Enough was enough. Name-calling, prodding, and tormenting for years brought Jamie to the brink of hysteria. And now, she longed for change.
The asinine pecking order of Broad River High meant that anthro girls like her got pushed around and bullied by the human kids. Wendy, the arbiter of her suffering, was the top dog at this dump, and her hatred for anthros—especially girls like Jamie—meant that this discrimination was enforced; and all Jamie could do was sit still and take it. The teachers wouldn't do anything—Wendy was too smart to be caught red-handed—and the other anthro kids hated the idea of forming a united front, saying it was "too much hassle" and "their futures were at stake". Well, what did they know? How could they experience routine humiliation for uncontrollable truths? As far as Jamie was concerned, so long as this carried on, she had no future. She had to do something about it.
Living in a run-down part of town meant that her family had to have weapons to protect themselves. Jamie's dad kept them across the house in safes, except for one. An emergency place in his study, underneath his mahogany desk. The weapon served as insurance; to force Wendy to reap what she sowed.
Weeks went into the scheme; after school, Wendy would often wait for Jamie outside the gates to continue her special brand of torture. On a Friday, Jamie planned to the gun out of her bag and force Wendy to undress and embarrass herself on video, sending the recordings to the rest of the school and severing the hold she had over them. The gun was insurance; Jamie didn't know how to fire a firearm, being only 15, but she knew Wendy would be too afraid to call her bluff.
When the time came, the end of a laborious Friday, Jamie diverted to the bathroom, checking her bag for the gun, when she felt something brush against her back. Behind her, she saw Wendy, an expression air of mirth written on her bully's face.
Surprised, Jamie turned to face her, hiding her bag behind her back. "Hey Wendy," Jamie mumbled.
"Hi Vermin," she replied, a false smile visible. "What are you up to, huh? Trying to look good for your clients this evening?"
As usual, Wendy's taunts stung, but the mere thought of the gun alone gave Jamie much-needed confidence. "Leave me alone, Wendy," she warned, not backing down. If this were to go like every other time, saying that would make Wendy even more obnoxious.
Wendy took a step forward, placing her hands on Jamie's shoulders, squeezing them hard in a mock show of camaraderie. "Oh no, Jamie! I'm not going to leave you alone. I need to help you first."
"Help me? How?" Jamie asked, ready.
She watched as Wendy's smile grew malicious, knowing full well what she was doing. "Why, giving you a makeover, of course!"
Before she could begin her usual physical beating, Jamie yanked her gun from her bag and pointed it at Wendy. "Get back!" She exhaled hard, aiming the gun directly between her eyes while adrenaline coursed through her. "Don't move."
The glint of the barrel under the harsh bathroom light froze Wendy in place, her smug supremacy dwindling to pure terror. She stepped back, recoiling at the danger, opening her mouth to yell.
"Scream and you die," Jamie spat, trying to sound tough. The seriousness of the situation sank in for both parties. Jamie expected a good feeling, but so far, it was horrifying. Her heart was racing, her throat dry, and her lungs seemed to become inert. The gun shook maniacally, and her sight of Wendy blurred from burgeoning tears. Tears of shame, anger, and despair. If anyone else found out about this, they'd call the police on her. Was this worth prison?
Potential alternatives burned to think about; if she didn't do this, there wouldn't be another chance. Wendy was the reason Jamie got picked last for teams, why she was ignored, laughed at, mocked by classmates. Wendy caused her misery, and Jamie was tired of being dreary. Sticking to the plan was the best course of action now.
Jamie moved on to the next step. She reached back into her bag with her off-hand, grabbing her phone. Fumbling to unlock it, she turned on the camera. "T-Take your clothes off," she ordered.