jimmy of the crime of cheating on me with her. A multitude of quests for Jimmy were made up, all so that he could work through his guilt and prove his love to me again, but there was one glaring problem…
Jimmy would just do that. Jimmy would fight a hundred ninjas any Tuesday of the month, because he enjoys it! Is it truly a quest of redemption if none of the challenges pose any challenge? The discourse became really philosophical, and that’s when Algie struck gold.
“Yeah, Jimmy isn’t even afraid of sharks, is he…? But, isn’t there one thing that Jimmy is afraid of though?”
Like a parallel circuit, all of our light bulbs struck at once. In perfect unison, we said the answer as a choir.
“Gary!”
For the uninitiated, or those that would rather forget, Gary Smith is an enigma. He is Jimmy’s worst enemy, just as he is Jimmy’s first friend. Gary used to rule this school as a shadow king, eliciting senseless violence rather than establishing stability. Jimmy was the transfer student to tear him down from that pedestal, but only after being stepped on as a servant one too many times. It’s complicated…
But that’s the short of it. Gary is the only person who Jimmy fears, despite winning their long battle in the end. To be quite frank, I fear Gary too. He made it no secret that he liked to bully girls to psychotic degrees as soon as he entered Bullworth. To save myself the mental trouble I had avoided him as best I could for my entire stay at the academy.
When my silly court battle against the imagined Jimmy was settled, Gary was still locked up inside the mental asylum Happy Volts. I shiver at the contrast between his padded cell and my place of privilege. But here is where our paths metaphorically crossed first.
For reference to the pages of fiction that will follow, the wise men say that the best place to hide is in plain sight. My diary is my diary, and while it serves the purpose of a diary, it is also a decoy. I carry it around with me in my usual pile of books because that’s the pretty pink target that any nefarious foe is tempted to look into. My fiction on the other hand is not inside of the diary.
I write all of my work interspersed in my school notes. There is a system, ciphered by yours truly, on which pages to skip as you flip through the book to get to those left blank and ready for derailment. If the common fool was to ruffle through my notes there is a believable amount of lecture notes, homework, fun diagrams, and extracurricular studies to make my notes look like the most boring thing in the world to pay attention to. If you do happen upon a page detailing Arnold’s fifth birthday party, the continuation to that story is an odd number of pages away. For a bully it’s very, very hard to find.
It actually hurts me a little to tear these select pages out and arrange them in reading order. Naturally the art of archiving would be more upheld if I could forfeit the brunt of my notebooks here, but I still need these notes. My perfect study technique and curriculum can not be slowed for the sake of my hobbies. Either way, future me, thank me later and enjoy the reading material separated from the cipher context it was written in.
(A final note of context is where I wrote this first entry. It was the evening after the trial, and I was in my dorm room. In that context… Mandy is my roommate. She was lewdly lounging on her bed in her slutty short-shorts pyjamas as I sat by my desk to put pen to paper. That, and my undying rage and hatred, might be why she’s not featured by name.
Spurred on by my compadres verdict, I let my imagination flow. As punishment Jimmy had to meet Gary again, and he had to hate every second of it. (I’m still impressed at how lifelike I managed to portray Gary’s terrifying psyche.))
Jimmy takes a deep drag of his second cigarette. The first one he smoked in the bed of infidelity. This one stinks up the bus stop of regret. It wasn't Jimmy's idea, but the whore told him to leave his car at work and commute to her saccharine embrace. Now that Jimmy has to commute back to a loving nuclear family he feels more stupid.
How could he do this to his wife?
Jimmy's dunce head has no answer. He smokes his cigarette.
"Got a light?" Asks the stranger who joins him at the bus stop.
Without a word Jimmy extends his worn metal zippo. He doesn't realise who it is until it's too late.
Gary takes Jimmy's hand. Expertly he flicks the lighter open, and scratches forth a spark between them. There is a deep eroticism as Gary lights his cigarette on that flame, slightly bent to reach Jimmy's shorter frame. From afar they look like a pair in courtship: Gary bowing to kiss Jimmy's fingers in deep reverence.
Up close they are enemies. Teenage rivals aged up. Jimmy stares in disbelief at Gary. The taller man looks taller still thanks to his sweeping trench coat (of mid century German design).
"Why are you here?"
Gary grins around his cig, his devilishly handsome scar still marring one eye.
"Revenge is best served cold, eh Jimmy boy?"
An envelope is handed over. The parcel is branded at one corner with "Smith & Sons - Private Detective" in green ink. Jimmy shivers, but starts to fiddle it open with his short nails.
Gary starts talking, just like he did at Bullworth Academy all those years past.
"I'll give you the simple rundown since you're probably too slack jawed to ask. I got released from Happy Volts about the time you and Beatrice got married. Were it not for my circumstantial parole I would have crashed that phoney wedding myself, but lurking from afar taught me something important. You were happy Jimmy. For once in your miserable life, you had found a woman smart enough to make an idiot like you truly happy.
So I vowed to bide my time with you, Jimmy. I vowed to let you have your American dream, and let that happiness and joy build as far as it could go... All so I could tear it down when it would hurt the most."
Jimmy finally got the envelope open. From it he extracted photographs. Photographs of him and the whore kissing, holding hands, lewdly embracing together. Definite proof. Of everything.
"But you jumped the gun, Jimmy." Gary clicks his tongue. "You were about to ruin it all on your own, without me lifting a finger."
Jimmy swallows, mouth unbearably dry. Shock upon shock, surprise after surprise, the relentless barrage has him frozen. Gary takes advantage of it, and swings an arm around his shoulders.
"You know what's funny?" He giggles manically. The breath caresses Jimmy's ear much too hot. "I was doing so good. I planned to leave you alone. I planned to wait all those years until little Arnold had gotten into his dream college. Only then would I run him over, leaving you wondering what your fully formed son could have become if he only had more time..."
Violently Jimmy shoves him off. The fatherly habits he has developed show in the accusing finger he raises at Gary.
"YOU LEAVE ARNOLD OUT OF THIS!"
Gary just laughs. "Me? But Jimmy, I haven't done anything yet! I'm the good boy today, while you're the bad father!"
"Shut the fuck up! My son loves me!"
"As does your wife! Oh, put poor, poor them-" Gary started miming tears, mockery in his face. "You've doomed them to a life of divorce. Will cheating be worth it when you see Arnold on the weekends? When you see his resentment grow over the years? When he stoutly swears to never become like you?"
"You-" The punch Jimmy throws never lands. Gary catches it, stronger now, and holds Jimmy at bay. The shift in dynamic makes Jimmy freeze in fear.
"Or would you prefer to murder me, Jimmy boy?" Gary asks, a disconcerting purr in his voice. "Being little Arnold's daddy in jail does seem more on brand for you... I'm sure Beatrice's media team would have a field day trying to deal with that debacle."
Helplessness sets in. Jimmy falters, realising he's fully at Gary's mercy. His dropped cigarette lies smouldering on the ground. Gary takes a deep drag of his, and blows the smoke in Jimmy's face.
"What do you want Gary?" Asks Jimmy, tearing up in the smoke. No longer a grown man, he's standing in the ghost of the teenager he once was, repeating the same lines in the very same voice.
Only now he's more pathetic.
Gary can barely contain his excitement.
"You're going to do whatever I say."