The Academy

Bambi Cortes was always a special girl. At 19, she was one month from graduating Hartford's most exclusive academic school in the county, most people knew her as The Girl With All The Answers. Dean Harvelle, her anatomy teacher, however, knew her as The Girl Who Never Attended His Class.

It was a snowy day in mid-January when Bambi did decide to show up. Mr. Harvelle and the other teachers had often devised various calls to actions regarding the young woman, but none of them ever planned to enact them, besides Mr. Harvelle of course. And what could any of Bambi's teachers really say? Sure, she skipped many of their classes in favor of smoking cigarettes and getting high under the oak tree in the middle of the green... But she maintained her 4.5 GPA with the perfectionism and ease that came as a second nature.

So there Bambi was, in the back of the class, with Dean Harvelle lecturing his class room about tendons and muscles and reflexes. Bambi was short for a Junior, at only five foot one. She looked like spring, with large brown eyes and natural blonde hair that fell to her waist. Unlike most of the students he taught, Bambi didn't bother with make-up. And maybe that was why he chose her out of all the others. Or maybe it was because she was too confident.

While the other girls leaned in to listen, following his every movement as he circled the class room like a natural-born predator, Bambi slouched in the very back against the wall, filing her nails. Her legs, tan and smooth, were spread and Mr. Harvelle could see where her thigh-high stockings led. Reminding himself that he would have his moment after class, he returned to his desk just in time for the warning bell. Much to his amusement, Bambi slid her nail file into her book bag and began packing her things away. Mr. Harvelle tried to act like he did not notice.

Dean Harvelle was a multi-millionaire, and to be honest, working at Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow was much below his pay-grade. Although his co-workers and students all dearly loved him, he had always stuck out like a sore-thumb in his tailored suits accompanied with his chiseled looks. He was the tallest on campus, at six foot four, with dirty blonde hair and eyes the color of the green's well-manicured grass. What Dean did not know, was the reason Bambi never showed up for class. It was the same reason she looked like a deer caught in the headlights when he called her name.

"Miss Cortes?" Mr. Harvelle repeated, after the trill of the last bell sounded. "May I request your company and undivided attention for a few minutes of the school year?"

"Um, yes," Bambi managed to say.

She slung her backpack over her shoulder and walked as gracefully as she could to his desk. The sound of her flats on the tiled Anatomy room seemed redundantly unnecessary as the rest of the girls filled out of the classroom with petty smirks and knowing giggles. She waited for what seemed like an eternity before Mr. Harvelle met her eyes and then she wished he hadn't.

Dean Harvelle, four years her senior according to his Facebook---25----was a very intimidating man. Bambi had always figured this was why she was so attracted to him. But at the moment he seemed nearly twice her height, towering over her with a menacing look that seared her beneath her skirt. In a good way.

"Mr. Harvelle?" Bambi said, "I don't really know what this is about."

"Miss Cortes, this is the first time in two weeks that you have deigned to attend my class. So we might start with that."

"Well, I still have an one-hundred grade point average, so----" Bambi cut herself off when the frown appeared on Mr. Harvelle's lips.

With a tight-lipped grimace, he withdrew an old-fashioned grade book out of the bottom drawer of his desk and slammed it on top of the metal table top. It made a gritting sound that annoyed Bambi's ears but she remained passively stock-still. The only sound in the classroom was of Mr. Harvelle flipping pages in his grade book and Bambi's breathing. Finally, Mr. Harvelle spoke, "As of today, you have missed 70 days of my class out of 102. Your attendance, accompanied by your missing work has brought your Anatomy grade to a failing grade of 53. Which, I am sad to say, deteriorates your perfect grade point average."

It was silent in the room. Bambi's breathing had halted, the pages of the grade book sat unmoving, the world must had stopped turning. Even the clock on the wall had seemed to pause. Finally, Bambi pierced the silence by asking, "How... How is that even possible? I didn't even know attendance counted for anything. This wasn't on the syllabus, was it?"

For the first time since meeting Bambi, Dean Harvelle smiled. Bambi had always wondered what he looked like when he smiled. But she immediately regretted ever wondering this as he spoke, "And I am afraid, I am going to have to call your parents."

"But, Mr. Harvelle, I'm sure we could work this out ourselves. And while maintaining a level of secrecy. I am after all nineteen now, and in charge of my own course work."

"And what would you be willing to do to keep your perfect GPA, Miss Cortes?" Mr. Harvelle asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"I would do anything. Anything, Mr. Harvelle. Please, I do not want to bother my parents with this. I can do extra credit, and make up my missing work, and I won't ever miss another class of yours. I won't even be late. Please, the only thing I have ever had is being smart."

Dean Harvelle let the clock on the wall punctuate the silence that followed Bambi's speech. In his head, he was contemplating ditching his plan. The academy had plenty of girls already voluntarily enrolled among many others, and Bambi was right, she was smart. So it was quite surprising that she couldn't realize that he was setting her up. But he was no fool. And he would be damned if her innocence stopped him from getting what he wanted. So he continued with the steps, effectively ensnaring Bambi further and further, without her even knowing.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Cortes," he said finally, withdrawing a folded up piece of paper from his pocket, "come to this address at promptly 7 o'clock tonight and we will work on amending your grade in my class."

Bambi involuntarily raised an eyebrow at the hand he held out, eyeing the piece of paper. She shook her head, reminding herself that future doctors do not let their feelings stand in their way, and took the piece of paper.

"Thank you Mr. Harvelle," Bambi said, smiling up at him, "You won't regret this."

"No, I won't. But you might," he said to himself as Bambi walked away. "And Bambi?"

Bambi, who was already at the classroom's door, spun around and hitched her backpack up higher on her shoulder with her thumb. "Yes, Mr. Harvelle?"

"Don't be late," he said, with a knowing smirk.

"Of course not. I will see you at 7 sharp."

*******

The piece of paper, which Bambi had unfolded haphazardly as soon as she entered her beat up Volkswagen made her blush, drawing her mind to images she forced out almost daily.

"Bambi Cortes," it read, "arrive at 2356 Wildflower Court promptly at 7 tonight. Wear your school uniform and heels. Do not be tardy. Signed, Mr. Harvelle."

So here she was, in the only pair of heels she owned, a pair of six inch red platform heels that highlighted the green and black and red plaid of her school uniform. She had arrived thirty minutes early, afraid to miss her chance at redeeming herself. It was ten minutes to seven as she climbed out of her car, teetering on heels she had never bothered to break in.

Bambi much more preferred shoes like flats or boots, but she hadn't worked this hard to fail over footwear. So teetering across the abandoned parking lot, wobbling as unsuredly as her stomach felt, she approached the door set in the middle of the building.

The motion-activated security light above the door blinked on as she neared it, casting a daylight-like brightness on her. She halted in her heels, nearly tumbling over, and in an attempt to steady herself, braced one hand on the door. With an unexpected creak, the door opened, and Bambi fell into the building.

It was dark inside, with a mold and mildew smell that usually accompanied older buildings in Barrow County. The door behind her slammed shut, earning a satisfactory flinch from the new arrival. From the other side of the room, Dean Harvelle hit the overhead light, revealing Bambi's fate to herself.

"What the fuck?" Bambi yelled, pulling at the confinements of her cage. "Where am I?"

Dean didn't bother to reply, instead knocking three times on the door beside him. Two men, dressed in black sweaters tucked into black pants exited the door Dean Harvelle had knocked on. They were shorter than Bambi's anatomy teacher but only by mere inches. One was fairly nice-looking, with a shit-eating grin, ebony skin, and a shaved head. The other was much more intimidating, with curls to his ears and threatening dark eyes.

They approached the cage where Bambi resided in silence as Dean Harvelle looked on from his perch by the overhead light. He flicked the light off, and as she heard what she thought must be the cage opening, she tried to make a run for it. It was futile, as she ran right into someone's chest. At once, she felt what must have been leather clasp around both her wrists and her ankles.

The overhead light clicked back on, and Bambi felt the tears she had been focused on holding back fall. Her tears seemed to seal her fate and with a gut-wrenching look, she glanced down to find a silver chain connecting leather cuffs. The chain was only three inches long, but with a well recognized gesture, Bambi tested her new entrapment.

"What the fuck are you doing, Mr.---" Bambi began to shout, cut off by a red ball that the nice-looking man shoved into her mouth. It was a ballgag, she soon realized, as she continued to mumble incoherently as it was snapped into place.

Finally, Dean Harvelle left his perch beside the light, walking confidently over to stand outside of the cage. He crossed his arms and smiled. "Load her up, boys. I will meet you at The Academy."