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From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
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<1st attachment, "Tom's_Diary_4-11-02.doc" begin>

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	The following is fiction of an adult nature.  If I believed in
setting age limits for things, you'd have to be eighteen to read
this and I'd never have bothered to write it.  IMHO, if you can
read and enjoy, then you're old enough to read and enjoy.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	All persons here depicted are figments of my imagination and any
resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly a blunder on my
part.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	Official stuff:  Story codes: teen, mf, con.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2003, by Gina Marie Wylie.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

	I can be reached at gmwylie98260@hothothotmail.com, at least if
you remove some of the hots.  All comments and reasoned
discussion welcome.

Below is my site on ASSTR:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gina_Marie_Wylie/www/

My stories are also posted on StoriesOnline:
http://Storiesonline.net/

And on Electronic Wilderness Publishing:
http:// www.ewpub.org/

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++	

Tom's Diary

Thursday, April 12, 2002

	Jenny woke me up before my alarm clock did when she got out of
bed and headed for the shower.  I got up myself and went and
reviewed my memo for Uncle Craig and the family to make sure I
hadn't been dreaming everything.  It sure didn't look like it; I
was pleased at how well the idea was looking now.  I didn't
really have any idea how many families would want to live there,
nor could I be sure that the number of leaseholders would stay as
high as I thought.

	Still, the bottom line was that even if half the tenants left,
which seemed unlikely, how many people lived in a house that put
close to half a million bucks a year into their pockets?  A lot
of people would be happy to earn more $40,000 a year; having that
as a monthly income, even if split four, five or six ways, wasn't
something to sneeze at.

	Then I had a real brainstorm; probably one of the most important
insights of my life.  Who were the smartest people I knew? 
Elizabeth, Jenny and JR.  Who had told me to do the memo all by
myself?  The answer to the last question was no one.  I promptly
logged onto my email program and fired off a copy to each of
them.

	I patted my computer on top of the monitor.  Elizabeth
practically slept with her computer; if she didn't have her nose
in a book, she was sitting at her keyboard doing all sorts of
things.  Sure, I do school work on the computer, I type my diary
on it.  But it's like a hammer or screwdriver to me; a tool I use
to do a job.  Still, now and then, even a hammer or computer
needs a little praise for doing the job particularly well.

	Jenny was out of the shower by then, so I did my morning things,
then zipped downstairs to the kitchen.  No way was I going to
miss breakfast two days in a row!  Dad had a little gizmo thing
that did doughnuts and pancakes; I mixed up pancake batter and
got the griddle hot.  I filled a little soup pan half full of
water, set the heat on low and put the maple syrup in it to warm
up.

	By the time people were ready to eat, I managed a steady stream
of pancakes, then finished up the last of them all by my
lonesome.

	Just before seven, the house phone rang, and Dad went off to get
it.  He was back a minute later, shaking his head.

	"That was Craig; the school district decided to punt.  They've
suspended your principal for a week, while they 'look into the
matter.'"

	"And what did Craig say to that?" Mom asked.

	Dad grinned wolfishly.  "Craig says the suit is filed tomorrow
unless they meet our terms.  We aren't in a mood for compromise
or half measures, he told them."

	Dad turned to me.  "This is called brinkmanship when you're in
politics.  You have to be careful you don't paint yourself into a
corner."

	Mom changed the subject, "We didn't ask how Tom's visit turned
out yesterday afternoon."

	It was my turn to grin wolfishly.  "Let's just say that I was
surprised at the numbers.  Currently they lease out two floors
and the income is about $64,000 a month, on a lease payment
nearly three times that.  As I told the leasing agent, it isn't a
surprise that they are going out of business."

	Mom looked troubled.  "The payment would be $200,000 a month? 
That doesn't sound like a very affordable house payment.  We
could buy a couple of places in the Country Club for that."

	"I'm working on something.  It's not quite ready for you to see
yet.  Hopefully tonight."

	It was Dad's turn to look troubled.  "Craig isn't fond of quick,
sloppy work.  Your mom and I aren't either.  You should take your
time with it, Tom.  You need to be careful.  There are a lot of
questions."

	"There are," I admitted.  "Still, a lot of the questions are
just engineering; the concept's solid," I said that with a smile.
 I'd heard that from Dad since I was little, when he was working
as an engineer.  Concepts, he'd told me a thousand times, are the
hard part.  Once you've got the concept, the rest is engineering.
 It's like a jigsaw puzzle; once you have the picture, the rest
is just fitting the pieces together.

	When Elizabeth got in the van, she told me she'd gotten my
email.  Jenny chipped in that she'd gotten it too.  "I don't see
any problems with it, except you need to put in money for
remodeling expenses," Elizabeth told me.  "If you make it pretty,
people will pay more to have their offices there."

	I'd been thinking the other way, cutting the price.  Remodeling?
 Everything I'd ever heard about remodeling said it was
expensive.  I was sure I didn't have to ask anyone about it, even
though I would.  I bet remodeling cost about as much as you were
willing to pay, and you had to be very careful to get what you
paid for.

	Jenny said something to Elizabeth, that I didn't catch, then
turned to me.  "Sometimes, Tom, less can be more too."

	I was driving by then, so I couldn't pay her much direct
attention.  "What do you mean?" I asked, while watching the
traffic around me.

	"Well, we went to a dentist that had an office in a building
with an atrium, with plants and fountains and all of that," Jenny
told me.

I remembered my dream, and I was suddenly a lot more interested
in what Jenny had to say.

	"The dental assistant that I saw when I went there told me once
that the dentist's wife complained a lot about how much the
building spent on the plants and fountains, but the dentist had
laughed, saying a lot of people thought it was restful.  The
assistant agreed, she brought her lunch and she'd go out to the
atrium to eat it.  And, she said, some patients came early so
they could just sit and watch the fountains, and be near the
plants."

	That came under the heading of another good idea.

	I stopped at Mr. Miller's desk before homeroom started.  "Who's
principal today?" I asked.

	He looked at me, and for a second I thought he was going to
laugh.  "That's up in the air, Brad Jones for the time being."

	I was sure that wouldn't be acceptable to Uncle Craig, but I
just nodded.  A girl in the front row spoke up.  "I heard you're
a millionaire and that terrorists are going to be beating down a
path to the front door of the school."

	I hadn't really thought about what to say.  I'd spoken to Tony
about it; maybe I'd been hoping that would take care of it.

	I shrugged.  "My grandparents on both sides set up trust funds
for my sister and I.  In addition, we have cousins... there's
like ten of us altogether.  I don't know where the school got
their information, but it's not really that big of a deal.  The
amount wasn't accurate, either."

	I said it all like it was no big deal, that it was all a
mistake.

	The girl, Sharon Crossland, nodded.  "I wondered, because I've
seen where you live.  It didn't seem likely someone with that
much money would live there.  And you drive a beat up old
Camry."

	"Not any more.  The Camry got totaled."

	Mr. Miller nodded towards my seat.  "You have just about enough
time to get seated, Tom."

	I hustled, laughing to myself.  Yeah, do the small things, and
don't forget, no matter what.  You don't do people favors by
cutting them a little slack, unless you were really careful.

	And that was pretty much it.  I mean, in high school these days,
no one much cares about anything except what they and their
friends are doing.  I didn't have that many friends, ergo, no one
cared about me and what I did.  And the people who knew me just
laughed at the thought of my being hugely rich.

	I suppose it's unfair, that it's a bad thing to mislead your
friends, even more or less out and out lie to them.  But it
wasn't any of their business, and having money in the bank didn't
make any difference to who I am.

	There were kids at the school who could run faster than me,
throw a football, baseball or basketball better than me.  Better
golfers, better bowlers, better at Scrabble, at Monopoly, who
could sing better than me, play an instrument better than me,
draw better than me.  All kinds of things for all kinds of
people.  Some were taller, some shorter, some fatter, some
skinnier.  So what?  I had a bigger bank account than they did. 
Big deal!

I bet the woman who wrote the Harry Potter books has a bigger
bank account than I do!  Randy Johnson, the baseball pitcher. 
Quite a few people in the world have bigger bank accounts than
me.

I just put it out of my mind.  As far as I was concerned, my bank
balance was like my computer.  A tool to work with, to get the
job done.

At lunch, I saw Anna Jackson walking past, I decided that it
would be nice to talk to her; I had never talked to her except at
the orgy.

I jumped up from the table and went after her.  She saw me coming
and stopped.  "Having a good day, Tom?"

"Pretty good," I told her, "Could I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure."

We went and found a patch of shade; it gave me time to get my
thoughts together.

"At Sue Ellen and Janey's party..."

I could see mild concern in her eyes; I saw her glance back at
Elizabeth and Shannon at the lunch table.  I met her eyes and
shook my head.  No, this wasn't about the party theme, or my
asking her out on a date.

"You said something about how you've never been discriminated
against by white people, just, mostly your own family."

"Blacks in general," she said coolly, looking at me with
curiosity.  "So?"

"I talked to a man who runs an outreach program for kids on the
street.  He's black, and I'm not sure but what he's rather down
on people who aren't black."

"Two things, Tom.  It's really complicated, but there are two
things you should think about.  Look back at where you were
sitting."

I did, it was just the usual crew at the table.  Tony and Sue
Ellen were popular; there were always different people around
them.  Our tables sat eight, and right now there were two other
cheerleaders at the table, and a guy I didn't recognize, but who
was a boyfriend of one of the cheerleaders.

"They're all white.  Tell me, Tom.  What would happen if a black
member of the football team wanted to sit down at your table?"

"I don't think anyone would give him their seat, but if there was
room, he'd be welcome."

"And what would happen if Tony went and sat down over there," she
pointed about thirty feet away, to a table with black football
and basketball players.

I shrugged, "I don't know."

"Tony wouldn't have a problem letting anyone on the team sit
down.  He'd just move over, make room, and treat the guy just
like he would anyone else on the team.  It's no secret that
everyone on the football team isn't bosom buddies, but it didn't
stop them from presenting a united face to everyone else.

"But if Tony tried to sit down at their table, they'd tell him
there wasn't room.  Even if there was.  That's called solidarity,
standing together.  If Tony refused to let a black sit at his
table, he'd be called a racist.  It might start a fight; they
could complain, and very likely get Tony in trouble.  If Tony
complains about the double standard, he's still a racist."

I nodded.  Talk about double standards!  "I think I need to learn
more about it," I told her.  "I just don't understand."

"That's because you think about it.  Look back at your table,
Tom.  Two guys now, three with you there.  Five black boys and
two girls at the other table.  How many guys at your table are
going to jail in their lifetime, Tom?"

"Not me!" I said emphatically.  "I don't see anyone likely to,
although I don't know the guy talking to Tony."

"Tom, two or three of the guys at the black table are likely to
go to jail.  In fact, it's not even worth betting, because I know
two of them have already been in jail.  Half of all black men,
Tom, go to jail before they're thirty."

That didn't seem to make any sense at all, and I said so.

"No, it doesn't.  Some blacks will tell you that it's you white
people, putting them down.  But the crimes they go to jail for
are real; mostly.  It's them putting themselves down."

She sniffed, "Something like one in ten is going to get shot or
stabbed too, at some point."

I shivered, remembering.  "That's not limited to blacks," I said,
my mouth dry.  The memory seemed fresh and vivid; like it had
happened just a little while before.

"Yeah.  Good people like you Tom; you have to stay on your toes.
Just do your best; even if a good many blacks don't like you. 
But hey, that's being brothers and sisters, not racism."

I'd been thinking, something was tickling the back of my mind. 
What had Janey said?  She was going to have a Janey party?  I
needed to talk to her.  I wondered if she wanted to have a Janey
and Tom party?

"Thanks, Anna."

"You go back to your table," she told me.  "I'm going to hear
about this as it is."

"Maybe you should think about sitting elsewhere," I said
levelly.

"I wish!  I have enough trouble as it is!  I gotta save it for
the fights that count!"

Little things, big things.  "Maybe all the fights count, and if
more people wouldn't give up on the little ones, the big ones
would be easier," I offered.

She looked at me and shook her head.  "Easy to say, just a little
hard to live.  Like I said, it's complicated."

She went towards the other black students, and I shook my head
and went back to Tony's table.

No one said anything, or seemed concerned about my having talked
to Anna.  From what Anna said, some of the people she ate lunch
with were going to have issues because we talked.  One of these
days I should go over there and sit down and talk to her at the
table.  Not bother to ask, just sit down.

I looked around the area where the tables were.  It was outside;
when the weather was nice, the tables were usually full.  It had
been steadily warming up all week, and was likely to hit 90 about
four in the afternoon; it was already 80, or close to it. 
Nothing, for those of us who've lived here for a long time.

All of which was distracting me.  Tables with blacks, whites,
browns, Asians.  There was some mixing, but the blacks were least
mixed, whites and Asians the most.  But, regardless, there wasn't
anything like an even mix.

Even as I saw that, I saw Gloria Rodriquez coming our way.  I
smiled at her, and moved over.  She sat down, glancing at
Elizabeth.

"How have you been, Tom?"

	"Okay," I told her.

	"Could I ask a favor?"

	"Sure," I told her.

	"Could I come visit you this afternoon?  I'd like to talk to
you.  I can't do it at home, and I don't want to do it here."

	"Okay," I paused, and then added, "Do you know if Janey is still
in the hospital?"

	"She comes home tomorrow.  I'll probably go visit her this
evening.  She likes the company."

	"Cool.  Maybe we could go earlier, after school?  I wanted to
ask her a question."

	"Could I ride with you, this afternoon?" she asked.

	"Sure, always room for one more," I said.  I told her where I
parked, and she said she'd be there right after school.

	I should stop doing it, but I glanced at Elizabeth.  It was an
odd feeling that I sometimes get from her.  When I could tell she
knew something, and I had no idea what.  Now, she just smiled at
me.

When she smiled, that dream I'd had, with the girl, her words
echoed in my mind.  "You have that look again."  Well, Elizabeth
had that look again.

	"You have so many admirers," Elizabeth told me.

	"Better than people who don't like me," I said, seeing Roger
Parker a ways off.  He was coming our way, too.

	He didn't change course, and after a second, I called Tony's
name, and jerked my head at Roger.  "Battle stations," I said
quietly.

	Tony looked, grimaced and said, "Man, neither of us can afford
to get into it."  That was sure true.

	"I'll punch him in the nose," Shannon offered.  "I owe him."

	"No, I get first dibs," Sue Ellen said, laughing.

Roger reached the table and glared at me.  "Think you're the big
cock on the block, doncha?"

"Better than someone this big," Shannon said, holding up her
thumb and forefinger about a long inch apart.

"Joanna said he was really teeny," Sue Ellen said, holding her
fingers about a quarter inch apart.  "More like this."

Roger's face turned dark red, and he started forward.

Unexpectedly, the other guy at the table spoke.  "Say, do you
know who I am?"

Roger glanced at him, and went back to glaring.

"I'm called The Rat by some people, Steve Jones to my friends. 
My dad's the vice principal."

"He's the principal, today," I said.

Steve ignored me.  "A lot of people are sure I rat out just about
everyone around me.  It's not true, because I'm a Steve, not a
Rat.  But there's a first time for everything."

It wasn't going to be necessary, I thought.  Mr. Jones and two
other teachers were headed our way.  Roger turned and saw them,
turned back, hawked and started to spit at me.

He was too slow.  Roger's always been slow, I guess.  Mr. Jones
had grabbed his shoulder, and spun him part way around.  The
spittle hit one of the other teachers in the face.  Coach
Jimenez, one of the football coaches.

The two teachers each took an arm, and the three headed in the
direction of the office; they didn't speak a word to us.

Steve started talking, speaking in an odd cadence, making it
pretty clear he was reciting a poem.

"Often, to amuse themselves, the crew of the ship
Would fell an albatross, the largest of sea birds,
Indolent companions of their trip
As they slide across the deep sea's bitters.

Scarcely had they dropped to the plank
Than these blue kings, maladroit and ashamed
Let their great white wings sink
Like an oar dragging under the water's plane.

The winged visitor, so awkward and weak!
So recently beautiful, now comic and ugly!
One sailor grinds a pipe into his beak,
Another, limping, mimics the infirm bird that once could fly.

The poet is like the prince of the clouds
Who haunts the storm and laughs at lightning.
He's exiled to the ground and its hooting crowds;
His giant wings prevent him from walking."

Steve chuckled, adding, "That guy is an albatross, about to walk
the plank."

We all laughed at that.  It wasn't my father's idea of a joke,
but a piece of what I guess was poetry.  I wasn't entirely sure
how the poem fit, but it was pretty clear it was meant in the
same spirit as one of Dad's jokes.

"Are you the princely poet?" I asked.

Steve shook his head.  "Nope, Charles Baudelaire wrote it, a poem
called the Albatross.  Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Rime of the
Ancient Mariner is about the bad luck a sailor experiences when
he kills an albatross.  It's where the phrase, 'having an
albatross around your neck' comes from.  It didn't seem to work
as well."

He looked at the rest of us, and smiled.  "I like poetry; what
can I say?"

"Cool," Shannon said.  "Did you know about poetic albatrosses,
Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth shook her head.

"Double cool!" Shannon enthused before going on.  "I need to
learn some poetry too!  I think it's something my sister isn't
that fond of."

Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at Shannon, and everyone smiled. 
The bell rang, and I squeezed Elizabeth's hand, and she smiled
back at me.  Yep, a nice day, and Roger had rained on a football
coach's day, not mine.  I was pretty sure it wasn't any wiser to
rain on a football coach's parade than it was to rain on the
team's parade.

	School wound down for the day; I have to admit my thoughts were
pretty much elsewhere.  I was thinking about tomorrow evening,
riding along with Marcus; about my report to the family.

	Jenny asked if I could come and pick her up later from
Elizabeth's, so I let her out there, along with Shannon.  JR
wanted to go to Penny's; they had some test coming that they
wanted to study for.

	I drove with Gloria to the hospital.  I still didn't know what
she wanted to talk about, but I figured that she'd get to it in
time.

	Janey was much more chipper than she'd been when I'd last seen
her.  So much so, that she even gave me a hug, right after she
hugged Gloria.  I took that as a good sign, and an opportunity to
ask her about the party.

	"I am so glad I get out of here tomorrow," she exclaimed. 
"There were times I thought I'd go crazy from boredom, then
they'd come bore a new hole someplace in me and I just wanted to
get away.  Monday, I don't care what they say, I'll be in
school... even if I have to stand for all my classes."

	"I'm glad that you're going to be okay," I told her.

	"Well, I'm not going to be a big fan of skimpy bikinis after
this.  I'm not going to be parading around in a thong," she said,
laughing.  "They let me look; they say the scarring will diminish
over time.  By the time I'm fifty, it won't be noticeable."

	I had to laugh at that.  Talk about long-term prospects!

	"Janey, you were talking about having a party towards the end of
the school year.  Are you still thinking about doing that?"

	She nodded, "Yeah, but not another party like Sue Ellen's and
mine.  That didn't work out at all like we expected.  No, a
regular party.  Sue Ellen says though, I can use her house again,
just that it's got to wrap up by midnight.  I was going to have
people over for a swim and barbeque.  Just a regular party where
everyone has a good time, hanging with their friends."

	"That would be late afternoon and evening, right?" I asked.

	She was curious, but nodded.

	"I took some friends out last Friday.  Dinner and a movie."

	She nodded again, "I wish I could afford something like that.  I
know how you felt; that is was damn good to be alive.  Being with
your friends, being able to put it out of your mind."

	It was my turn to nod.  "I had a good time, Janey."  I
contemplated how to say it; I decided not to bother with fluff.

	"There's a rumor around school I'm a gigamillionaire," I told
her.  "That's a lot of BS."

	"You have money?" Gloria asked.  "I got invited to a thing once
at the Phoenix Country Club, some guy invited me to a dinner
party.  You don't act at all like those people."

	"Well, it's not like people say, but let's just say that I don't
have as much trouble spending money as some people.  I'm not
looking to buy friends or anything like that; I just want to help
out.  I was wondering, Janey, if maybe earlier we could go to
that place where they do the go-kart racing.  We could go round
and round, chasing each other.  Earlier in the afternoon."

	"That would be cool," Janey said.  She did look intrigued.
	
	"What I'll do is work out a deal with them, one low price for
everyone, then we'd split it up.  They're bound to have group
rates."  And if they didn't, I'd negotiate one.  Or better yet,
let Uncle Craig do it.  Or Miriam.

	We talked a little bit more, and I told her I'd get back to her
with more information.  She admitted she hadn't made any firm
decision about the date.  It was, she said, still a work in
progress.

	Gloria and I left after about a half hour.  As we were walking
back to the van, I looked back at the hospital.  "My dad says he
hates coming here, even if it's just to visit someone.  That last
time I came to visit Janey, he stayed in the car."

	"I broke my arm two years ago," Gloria told me.  "It hurt, but
it hurt more after I went to the emergency room.  I think the
only way you like hospitals is if you work there, or have never
been in one."

	We got in the van, and I looked at her.  "Do you still want to
talk?"

	"Yes."

	"We can go to my house; no one's there."  I didn't want her to
be surprised.

	"That would be good."

	When went in, and she looked up the stairs, towards my room.  I
mentally gulped.  She wanted to talk up there?  The girl was
virgin and proud of it, willing to go to considerable lengths to
defend it.

	"If you're sure," I told her.

	"Please, Tom.  I want to talk in some place very private."

	I led the way up to my room.  Gloria was wearing jeans and a
color print blouse; nothing fancy, but not shabby.  She walked
over and sat down on my bed, and patted the spot next to her.

	I sat down, and she giggled.  "You look like you're afraid I'm
going grab you and have my way with you."

	"I don't know what to expect," I told her honestly.

	"I had a long talk with my grandmother the other day.  My father
is being a real pain; no one can talk to him any more.  He's sure
that I'm one step away from being a tramp."

	"Ah," I stammered, "you don't qualify.  You have to, ah, mess
around a lot to be that.  You don't mess around at all."

	"That's not what he thinks.  It used to be grandmother could
talk to him and calm him down.  She knows, I think, that I'm
going to leave as soon as I graduate.  I can't live like this."

	"You told me about what you wanted to do.  I think that's really
cool.  Tomorrow I'm going to ride along with a guy who does
outreach to teens at risk, on the street.  I'm curious what it's
really like."

	She looked at me.  "Grandmother, I don't know how she
understands things.  She sees things more clearly than most
people, even if she's nearly blind.  She said you were a good
boy, and that you were more likely to help than hinder.  She said
that I should talk to you, that you would know a lot about
scholarships and colleges.  She told me that I have a wonderful
dream, an important goal.

	"I don't like to ask for help, Tom.  But I'm desperate.  I don't
want to live at home any longer than I have to."

	I felt like someone an inch tall.  Maybe more like the short
interval Sue Ellen held up, representing Roger's penis size.

	"I like your grandmother," I said, dreading saying anything to
what Gloria had asked.  I was only too aware that a lot of my
classmates were consumed with college and getting information on
potential choices.  Next year would be the big year; SATs,
scholarship and loan applications.  Actually applying for
college.

	I could admit to myself that I didn't have a plan of my own, yet
the thought of opening my mouth and telling Gloria I had no idea
how to help her because I'd never made any plans at all, stuck in
my throat.

	Then I remembered Marcus and the 'orientation'.  How many and
what types of questions had I asked him?  I hadn't even asked his
name, he'd told me.  Zero questions.  Zero.  That's what I was in
his universe, a big zero.  All he'd done was tell me to keep my
mouth shut and not to be judgmental. I'd disagreed with that, but
I hadn't told him so, and hadn't asked why it was important, as
it obviously was.

	"I didn't think my asking for help was that deep," Gloria said,
next to me.

	"Oh, I go off on tangents now and then.  Particularly when I
realize I'm messing up.  In this case, really messing up."

	I faced her, reached out and took her hand in both of mine.  "I
have a confession to make.  I don't give a shit about college and
never have.  My parents expect me to go, but it never seemed
important to me.  It was what they wanted, and I've been
pretending for years it's what I want, too.  But the truth?  I
don't know.  I simply don't know.  Gloria, I'd give you every bit
of knowledge I have on the subject, but it doesn't amount to a
thimble full of spit."

	She looked at me, and for a second, I thought she was going to
cry.

	"Gloria, you're the one with the right attitude; college is
important, way too important to blow off like I'm doing.  We're
juniors, right?"  She nodded.

	"Then, this will be just like any other project we have in
class.  We buckle down and study.  We're not the only ones
either.  We should form, oh, call it a study group.  We trade
information, we can support each other, and we do whatever we can
to help each other."

	She fidgeted.  "You mean it?"

	"Sure," I told her.  "Today, I'm not the help your grandmother
thinks I am.  College is going to happen to me, just like it is
going to happen for you and to most of the people I know.  I
suppose we could go at it like everyone else does, by ourselves.
But, gosh..."  I thought of Mom's to-do lists and chores in
general.

	More than once in the last couple of weeks people had missed
their turns, for one reason or another.  Mostly not, because we
all made a point not to.  But when Mom had gone to look after JR
instead of fixing breakfast, I'd stepped up.  I'd been supposed
to do the dishes the night I'd spent at Mary's.  They'd been
done.  We stepped up and did them, usually without discussion. 
Whoever was there.  Sure, having someone there to help with
chores made them easier.  Knowing there was someone who'd step up
if you couldn't do yours for some reason, that was a big deal. 
Bigger than I thought.  Doing things as a group was important;
you got synergy.  I remembered synergy from my dream about God,
from Shannon's music.

	"You keep going away," Gloria said softly.

	"Yeah.  I keep thinking about things.  I do that.  If you asked
me a month ago if I was grown up, I'd have said sure, of course.
And would have been way off, because I had no idea what that
means.  Sex... I can't say that that isn't a part of it, but
everything else has been important too.  Right down to knocking
on your front door and meeting your father."

	"He's sure you will never be back, he's proud of it."

	"Then, shortly I will drive you home and walk you to the door. 
Then I will smile at him."

	"You've really never thought about college?" Gloria asked,
making it sound like I was eating babies or something.

	"Not really.  A couple of times I wondered why I didn't care...
but since I didn't care, I didn't think about it too much.  I was
wrong, Gloria.  I don't mind saying I'm wrong when I'm wrong.  I
don't know what it takes to be an adult, but I know that I don't
know as much as I think I do."

	I'd been sitting with her hand wrapped in both of mine. 
Something changed in that instant.  I wasn't sure what, but I had
an erection that seemed to spring to attention in record time.

	She pulled her hand away.  "I was stupid coming here, wasn't I?
What should I expect, sitting on a boy's bed, alone in his
house?"

	I let go of her hand, and tried to will my erection away. 
"Gloria, I swear.  I'm not most guys.  I'm sorry I felt... like
that."

	She looked at me and I looked at her.  "Why should I believe
you?"

	"I could take you home now, smile at your father."  Even as I
spoke, I realized how I'd phrased it.  Like I didn't expect to
take her home.  Not yet.

	I got up off the bed.  "It's getting on towards five.  People
are going to be coming home soon.  I should get you back, then do
a little studying."

	She blushed; I think it was a blush.  "I'm sorry, Tom."

	"Gloria, you're right about what I was thinking and wishing.  I
won't ever lie to you, I promise.  I want to get together with a
bunch of us, set up a group to look at college.  One for all and
all for one, that sort of thing.  That's more important than
anything else for us right now."

	"I saw you with that girl today.  She's a freshman.  And I heard
from Janey about the party.  You..."

	"I made love to a lot of girls at the party," I told her.  "They
wanted me, and I wanted them.  Did Janey tell you about her and
I?"

	Gloria shook her head.

	"Let's just say, we agreed that she didn't want me and I didn't
want her.  I tried, she tried.  It just didn't work.  I walked
away, and she went back to dozing on the couch.  Gloria, I like
sex.  God, I'd like to make love to you.  But unless you want it,
it's not ever going to happen."

	She was silent for a long time, and then looked up at me.  She
stood up.  "There are times when all that shit from my father...
I can't get rid of my hang-ups that easy, you understand?"

	"I understand."

	"Anyway, I'm the one who's wrong here.  You didn't say anything;
you didn't do anything.  You just looked at me.  Jeez, a dozen
guys a day look at me like that."

	I grimaced, "Next time, I'll make a more overt pass."  She
looked surprised, "The guys who look at you and don't say
anything... they are really the clueless ones.  You're a smart
person, Gloria.  You're cute, a cheerleader.  Someone nice and
wonderful, who will, one day, make someone a fine wife.  You have
goals, lofty, worthy goals.  Most of us, too many of us, are like
me.  Goal?  Isn't that something you score in soccer?"

	We went downstairs, but just in front of the door Gloria asked
me to wait.  She came close and kissed me on the mouth.  It was a
pleasant kiss, but without a lot of the wattage that was more
common for me lately.  Still, a month before I'd have been hard
and eager, thinking about my chances.  Now I knew it for what it
was, and simply didn't push, content.

	"Thanks, Tom."

	"No problem, Gloria."  We both giggled, and we went out to the
van.  A little later, I walked her up to her front door.  Her
father came out before we got there.  Gloria simply bobbed her
head, and went on in.

	"Evening, sir."  I told him.  "Gloria and I went to see Janey
Sussman, then we had a little talk.  She and I are going to be
seeing a lot of each other here in the next year or so.  We're
going to be working on getting into good colleges."  I bobbed my
head, turned and walked back to the van.  For whatever reason, he
just went into the house, without saying a word.

	I went back to my room and flopped on the bed.  I was aware that
it was still a little mussed from the two of us sitting on it. 
Did I really want to make love to Gloria?

	I slid to the floor, helpless with laughter.  I'd promised
Elizabeth that I was going to be faithful.  I'd promptly slept
with other girls.  More than one.  Tom, how many different girls
had you slept with in the two weeks before the orgy?  How many
girls at the orgy?  Do the math, Tom!  How many new girls have
you been with since?  Can you count as high as zero?

	Aunt Shirley was supposed to be a voracious lover of guys (and
girls) my age.  I'd not felt any urge; in fact, I'd not been
curious at all.  Kim had come back.  Nothing there, either. 
Penny; Penny was number three on Tom Ferguson's hit parade.  She
had a life; I had a life.  Since she'd come back from LA, we'd
said about ten words.  What about she and JR sharing a boyfriend?
 I was tolerably sure that was now history.

	Elizabeth and Mary; JR.  Jenny, Mom.  Are five enough for you,
Tom?  Except, not Mom, not since the weekend.  I'd groped her,
we'd kissed really hot, but that was it.  Jenny had Katrina now;
she'd always loved Elizabeth.  JR and Shannon; I knew there was a
deep current there between them, and I knew that half the time
Shannon was trying to tell herself it wasn't true.  Then she'd
see JR, and they'd slide between the sheets and spend some
quality time together.

	Elizabeth, Mary and myself.  The core, the center of things I
wanted in my life.  I didn't think I'd spend the rest of my life
ignoring other women; if Gloria hadn't pulled back; I was sure
where I wanted to go.  But she had, and so I did too.

	I eventually got up, knowing it was getting close to dinner.  I
read through what Elizabeth and JR had written back to me.  JR
had sent back a simple, "Whatever you want, Tom."  That was, I
thought, a complete cop-out, but it was pretty clear that if
Jenny was going to be in commission tonight, the same was not
true for JR.

	JR appeared for dinner, helped with dishes afterwards, and then
vanished.  Jenny and I spent two hours studying, doing a minimum
of talking.  Mom and Dad came up for hugs, this time with JR in
tow.  I hugged them all, including a JR who leaned into the hug,
not wanting to touch anything below her shoulders.

	With barely a word, JR was gone.

Mom watched her go, before turning to me.  "It's different for
all of us, Tom.  We all have patterns, but they are all
different.  And no matter how much you think you have a settled
pattern, sometimes they go awry.  This, Tom, is Joanna's first;
usually your first time isn't that bad.  Joanna's has been.  I'm
glad you're cutting her a lot of slack."

"She's JR," I said, stating the self-evident.  "I'll take care of
her until I'm old, toothless and senile."

Mom hugged me, then she and Dad left.

Jenny and I looked at each other, and then I went to the door and
closed it.  On the way back to bed, I shed my jockey shorts.

Jenny laughed, pulling off her nightie.  "Gosh, go for two days
without sex, and it's all you can think about!"

"We can curl up again, like we did the first night you were
here," I told her.

Jenny grinned.  "You'd do that too, wouldn't you?  I meant it,
Tom.  I like sex, just not with Sam.  And you aren't Sam," she
said, coming into my arms.

Jenny didn't want me to go down on her, but she didn't have a
problem with me using my finger.  Which I did.  And she went down
on me, and I didn't have any problems at all.  None.

Then she moved on top of me, and we made love.  It's odd, I
thought, as I moved inside of her, as I caressed her breasts.  I
make love according to the mood I share with whoever I'm with. 
Usually with Jenny, I was more excited, happy to move in and out
of her.  Tonight, I was relaxed and happy.  Twice to my slow
movements she came, then she started kissing me hard, rubbing my
nipples with her fingers, and otherwise just plain making it
fine.  I came, and almost at once, we were asleep.

<1st attachment end>


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