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Message-ID: <49179asstr$1095225005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Gina Marie Wylie" <gmwylie98260@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Spitfire and Messerschmitt {Gina Marie Wylie} (snogging, no sex)
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Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 01:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Davey Ch 13.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, cons.

	If stories like this offend you, you will offend ME if you read
further and complain. Copyright 2004, 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/

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

Spitfire and Messerschmitt

Chapter 13 :: Vacation Plans

Friday morning I showed Emily how to put in the pool chemicals --
since she was there, waiting for me when I finally got out of
bed.  I explained about having to wait twenty minutes; she
already knew how I spent them.

When I came back out after my shower, she laughed.  "Nineteen
minutes," she told me.

"And your point?"  I grinned in return.

"You have to wait another minute!"

I reached out and grabbed her around the waist, took two quick
steps and dumped her in the water.

It was simply horsing around.  I could feel her turn rigid as I
put my arms around her; I could sense her shock.  I let go mainly
because anything else would have been to admit I'd forgotten why
she was standing at the side of our pool, a little after six in
the morning.

I had intended to dive in right away and start swimming.  Instead
I went down the steps and stopped a few feet away from Emily, who
was pale and unmoving.  She looked at me, the hurt clear in her
eyes.

I grimaced.  "I'm sorry, Emily."

She shook her head.  "It was a joke.  I know it was a joke."

"It was," I agreed.  "One in poor taste, what with everything
else.  I'm sorry, Emily."

She shook her head.  "Davey, I'm the one who has to realize that
every guy isn't my enemy."

"It's called," Wanda said from the side of the pool,
"desensitizing.  They give you what you fear in little doses in
the hope that you will gradually overcome your fear."

Wanda was nude again but at least she didn't jump in.  She walked
down the steps and joined us.  She came up to me and kissed me,
her breasts digging into my chest, her pussy humping against the
front of my suit.  There was no way I could stop from reacting.

Wanda grinned as she let go and stepped back.  "That, little
brother, comes under the heading of cruel and unusual
punishment."

I smiled.

Wanda waved.  "Isn't there something you usually do about now?"

"Swim in circles?"  Emily answered for me.

"That!"  Wanda exclaimed.  "Swim in circles for a while, Davey!"

I started swimming while Wanda started kissing Emily.  By the
time I was headed back, Wanda had led one of Emily's hands to her
breasts.  It was, I realized as I turned and headed away, more
cruel and unusual punishment.  More so, when I turned again and
the two of them were gone.  It wasn't hard to compute where they
were.

Once again I dug down and just starting swimming as fast as I
could go, pushing up against the limits of my endurance.

Later, at school, Mercedes smiled at me when I met her outside
the biology lab.  "After algebra, more biology at the nurse's
office!  Then I go to the doctor this afternoon!"  Her voice was
enthused but soft; I doubted if anyone could hear her.

She smiled at me and then looked around.  "I never got a chance
to say half the things I wanted to after the movie."

I nodded.

"Braids," she told me.  "We talked about braids."

"We did and what I feel about them."

She licked her lips.  "You know what I told my father last night,
after you left?"

I shook my head.

"He didn't know it.  Mom didn't know it, but I am, as of now,
going to be a working girl.  I don't have a clue how I'm going to
work all this in, but I'm going to do some babysitting...
anything, anything at all, to earn money.  They have agreed to
let me save everything I earn.  I want to go this summer, Davey.
You and me, we're going to Hawaii!  We're going to that beach and
we're going to watch those waves come in -- maybe we'll be
limited to the baby waves, but by God, I'm going to catch at
least one wave!  I'm going to see the ocean, I'm going to smell
it, I'm going to surround myself by it!"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that I could just ask and
my parents would give.  Was that a good idea?  I decided that it
wasn't something Mercedes wanted to hear.  She wanted to earn her
own way.  Fine.  She could do that.  Should I earn my own way?

Between school and baseball, a lot of time was going to be
consumed.  Not so much now, but in the spring.  Even now, I was
going to be busy Tuesday afternoons and Saturday mornings.  What
would I do to earn money?  There were paper routes in San Angelo.
 Dad talked about them sometimes, when he was a kid and had
delivered papers.  He was bitter because a year after he started,
the routes were all given over to adults with cars.  And it had
been that way ever since.

I could mow lawns.  There were a few lawns in San Angelo, but not
many.  Of course, another consideration: Dad had junked our mower
when he put in the pool.

Ms. Weaver arrived and we filed inside, Mercedes and I going to
our new seats.  We traded looks as we sat down.  We'd seen the
awful holes that car bombs dug; the more modest ones "martyrs"
made when they blew themselves up.  Sitting away from the windows
was not very likely to be much use.  Thinking about it, Ms.
Weaver was the only teacher to move us.  Had the others received
the same request and ignored it?

Ms. Weaver was still discussing fundamental concepts in science,
particularly in biology.  Something she said caught my attention,
so I raised my hand.

"You talked about a Monte Carlo simulation," I asked when she
recognized me.  "What's that?"

She'd been talking about research on ecology and the environment,
about global warming and the like.

Ms. Weaver nodded.  "Good question, Davey.  A simulation is a
program that takes a set of data and performs a series of
calculations on that data, using a set of parameters scientists
think describe what happens.  The problem is, if you don't vary
the input parameters or the events along the way, you keep
getting the same result.  Experience shows that it doesn't take
much difference in parameters to get some variation.

"A Monte Carlo simulation is like gambling in a casino roulette
game.  The wheel is turning, the person running it can vary how
hard they spin it, how hard they toss the ball, and there are
variables like air pressure and humidity, the mass, volume and
density of the ball... just a whole lot of things that can vary.
So, scientists who run simulations run not just one, but lots of
them, varying this or that parameter.  The calculations they use
are called a model and the model is supposed to reflect what's
understood about how things work."

I nodded, understanding.  However, two things were the true focus
of my thinking.  One was Mercedes talking about earning money to
go to Hawaii come next summer and the second thing was the coffee
can weighing heavily on my dresser.  It had gone from six to ten
pounds in one week.

After class, as we walked to English, I asked Mercedes how much
she would make, babysitting.

"It varies widely.  Obviously, the people who pay five dollars an
hour are more popular than those that pay a dollar an hour.  My
sisters tell me I can probably make twenty or thirty dollars a
week, if I'm willing to work evenings and weekends.

I nodded and spent English period only half aware of what was
going on.  I'd made more than a hundred dollars in one night of
poker.  Hannelore wasn't likely to come back and I wasn't likely
to see a night where I had a straight flush and four of a kind in
the same game.

Several people, I thought, had gone out of their way to let me
know I'd been very lucky, Hannelore not withstanding.  She had
lost because she didn't think I would stand up to her; that's
what Willy Coy had said.

The fact was that I'd won more on that one night than a month of
Mercedes' best possible earnings.

On the way to algebra, Mercedes grabbed my arm and pulled me off
into a niche between ranks of lockers.  "You weren't paying
attention in English!"  Her finger started bruising my solar
plexus again.

"I was thinking about Hawaii, come summer.  How much do you think
we each need?"

"Fifteen hundred dollars.  And if you tell me your parents will
give it to me, I'll punch you in the nose!"

"Spitfire!  Messerschmitts don't give freebies to Englanders!"

She laughed.  "Damned right!"

"So if I try to think of a way to duplicate your earnings,
considering that I have almost no saleable skills, please don't
get on my case!"

She punched my chest again.  "Think later!  English isn't that
big a deal, but algebra is!"

I nodded.  It was.

Lunch rolled around and we gathered at a table.  Emily and Karen,
Mercedes and me.  Mercedes gave me a little thumbs-up as I sat
down, indicating a successful trip to the nurse's office.

We talked about our classes; it was clear to me that both Karen
and Emily were being short-changed; they were much smarter than
their classmates.  They should have been in the honors classes
like Mercedes and me.  Karen's parents hadn't known to ask and
Emily's mother hadn't bothered to ask.

I contemplated this and that; I needed to talk with my mom. 
Regretfully, it would have to wait until the evening because
there was no way to do it during school.  Except today was
Friday, and Monday would be pushing the limit on getting them
into the honors program.  Mom was no fonder of cell phone calls
during the day than my dad, but...

I looked at Mercedes.  "I have to call my mother."

I ignored her raised eyebrow as I stood up.

His name is Terry Toohey; he bullied me since fourth grade.  He
was with two friends, Alan Guiterrez and Sean Forth.  All three
were wearing black trench coats, although in Texas we call them
"dusters."  Wearing a trench coat when the temperature was in the
80's at lunch and above 90 when school got out?  I'd seen them
when I stood up and turned around.  I stayed stock still,
watching them closely as they came my way.

My first thought was one that harked back to something Blade had
said yesterday.  "This time of the year, coats are suspicious. 
Come December -- you'll never know what hit you."

"Harper!"  Terry said with honey dripping from his voice,  "I
haven't had the pleasure of pushing your face in all summer!"

His might not have had the pleasure, but all I saw were coats in
the summer.  It didn't matter that they were unbuttoned and all
of that, nor that I'd known Terry for half a dozen years and had
never won a fight with him.  All I saw was black.

My fist in his stomach took Terry by complete surprise.  One of
his friends was startled and took a step back; the other, Alan,
flipped his coat open a bit and started reaching inside it.  In
my mind I saw one of those awful pits left by a suicide bomber; I
knew Mercedes, Emily and Karen were just feet away, behind me.

I have never, ever focused like I focused then.  I swung with
every bit of frantic fear and intensity in my body, trying to
knock his hand aside.  I spun him half around, and I simply
jumped on him, knocking him to the ground.  I put my knees on his
arms and leaned forward, my weight on my hand against his
throat.

Behind me, not from my table, a voice said in awe, "Jeez, Harper!
 Awesome!"

I glanced in the direction of the voice and saw someone I
recognized from the baseball team.  He was up, standing a foot
away from the third of Terry's friends.  Terry's friend Sean was
pale, his hands away from his body.

Then it was teacher time.

Someone adult hauled me off Alan, the guy I was sitting on.  Then
someone else was kneeling down, tending to him.

I felt nothing.  I was breathing hard; my eyes scanned the area
around us.  I already knew the one I'd knocked down didn't have a
bomb...

Reason returned then and I paled.  I'd gone crazy!

Someone was next to me.  "Would you like to explain yourself?"

It was Mr. Two Crows, the vice principal.  I was, I realized, in
deep shit.  Deep, deep shit.

I swallowed and took a breath.  I nodded at Terry and the one I'd
knocked down.  "They're wearing coats."

His eyes widened and he waved at Coach Wells, who had arrived as
well.  "Bud, search that student!"

The Gods of Good Luck smiled on me.  Coach Wells started towards
Terry who drew himself up.  "You can't search me!"

In short order, half a dozen teachers did just that.  They found
two knives and something I didn't really get a good look at, but
looked like a very small pistol, on Terry.  Sean had three knives
and blackjack; Alan, the one I'd landed on, had a half dozen
ninja throwing stars, a couple knives and two rolls of quarters.

They hustled us up to the school office.  The police arrived,
plus a few minutes later, my father.  Only Terry's father ever
showed up, an hour after everything was over.

By then it was too late.  Mr. Two Crows had repeated my "coats"
comment to the principal, showed him the weapons and the police
were called within seconds of our getting to the office.  From
then on it was out of our hands.

Much later, I was released to my father.  Worse, Blade was with
him.

"You screwed up," Blade told me.

"How?"  I asked, deciding my only possible defense was to talk
about the danger.  "It's summer, they were wearing coats."

He grimaced.  "I suppose we deserve that.  Davey, this is going
to hurt.  It's going to hurt unimaginably.  The fact remains,
that if at the end of the day you want to be able to pat yourself
on the back and say you are civilized, you have to let them make
the first move."

My jaw fell down around my knees.  "Nine-eleven?"  I asked.  "All
that talk about martyrdom operations?  We're just supposed to let
people blow us up?"

"They had weapons, but not those kinds of weapons," Blade told
me.  "You over-reacted."

I looked him in the eye.  "You need to rethink everything you
told me, then.  Mercedes was behind me.  Emily and Karen.  The
girl I love; the girl I'd give my right arm to protect.  Another
girl I'd offered to lie and lie again for.  You can't have it
both ways.  There is a risk, or there isn't.  A risk, you said,
is someone wearing a coat in the summer.  This is summer; the
temperature today will be in the 90's and it's a little humid."

Eventually the police let me go.  "No harm, no foul," Blade told
me as we left the headquarters building.

I looked at him with total disdain.  I'd figured it out.  All
that stuff before had been a song and dance, to make us feel
good, to think that they were doing something.  What I was really
supposed to do was sit quietly and let the adults deal with it. 
Maybe scream really loud if I saw something definitely wrong.

	Much later, I was home.  I sought out my mother, who was sitting
in the living room, watching TV.  "We need to talk."

	She looked at me, nodded and flipped the remote and the TV went
off.

	"I wanted to talk to you at lunch today," I told her.  "It was
why I got up.  Mom, Emily and Karen Grissom are in the regular
college prep.  We need to get them out of there and into honors
classes."

	She looked at me for a minute and then shook her head.  "I was
thinking you were going to ask for clemency.  Phil thinks you
need to be taught a lesson.  We were going to talk later about
how long you were going to be grounded."

	I repeated to her what I had told everyone, "Mercedes, Emily and
Karen were there.  What?  Was all of that talk yesterday just BS?
 When it comes to a decision, I'm going to be second guessed?"

	She sighed.  "Welcome to the real world!"

	"You can keep it!"  I said, upset.

	"Davey, the very first thing Monday, I will be at the school to
see what I can do about Emily.  I will talk with Bonnie Grissom
and we will decide what to do for Karen.  You are right, Davey,
they should be in honors.  Relax!  Not everyone is trying to blow
you up!"

	I saw red.  "Not everyone!  It will only take once, though!"

She looked at me and sighed.

After a bit I'd calmed down enough to call Mercedes.  "I'm sorry
about lunch," I told her.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," she replied.  "I was
thinking about getting up and hitting one of them with a chair. 
You surprised me is all.  You were really fast."  She chuckled. 
"Maybe we have the nicknames wrong."

"I overreacted," I told her, speaking as contritely as I could.

"Davey, you did.  A couple days ago someone tried to kill you. 
Yesterday, they talked about bombs and terrorists and all of that
for more than an hour.  Now, speaking of plots, I told my parents
we were going to the game this evening.  Do you think you can
arrange something?"

"I need to talk to Wanda.  On the fourth of October I'll be a
year older than I am now.  I'll still be two years away from
being able to drive.  I am at the mercy of the people around
me."

"Yeah, but at least some day you have the prospect of a car.  In
my family, Dad made it really clear that the only way we drive is
if we buy a car ourselves, pay for insurance ourselves, the
maintenance... my sister got a car, and it's costing her two
hundred and fifty dollars a month for all of that.  She and her
boyfriend both work at the factory, it's all they can do to stay
afloat."

"Let me go talk to my sister," I told her.  "I'll call you right
back."

I knocked on Wanda's door and she appeared a second later.  Past
her, I could see Pammie and Karen sitting on her bed, talking. 
Emily was sitting at Wanda's desk.

"Can Mercedes and I bum a ride to the game?"  I asked my sister.

Wanda reached out, grabbed me by my belt buckle, pulled me close
and started kissing me really hard.  Tongue and all, rubbing
against me like we were seconds from falling onto her bed.  She
stopped as suddenly as she started, a grin on her face.

"What was that question again?" she asked.  Even Emily joined in
the laughter.

"Could Mercedes and I bum a ride tonight to the game?"  I asked,
trying to be more specific.

"You may," Wanda told me.  "However, we are back to logistics,
because Jack is taking me.

"Which means right now you need to go over to Pammie and ask her
pretty please if you can ride with her, because I'll be riding
with Jack.  If I take you with us, there will be no one in the
universe who wouldn't take that as meaning I wasn't serious about
giving Jack a chance."

I went and asked.

Pammie nodded and then grew a huge grin on her face.  "Sure,
Davey.  I'm sure you won't mind being alone in a car with four
sex-starved girls, will you?"

"Not a problem," I told her.  "I'll try to behave myself."

She laughed, "I know you can behave yourself; you proved that the
other day.  The question is, can the four of us behave?"

I'd run out of repartee.  I was pretty sure if I said anything
else, I'd step in it.  "Let me go tell Mercedes.  What time would
we pick her up?"

"We would be around to pick up Mercedes at 7:15 or so."

I figured if I stayed I'd continue being harassed, so I held up
my phone, and went back towards the other end of the house.  I
called Mercedes and we made our plans; she had to get dinner, she
told me, and then get ready.

It was a little before six and I contemplated what I could do to
get ready.  I decided the thing I could do best, would be to read
some more about Wizenbeak, who was wandering around the desert,
trying to find water.  I could certainly empathize with that.

I'd only been reading a few minutes when Wanda sat down next to
me on the couch.  Again, I don't understand how she does it, but
the next thing I knew she was curled up in my lap, pulling one of
my hands into contact with her breast.  Once again, she wasn't
wearing a bra.

"I was talking to Jack a bit ago," she started.

"And your next thought was to kiss me, then wrap my fingers
around your breast?"

"Actually, I've been thinking about this for a couple of days
now," she admitted.  "No, this is about that thing at lunch.  I
heard some vague rumors at second lunch about you going postal,
then later Jack told me it was the other way around.  The
Columbine Crew had come to San Angelo High and you went one to
their three and took them all down."

"Well, I slugged Terry Toohey and knocked Alan Guiterrez to the
ground.  I lost it, Wanda.  I simply lost it.  I went nuts."

"Jack says they had guns and knives and other stuff.  That they
are suspended for the year and are in jail."

"Do you know how to spell 'luck?'"  I asked her.  "Because that's
what it was.  I didn't know they had a gun and knives; I just saw
coats.  I went crazy."

She kissed me on the cheek.  "Dear little brother, you'd better
think of a better story!  Because by Monday morning you're going
to be the hero of the hour!  The guy who recognized the danger
and struck preemptively.  President Bush would be proud of you! 
Unless he was jealous because you stole his idea!"

"That's ridiculous," I told her emphatically.

"Well," she said, brushing my lips with hers, "this here is one
Texas lady who wants to show you just how glad she is to have a
little brother who leaves big footprints!"  She kissed me again,
like she'd kissed me earlier.

After a few minutes, she stopped.  Both of us had gone
breathless, breathing hard.  "Gosh, Davey!  I swear you've been
taking lessons!"

I shook my head.  Instead, guiltily, I looked up, hoping not to
see Emily or Pammie at the door.

She read my mind.  "Davey, I'm Wanda Harper.  It's my body,
little brother.  I'm not going to make any secrets about it,
except with Jack, and then just as long as it takes to satisfy
Dad that I didn't dump Jack because he looks strange and is in
the middle of a rough part of his life just now.  Emily knows I'm
not giving up boys, and while she's not interested in guys
herself, she doesn't mind if I indulge my wicked ways.

"Pammie and I have an understanding, so she's not upset about it.
 She needs a boyfriend or her parents might start to wonder why
she and Karen spend so much time together.  That's why she's
going to a movie tomorrow night with Chuck, Jack and myself."

I thought about Wanda, Pammie -- and lack of protection.  Wanda
giggled, "No, Davey!  What do you think Pammie did the second she
got home the other afternoon?  Started her pills again!  She has
a bit to go before she's safe, but that's okay.  I wish she'd
just get the damn shot.  But she hates shots."

I was tempted to mention Mercedes had gone to see the school
nurse during the day but decided that was private information.

Wanda undid whatever magic she'd used to fit in my lap and stood
up.  She was back to being my dominatrix sister.  "What times
does Mercedes have to be home?" she asked.

I opened my mouth and shut it again.  "I'll have to find out."

"Well, no rush.  Mom and Dad are both going to be late tonight,
they are going to a party at the country club.  Karen and Emily
have midnight curfews.  Pammie and I weren't planning on staying
at the dance for very long.  We were going to come back here and
doing some serious snogging with our girlfriends until 11:45 when
Pammie and Karen will have to go.  Jack will be disappointed
tonight, but he'll live."

"Snogging?"  I asked.

"Toe-curling, hair-straightening kissing.  Like just now.  Think
of it as parking, but here instead of up on the dam embankment. 
I will see to it that Mercedes gets home in time."

When we went to get Mercedes I realized that the other day when
talking to Pammie, I'd made light of the possibility of my asking
a girl out.  Now I had.  It was pretty amazing to realize it
wasn't all the effort I thought it would be.  Now, however, I was
going to knock on her door, smile at her parents and promise to
have her back by whatever time they wanted her back.

Since her father was a teacher at the high school, it made it
virtually certain that he had heard about my fight at lunch.  So,
was I going to be in trouble?  Or a hero, like Wanda suggested?

The answer, of course, is that if adults thought like kids, they
wouldn't be adults.

He shook my hand.  "Mercedes says you took care of her," he told
me.  "That while you aren't the big hero some make you out to be,
you did the right thing."

I looked him in the eye.  "I'm not so sure of my reasons."

"The older you get," he told me, "the more complicated things
seem to be.  Sometimes even the simplest decision has
repercussions and effects you never imagined.  We go with our
best judgment, Davey.  You have to take into account intentions
and results.  You had good intentions and good results."

I thought that was a nice thing for him to say because it also
hinted that I'd been lucky, which was the main thing I was taking
away from what had happened; that, and the knowledge that adults
can be lying, duplicitous bastards.

"What time does Mercedes have to be home, sir?"

He looked at me and then looked at Mercedes.  "Funny, Mercedes
was quite adamant that she is a responsible young lady and can
decide these things for herself."

I didn't look at Mercedes; I looked at her father.  "Two of the
other girls we'll be out with are our age.  They both have to be
in by twelve."

"I have to get up and get ready for baseball practice tomorrow
morning," Mercedes said smoothly.  "Midnight sounds good to me."

As we walked out to Pammie's car, Mercedes took my hand in hers
and pulled us up a few steps short.  "That was good, just now
with my father."

"I'm learning," I told her.

She grinned and then we were off to the game.  When we arrived at
the field, Pammie patted me on my cheek.  "I'm entrusting
everyone into your care.  Go get a hot dog or something.  Wanda
and I will see you all later, after the game."

We went to the snack bar and got some hot dogs and soft drinks,
and then we went and got fairly decent seats on the 45-yard line.
 It was nearly an hour before game time, but in Texas in general
and West Texas for sure, Friday night high school football is a
not just a big part of the social scene -- it is the social
scene.

And of course, this wasn't just any game.  San Angelo High's main
rival was Lake Terrace High School, up in the northwestern part
of town.  Each year we played two games, one at the start of the
school year and one along about Thanksgiving, with the
Thanksgiving game being Homecoming for whichever school had the
home field that year.  The week before that was the other
school's Homecoming festivities.

The first game of the season was at home for whichever school had
the away game for Homecoming.  The rivalry was intense, and in
the past some crazy things were done.  The school had quashed all
of that, after the pranks stopped being funny and started being
destructive.  But that had been long before even Wanda started at
San Angelo.

We'd been seated for about ten minutes, eating and talking, when
Jack the Ripper appeared.  He looked at me, then the others.  He
didn't say anything, just stood looking at us.  I was starting to
get a little nervous, when he walked over and started to sit down
next to me.  I was sitting next to Mercedes, who was next to
Karen, then Emily.  He stopped and looked at me

"Davey, can I sit with you guys?"

He sounded depressed and in truth, looked really depressed, too.

"Sure, Jack," I told him.  It wasn't as if I could say no.

"Thanks," he said, and then sat down heavily.  He looked out over
the green grass of the field, a few yards below us, about twenty
or thirty feet away.

I'd never seen someone "stare morosely" before; now I knew what
the phrase meant.  I turned and said something to Mercedes about
school, but I don't remember what it was.  She was staring at
Jack and I don't think she heard a word I said.

"I heard you took on three guys at lunch, today," Jack spoke
suddenly.

"One of them has been pestering me for years."  I shrugged.  "I
kind of lost it.  I just wanted it to stop."

"The word is, they were like the Columbine guys.  Guns and knives
and shit."

"Which is why I'm here and not suspended," I told him honestly. 
"I didn't know they had that stuff when I went after Terry."

"The newspapers said afterwards those Columbine guys hated jocks,
because they were being bullied all of the time.  Sure, I'm a
jock, but I swear I've never hit anyone off the field.  Ever."

His expression was bleak.  "They say those drugs they gave me at
camp are supposed to make me aggressive.  Real aggressive.  I
swear I've never bullied anyone in my life.  I don't want to
bully anyone right now."  His eyes never left the field in front
of him.  "I just wanted to play, I wanted to play my very best. 
And they fucked me.  They just plain fucked me."

He turned to me.  "You know what your old man did for me?"

I shook my head.

"He went to Coach Naumann and told him that I should at least be
allowed to play this week, since they won't get the test results
back until next week.  He went to bat for me.  My old man hit me
in the face, but yours stuck up for me.  What kind of fucked up
world is this?"

He laughed bitterly, then punched my shoulder.  "And now I hear
you've made the baseball team.  And got your girlfriend on the
team, too!  Christ!  I never thought of that!"

I smiled.  "Jack, if Wanda was playing, you guys would win every
single game.  Everyone on the other team would be so busy trying
to tackle her, you could walk down the field, untouched."

He laughed at that.

Mercedes had been listening and now she said, "It's why I play
baseball.  Anyone comes after me, I'll have a bat in my hands!"

Jack smiled but his eyes tightened.  After a second, his eyes
went to Emily after pausing on Mercedes.

I mentally blinked.  He knew about Mercedes, he knew about Emily
and what happened to her.  Wanda or Pammie had told him, I was
sure.  Which pretty much meant he knew about Wanda, too.

I saw his fists clench, his knuckles turned white.  Not anger, I
thought, but frustration.  I've listened to Phantom of the Opera,
read at least the start of Hunchback of Notre Dame before I got
bored.  What would it be like to really be a freak in appearance,
and be a nice guy underneath?  That did more than suck rocks;
that really blew!

I'd wondered why Wanda was taking her time dumping Jack -- now I
was pretty sure I knew.  He wasn't a bad guy, and no one deserved
the shit that was happening to him.  Dad was right, you just
didn't turn your back on someone in the place Jack was.  Maybe
you ratchet down the intensity of the sex, but you just don't
walk away and let someone hang out to dry.

More and more people were coming into the stadium.  Someone sat
next to Emily on the other end of our group.  There were a couple
of seats empty next to Jack.  They never did fill in.

I was still thinking when I saw Terry and his friends coming
along the walk in front of stands.  I looked again, thinking I
was dreaming.  Weren't they in jail?  Evidently all those news
stories about "revolving door" justice were justified.

Jack saw them too, took in the dark coats.  "That them?" he asked
in a quiet voice.

"Yeah.  I thought they were in jail," I told him.

Mercedes turned and saw them.  They were nearly in front of her
and I started to stand up, but Jack gripped my arm.  "My
pleasure," he said mildly.

He stood up, just as Terry stopped and said, "Hey Harper, you got
lucky today!  How about behind the stadium after the game?  You
and me?"

Jack stuck his arms up and out.  Suddenly he grimaced and said,
"Boo!" in a soft, quiet voice.

Terry paled and took a step back.  Without another word, he
turned and left, followed by his two friends.

Jack sat back down.

"Thanks," I told him.

"You didn't need any help," Jack told me.  "A yella-belly,
through and through.  You go out back after the game and he won't
be there by himself."

"Thanks, Jack."  It wasn't exactly a surprise; it had been pretty
much what I thought.

Mercedes put her hand on my arm and I smiled at her, feeling
better.

I saw someone down on the field, and I hopped up and went to the
rail and called, "Mr. Two Crows!"

The vice principal was talking to one of the coaches and turned
towards me.

"Harper," his voice was neutral.

"Terry Toohey and his friends are here, at the game.  I thought
you'd want to know."

"Where?" he asked.

I pointed, "They were just here and went that way."

He pulled out a walkie-talkie and started walking rapidly in the
direction I'd pointed.

I sat back down, feeling like I'd accomplished something useful.

"Christ, Davey, you ratted the bastard out!"  Jack sounded
outraged.

I frowned.  Jack didn't sound very approving.

"I mean, sure he wanted to fight, but..."  Jack's voice trailed
away.

"Jack, Mercedes is sitting next to me.  She's a friend of mine. 
Next to her is Karen, Pammie's cousin.  She's a friend of mine,
too.  At the end is Emily, another friend of mine.  Jack, when I
think my friends are in danger there is nothing on Earth I
wouldn't do to keep them safe.  Absolutely nothing!"

Jack looked at me shaking his head.  "Sounds like you went to
camp this summer, too."

"No, I just value my friends," I told him.

Mr. Two Crows came walking back and stopped next to me.  "Thank
you, Harper.  We escorted them off the grounds."

I nodded, but Jack snorted.  Unless you'd heard him a few seconds
before, you might have thought he was sneering at Mr. Two Crows.
I was pretty sure Jack was sneering at me for ratting out Terry
Toohey.

As if knowing when to make an entrance, my dad appeared, walking
down the pathway.  He smiled when he saw me; I wasn't sure if it
was pleasure at seeing me or seeing Jack.

"I went around and around with them again, Jack," Dad said,
sitting down next to the football player.

"Thanks, sir.  But Coach has his mind made up."

"You ever see a starfish open up a clam?"  Dad said to Jack.  I
frowned.  What was that about?

Dad went on, "It gets a good grip and then starts applying
pressure to pull apart the shells.  It isn't strong enough to do
it -- but it has far greater endurance than a clam.  The clam's
muscles tire until finally the starfish wins and has clam for
dinner.  You just think Coach Naumann is stubborn.  He's agreed
that if the drug test comes back clear he will stand up in front
of the team and apologize to you, at the same time he lets you
back on."

Jack laughed bitterly.  "And what chance is that?"

"Jack," Dad said patiently, "that was an expensive camp you went
to.  They would not only be out of business the first year a lot
of their students failed drug tests, they'd have megabuck
lawsuits filed against them.  A lot of lawsuits.  So, since it's
an old camp, odds are they're smart.  Which means that you will
test clean."

"I took the drugs," Jack said doggedly.

I couldn't stop my jaw falling.  Jack was not only a straight
arrow; he was amazingly honest!

"The rules say you can't play with drugs in your system.  Jack,
if you get back on the team, just be quiet and play."

Jack nodded, but he was, I thought, a little reluctant.  How very
odd!  I would never have expected it from him.  Dad nodded to me,
then stood and left, heading higher, to meet up with some of his
friends.

They started announcing the teams and then the players; the crowd
was starting to get into it, as is the custom here.  We won the
toss and elected to receive.

I was surprised to hear Chuck Bradshaw's name on the list for
special teams, but since Jack was sitting the game out, evidently
there had been some changes.

What happened next, even to me, is a thing of beauty.  Dad told
me once that high school football in Texas is played with the
same intensity as college ball.  I don't know, but the kick was
long, going to the five-yard line, and Chuck grabbed it, as if it
had been kicked right to him.  A little stutter step to his
right, a slight hesitation and the defenders were sailing past
him.  Then Chuck put his head down and ran like a rocket.

In the first ten yards, he was accelerating with every step,
right past everyone on the Lake Terrace team.  By the time he was
out at the thirty, the only defender between him and the goal
post was their kicker.  The kicker bravely headed for Chuck.

I thought Chuck would weave around him, like he'd done at the
start of his run.  Instead, Chuck dropped lower to the ground and
put out his arm.  Their kicker flipped over, end for end, landing
hard on the grass.  Chuck had lost, I thought, only about a step.
 He motored on down the field, the nearest Lake Terrace player
twenty yards behind him.

If you haven't seen a football game played in a town like San
Angelo, you have no idea what really happened during Chuck's run.
 I mean, the words describe what he did, but they tell nothing
about the environment.  The instant the ball was kicked, twenty
thousand people in the stands were on their feet.  When Chuck
caught the ball, every last one of those people, including me,
was screaming.  When he blew past the defenders, the ten thousand
of us still cheering more than made up the volume we lost when
the other half of the crowd got quiet and sat down.

When Chuck set the ball on the ground between the uprights and
looked up field, the roar sounded like Niagara Falls.

From then on, it was a spectacular game.  Lake Terrace took the
kickoff and moved it to the thirty.  Three runs and two passes
later, they were in the end zone.

At half time, the score was 28-26 in our favor, courtesy of two
missed extra points.  Their kicker had a strong, but not
particularly accurate leg.

He proved he had a strong leg in their first possession of the
second half, when he kicked a forty-two yard field goal.  At the
end, both teams were battered after hammering each other for four
quarters.  The final score was 56 for us, 49 for them, their
kicker having missed another extra point late in the fourth
quarter.

Oh yeah, I guess I should say something about Wanda and Pammie
and the other cheerleaders.  Cheerleading was something my sister
did, something I'd never quite figured out.  I'd had a lot of
opportunities because I was never permitted to miss a game, even
back in grade school when she was cheering on Pop Warner football
players.

Sure, I liked the outfits, at least a little.  You could see a
lot more skin at the pool and I spent a lot of time in the pool.
Wanda had too, as well as Pammie and the other cheerleaders, at
least for a couple of years.  Jumping up and down was
interesting, and some of their routines were certainly pretty. 
It just never did anything for me.  For one thing, about the only
time you could hear them was when the team was losing.  San
Angelo had a good team and didn't lose that often.

After the game I expected we'd go to the dance; I was looking
forward to finding out if Mercedes could dance.  Instead, we were
still sitting when Wanda and Pammie came out.

"Anyone really want to go to the dance?"  Wanda asked.  "We could
just go to our place.  My parents are out."

I swallowed, aware of Mercedes sitting next to me.  I wanted to
do a few cheerleading routines just then.  Yes!  Yes!  Go Wanda!

"Home is fine with me, but I wouldn't mind going to the dance," I
said, trying to stifle my enthusiasm.

"Your place," Jack said firmly.

I saw Pammie look at Karen who promptly nodded.

"I don't even know how to dance," Emily said into the silence.

Wanda laughed.  "Oh, girl!  We are going to so make you over!" 
Pammie laughed and even I smiled.

Once again Wanda went with Jack and I rode with Pammie.

When we got home, Wanda smiled at the rest of us, linked her arm
with Jack and led him down the hallway towards her room.  Emily
pled fatigue and vanished down the hall too.

Pammie looked at me, then at Mercedes.

Mercedes laughed, and turned to me.  "How about you showing me
your room?"

"I'll knock," Pammie said, "when it's time to go."

For a second I flashed back to Irene and how she'd acted.  In
some ways, Mercedes seemed to act like Irene had.

Still, I liked Mercedes a lot more than I'd liked Irene.  Irene
had been someone I'd never met before, didn't get to know except
in bed, and I hadn't liked what I saw there.  With Mercedes, I
just flat out liked everything about her.

I walked the few feet and opened the door, Mercedes following
behind me.  I closed the door behind us and Mercedes looked
around.

"Davey, you don't have much, do you?"
"Books," I told her, pointing to the bookshelf.  It was a
freestanding bookcase, three feet wide and six feet tall,
configured half for paperbacks and half for hardbound books.  The
shelves were double stacked, and there was a shelf of books over
my desk, a computer monitor and printer on the desk, the computer
tucked up underneath the desk.

But there weren't any posters or pictures on the walls.  Just my
dresser, the desk and my bed.  There was a picture window that
gave me a good view of the pool.  No, it wasn't much and, in
truth, I spent most of my time in the family room when I wanted
to read.

Mercedes walked over to my bed and sat down, patting the bed next
to her.  My heart was hammering as I walked over and sat down.  I
was hard as a rock.

"Tell me about yourself, Davey," Mercedes said, her voice soft
but not a whisper.  "You know about Pammie and me, and I know
about you and Pammie.  Are you a virgin?"

I swallowed.  How was I supposed to tell Mercedes about the girls
I'd made love to?  My sister and a girl who was profoundly
disturbed?

"No, I'm not a virgin," I said, taking the easy way out, knowing
that I was going to piss her off in the end.  "Mercedes, I know
you told me, but there are two people I've made promises to.  I
promised I wouldn't talk about what happened."

"And you value your promises," she acknowledged.

"Davey, some things I thought were true, aren't.  For instance,
I've had a birth control shot that will be effective for twelve
weeks -- starting Monday.  According to the nurse, there is a
fifty-fifty chance my period will start like normal on Monday. 
Less of a chance it will start a day or two late.  One chance in
three, it won't happen at all until a couple of weeks after I go
off birth control.

"When I make love to you, I don't want to worry about birth
control.  I've waited all my life; I'm not concerned about
waiting a couple of days more.  If I have my period, I have my
period.  I can wait that out, too.

"You told me the other day that you love me."

"I do," I told her, "I do."

"Davey, I will hold your promise to whoever, as sacred as you do,
but if we love each other, that's not the kind of secret you can
keep from me.  Presents, surprise parties, surprises of any sort
-- that's not the same thing.  This is a matter of fundamental
trust.  Do you trust me or not?  Do we trust each other with our
deepest secrets or don't we?

"I told you about Pammie," she went on.

"I already knew," I told her.  "The problem with things you think
are secret is that people talk about them anyway.  Promises or
not."

She hugged me for a quick second.  "I think I understand. 
Please, Davey, we have to trust each other.  I've told you all
but one of my deepest secrets, if you trust me enough to tell me
who your lovers were, I'll tell you about that secret too."

"No," I told.  I wanted to, God, how I wanted to!  But I
couldn't.  I just couldn't.

"You knew about Pammie.  If nothing else, answer one question
honestly, a simple yes or no.  Was it Pammie who told you about
her and me?"

"No."  I owed Mercedes that much, anyway.

"So, the one person who knew about it talked about it with
someone else, who then told you.  Tell me, Davey, if you hadn't
heard about it from me or anyone else, what would you have
thought about me if someone told you a week or two from now?"

I contemplated that, but just shrugged.  Yes, it probably would
have bothered me.  Was airing the old linen enough of a reason to
break a promise?  I wasn't as sure about things as I'd been.

"While you're thinking about that, think about how I'd feel if
someone told me you'd been with someone."

I swallowed.  Sure, you'd understand that I've spent an entire
night making love to my sister.  You'd understand how many times
Wanda and I have made love?  That I made love to a really
disturbed girl?  That Pammie had stripped and offered herself to
me?

I spoke slowly, "Mercedes, sometimes knowing things is worse than
not knowing them."

"And if two people love each other and trust each other, when
they hear things they'd rather not have learned, then what? 
Where's the trust then, Davey?"

I sighed.  I turned to her and reached out and stroked her face
with my fingers.  "Wanda and a girl named Irene Feeney.  Irene is
a nympho, but I didn't know until afterwards.  All within the
last two weeks.  Irene, since I met you."

I waited for her exclamations of "Your sister!" or "How could you
betray me like that?"

She regarded me steadily and then smiled.  "I have this recurring
dream.  I have it two, maybe three times a month lately.  I've
been having it for three years now, since I had my first period.
A boy and I are making love to another girl.  When I saw you the
first time, I recognized you from the dream.  This morning, when
I was in the nurse's office, I met the girl.

"In my dreams, you and I make each other very happy, you and she
make each other very happy and she and I make each other very
happy in bed.  We love each other, Davey.  Whether it be one of
us alone with another in bed, or all three of us together."

I didn't know what to say, so I decided that the best thing to do
was leave the future until at least tomorrow.

"Now, Davey, tell me about Irene."

I did.  The third retelling made it sound even more crass than
the first two times.

"And when it was over, you told on her, to your mother?" 
Mercedes asked.

I nodded, unsure what she meant.  "I never promised Irene I
wouldn't talk about it, I promised my mom," I told her.

Again, she reached out and hugged me.  "It's good to know, Davey,
that if I go over the top, you'll do whatever it is you have to
do to save me.  A lot of people wouldn't have told on her."

"I felt like a rat," I told her.

She laughed at me.  "You were a rat!  But that's no reason to let
someone jump off a cliff!"  She leaned close and kissed me and I
kissed her back.  After that, there was a lot of kissing.

We'd been at it for quite some time, maybe close to an hour, when
Mercedes pulled back.  Her eyes were bright; her breathing was
like mine, rapid.  I was very aroused, but at the same time I
didn't want to do anything to mess up a very special
relationship.

She smiled at me.  "I told you the other day I didn't want to
mess with all that time-consuming courtship stuff."

I nodded, remembering she'd said just that.

"Well, Davey, that just goes to show you, that I don't always
know what I'm talking about.  This is nice.  Yeah, I wish you'd
push me on my back and make love to me -- but that wouldn't be
smart.  And since you can't do that, we might as well take our
time and do it right."

She kissed me hard for a few minutes, her tongue seemingly
tickling my tonsils.  She gasped for breath finally and said,
laughing, "And this is right!  This is definitely all right!"

There was a soft rap on my bedroom door.  "Davey, Mercedes, time
to think about tomorrow," Pammie said from the other side.

Mercedes and I traded grins for a second and then she leaped up
from my bed, headed for the door.  She opened it just as Pammie
was turning away to leave.  "We were talking," Mercedes said with
a straight face.

Pammie looked at her, then at me.  "Davey, you want to ride
along?  Wanda's going to come along, too.  Jack's already gone."

I nodded and when we got to Mercedes' house, I walked her to the
door.  As we approached, it opened and her father smiled at us. 
"On time!  I'm impressed!"  He glanced at Mercedes and laughed,
"And my daughter is still wearing her bra!  These days, it comes
off the first thing when she wants to get comfortable!"

I remembered Wizenbeak; the line was obvious and easy.  I
couldn't help myself.  "Sir, Mercedes and I spent two hours in my
bed tonight and I'm such a neatnik, she didn't even need to brush
her hair afterwards."

He regarded me for a long second, before turning toward Mercedes,
who, if I was properly judging her mood, had been about a second
from popping him in the nose.

"I guess I've met my match, haven't I?" her father said,
laughing.

I'm not sure how Mercedes did it; I'd seen it in the movie
Crocodile Dundee II, but hadn't understood how it was done. 
Mercedes unbuttoned her blouse, right there in front of us,
reached in front, popped a snap, shrugged a bit, and handed her
bra to me.  "Here," she snapped, "put this on your bedpost
tonight and dream about me."

I held the filmy garment with all the unease any thirteen
year-old does, holding his first real, still-warm, bra.  Of all
of the breasts I'd ever seen in my life, Mercedes' were far and
away the nicest.  Peaches, I thought.  They looked like brown
peaches with dark aureoles around her small, crinkled nipples.

Mercedes went on into the house, closing the door firmly,
emphatically and solidly, behind her.  Mercedes' father and I
looked at each other; I couldn't tell which of us was more
surprised.

I made to hand it to him and he backed up like I was handing him
a hot potato.  "No, I think that is between you and Mercedes," he
told me.

I sighed.  "Sir, I swear it stayed between us all night."

He chuckled, "I'm fond of aphorisms, Davey.  Little cute sayings
that make a point.  One I've taken to heart since my first
daughter discovered boys was that a man dreads his daughter
meeting a person like himself at her age."  He looked a little
sad and wistful.  "I was kind, considerate, and determined to be
a good boy.  I made love to my wife for the first time on our
wedding night."  He snorted.  "Or so I tell myself.  Yet, that
was the only thing we hadn't done before that night.  That, and
the boys my daughters met were jerks, assholes and morons.  I
could only wish they had a chance to meet someone like me.

"Now, Mercedes has," he waved at the bra.  "If you love her,
you'll think of the right time to return it."

He turned and walked into the house.  I wadded Mercedes' bra and
walked back to the car and got in.

Pammie promptly got going, but I could tell she was laughing. 
Wanda turned to me from the front seat.  "That girl has the
oddest temper!  If I were to give my boyfriend my bra in front of
Dad, like as not both he and I would be found in shallow graves,
out on the other side of the lake."

"We were talking earlier about trying to save up enough money to
go to Hawaii this summer.  I think she wants me to pack this for
her."

At least Pammie thought it was a funny line.

<1st attachment end>


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