Jemma's back slammed against her locker as the oversized brute of a young man squeezed her tits and laughed.
"What you got in your bag today, trailer trash?" Tommy demanded and tore the bag from her shoulder.
Jemma knew better than to answer. Any answer she gave would just result in Tommy yelling some obscenity at her. He'd go through the bag anyway, find nothing of value, and then dump her school things all over the floor as his bully friends laughed. This was every day of Jemma's life in her senior year in high school. Being bullied by Tommy and his friends was nothing new.
At lunch, they spilled milk or bottles of water on her tits. In the hallways, they groped her or pushed her. After school, they caught her before she boarded the bus and pantsed her while the other students laughed. Having her things dumped from her worn old backpack was just another act of bullying that happened daily.
The teachers saw it happen and they did nothing. They were apathetic to Tommy's bullying, no matter who his target was. The big kid was the most valuable player on the football team and was also the son of the mayor. His mother was the chief of police. This practically assured him free reign to do as he pleased to any of his fellow students, as no one wanted to get on the bad side of his powerful parents. In their eyes, Tommy could do no wrong.
"Nothing but junk," Tommy declared as Jemma's things fell on the floor.
Shaking his head in disgust, Tommy yanked down Jemma's shorts, exposing her panties to the other laughing students, and then walked away with his friends. Blushing, Jemma pulled her shorts back up, collected her things, and made the decision that she was going to do something about this. She needed advice.
The school had hired in a new guidance counselor, and he was from out of town. As such, Jemma figured that he might not be as concerned as everyone else about Tommy's well-connected parents. Surely, if there was anyone that could help, it would be him. She made her way to the office, knocked and the door opened.
"Hello, young lady," the man in the brown blazer said. "What can I do for you?"
"You're the new guidance counselor?" Jemma asked, her eyes darting about.
"I am."
"Can you help me?"
"Come inside. What's the trouble?"
Jemma stepped inside. The man shut the door. He put out his hand.
"I'm Mr. Ericson," he said.
"Jemma," she replied and shook his hand.
"Have a seat, Jemma. What is it that you think I can help with?"
Jemma took a seat.
"I'm being bullied by a boy named Tommy."
"Tommy Gray?"
Jemma nodded.
"I've heard of him. It's hard not to. Police chief mother, mayor father, plays on the football team?"
Jemma nodded again.
"Seems that he spreads the bullying around to almost everyone," Mr. Ericson said.
"I can't take it anymore!" Jemma said. "No one will do anything!"
Ericson leaned back in his chair and thought.
"What kinds of things does Tommy do to you?" he asked.
"He pours drinks on my shirt. He pushes me in the hallway and dumps my backpack on the floor. He calls me trailer trash and he… he touches my… touches me. And he pulls down my pants!"
Ericson thought some more.
Finally, he said, "I'm going to tell you how to deal with bullies, Jemma."
Jemma leaned forward.
"Bullies get their power from seeing your fear and when you give in. My advice is to deny him that. When he pours drinks on your shirt, you thank him and say that your tits were very thirsty. If he pushes you in the hallway, ask him to slap you, too. When he dumps your things on the ground, tell him you didn't need them anyway. When he touches you and calls you trailer trash, invite him to see just how trashy you are. If he pulls down your pants, pull down your panties. It might take some time, but once he sees that you won't give him the satisfaction of being afraid and you agree with his assessment of your character, he'll lose interest in bullying you."
"You really think that could work?" Jemma asked.
She'd never considered that approach. It seemed antithetical to her line of reasoning. No one else was trying such a thing, though, so she had no basis to disprove the confounding logic Mr. Ericson put forth.
"I'm certain of it," Mr. Ericson said.
"I guess I can try," Jemma said. "Nothing else works, so why not?"
"We can rehearse i