Did You Just Call Me Fat. The Captain's Secret Obession

Dunked Slammed

"Hey, remember last night when the charity case tripped over the coffee table?" a guy whispered right behind me, letting out a cheap, gravelly snicker. "f*****g epic."

"God, the view from the floor was insane," another one muttered, chuckling loudly against his desk. "Those pink panties were barely holding everything in. I practically saw the whole show."

I kept writing in my notebook, keeping my face like absolute stone. My pen pressed firmly against the lined paper as I copied down the definitions for muscle fibers, pretending the entire row behind me didn't exist. Rich kids at Vanguard Elite Academy whispered about everything, and if I gave them a single glance, they’d think they won.

"Hey, where exactly did the lecture stop in the last class?" I asked, turning my head slightly toward the girl sitting right next to me. "Was it page thirty-eight or thirty-nine?"

The girl nervously shifted her weight away from me, her eyes darting toward the popular row before she looked down at her own lap. She let out a weak, shaky giggle, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. "Um... page thirty-nine, I think. But Nova, aren't you going to say anything to them? They're literally talking right over your head."

"Why should I?" I muttered, my pen never stopping as I crossed a 't' and dotted an 'i'. "I don't waste my breath on garbage. The trash usually collects itself if you leave it alone long enough."

"Yo, Marcus!" a rugby player shouted from the top tier, leaning entirely over his desk to look down at the center aisle. "You were standing right next to her when she went down. How big do you think that ass really is?"

"Huge!" Marcus yelled back from the back corner, letting out a sharp, mocking whistle that echoed off the high concrete ceiling. "But honestly? I'd still ride that. Hey, Nova! Come ride me instead, baby! Forget the Captain, he likes plastic. I like them thick and desperate!"

The entire row behind him erupted into a massive wave of roaring, suffocating sniggers.

"Quiet down back there!" Professor Miller barked, slamming his black marker violently against the whiteboard. "Turn to page forty-two. Now. I am not going to ask you people again."

They didn't stop. The noise only grew louder, mutating from stupid whispers into a continuous, malicious hum that filled the entire lecture hall. The guys didn't even care that I was sitting right there; they kept talking about my body like I was a piece of meat on a display rack.

"Seriously, Marcus, don't flatter yourself," Britney chimed in from across the room, laughing loudly as she tossed her perfect blonde ponytail over her shoulder. "She only wears the premium lace when she’s planning a free public floor show. Right, Nova? Did you practice that little fall before you came to the party, or are you just naturally clumsy?"

Britney turned to the slim, petite cheerleader sitting right next to her, aggressively nudging her shoulder with a manicured nail. "Hey, Chloe isn't here today, but look at Cynthia. Now that is what a real, actual girl looks like. Tell him, Cynth."

Cynthia giggled, hiding her face behind her hands before looking down at her long, sparkling acrylic nails. "Stop it, guys. You shouldn't compare me with a fat pauper. It's not even a competition. Like, at all."

"Exactly!" Britney laughed out loud, leaning back in her chair with a smug grin. "One is absolute royalty, and the other belongs in the campus garbage bin along with the rest of the scholarship files!"

"Marcus, slam your mouth shut!" Professor Miller yelled, turning around from the board and slamming his heavy textbook onto the wooden podium. "Turn around and face the front of this room right now!"

"Come on, Professor! We’re just discussing student body statistics!" Marcus yelled back, completely unbothered as he pointed a thick finger straight at the back of my head. "The whole school saw it! The scholarship girl tripped over a literal coffee table and flashed her pink panties to fifty people! Everyone loved the pink show last night! Hey, Nova, did you practice that little fall before you came to the rager, or do you just need a personal trainer to help you carry all that extra weight?"

The entire lecture hall exploded into a roaring, deafening wall of laughter.

"Hey, Nova! Nice view from the floor!" a guy yelled from the top tier, drawing another wave of cheers.

"Did Ashton give you a rating on the lace, freak, or did he just walk away because he was grossed out?" another shouted, his voice cracking with amusement.

"This is an absolute disgrace!" Professor Miller screamed, his face turning a dark, furious shade of red as he banged his book against the podium until the wood rattled. "Marcus, sit down! Go straight to the dean's office! I am writing you up for this!"

"Come on, Professor, it’s just a joke!" Marcus laughed, high-fiving the guy next to him. "Everyone loved the pink show! We're just giving credit where credit is due!"

A sharp, blinding pain shot straight through my sternum. The air in the room suddenly felt like boiling lead, thick and impossible to breathe. My left hand automatically reached up, grabbing my chest tightly as the walls felt like they were collapsing inward. The laughter was everywhere, bouncing off the ceiling, suffocating me. I kept my eyes wide, staring at the blurred whiteboard, my mind screaming at my body not to break down or show a single tear in front of them.

I marched straight up the concrete steps of the lecture hall aisle. My movements were fast, deliberate, and entirely silent. Marcus was still grinning, looking down at his friends with his mouth wide open, and he didn't even have time to stop laughing or get off his chair before I reached his row.

I stepped directly into his desk space, cutting off his exit. Before he could even register my presence or lift his arms to defend himself, I grabbed a fistful of his thick hair with my left hand, hooked my right hand behind his thick neck, and forcefully slammed his head straight down onto the heavy wooden table with a brutal, echoing CRACK.

"Holy s**t!" a guy yelled, jumping back so fast he knocked his own laptop to the floor.

Marcus let out a muffled, agonizing groan, his nose pinned flat against the wood as my fingers dug deep into his scalp, holding his face down with every ounce of my weight. The entire lecture hall went dead, freezing silent. The howling stopped.