Tales From Heller

Salve Regina

CW: Sexual harassment

"So to end our meeting today, does our vice president have a motivational quote?" Juliet asked, eyes still firmly ahead at her audience of thirty, who filled Mr. T's desks and lined the side walls.

"A motivational quote, you say... 'Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth,'" Frank said with as much solemnity as he could muster.

"That is an excellent quote. Now, let us recite our motto again, and this meeting shall be adjourned."

"Strength through discipline! Strength through community! Strength through action!" the crowd shouted in unison, and they dispersed quickly, only having a minute before the end-of-lunch bell rang. Juliet turned to Frank:

"Where's that quote from? I feel like I've heard it before."

"Madame President, it is from the Bible. Matthew 5:5," Frank barked back, adding a stiff nod for emphasis.

"There's no need to call me by my title after the meeting, Frank, don't be such a tease," Juliet laughed, putting her hand on Frank's shoulder. "But why that quote in particular? We aren't meek at all."

"It struck me for some reason. And, well, you put me on the spot—what am I supposed to do?"

"You came up with this entire good person thing freshman year, this is supposed to come naturally to you. I made you vice president for a reason: your entire brand is philosophy and self-improvement, and if you can't do that, then what can you do?"

The bell rang and Frank saw an easy out, and left before his position could be compromised further. It was junior year, and he thought it was a miracle that Juliet hadn't booted him out of his position for dereliction of duty or otherwise being a senator. They could be all fun and games fifth period, and as soon as lunch began all gloves were off. It had been her idea to make a club based around his manifesto when he had first shown it to her, and since making a club and taking responsibility for consequences sounded like a terrible amount of work, he had given her his blessing. Frank wasn't sure what he would have done with his own good person club—less bubble tea, for sure, and definitely less weekend volunteering—but his current position was a good one: Juliet flirted with him occasionally, he got something to put on his college apps, all for the price of a few motivational quotes. They wouldn't fact-check it if he listed himself as president, right?

"He totally likes you, Juliet, come on. Why else would he be such a dedicated vice president?" Beth asked as they walked to cheer practice.

"He's not a dedicated vice president at all: if he liked me, he'd not do everything at the last minute."

"Of course he's dedicated: he calls you 'Madame President' during meetings and always stands rapt at attention."

"That glassy-eyed stare isn't attention, it's daydreaming, and I tell him to call me 'Madame President,' so that doesn't count."

"But do you like him?" Beth asked, nothing amusing her more than affairs of the heart.

"Of course I do—he's the one guy in this place I have an emotional connection with, and I don't know, I think he's cute. But imagine the harm it would do to my image: prim and proper Juliet, suddenly dating her vice president? Regina would mock me relentlessly. Why else would I constantly be so nice to him even if he's a terrible vice president?"

"Just because Regina's popular doesn't mean her opinion matters. It's high school: drama like this comes and goes, but it should break like waves on a rocky seashore."

"Well, I care, and that's enough for me," Juliet declared, and she motioned for them to return to the crowd.

John thought that Frank and Juliet were sell-outs, compromising the integrity of the original good person philosophy and its intent of pointing out the school's flaws. John was a person who believed everyone had flaws, which made this philosophy a natural fit: when talking with Frank and Juliet, he'd occasionally quote maxims like "paranoia is a sign of intelligence," to which they would laugh and pretend the phrases had no meaning. Of course they had meaning: it meant that John's paranoia about everyone else around him being intent on stealing his greatness was entirely justified. This lingering fear did not prevent him from maintaining a healthy friendship with Frank, whom he believed to be the closest thing to a voice of reason the school had—besides him, of course.