("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text ----------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2014. Please do not remove the author information nor make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. ----------------------------------------------------- Trio: Dana, Teri, and Mike Naked in School by Pseudorandom (psuedorandom@fastmail.fm) *** A Naked In School story with three protagonists. This takes place a decade or so after the NIS Program was first introduced (appropriate, since it's written a decade or so after the first NIS story) and takes advantage of several innovations of later stories -- in particular, elements developed by Brooke, Orblover, Dr Bill, artie, and whoever it was to first mandate towels for everyone. (mf, ff, mff, teens, NIS, naked in school, exh, voy, v, rom, high-school activism, strong women, wheelies) *** Author Notes: For information about the Naked In School shared universe, including links to most of the stories, see the archive at /~NIS- Admin/Naked.html. Includes consensual sex between underage teens, non- consensual sexual situations, and a brief scene of sex- related violence. And lots and lots of talking. Seriously, teenagers just do not shut up. Note: My default name for a female protagonist is always Dana Partlow, each a different character that just happens to have the same name. This time, though, THIS Dana is the same one as in "Intimacy" (also being submitted), set half a year later. It's the story I'm proudest of having written and I've wondered what would happen if a young Quaker with her sense of moral clarity went through the wringer of the Program. *** First Day (Sunday) ----------------- Dana The notice arrived as I was entering the Meeting House. THE notice: I had been selected to participate next week in the Naked In School Program. As in attend school naked all week. Given how my weekend had gone so far, I was not surprised. Shocked maybe, but not, deep down, surprised. I was almost too numb for surprise. Just one more knuckleball thrown at me by a universe that had apparently decided it was my turn at bat. I acknowledged the notice, turned my phone off, and considered myself carefully. I'd already been thinking about excusing myself from First Day School and attending Meeting for Worship like an adult -- my inner turmoil brought clarity, at least in this. I caught up with Ellen and told her: not asking permission, informing her of my decision. I was learning that lesson, slowly. She watched my face as I spoke. "Are you sure?" I nodded, looking her in the eyes. "I need to... listen, right now." To hold myself in the Inner Light for strength, for guidance. She nodded. "Listen well." I slipped in the back door of the meeting room and found a chair across from Mom -- I wanted to be alone for this. A glance around at the half-filled room: I was by far the youngest person there. Never mind. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. And thought about strength. I know -- it's not exactly good Quaker practice, but the previous time I attended a full Meeting, I found it easier to meditate on a topic. Keeping myself open to the promptings of the Spirit, of course. But in general, I center myself better with a focus. Use it to clear myself. Let the Inner Light shine. Even so, it was hard, those first ten or so minutes -- thoughts haring this way and that, jumping from strength to barriers, to fear, to exposure, and to I don't know what else. And then Perry rose and spoke. Or Mr. Falcon, as I was learning to call him in math class. I don't remember his words, exactly, but he spoke about the difficulty of hearing That Of God in others when passions run high, especially around political topics -- like the marriage equality rally he'd attended yesterday, or the NIS Program resuming this week at his school. Our school. One phrase, though, spoke to me: "To leave one's heart naked and to be open to the truth." It entered my heart and rung me like a glass bell. After he sat down, it was all I could think about, those words. Over the hour, three more spoke, but I barely heard their ministry. Again not good practice, but I had something close, something I needed. Naked and open, I thought. Naked and -- No -- not "and" -- they were the same thing. This. This was the something I needed. That I needed to say. Wait - - "say"? Oh no. Not now. I trembled, holding the impulse close. Trying to examine it. But I did have to say it. I'd been moved to speak only in workshops and youth gatherings, but never to minister to a full Meeting for Worship. But I KNEW with the certainty of my own existence that now I was going to. Because I had left myself open to the prompting of the Spirit. Because I had to keep doing it all week. The door behind me opened quietly, and Ellen led in the First Day Class to sit in the empty row behind me -- a few minutes, Meeting would end. I didn't turn around, didn't look, as they settled. It was time. I wiped my damp palms against my jeans and stood, looking across the room at bowed heads and open faces. Faces of people awaiting my words. My voice came out firm, stronger than expected given my trembling. "The strength to leave oneself open to the truth IS the strength needed to face the truth. The Light shines clearly through a lens only when it is naked." And then my legs collapsed, and my butt plopped down in the metal seat. I was still trembling, shaking worse than when I'd asked first asked Brad out. Or yesterday, when Tara broke up with me. My heart felt empty, drained -- like a vessel with everything poured out. And yet I was utterly at peace. I was still recovering when the Clerk turned to her neighbor and shook his hand -- the closing signal. Everyone did the same. Ellen reached over my shoulder to take mine. "Good morning." "Morning," I managed. "First time?" Speaking, she meant. I swallowed and nodded. She smiled. "Then you listened well." During the after-gathering, several Elders, including Mom, thanked me for my words -- for my first vocal ministry. But only Perry, Mr. Falcon, guessed what that last word really meant. "Are you... this week..?" he asked quietly. I nodded. "First naked out of the gate," I said, trying to make a joke of it. Chosen for the Program as a freshman during its first week of the year. First of all my classmates, none of whom had seen a naked student in school before -- all of them eager to find out what it meant. He didn't wince -- but the smile was twisted wry with pain. Sympathy pain. "If you need a refuge, my classroom is always open," he told me. I thought a moment, then nodded. "Thank you." I had a feeling I was going to need it. # Mike I was level-grinding when I got the text. You know, THE text. The one telling me I had been drafted sorry "selected" to participate next week in the Naked In School Program. Well, dang. Finally. Not that I was looking forward to stripping in school. But everyone has to do it, so I'd just as soon do it sooner than later. I don't like having things over my head. The first Program week of the school year, though -- this could be harsh. Not as harsh as doing it first week of freshman year: to us juniors, once things got going, seeing naked kids was all but old hat, but it'd take longer for freshers to settle down. But this week, after the drought of summer, even my classmates were going to be frisky. I THOUGHT I could handle it. After all, if they handled me a lot, that's the point of relief. Odds were, it'd only be girls: generally guys don't bother naked guys -- not unless they're out to bully, which at least wasn't my problem anymore. Well, whatever. So in conclusion: finally. Somehow, though, I lost interest in the game. Level- grinding's not my favorite thing, anyway, and with this now looming, it just seemed pointless. So I signed off and rolled into the living room to tell my father, in case he hadn't, like, checked his messages. He's like that sometimes. Often. For once, he was ahead of me -- and slowly tapping out a reply on his phone. "Ah, Mike -- just letting the school know we got the Program notice." For legal purposes, so I'd have no excuse for not showing up in the morning. I think I was supposed to do that myself, though. I did it on my tablet, finishing before he did. Dad looked at me sternly. "Make sure they give you every accommodation." As if I wouldn't raise a stink if I ran into problems. As if I didn't know how to take care of myself. With my usual wit and panache, of course. But I just answered, "Of course, Dad." Like always. He frowned even more. "And above all," he paused -- and then broke into a smile. "Have fun, 'k kid?" I blinked. "Take relief every time you need it -- every chance you get. And ask the girls in return -- reasonable requests, I mean. Do things together. Have fun exploring sex." I blinked again. He has the strangest ways of showing he cares, sometimes. Finally, I snorted. "Whatever you say, Dad." Then I popped a wheelie and spun to face the back door. "I'm gonna shoot some hoops." "Want company?" "Sure," I told him. "Just prepare to be skunked." "In your dreams, kid." I didn't exactly skunk him, but I did win and that's what counts. Heh. After crowing my victory at length, as one does, there was homework, then PT exercises, then dinner, and then language practice online: tutoring French in return for Japanese lessons. Typical busy Sunday, now with extra Loom. My journal entry that night was short: I fall through the glass breaking into shards that cut the darkness dangerous pavement dangerous to me Not best poem ever, but I liked the image. I marked it to come back to, and went to bed. I dreamed of being a fragment of broken glass on the wet asphalt of a deserted street, neon lights glinting lurid off my body. # Teri I was chatting with Cal and Zoe when I got the message - - THE message. I had been selected to "participate" next week in the Naked In School Program. teristarr2001: well fuck teristarr2001: im in the program californicator: what program zoeymac: oh shit srsly teristarr2001: naked in school teristarr2001: first week of the year zoeymac: worst possible time argh!! californicator: shit girl you gonna have fun californicator: wait first week of term? californicator: bollocks zoeymac: trouble teristarr2001: fuckers zoeymac: all those kids who missed ass all summer zoeymac: sucks ass teristarr2001: why the hell me teristarr2001: SUCKS DONKEY BALLS californicator: gonna be rough but you got us californicator: sucks fetid dingo kidneys zoeymac: hang in there teristarr2001: not in school i wont have you We beat around this bush a while, but soon Zoe brought us back to plotting our next Downstar story -- the point of chatting now. My heart wasn't in it, though -- I couldn't even ignore the basketball banging the floor below me -- so it was Zoe and Cal doing most of the brainstorming. I had their support, sure, but they didn't know how bad it was going to be. With the right clothing, a big girl like me can almost hide in the crowd -- but I saw last year what they did to Nakeds who don't have perfect bodies. Worse: losing control over myself is pretty much my worst nightmare. After a while I apologized, said I'd probably be scarce that week but would copy-edit the novella we'd just finished, and signed off. zoeymac: strength girl californicator: yeah, strnegth teristarr2001: thanks guys And I meant it. I spent the afternoon on crying jags, three of them. Mom and Dad didn't talk about it during dinner, not a peep - - though parents always get copies of The Message. Ricky and Sam hogged the conversation as usual, talking about two of their games -- his football this past Friday and her basketball this next Tuesday. Which hurt, actually. You'd think I'd be used to jocks who don't give a shit about others, but there wasn't chance to get a fucking word in edgewise, even if I'd wanted to. I made it nearly through the entire evening okay. Then I found the message from Zoe, sent before she went to bed (she lives 7 hours ahead, in Liverpool). Support from too far away to help felt worse than useless right then. I bagged working out and cried myself to sleep. Fuck. Second Day (Monday) ------------------- Dana I arrived at school a half hour early for our mandatory "orientation" to the Program -- and came prepared. I'd researched some strategies last year, after hearing some of Tara's comments on her time as a Participant. On the way home from Meeting, I'd had Mom stop at the sporting goods store for supplies, and even figured out how to record audio on my school-issued tablet (I was still getting used to its quirks). Because I first stopped at my locker, I went to the Program Office's inside door. Tomorrow was time enough for the outside entrance -- the one used by Participants, and only Participants, so they could undress in privacy and, more importantly, in warmth during the five months of the year we call "winter" around here. But sufficient undo that day is the evil thereof -- till I actually got naked, I wasn't officially a Naked In School Participant. As I reached the Office, the "oogah!" of a horn echoed from down the hall and a voice called out, "Wait for me-e-e!" Mike Smith raced toward me in his wheelchair, faster than I'd ever seen him go. But then, I'd never seen him with a long empty hallway. I grinned and held the door open for him. "Thank you, my dear," he said as he smoothly cornered and slipped straight through the doorway faster than I would have dared. I frowned as I followed him in. He parked himself in the only out-of-the-way open spot, in front of the outside entrance. "Wait," I said as joined him, "won't you need a ramp?" and I nodded at the door behind him. I had a suspicion that Mike was Jim Bridger High School's first physically disabled Participant -- certainly I hadn't seen a wheelchair ramp there during opening ceremonies. "One's been installed," said Ray Alverez, the Program Coordinator. A male coordinator -- his first year at Bridger. He was, of course, naked already. I did my best to ignore this. That and the thick, dark hair on his arms and legs. Mike raised a skeptical eyebrow -- he's one of those people who can do that. "Let me guess -- this weekend?" Alverez smiled wryly. "It was finished Friday afternoon, actually." "Heh." So they really did pick participants at random and only shortly beforehand. Nice to hear there was some truth to the official story. I sat in the empty chair beside Mike, between him and Teri Florez. The three of us were in math together -- this could be good. Teri and I were also in chemistry, and Mike and I also in history. Better and better, having classmates who could help each other. None of the other four, sitting across the room from us, were in any of my classes, though. Still, I'd beaten the odds: if you pick 2 Participants from each grade, average 250 students, taking 6 classes scheduled at random, the chances are any given Participant shares a class with just 1 other Participant. (Technically, it comes out to 1.4 classes with other Participants, but that gives a most likely outcome of 1. At least, if I did the math right. And of course, schedules aren't random but tracked by subject.) Wait, only seven of us? I checked the clock -- I'd almost been late myself. I glanced at the adults: Alverez looking us over -- Principal Skinner and Vice- Principal Jackson talking quietly over a stapled printout. At least with Jackson here, there was one woman involved. As we waited for the girl from, it looked like, the twelfth grade, I considered the others. Nerves and excitement, from all of us. Chip was buried deeper in his headphones than I'd ever seen him. Mike has folded his lean hands in his lap, trying to sit still. The worst was Teri, though, who did NOT look happy -- and not just nerves: fear. Body issues, I wondered? She wasn't either the tallest or heaviest girl in the school, but in combination, she just might be the largest. Not fat, though it was hard to be sure under her oversized shirt -- but at least well-padded. Zaftig, Aunt Kira once called it -- she said it meant 'juicy' in Yiddish. Though with Teri that unhappy, she didn't look at all juicy -- quite the reverse. "Okay, people," Skinner said aloud, "enough waiting for the tardy Ms Conners. Welcome to the Naked In School Program." With all of us quiet, Alverez took over -- the same introduction to the Program rules we'd gotten at the opening assembly, the same as in the pamphlet handed out to everyone, the same (it sounded like) as his rote training. Naked thou shalt be when entering the school, and naked thou remainest even unto thy departure. No covering up allowed, no hiding, no panic attacks. By way of educating our peers about naked bodies, we're required to be open to "reasonable requests" to examine ours between classes. By way of "relief" from our arousal, we're allowed to get off at the start of class, either by ourselves or with volunteer assistance. Three infractions of the rules and repeat your week. As he wrapped up the spiel and passed out towels for sitting on and cleaning up after relief, the door behind Mike opened, and a beautiful girl danced around his wheelchair -- our missing twelfth-grader. I'd seen her as a cheerleader during the opening assembly, one of the few on stage whose smile seemed genuine. In person, she was even more attractive, if you're into standard cheerleader curviness. "Glad you could join us, Ms Conners," Skinner said sarcastically. Conners just shrugged, however, and sat down on the other side of Teri. "If you want me to be early, schedule a school bus that gets me here then. Besides, I told you in my reply when I'd arrive." "There are early bus routes," Alverez said while Skinner and Jackson tapped their tablets a few times. "Not out where I live," Conners retorted. This is a large county -- some of the outlying ranches are a good hour away from town. Skinner frowned acidly at what he read. They hadn't actually reviewed our acknowledgments? "Gail, this still counts as a Program demerit..." Alverez began, but she interrupted, "You received notice I'd be late and said nothing -- that makes it an excused tardy." "Ms Conners is correct," Jackson said, and Skinner nodded with visible reluctance. "Don't worry," Gail said, "I know the Program rules cold. On my head be it, if I mess up." Alverez pursed his lips but dropped it. "Any more questions?" I raised my hand. "Yes, uh, Dana?" "Could we introduce ourselves, just so we know who we are?" The better to help each other: a name gives more connection than just a face -- or an impersonal naked body. Which was, yes, also a delaying tactic -- anything to keep from thinking about the tingling on my chest and the pressure in my hands and feet. "Uh, yeah, good idea. Why don't you start." "Dana Partlow," I said, then looked to Mike. "Uh, okay." He had trouble meeting my eyes, and his short, dark hair was rumpled, adding to the flustered effect. The effect was kinda cute, actually. "Mike Smith." Across from us, "Chip Boozman." I knew him from Bryant Middle School, in several of my classes. He'd grown over the summer but still half-hid his round face behind bangs swept across his eyes, and headphones around his neck. He looked as disgruntled with the nonmusical world as ever. Next to him: "Marshall Taylor-Sloane." I'd seen him leave the homeroom across from mine -- so in tenth grade. Taller, almost as thin as Mike though not as long-faced, with reddish hair and a nervous habit of adjusting his glasses. "Maria Bustamonte." She had a trim but modest figure, skin slightly darker than Teri, and short hair bleached blonde in front and shaved close behind. "Jake Lipton, senior." An extremely tall and long-armed boy with swimmer's muscles and beard-shadowed cheeks. He'd been grinning, in a pleased-with-himself way, the whole time. "Ray Alverez, Program Coordinator." A young man, possibly younger than my brother -- just out of college if the rumors were right. "Michelle Jackson, Vice-Principal." A handsome black woman with gray hair cut close. "James Skinner, Principal. As you know." Middle-aged with a heavyset face lined from frowning, wearing a jacket and tie that almost matched. "Gail Conners, senior." Her dark eyebrows suggested the blonde hair wasn't entirely natural, but her eyes were friendly enough. "Teri Florez." She paused, then added, "Tenth grade." Dark eyes, strong nose, full but unhappy mouth. Her lack of makeup and minimal styling suggested the curling hair WAS natural. "Excellent," Alverez said. "Again, welcome to the Program. Anything else?" Deep breath. If I could speak in Meeting, I could do this. This wasn't nearly as frightening as yesterday. And yet, the still, small voice within me pointed out, it's still a compulsion to speak. "Two more things," I said. When Alverez nodded, I pulled a zipped plastic baggy from my backpack and stood. "First," and I held up a hank of lanyards, each with a whistle on it. I untangled one and handed it to Teri, starting the other direction around the room. "Everybody, take one and wear it. If you have any problems, use it." One for Gail next to her. "Call for help." The next one was more tangled, halfway to knotted. "The moment you start to feel uncomfortable, reach for it. Have it in hand. Don't let someone else grab it first." "We no longer use whistles," Jackson said. "They were interfering with those of coaches and referees." "Nonetheless," I said, "they aren't forbidden." I crossed in front of her to hand the next to Jake. To my fellow Participants, I said, "The fact our administration hasn't gotten around to finding a better distress signal doesn't mean we should compromise our safety." Alverez didn't like that statement, but didn't know how to respond. Skinner, though, had more history: "We stopped giving them out because we were having so few incidents in the Program." "If hardly anyone gets mumps, that doesn't mean vaccines don't do any good and should be stopped," I replied. "It means vaccines work." "Hear, hear," Gail said. "Thanks, Dana." A mutter of agreement from a couple other Participants. "Don't forget," I added. "You can also use them to call for backup when someone else is having problems." Mike smiled as I handed him the last whistle. Alverez said, "So if you're done?" I shook my head. "Second," I pulled out my other baggy and held it up. Inside were rubber wrist-bands in three colors: green, yellow, and red, more than enough of each for all eight of us. I pulled out one of each color. To the Participants, I said, "This is not sanctioned by OUR administration!" "Ms Partlow..." Skinner started to say, but I went on, "but they cannot forbid us from wearing them. These are consent markers for reasonable requests, and they've found, in states where they're used, they help a LOT. If you think that being touched is a reasonable request but you insist on being ASKED first, put on a yellow band." I worked the yellow I had out over my left hand and adjusted it on my wrist. "If you think it's reasonable enough that you don't need to be asked, wear a green. And if you do not think being touched is reasonable, wear red." "Keep in mind," Alverez said quickly, "that as long as it doesn't include penetration or cause pain, most forms of touching are and have always been considered reasonable requests." I immediately added, "According to our administration. You, however, may think otherwise -- and this is YOUR choice, according to the pamphlet we just went over." I held up the red band. "Wearing this is not a free pass to avoid touching -- it's a request to your fellow students, who may or may not chose to honor it. If someone insists anyway, our administration will back that person -- but they also cannot prevent you from making your desires clear." Skinner cleared his throat, and I turned to him and said, "According to the Supreme Court." "Actually," Alverez said, "Lopez vs Westport School District was a Ninth Circuit Court ruling." Apparently this was covered in Program training -- good. "Which the Supreme Court declined to review," I said, "thus upholding their decision." I turned to Mike, switching directions again, and held the baggy open for him to choose. He pulled out a yellow. So did Chip, Marshall, and Maria, but Jake took a green with a grin. He was tall and well-muscled enough, not to mention male, he probably felt completely unthreatened. "I had hoped," Skinner said, "that this opening week, we could avoid any problems." "Which is why these," I said, holding up my whistle. "IF I could continue?" he said sharply. As he informed us in triplicate that consent bracelets were not sanctioned by the school, I continued around -- Gail chose yellow, and Teri red. I looked her in the eyes and nodded. Her choice -- and I was going help her. She looked almost petrified, but nodded back. I caught the attention of Gail, next to her, and nodded at Teri's bracelet. She glanced at it, then nodded to me. I looked pointedly at Teri, and with a guilty start, Gail looked at her instead. "We're with you," she said softly. "All of us are," I agreed. I wasn't sure Teri understood. Or maybe she just didn't believe it would help. # Mike "I think," Principal Skinner said, "that we can all agree we've wasted enough time on this -- time that could have been spent getting used to being naked in privacy." Not to mention time he could spend looking at our skinny asses. Heh. Mr. Alverez heard this as his cue. "It is, indeed, time for everyone to officially start their week being Naked In School -- by getting naked." Nobody moved, and after a moment, he gestured for us to stand up and get it off. Except me, of course. "Chose a box and put your clothing inside," Mr. Alverez went on, gesturing to the plastic bins on the half- height shelves behind him. "They will remain here under supervision all day, but we cannot guarantee the safety of valuables, so keep your phones and wallets with you." Jake Lipton and Gail Conners, our two seniors, started first -- almost hurrying. Two high-status seniors, I might add: I was surprised to see them putting a cheerleader and swimming star through the Program now -- wouldn't want any distractions to put the almighty jocks off their games. Though, was it even swimming season now? So maybe this was the best time for Jake. And of course, a naked cheerleader never hurts football attendance. The rest were slower, sometimes fumbling with clothing - - especially the underclassmen boys, who were clearly nervous and out of their league. Dana Partlow, on the other hand, simply unbuttoned her blouse -- not hurried, not slow. As if undressing for bed by herself, or something. Combined being the shortest one standing, thus closest to my height, it caught my eye. SHE caught my eye. Short but not slight. Beneath the blouse she wore a plain but sturdy white bra, holding remarkably large breasts. They were -- I closed my eyes. I didn't want others to stare at me -- so no staring at others. Stop watching. Just get naked. "Take a few minutes," Mr. Alverez said, "to get used to the feeling of air on your skin. Get used to being naked among others. Look at your fellow Participants." Yeah, right, it was easier to unfocus and look at no one. And just do it. I'd dressed simply -- gray t-shirt, deck shoes, and blue track pants. The shirt was easy -- over my head and off. Pants, not so much. "Can I help?" Dana asked, leaning topless into my line- of-sight. Whoa, tits. Not that they were all THAT large -- smaller than, say, Teri Florez's, and probably Gail's as well. But putting them on a body that short made them look that much the larger. I made myself look at her face -- straight brown hair, shoulder-length, swept across into a plain silver clip over her left ear. Steady blue eyes were her most distinguishing feature. It took me a moment of distraction before I could reply, and it was the guilt that made me stammer. Well, and maybe a little lust. "Uh, y-yeah. Thanks." I stood on my hands on chair-seat as she deftly pulled down my pants and boxers -- not even getting my erection tangled in the process. Nice. Just as deftly, she folded my clothes and, when I held out my hands, gave them to me. All without taking note of my erect dick, or my thin, wasted legs. And then calmly she unzipped her skirt at the hip, stepped out of it one leg at a time, and folded it on top of her blouse on her chair. Plain white cotton panties, matching her bra. And beneath them, a natural bush -- thin brown, like her hair, but clearly never even trimmed. I hadn't known anyone still did that. Well, outside of hippie earthgirls. It was -- interesting. Or at least caught my attention. Not that clothed, she was unattractive, despite her mousy hair. I looked past her to Teri, naked and seated again, hands braced on her knees, staring at the floor. Talk about contrasts -- Teri is more than 30cm taller and probably twice Dana's weight. Not that she's, yanno, fat -- but she has a few extra kilos, in a well-padded sort of way. Sure, yeah, a roll on her tummy, but the padding's all around, so she's got curves. Give her twenty years, and I was pretty sure Dad would try hitting on her. Or even sooner. Talk about thoughts that needed brain bleach. But now my dick really was hard. And I, of course, did nothing about it. Instead, I put my clothes away. The bins were, naturally, above my shoulder -- I had to take one down to pry open the top. When I finished, I found all three administrators watching me. "I'll clear up some space on a lower shelf for you," Mr. Alverez said. "Ah, thanks," I said. Something about the gesture made me bold enough, even in the face of Mr. Skinner's scowl at my consent bracelet, to hold up my wrist. "These wrist bands? They're the right thing to do." "Mr. Smith," Mr. Skinner said. "The Program CLAIMS to be about choice," I said, turning to return to my place. "These ARE about choices." "Right on," Jake Lipton said, holding out his fist in invitation. I reached up to bump it as I passed. "Gloves," I heard Skinner say behind me. "Mr. Smith?" I stopped, popped a wheelie to spin around, and glanced at my fingerless black gloves. "Yes?" "ALL clothing must come off," Skinner said. "Except protective equipment," I countered. I reached around into my bag, hanging behind my chair, and pulled out my tablet. "I'm afraid he's right, Mike," Alverez said. "Only what's necessary for physical activities and sporting events." "The thing is," I said, tapping through my emails -- I'd made sure last night I still had my copy, "I asked Ms Wagner this two years ago, when I first started here, and she agreed: gloves are essential protection for the physical activity of," I held the email up to them, "wheeling my chair." Skinner frowned. "I don't think..." Ms Jackson, of all people, held up her hand to stop him. "James, have you ever tried to break a wheelchair with your bare hands?" Which made me wonder how she knew. She hadn't looked THAT wobbly during chemo last year. Frown turned to scowl, but Skinner said nothing. "In that case," Alverez said hesitantly, "I concur with my predecessor's ruling. You may wear the gloves." I nodded my thanks, and spun back toward my parking spot. One of eight kids, buck naked together. Eight against the world -- or at least, the world of the school. Eight of us, two from each class -- Wait a sec. I stopped in front of Dana. Teri was the sophomore girl, Gail the senior, and Maria, behind me, a junior like me. That meant -- Dana cocked her head in question. "You're a freshman," I accused. She looked me in the eyes in that disconcerting way of hers and said simply, "Yes." "But you're in AP History with me," I said. "AND advanced algebra." Both junior-level classes. Well, some honors-track sophomores, aiming to take calculus their senior year, were in the latter -- including, I suddenly remembered, Teri. But never freshers. Dana shrugged lightly, but didn't look away from my eyes. "I tested up." Dang, girl. Who are you? "Wait -- what?" Teri said beside her. "For reals?" Dana turned to her and said, "Real as I'll ever be." "If you're that kind of bright, maybe we could study together," I said. I can ALWAYS use help in math. I'd be in the regular algebra class if my father hadn't pushed me. Dana smiled at me -- her first real smile that morning. "I'd like that." A smile of -- of relief, I realized. She'd been worried of what I'd think of her -- that I might think she's full of herself. Which made me feel just a touch guilty: I kinda had, for just a moment. But anyone who could do what she'd just done, talking directly to us instead of administrators, even knowing it put her on Principal Skinner's shit-list, clearly wasn't conceited. Just very brave. Short AND spunky. And, apparently, smart as well. As I said: Dang. "Ms Partlow," Skinner said, gesturing her over, "if we could have a word." He did not look happy. And I, more fool me, had just put him into worse mood. Me and my big mouth. I glanced around. Maria was feeling up the sophomore next to her, Marshall -- a reasonable request, I assumed. He didn't look quite as skinny naked as I expected, from the glasses. The emo freshman next to him, Chip, looked more disgusted than ever, whether over not getting handjob himself or having to ditch the headphones, I couldn't tell. Jake and Gail were going at it with each other -- but what else would a jock and a cheerleader do? Teri just brooded in her chair, hands on her knees, a perfect picture of a black study. So I watched Skinner dressing down Dana. He kept his voice low, but I did hear Dana say, "If I wanted to be disruptive, I would have done in secret, not here." Yeah, right -- doing it here was a direct challenge. Not the sort our principal likes. But then the bell rang, ending homeroom. Time to get out there and strut our stuff -- or in my case, roll it. For whatever good that would do. As we collectively gathered up our stuff, Dana called out, "Everyone? Gather together," and gestured us Nakeds into the center of the room. She took my and Teri's hands in hers, and I got Maria's on my other side. When we were all in a huddle, she looked around the circle, catching everyone's eyes in turn. Not only not afraid of school administration but willing, as a freshman, to take charge over upperclassmen. "We can do this," Dana said. "We can do this together." "It's just nudity," Maria said, squeezing my hand. As if trying to convince herself. "Even if it's just nudity," Dana said, "we can do it." Teri gulped audibly. "Yeah," Jake said, and the rest of us agreed. "Let's go," Dana said. We dropped hands and headed out. # Teri We filed out of the Program Office into the usual mob -- the one that Dana's little pep-talk had given enough time to gather. And front and center, of course, prowled jocks ready to rip into the first fresh meat of the new year. With my brother and sister right there at the head of their packs. Talk about fucked. It took like two seconds for The Word to get used. "Oh my gawd," a boy called out, "get a load of the fat chick." Followed by laughter. I had known it was going to happen. KNEW it. My face burned anyway. I had to move, head to class. Barrel through, blend in, and try to ignore it all. But I couldn't move. I felt someone step up beside me. Someone small and naked -- Dana Partlow. She just stood there to my right, looking back at the jokers and the fuckers with a steady gaze. As if she didn't care these wolves could tear her in pieces without half trying. And don't you know, it actually gave them pause. Somehow, that courage gave me hope. Maybe I could get through this. Just this one week. "TERI!" someone cried. My sister. My heart shrank again to a cold cinder. Sam pushed through the clot of football players. "What you are doing here?" I couldn't help it -- I rolled my eyes. "Waiting for a bus. Duh." Ricky joined her. "You didn't tell us," he accused. I looked down at him -- he's still a handful of centimeters shorter than me. "You didn't ask." Sam broke into a grin. "Oh girl, you are going to have FUN." She turned to the jocks behind her and waved her hands. "Hey guys! This is my sister in the Program. You guys are going to show her a good time, right?" Oh hell no. Ricky turned to his teammates. "Got that?" Oh. Fuck. A chorus of "All RIGHT!" and "Yeah!" Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. The complete and total opposite of escaping under the radar. Jocks being, of course, too precious to consider controlling themselves. They think the point of the Program is getting their jollies -- on the Naked People. And my own dear unprecious siblings had just told all their friends to fucking harass me left, right, and center, whether I wanted it or not. And the first one, one of Ricky's guys, was already stepping up, hands reaching for my boobs. "Excuse me!" Dana said, holding her wrist-band up in front of him. Stopping him before he could grope me. "Do you know what this means?" "Huh?" the guy said. "What?" Sam said, looking at it. "They don't allow those here." "They cannot forbid them," Dana said. As if she didn't care that she, a freshman, was telling off a senior. "Ugh -- what-EVER," Sam said. Dana shook her head. "What color is your sister wearing?" "Huh?" Sam finally looked at my wrist. "Get out of here! No way -- YOU," she told me, "are going to town this week." Before I could panic out loud, Dana asked, "Are you ignoring the wishes of your own sister?" Sam looked at Dana again -- finally really SEEING her, in that way she never did with me. "Who the hell are you?" "Someone who respects the desires of my fellow students," Dana said simply. Sam and Ricky just stared at Dana as if she was a polka- dotted alien reciting Edgar Allan Poe to bongo drums. Somewhere down the hall, Mike Smith's horn went "oogah- oogah!" Dana took my hand and pulled me back, out of their immediate range -- over to Jake Lipton, still hanging around the Program Office door and joking, of all fucked-up things, with some basketball players. She tapped his arm and got him to bend down so she could speak over the hubbub -- the tallest kid in the school leaning over one of the shortest. "Could you get everyone's attention?" He grinned, straightened way up, and cupped his hands around his mouth. "YO! LISTEN UP!" "Mr. Lipton!" Principal Skinner barked, and I all but winced. But just like Dana, Jake ignored that and waved his arms, "Guys! Yo! Announcement!" Dana took a deep breath, then whispered to herself, "Here goes nothing." Then to both Jake and me, "Give me a boost, please? I'm too short for this." Jake pulled her up, and a moment later, he had her right heel propped on his hip and I found myself holding her left foot -- trying not to think about just how light she was, how delicate. Nor about her naked ass, resting on my shoulder, nor the bare thigh pressed on my naked breast. Dana held out her wrist-band at the crowd, and sent her voice ringing clearly through suddenly quieter hall: "This is a reasonable request consent bracelet. All Naked In School Participants have one. Yellow like this means the person agrees that touching is a reasonable request but ONLY if you ask first. Green," and she tapped Jake to hold up his, "means you don't have to ask. Red," and she gestured for me to hold up mine, "means the person would prefer not to be touched -- at all. We ask that EVERYBODY honor these bracelets, in the interest of making the Program work for ALL of us." The crowd muttered -- possibly more in favor than against, wonder of wonders. "Come on, guys," Gail called out from somewhere to our left. "Let's do this right!" Followed by a few ragged cheers from, I guess, other cheerleaders. Dana went on, "We're asking everyone, especially those with any influence," and she was looking at the jocks, including my brother and sister, "to pass the word -- and to help others honor what they mean." As if it would do any good. Sam and Ricky didn't give a rat's ass about what a freshman like Dana, especially one who didn't do sports, wanted them to do. And then the bell rang, starting first period. Making me already late -- but, hallelujah, closing the window on unreasonable requests. Well, it wasn't as if I wanted relief. # Mike I arrived late to first period, what with the usual Monday mob outside the Program Office waiting to see who'd come streaking out, or at least come out streaking. It wasn't because anyone bothered me, though -- it's just with my wheel-base, I don't exactly slip through a crowd. I had to honk three times. It wasn't till I got through the classroom door, near the end of the five-minute relief/grace period for Nakeds, that anyone actually noticed I was naked. Predictably, it was Gordon Gordon (yes, that's his real name, more's the pity) and in the most attention-getting way possible. "Jee-zus on a stick, Mike -- what you doing with a dick that large?" Cue titters and then gasps -- as if not a single kid had actually LOOKED me till then. As if they'd been avoiding looking at me. Or at my chair. "Ahem," Ms Alighieri said. "Language." I had my answer ready -- comedy favors the prepared: "Legs weak -- everything else strong." Which got the laughs I wanted -- though not from Gordon. Time was, he would have, but we don't get along very well any more. "Mike, there's less than a minute left for relief," Ms Alighieri told me. I shook my head. "Don't need it anyway." I was hard, sure, but not that horny -- yet. English was, well, English. Or World Literature, to be exact. Most of this year's reading list is in translation, but they still call it English -- go fig. And today we were starting with the Iliad. Gordon got a couple chuckles with a comment about my mighty spear and few more by calling me Ajax. I let those go pending coming up with snappy comebacks. After class was over, I finally got my first reasonable requests -- from classmates, right outside the door. "How long are you?" Alice asked, reaching for it. I held my left wrist up to her, which "just happened" to block her hand. "About 20cm." She blinked at my wrist-band. Bette, though, gushed. "Oh! Are they finally giving out consent bracelets? About friggin' time!" Heh? I didn't correct her. "What's it mean?" Alice asked. "For reasonable requests, please ask before touching," I told her. "I don't like surprises." I'm not nearly as jumpy about unexpected contact as, say, the year after the accident, but I still twitch. "May I?" Bette asked, holding up a small tape-measure. I wasn't sure whether to be more amused she carried a full sewing kit to school or annoyed that she didn't believe me. I nodded, and leaned back to give her better access. Her fingers were cool and businesslike as she lay the tape along my length. I still liked being touched. She held up the measure to show the other girls: "Close enough." "Awesome," Bette said. The others giggled. "Are you really that large because you are, you know..?" and Cheryl gestured vaguely at my legs. Oh for... I tried not to frown. "No, I was always this size." "Really?!" Before I could get snippy, the bell rang starting next period -- and I had to circle all the way around the school to get to advanced algebra. Fortunately, also on the second floor. "Sorry girls -- gotta roll," and I swerved around them and sped down the rapidly clearing hall. At the top of the first stairwell, Dana came hurrying up, tits bouncing and whistle flying on its lanyard -- heading to the same class as me. On impulse, I skidded to a stop beside her and patted my lap. "Hop on." Impulse -- yeah, right. She would easily be the oldest person I'd ever allowed on my chair. But she was small enough I was pretty sure I could handle her weight -- and, more importantly, she was cute, naked, and someone I owed. I'd been thinking about her riding me ever since she'd pulled off my pants. As in riding ON MY CHAIR. Sheesh. To my surprise, she didn't hesitate -- she climbed on, legs outside mine, even as she shrugged off her little backpack. As she leaned against my chest, ass against cock, warm back against body, I pushed off -- which was an Oof moment. Shoving what's suddenly twice your usual weight means slow acceleration, and not looking as cool as you hoped. At least the floor was completely clear, and she was short enough I could see over her shoulder without any trouble. I even managed the corner without skidding, though I did have to grab her (gosh darn) with my outside arm to hold her (smooth naked) body upright as we almost scraped the wall. Even aside from that, though, with each sway of course correction, her warm lower back rubbed against my erection. As we approached our classroom, though, near the drinking fountain, there was a knot of kids -- boys -- upperclass jocks -- surrounding someone. A naked girl. Teri. Keeping her there despite her protests about being late. Uh oh. "We'd better help," Dana said. Time to get involved. Right. I managed to brake just in time for her to tumble off beside them. I was more relieved by being relieved of her weight than I had expected. Dana tweeted a quick warning on her whistle, just enough to catch their attention. To which I added the best retort I could think of: "Okay, everybody, out of the pool!" "And into class," Dana added. "Holding someone after the bell is harassment." I almost winced, we were doing so well there, and then she had to drop a trigger word, a threat word. But even with that, Dana still passed between two boys without being stopped, took Teri's arm, and continued out the other side -- acting before these guys got it together. So sometimes tactless but still thinks fast in a crunch. I twiddled my fingers at the guys and rolled after my classmates. We got in the door just as the bell dinged the end of our grace period. "Just in time," Mr. Falcon said from the whiteboard -- he'd already started scribbling equations. I parked in my usual open spot by the door. "Sorry, delayed by requests," I told him. "Monday." The rough day. He nodded. "Too tardy for relief, though," he said -- taking in all three of us. Yeah. I knew the rules. Even if after riding with Dana, I actually could have used it. Well, there was always next period. There were two open desks in the front row next to me for the girls, most teachers want their Nakeds close, to make it easier to include them in their lectures. Teri barely glanced at these, though, as she headed into the back as usual. Okay then. Dana, who usually sat somewhere in the middle of the class, spread her towel on the seat beside me. When Mr. Falcon turned back to the board, Dana looked at me and silently mouthed, "Thank you." I nodded, silent as well. Her blue eyes were clear, and at that moment, I would have said that they were her best feature -- even more than her tits or shapely ass. And I was REALLY starting to regret that lack of relief. Especially since, those equations on the board? -- they had CUBICS in them. Dang! # Dana I spent second period wishing for a better way to take math notes on our tablets, finger on touchscreen is awkward when equations get too long. The paper notebooks still used in middle school had been better, at least for lectures. I made a mental note to check for helper apps that night. Fortunately, complex polynomials are kinda fun. Hard, but I already love this class. Hard enough, I managed to only sometimes think about the hard cock in the lap next to me, the one that had rubbed against my lower back with every sway of Mike's chair. Pity we hadn't had the time for a little mutual relief. Another mental note: figure out how to reach math on time. Well, we could always do something in history, later this afternoon. The moment the bell rang I waved to Mike (with another pang for that lost relief time) and hurried back to Teri. I'd noticed she liked to leave by the rear door -- our chemistry classroom's just three rooms down and around the corner of the Quad. After the trouble just before class, I was betting she could use company. Support. She made no move to get up, however. I crouched beside her, though this left my naked butt sticking out, while everyone filed out. I lay my hand on Teri's arm. She had goosebumps, but I could feel the heat from her naked skin -- from her whole voluptuous body. 'Down, girl,' I told myself. Aloud, I asked softly, "You okay?" She grimaced and gazed past me. "Not really." Her eyes were dark -- almost as black as her short, curling hair. I gave her a moment, then said, "It's hard, when you can't control it. When you HAVE to let them touch you." She swallowed, but nodded. "Yeah." "It helps, though, when you go through it together," I said. She finally looked at me directly, her eyes looking for something in my face. I tried to convey my sympathy, my empathy. Then she said, "Yeah." The chair scraped the floor as she stood up. I offered her my hand, and she looked at it. "Together," I repeated. She took it. Her grip was strong -- very strong. We were stopped twice, first with a request by two boys to feel my "knockers" -- I never liked that word. At least neither squeezed or mauled them, and one actually rubbed my nipples softly, in that way that turns me on. Well, on even more. I watched their faces, rather than their hands. Witnessing. This was more important than saying "Hi" to friends from middle school who stopped to ogle. Then just outside chemistry, two girls from my history class asked to touch Teri's pussy. I tried again to look them in the eyes. "I'd rather you didn't," Teri told them, voice almost level, and I let go her hand so she could hold up her bracelet. "Oh," said one -- Micky, that was her name. "You're refusing a reasonable request?" said the second. Teri barely shrugged. "If you insist, I have to let you." Said without a trace of enthusiasm. Which was an effective wet blanket -- I made a mental note to remember that tactic. I was building up quite the mental list. "Oh," said the second. "Come on, Nikki, we'll be late," said Micky. Which is how I got somewhere on time for the first time that day -- the bell started class just as we entered, followed by a couple stragglers. Which meant time, our full five minutes, for relief -- and after a couple hours naked and a few minutes holding the hand of an attractive naked girl, not to mention that ride with Mike's cock, I was thinking I could use some. Both our lab partners had moved seats -- or had been moved by Ms Cadwallader -- to the benches closest to the front. Teri grimaced but joined her partner, a boy I didn't know the name of yet, by the window. And my partner was -- Vicky. Oh. And here I'd managed to go two whole periods without thinking about this weekend. About Tara. The reminder was even more of a wet blanket than Teri's affect in the hall. It wasn't worth a mental note, though. But now I didn't want relief. As I made myself walk to the open place beside my lab partner, I heard Teri turn it down as well. Mechanically, I got out my tablet, spread my towel on my stool, and climbed up -- and almost fell off as the towel slid. (Those stools are way too tall for me -- I have to seriously boost myself up.) "In that case -- class?" Cadwallader called out. And she started, as usual, recapitulating our weekend's readings. If you understood the material, you could pretty much ignore the first five minutes of class. Usually disappointing, but I didn't mind it now. So I turned to Vicky and studied her. Thing is, knowing Tara's tastes, I can see why my ex hooked up with my lab partner -- not that she'd been my partner, before the semester started. Vicky's not as short as me, but her breasts are full enough. Well-rounded. In fact, all things being equal, she's as much my type as Tara was. Is. And yet... After a minute or so, Vicky noticed -- and frowned slightly. "What?" she whispered, not looking away from Cadwallader. What, indeed. "I need to know," I said as quietly as I could, "whether we can still be partners." She glanced at me puzzled, then back up at Cadwallader - - who still hadn't said anything new. "What do you mean?" "Tara." After a moment, she paled. "You..?" "Know, yes. We broke up this weekend." Or rather, Tara broke up with me. After first having sex with a boy named Darrell in a place I was pretty much guaranteed to catch them, then telling me about the others she'd been with the past month. "Oh." Almost more breath than word. Which was, actually, a good sign. Vicky was the only girl Tara admitted to cheating with -- she really is more straight than gay -- and it hadn't lasted long. She should have known about Tara and me, but nonetheless she felt bad about it. Or at any rate, she did now. Cadwallader called on Teri to define a reagent -- time to start paying attention. Or at least look like I was. After a few more questions, directed randomly around the class, Vicky said softly, "I'm sorry." For what happened. For, possibly, Tara as well. I nodded, just enough for her to see. "If you can be my partner, I can be yours," I told her. Under the cover of the lab bench, she took my hand in hers and squeezed, for just a moment. "Me too." The rest of class was more lecture. And not very interesting, either. When the bell rang, I waved to Vicky, hopped off my stool, and went over to Teri. "Wait by the door," I told her, then headed out myself as quickly as I could. Across the hall was Dr. Liu's physics class -- where Jake was, I knew from seeing him come out. And, it turned out, Maria as well -- how had I not noticed her before? I managed to get through to him before the growing knot of reasonable requestors could block me. "Teri's in chem," I told him, sheltering behind his back -- broad, with nice traps and delts. "Could you escort her to lunch? She's had it rough. And tell everyone about the consent bracelets." He agreed, and I edged along the wall, around his admirers, over to Maria. Where I got caught by a request, from a boy, to compare the weight of her and my "boobs." As he did so, I told her about Teri. Then I slipped out behind her and escaped their crowd. I made it around the Quad without being stopped, but when I descended to the first floor, where my locker was, I was mobbed. Tactical error, I immediately realized -- all these lockers are assigned as a block to ninth-graders, most whom hadn't seen a naked girl yet. Or gotten in a request. I should have waited till the next bell to grab my sandwich. Or kept it with me. I had to catch no less than five uninvited hands, all reaching for my crotch, and repeat, "Ask FIRST." Most got the message, especially when Greg and Souxie, friends from Bryant, got close and insisted on requests that took longer to fulfill -- like Souxie measuring the exact size of my breasts and then arguing with Karinne over whether 32D was the right bra size for me. Keeping me occupied until most kids had cleared off for lunch. Or mostly occupied: two kids still managed to goose me - - not being able to meet someone's gaze really does put you at a disadvantage. But still, the whole thing was a bother. Not to mention got me hot-and-bothered despite myself. Fortunately, the twenty-minute respite Participants get at the start of lunch really is observed -- after that chance to eat, the requests would start up again. When the bell rang, I called out, "Okay, everybody -- lunch time!" thanked Souxie and Karinne, and found my locker. Everyone backed off and headed down to the cafeteria, expecting to catch up with me there. I snagged my sandwich and my next round of supplies -- and once the coast was clear, started on my errands. The first being coaches. I munched as I walked over to the gymnasium wing. I hadn't actually been inside the gym complex yet -- my mandatory semester of P.E. wouldn't start till next semester -- but I'd looked up the office locations online. I still found the warren of rooms confusing. Of the eight teachers-slash-coaches, two weren't in or around their offices -- and one office, I never found. To the other five, I introduced myself, then gave him or her a pamphlet explaining the consent bracelets (which I'd found and printed out last night) and asked each to urge their students and their players to respect them. Results were mixed. Only the cheerleading coach was enthusiastic. The football coach was frankly dismissive. The rest were, well, noncommittal. The swim coach I was pretty sure would pass it on, if in a neutral manner. The others, I didn't know. But I did my best. All of which took half hour. My second errand took me across the school to the library wing -- and the student-use printer/copier, for the fliers I HADN'T gotten to last night, explaining the consent bracelet system with icons in bright colors. The quick and catchy version. Gina, the library aide on duty, was nice enough to let me run off more than my daily page quota, once she understood what they were for. More pamphlets would also have been good, but I could do those after school. Besides, no time for folding. As in, I had less than ten minutes left for errand the third. I hurried as fast as I could, via a now-unavoidable bathroom break, to the main office. If I was lucky, maybe I could catch Jackson. No such luck -- Skinner was at the front counter, and he saw me. He cleared his throat. "Ms Partlow, what can we do for you now?" I handed him a flier. "I'd like permission to post this on the school bulletin boards." The official boards, that is. "Denied." Not even a slight hesitation. "May I ask why not?" He looked down at me, over the counter. "Because this school does not support nor condone consent bracelets. The Program rules are clear: everyone is held to the same standard, no exceptions, and that standard is the yellow." "This is not about the rules but..." He held up his hand to interrupt. "Spare me, Partlow. No arguments, no fliers." I looked into his eyes, not letting him stare me down, and said, "Okay." My awareness narrowed to just us -- the rest of the world empty and silent. "And if I see them on the walls..." he said, voice full of warning. "I will not post these fliers without permission," I said. His eyes narrowed. "Not you, not anyone." So much for that dodge. "Nor will I ask anyone else to." They'd have to be handed out, then. Who'd be best to ask for help -- maybe the Gay-Straight Alliance? I hadn't planned this part out. Too overwhelmed. "You'd better not." "I never lie," I said levelly. He started to speak, but the bell rang ending lunch, breaking our shell and letting the world back in. It was louder here in the main office than the halls, and he had to wait till it was done. "I don't like your attitude, Partlow. I don't like troublemakers." There was nothing to say to that. I waited. After several seconds, he dismissed me with a sour grimace and a backhanded wave. Between having to circle halfway round the Quad, climbing up a floor, and hallways filled with post-lunch students, every one of them (it seemed) with a reasonable request, I was too late to physics to get relief. And I'd friends from Bryant in that class, including Greg and Souxie, who looked interested in assisting. Rarely have I been so tempted to cuss. # Teri When the second bell rang, Dana still hadn't come back for me. Incapacitated, I wondered, or forgotten? Either way, it figured I'd be stood up. With a barely repressed snarl I stood up myself. Just as I reached the door, though, it opened outward and Jake Lipton bowed me into the hall, grinning like a cat in sausage factory. "Hey, girl -- what's hanging?" "Not you," I retorted before I could stop myself. His uncircumcised cock stuck straight up like a freaky freak flagpole: completely vertical. "Not hardly," Maria Bustamonte said beside him. Her nipples looked just as hard. "This boy's got FANS." I didn't know what to say to that, so went for, "What are you doing here?" "Naked escort," Jake said. "Traveling together is good." "Safer," Maria added. Oh. Dana hadn't forgotten me, she'd asked someone stronger to help me. Two someones. I felt like a bitch for doubting her. "Come on -- let's get some food," Jake said. "FREE food," Maria agreed. Oh, right -- one of the half-assed gestures towards "thanking" Participants was lunch on the house. I'd had no intention of going anywhere near the cafeteria during wolf pack hour but, well, I was hungry -- I'd skimped breakfast and forgotten to pick up any lunch, not even jerky. It should be relatively safe down there for the first twenty minutes. Plus, I realized, with meals free, I could eat from the athletic training menu -- Sam and Ricky are on that meal plan, of course, but not good ol' non-jock me. I could retreat to the library as soon as I finished eating. As we walked downstairs to the Commons, the other two joked about the more interesting so-called-reasonable requests they'd gotten. As if, even for Maria, it had been fun. I don't even. And to think I'd considered her almost sane. We were late enough to the cafeteria, the line was almost short. Jake absolutely loaded his tray with high- protein, low-fat goodies, including a couple dishes that even looked half-edible. I picked some of the same foods, but nowhere near as much. I can't afford THAT many calories. Maria still did a double-take at my tray. "Hardly any breakfast," I said simply. "Nerves." She looked up at me, head cocked slightly, then to my surprise nodded. "May be just as well." Jake was all ready to walk out into the middle of the crowd, but Maria insisted on a table over by the south wall. "We need down time," she told him. Not to mention fewer avenues for surprise attacks. I captured a seat against the wall, across the table from Jake. While I picked at my so-called food, Maria and Jake talked about getting relief in class -- as in ways to get better relief. As if. I looked around -- I hadn't actually been down to the Commons since, what, last winter. The new random-colors paintjob on half the walls wasn't an improvement over bare white -- it looked like a giant had barfed up a rainbow. Possibly because she ate the food. The grade-sorted seating was still in effect: the tables beneath each of the four glass pyramids that stuck up into the Quad were unofficially reserved, with twelfth-graders claiming the largest pyramid. Smaller, more diverse groups were pushed out to the edges, into the couch area, or outside. Everything you ever wanted to know about how stupid humans are about hierarchy, on display in one open basement. Sitting there was weird, though. Even though they faced me, Jake and Maria didn't actually address me -- nor did they seem to mind that I ignored them back. That or they'd somehow forgotten I was there. Just as I was about to give up and get the hell out of Dodge, Mike Smith wheeled up and parked at the corner between Maria and me. "Hey, man," Jake said, "how's it rolling?" "Like a river," Mike shot back. Then he shook his head and added, "In flood." Maria snorted. "Ain't that the truth." As if she hadn't just been gushing over the Program. Mike looked at me. "Still hanging in there?" He seemed genuinely concerned. With what he has to put up with every day, maybe he really was. Maybe compared to losing the use of your legs, the Program was just a blip. I took a deep breath, let it out. "Almost," I said. "You're strong, though," he said. "Yeah," I agreed. "That's the thing. I have to remember that I'm strong." Reminding myself as much as talking to him. An eyebrow quirked a little, as if twigging to the double-meaning. I'd have to watch myself around him. It made things feel all the weirder -- he was, what, FOURTH person to be nice to me today, just because we'd been thrown together by the misfortune of the Program. All these people, not even wanting something for it. Well, I thought with a glance at his erection, maybe Mike wanted something -- that boy looked HARD. And big. I looked over the rest of him -- rolling himself everywhere had given him a whipcord upper body, and his long hands and face added to the lean effect. Not bad looking. If I wasn't naked myself, I could've been tempted to play with him, even with his skinny legs. "So how you taking requests, man?" Jake asked him. "Barely," Mike said with -- was that disgust? "It'll pick up," Jake said with a grin. The pig. Mike caught my eye roll and managed a wry smile my direction. "I can help with that," Maria told him. After a moment, Mike said, "?" "I request that you let me feel your cock for a while." "That, ah, would sound reasonable if..." and he grinned, "...you let me feel your breasts at the same time." Jake laughed as Mike peeled off his fingerless black gloves. Watching Mike and Maria play with each other was even weirder. It was like they were making out without, yanno, kissing. Chaste heavy petting. I told myself that there was no reason it should make me uncomfortable, that I should be taking mental notes for writing material -- how it was kinda turning me on as well as them. I can't say it worked all that well. If they'd turned the slightest bit threatening, I would've been out of there like a shot. But I stayed. Part of it was, with Mike's chair in front of me like that, I was partially screened. Safe, for unusual definitions of the word. Anyone who wanted to fuck with me had to get around him -- or rather, both of them. When some girls came over to play with Jake's body, one of them glanced at me with interest but decided I was a road too far. When I saw this, I shifted my left wrist to rest on the table, displaying that stupid wrist-band -- just in case anyone actually wanted to honor it. One kid actually had, in the hallway. I tried to ignore how this made me face Mike more squarely. And waited for the bell. Which was another tactical error -- the stairways after lunch are a complete crush, everyone pressed together, including against my naked body. You rarely get requests on the stairs themselves, at least -- people don't like it when you block the flow -- but once you get off? Three boy jocks, asking to pet my pussy. A cheerleader, ditto. Two girls basketball players, ditto. Every one, I had to steel myself to not flinch, to not slap arms away -- not break them in half. The b-ballers wouldn't even stop when the bell rang, the bitches -- it wasn't till one tried to push her finger inside me I had an excuse to push them away, to get away. It'd been bad enough, I stopped outside world history to pull myself together. Control, I told myself. Strength. I am whole, I am entire, I am myself. Right at the end of the five-minute "grace period," I slipped into class and took the first open seat. When I opened my tablet, I found a notification: an appointment for an after-school study-group in the library, originally created by Mike, forwarded by Dana. After failing to take in a single variable all class, it was just possible that I needed help. I hesitated a moment: That thing about watching myself around Mike? Doubly so with her. I tapped Accept. # Mike Después almuerzo, Español. To be exact: 4th period Spanish 5 -- with Sra. Toussaint again, only this year she was drilling us hard for the AP exam. Fortunately, she's cool about Nakeds -- though she does insist you not use English to ask for relief. But when I got out, "Me hiciere una paja," I got a laugh and permission to go-ahead. I didn't bother asking for assistance: faster to do it myself. Besides, despite what happened in the cafeteria, I didn't want to find out just how few volunteers I'd get. After all, Maria had just wanted a safe request -- "Nice and slow," she'd said -- and if it lasted all lunch, so much the better. Don't get me wrong -- I've dated. More than one person, even. But I'm not Mr. Popular, and I see kids go out of their way to avoid touching my wheelchair. Avoid touching the crip. Sorry -- moving on from the pity-fest. I jacked off, I read aloud, I participated in a dialog -- everything all normal. OK? Well, normal for ME, anyway -- halfway through the period, a swath of teal cloth suddenly dropped over one of the windows. It took Toussaint a few minutes to get our class back to order. After Spanish, history. To be exact: 5th period AP US History -- in the classroom directly below Spanish. Though of course, I have to go a third of the way around the school to the nearest elevator. In fact, I have a choice: the two nearest lifts are the same distance away. Somehow, the irony didn't help my mood just then. I got a few giggles in the hallway, three from girls and two from boys, but no requests -- as was apparently my usual. At least my elevator was waiting on this floor. And as I passed the bottom of the stairway, Dana came clattering down -- once again running late to a class we share. I slewed around to a stop. "Another ride?" She laughed, but continued fast-walking past me. "It's just two doors down." Which was true enough. I still made a disappointed face. "Well, dang -- here I was hoping to make a dramatic entrance." She giggled. Did I know she could giggle? "As my transport of delight?" she asked lightly. "But of course, my lady!" She giggled again. I liked her giggle. "Oh, and thanks for setting up the study-group," she said as she reached the classroom door. She held it open for me -- which, I realized, would have prevented me from carrying her into class anyway. "No prob," I said as I wheeled in. "Two minutes," Ms Takamiya said brusquely from the whiteboard. Dana stopped to stare at our teacher. "I don't need relief anyway," I said as I rolled to my usual open parking spot by the door. "I do!" Dana said immediately, and rushed for the chair beside the teacher's desk. Even as Dana slouched and down spread her legs, Ms Takamiya gave a little sigh. "Do you want assistance?" Hearing no response, she turned to look at Dana, but her eyes were already closed, head back, hands working quickly in her pussy -- one circling her clit amid her light-brown fur, the other rubbing deep inside her. Ms Takamiya blinked twice, then shrugged. "I guess not." Scattered snickers. Dana's face and chest flushed, her breathing got shorter, shallower -- then with a mewling whimper she stiffened, and few moments later she jammed her hands hard and still against her pussy. Had to be less than a minute -- quickest relief by a girl I'd seen, bar none, and I've watch a few. She must have been REALLY worked up. Or had really a light trigger. A dozen moments later, she relaxed and started breathing again. "Whoa," said the cheerleader sitting directly in front of her -- I think her name's Micky. "I'll say," said her friend Nikki, beside her. Dana opened her eyes and smiled. At them. Dang, but that was sexy. It took her the rest of her other minute to stagger the couple meters to the empty desk beside me, and even so, she fumbled with her tablet -- took her three tries to unplug the trailing wire. Was that..? "Microphone?" I whispered while Ms Takamiya cussed under her breath at her antique projector. She blinked at me a moment, still half-smiling, then nodded. "Just in case," she said cryptically. But then with a whack of Ms Takamiya's hand, the projector came to life -- displaying a map of settlement patterns of the early North American colonies on the blank half of the whiteboard. It was meaty stuff, actually. I was going to have to actually work this year, for this class. The banner, by the way, extended down to this floor too, but it was pulled away from the wall a little and so didn't shade the screen as well as Takamiya wanted. Especially when the breeze kicked up and it pulled over to the next window, then started flapping against it: "flap, thunk -- flap, thunk -- flap, thunk." Ms Takamiya paused and shook her head in disgust. "Never trust an artist to do things right." Which explained, well, nothing. At the end of class, I managed to time packing up so I could leave the room with Dana. She even turned the same way down the hall as me. And then she stopped -- suddenly enough I almost bumped into her legs. Two meters in front of her stood Tara Sarkisian. Both were stock still, as if shocked. What the..? "Oh, this is rich," Tara said as if they were the only two people in the hall. "I was thinking the same," Dana replied. "Oh no, don't you start this again -- it's your fault, you know. Admit it." I knew that they were not, as it almost sounded like, talking about whose fault it was Dana was naked. They had history, these two. Kids were starting to gather, watching the show. "But it isn't," Dana said. Then louder, "And I won't." "Won't what, Ms Partlow?" Principal Skinner suddenly said, coming up right behind us. He looked positively smug. "If it is reasonable, you must." As if he'd caught Dana turning down a reasonable request. Dana shook her head, not looking away from Tara. "No, it is not reasonable to admit I should have broken up with her." Well THAT was history, all right. I ignored the pang at realizing this probably meant she wouldn't be interested in me. "Uh," Skinner said intelligently. Talk about throwing him for a loop -- this was girl-cootie relationship stuff, not grabby Programming crap. After a moment, he recovered. "You're saying you haven't broken up with... your girlfriend?" "Of course we have," Dana said. "Damn straight!" Tara snarled. "Language," Skinner said distractedly, looking completely lost. "Okay then..?" "Tara wanted out, but wanted ME to do the dirty work, and is angry that I forced HER to say 'We're through' -- she thinks it makes her look like the bad girl." Dana shrugged. Then, to Tara, "If we're over, we're over -- just be honest about it." Which almost made a twisted sort of sense. Harsh, though. The bell rang, starting last period. "In any case," Skinner said, gathering up his usual sarcastic self, "I suggest that this is neither the time nor the place for your drama." Suddenly, the audience decided they had other places to be -- which they did. Tara grimaced, then with an impatient noise brushed past Skinner, heading the other way from us. Skinner looked at Dana and I, and invited us with his hand to continue down the hall. We took the invitation. I wanted to say something, but didn't know what. Around the corner, I finally asked, "Where to next?" Yeah, lamest way of showing I cared EVER. "Uh, gym wing," she said. "HHS." Yet more joy for her, having her Naked in School week during Health and Human Sexuality. "How long?" I asked quietly, and at her look, nodded behind us -- toward Tara. "We'd been together since spring. Oh, you mean the breakup? This weekend. Two days ago." Tara Sarkisian, the class hookup girl, had been going steady? -- with a girlfriend? -- who'd been in middle school? No wonder no one knew why she'd suddenly gone quiet, and then gone weird at the end of summer. And then after going out in secret, she outs herself as gay with the breakup. Dang. I sure as heck hoped Dana was already out herself, or Tara's little scene was just plain MEAN. I shook my head, and slewed to a stop at my elevator. As I punched the up button, I said, "Good luck." For both ex and class. "Thanks." The end of the grace period had already passed by the time I reached my creative writing class. Ms Wylie seemed more amused than anything, though. "Many reasonable requests?" Yeah, right. "Uh, no -- witness to an incident." Which was true enough. "Ah." My open place in the circle of chairs was between Teri and Chip Boozman, three Nakeds in a row. As Monica resumed reading her assignment -- I think it was supposed to be a poem -- Teri looked a silent question at me. About the incident I'd mentioned. "Dana," I mouthed silently. Then I quickly typed on my tablet, in a font large enough she could read easily, "SHE'S OKAY." Which I hoped was true enough. I mean, a girl as nice as Dana did not deserve to be treated badly by Tara. Not that I had anything against Tara -- we had some history ourselves, if you can call losing my virginity in a hookup, our freshman year, a "history." But I'd never heard of her going steady with anyone for long, let alone over a month. Clearly, Dana was someone worth watching. But apparently only as just a friend. # Teri The moment the bell ended school, Chip was out of there like a shot -- I figured he'd learn. Mike and I waited for the halls to clear. He used the excuse of gossiping with Ms Wylie about the Art Club's apparently disastrous attempt at an installation (it apparently involved hanging a fugly banner off the roof that was too large, not weighted, and didn't use strong enough fabric). I used the excuse of waiting for him. I thought about bailing his little study-group (especially when he started joking about a "disartaster") but, well, algebra. ADVANCED algebra. I'm not bad at math, but at that moment I didn't know what the fuck I was thinking, letting Falcon talk me into taking it. I walked beside him to an elevator, which he opened with a keycard. Oh, I realized, of course he'd use a lift to change floors. I probably wasn't authorized personnel but I joined him in riding its institutional griminess. In the near silence of the empty halls, his wheels made a faint shushing sound on the dirty floor. I wasn't till we got to the library that I remembered: all our study rooms are glass cubes, four of them in a diagonal line, with offices and storage rooms behind them. I know, way to combine architectural pretension with the universal panopticon. Can't go trusting boys and girls alone in a small private room. Not that anything was going to happen in there, not with me. And since study-group sessions are considered schoolwork, interrupting with reasonable requests are generally frowned upon. And somehow Mike had scored the one on the end, furthest back. Just to be safe, while Mike signed us in, I snagged a Sharpie and a page from the recycle bin by the copier. Inside the room, I taped a sign on the door: STUDYING IN PROGRESS. I'd seen other Nakeds do this, last year. Off his raised eyebrow, I said, "Prophylactic measure." "And here I was afraid you'd misspelled KEEP OUT," he said. I snorted -- the boy had a sense of humor. "Sorry," he said, undercutting the effect. Then he shook his head, long face looking even longer. "This whole day has thrown me for a loop." As if he totally looked like he was having problems during lunch. Which was unfair of me, and I kinda knew it at the time, but I didn't care. But that may be why I slipped and said, "But it's totally for our benefit." He snorted. "Money-back guarantee." "No refunds, no exchanges," I agreed. "Act now -- limited time offer." "Our operators are standing by." Which didn't exactly make sense -- not given just how little they supervise the Program. Hey, at least they finally filled the Coordinator with a full-time body, even if Alverez was so wet behind the ears he needed Skinner to hold his hand. We smiled at each other anyway. Mike was edging back onto my all-too-short list of almost sane people. Maybe he really was just off-balance. Just as, against all odds, Dana just might be the genuinely nice person she seemed. Speaking of whom -- I looked around. "Where's our partner in crime?" "Dunno. She accepted the appointment." While we waited, we set our tablets side-by-side on the table and pulled up the lesson materials. It took a while to synch our displays, though -- and by the time we finally got that working, Dana plopped down beside me with a sigh. "Sorry, had to wait for the lockers to clear." Off our looks, she explained, "For all the other ninth-graders around mine to leave." "Oh," Mike said, "freshmen who aren't used to Nakeds yet." I winced silently. To me, she said, "It wasn't that bad -- I hung back till most them left. But I should have warned you. We should share tactics, all us Participants. Maybe an online group or something." "How'd HHS go?" Mike asked. I winced again, this time aloud, our Health and Human Sexuality teacher is notorious for using his naked students for classroom demonstrations. "Meh," Dana said. "We're in the middle of a diet and nutrition unit." "He didn't want a live specimen of human sexuality?" I asked. I suppose the luck break someone's way sometimes. She shook her head. "Cardonez figures the odds are, four more of my classmates will be naked over the semester." After a moment's pause, she added, "He's right of course. And speaking of math..." Algebra. She set up her tablet next to mine -- it took her five seconds to synch up, instead of the five minutes for me and Mike. She quickly showed that wasn't the only way she's smart. Mike's not stupid but he was right about needing help. I hadn't been doing TOO badly, till today anyway, and could sort of coach him along. But Dana? She LIKED factoring polynomials. She seemed to see all the little tricks and what you could do with them. When she explained things, it actually made sense. From a STUDYING perspective, things went great. The problem was how close we had to sit together, so that Dana and Mike could reach all three screens. Close together, all naked, surrounding me. With Mike, at least, I had the wheel of his chair as a buffer, though I was still was all too aware of his lean body and long fingers, of how his hard cock bobbed when he moved. Dana, though -- she hovered next to me, skin brushing my arm, or sometimes my breast, when she leaned forward. Her knee pressed my shin. And then there was the smell of her. It was all I could do to not flinch back. To not notice this GIRL, this person, with her blue eyes and straight hair tucked behind the curl of her ear. It was almost as if she didn't mind touching me. As if she liked it. I gave myself a mental headshake. I had no reason to suspect anything about her sexuality. But still, when Dana stretched over to tap on Mike's tablet, smooth skin crossing in front of me, she had to brace herself with one hand on my thigh. The heat of it lingered on my skin after she sat up, and my nipples crinkled. The second time, she left her hand there several seconds. It left me tingly when she took it away. The third time, her shoulder pressed against my breast. I jerked back, and she glanced up at me, startled. Before I could stop myself, before I even knew I was going to say it, I blurted, "Are you FLIRTING with me?" Dana sat up but kept her hand on my leg. "Yes," she said, as plain and simple as ever. She always looks you in the eyes, but this time it was different. Her blue irises almost smoldered. I felt like I'd been hit in the forehead with a warhammer. She... me? "I... uh," I managed to say. I tried shaking my head to clear it, but it didn't do much good. "Sorry -- I didn't know. That you're lesbian." Her mouth spread into a wicked smile. "Oh, I'm bi," she murmured, then without looking away from me, she leaned over my lap and wrapped her other hand around Mike's cock, just below the head. Her weight rested on my thigh, and I could feel the heat from her body, less than a centimeter from my boobs and belly. My brain kinda froze, even as my body warmed. I was THIS close to losing control. Mike cleared his throat, and glanced around the room. No, at the glass walls -- a reminder that anyone could see us. I leaned back, away from her. "What," I croaked, then swallowed to wet my throat. "Are you doing." Dana's gaze flicked away from me, for just a moment, then returned. She let go of Mike's cock and sat up. I could feel the ghost of every finger of her hand where it had rested. "Sorry, I was pushing, wasn't I-I... just... well, I'm coming off a bad breakup." She sounded even more apologetic about that than coming on too strong. "Not an excuse, just explanation. I could use some human contact, the sort that won't necessarily lead to a long-term relationship. Skin comfort. And, yanno, NIS Program: Your Hookup Week tee em." There was something off about that statement, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Uh," I said, like the totally intelligent gal that I am. "Sorry, I... uh, never had a girl, like, make a pass at me before. I'm flattered, but, um..." I HATE it when I stutter and 'um,' but I couldn't find the end of my sentence. "You don't bat that way?" Mike suggested. I managed a brief, weak smile at him. "Yes. I mean... No, I don't." I almost face-palmed. "I shouldn't have pushed," Dana started to say, but I caught her eyes. Once I had her attention, I gazed into those blue depths. I was aroused -- already had been by Mike's naked body, even before her little body games. And I knew what I could do about it. Without looking away from her, I reached out to grab Mike's cock just below the head, where her hand had just been. Unlike her, I was pleased to note, I could wrap my fingers all the way around. The soft skin was slick with pre-cum -- she must have been rubbing it around while I wasn't noticing. Too busy choking on her. Dana smiled, eyes crinkling. Then she got up, walked around the table, and knelt on the other side of Mike. She grasped his cock, hand below mine -- he was long enough, there was enough room for both of us on his shaft. Mike gulped. He probably felt like the luckiest guy in the fucking world, right then. "Thing is," he said to Dana, voice unsteady, "I don't think YOU could to treat someone else like a piece of hookup meat." Dana looked at him and blinked, silent. Oh, I realized -- he thought that statement was off too. But if he was right, if she really was as nice as I wondered she was, that meant that she -- that she really did want me. Wanted this body twice her size. "I try not to," Dana told him, and I felt her hand squeeze his cock. "I like you. Both of you." She looked at me across this boy between us. "And even if I pushed too hard, I'm pretty sure none of us would mind a little mutual relief. Safe relief, on our terms." I think my entire body flushed. How the hell did she manage to keep saying exactly the right thing? It was -- well, it was sexy. Almost as sexy as -- I looked to Mike. His breathing was shallow, rapid. He was, if anything, even more turned on. But he still managed to tell me, "Up to you." Giving me control. Over all three of us. Even more sexy. Maybe, I told myself, I could afford just this much without hurting anyone. I shifted my hand up and down his shaft, and Dana -- she moved with me. Together, we started jacking him off. Two girls doing a boy. I know, total male fan-service scenario. But at the time, I didn't even think of that. Just at the feel of hard flesh under silken skin, of the boy's stiffening body and rapid breaths -- how he whispered, "ohmygod." Without thinking about it, I bent over and went down on him -- wrapped my lips around his cock-head, swirled my tongue over its salty tang. He gasped, and the next stroke of his shaft he came in my mouth. It was startling. I'm not the most experienced girl in the world, and while I'd given a couple blowjobs I'd never taken the shot in the mouth. Since writing about it with Zoe and Cal, though, I was curious. And even had a clue, from their descriptions, how to do it without gagging. Or losing more than a few drops. On his lower belly, in front of my eyes, three long scars cross-crossed his skin. He tasted like, well, cum, but with an overtone of... pizza? More satisfying was the feeling of getting a guy off -- that *I* had gotten him off. Well, with help. As I finished swallowing, I looked up and found Dana was standing, leaning on Mike's chair, arm around his bare shoulders, his arm about her waist. As he relaxed, she bent to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he turned to look at her. And then he pulled her down and kissed her. They kissed each other above me. I felt a pang of envy. Maybe even jealousy. Then Mike turned to me, raised my chin up with his finger, and leaned forward to kiss me as well. Firm sweet lips and a willing tongue -- a boy who didn't mind the taste of his own spunk. It lasted just a few seconds, no longer than Dana's. He pushed Dana forward, so her ass was against the table -- where he could reach her crotch without contorting his arm. "Your turn," he told her as he pulled off his gloves. Then he paused. "Though if we're not quiet, we'll attract attention." Oh shit -- I'd just given him a blowjob in a glass box. I looked all around -- no one was watching, no one seemed to have noticed. Even the computer nerds (they even had actual laptops) in the cattycorner cube were facing the other direction. Dana caught my hand in hers. "I'm not a moaner or screamer," she said softly, then let out her breath softly. "That feels good." Meaning the slow movements of his fingers, sliding into her pussy. "I noticed in history," he said. That's she's quiet, he meant. She must have taken relief or something. Dana crossed her eyes, took deep breaths through her nose. Mike glanced at me, then nodded towards the main reading room -- keep watch. I nodded, and glanced around again. I won't say I kept very good watch -- I was too fascinated with what Mike was doing to Dana, with Dana's reactions. Glistening fingers circling her pink, erect clit, then sliding between puffy lips half-hidden by her thatch. The grip of her hand on the edge of the table, every time he rubbed her. Her almost imperceptible trembling, seen only in her faintly quivering nipples. It was sexy, even if you're not into little young things. I rested my hand on the table beside her and caressed her hip and lower back. At first I checked around every few seconds or so, then got caught up in her, in what they were doing -- Mike had to lay his hand on my knee to remind me. He didn't remove it, but traced small circles with his finger tips, in time with his other hand. It was almost more distracting than seeing her slowly build -- stiffen -- bite her lip -- softly mewl as she came. So hot, that control over her responses. That look of bliss on her face. She sank down my arm into my lap, sitting with legs between mine, and leaned against me, sweaty skin on mine, head pillowed upon my breast -- and I let her. Held her as she panted softly. The scent of her pussy was heady. As her breath calmed, she looked up at me, eyes an even deeper blue, and whispered, "Your turn." As much question as statement: she waited until I nodded to reach between us and part my lower lips, a delicate, almost fluttery touch. I moved my other leg out, opening up to her. I gasped softly, just because. "I'd go down on you," Dana said quietly, wrapping her other arm around me as far as it could go, "but that'd be pretty obvious." Fingertips traced circles around my mound, slid up and down my wet slit. "Not safe," I managed to say. The idea of my thighs clamping down hard on her skull, like our heroines always do when someone gives them head, was pretty scary. I couldn't be sure of not hurting her. In fact -- I shifted my arm, from holding her to gripping my chair seat. And wrapped my feet around the chair legs. I gazed into her eyes -- still blue. Still deep. I wasn't sure whether they or the teasing of circling my clit drove me higher. Mike moved forward, to sit more clearly in front of the tablets. He typed slowly with one hand -- the other caressed my leg and Dana's hip, where she sat on me. Participating, even while still sometimes checking around, without being too obvious about it. Finally Dana brushed my clit, pressed it, and I was hard-pressed not to gasp. Especially when she rubbed it. "Slower," I told her. "But not too slow," Mike warned, glancing around again. A point. "I know how," Dana said. She started crooning to me, "Breath slowly, deeply. Listen to your heartbeat. Feel it. Feel your blood. Feel your pulse." Her breathing synched with mine, and it felt like her heartbeat did as well. And her hand -- it did as well. Still slow, slower than I ever do while masturbating, and yet it sent me higher. I controlled my breathing, did not let myself spasm, only lock in place -- and the orgasm that crashed over me was as powerful as I've ever felt. Oh... Holy... Fuck... I don't think I said that aloud, but my mind was sufficiently blown, I can't be sure. As the wave receded, Dana's fingers slowed down, bringing me down gently. And when I opened my eyes again, she smiled at me -- part smug, but mostly joy. So happy it was almost embarrassing, and I looked away. In the passage behind us, a librarian with a book cart was watching -- standing in Mike's blind spot, directly behind him. Before I realized what this meant, she gave me a discreet thumbs up and started on, pushing her cart. Talk about ACTUALLY embarrassing. "Oh girl, you are dangerous," I whispered. Dana shook her head against my chest. "I think you did pretty good," Mike said. He sounded pleased. "No one noticed." "No one," I said, finally looking at him, "but the librarian behind the scenes." Dana blinked, then leaned back to peer around me. "Who was it? Gina? She'd be cool with it." It kinda shamed me that, for all the time the past year I'd spent hiding in this library, two weeks into freshman year, she knew who worked here more than I did. "But not," Mike said, "with us staying over our hour -- someone has this reserved after us." We cleaned up -- my towel was, um, more than a little damp -- and packed up. We hadn't finished going over our math notes, let alone the homework -- yanno, the real reason we were there -- and I found myself agreeing to another study session tomorrow. We got out just as a cheerleader and a bespectacled boy showed up for a tutoring: he thanked her for helping him as we left. We walked together to the Program Office to get dressed. Which is to say, Dana walked as close as she could to my side, without actually touching me -- Mike tried to do the same, only rolling right on my flank just wasn't going to work, so instead he circled around and around us. Both he and Dana were giggly. I tried not to find it annoying -- both the clinging and the giggles. No one else was in the Program Office -- well, Alverez, but we ignored him and dressed in silence. Outside, Mike found his new ramp a little steep but usable -- once we cleared the swath of ripped teal fabric from it. There were more long shreds caught in the hedging across the drive from the teacher's parking lot. At the bottom, he pivoted on one wheel to face us. "So, um." "Tomorrow," Dana said. "Tomorrow," I agreed, already regretting it. Over and above regretting the fucking week, I mean. "Tomorrow," Mike confirmed. "Well, FOO," Dana added. Off Mike's silent question, she explained, "Just remembered I have to walk all the way around campus to get to the bike rack." Because she can't cut through the school while clothed. Just one more way the Program is fucked. # Dana On the way home, I stopped at the mall's office supply store to get a digital recorder: my tablet's mike hadn't worked very well -- more often than not, I forgot to reattach the wire mike after class, and even when I did it, it kept pulling back into my pack. I bought only the one, as a proof of concept, but it all but cleared out my allowance. It turns out it'll cost you if you need to record a full day. Then more whistles from the sporting goods store, for replacements -- almost forgot this. I had a lot to do that night: getting the recorder charged and working, setting up another study-group session, starting an online forum for Participants, checking the AFSC boards for any more suggestions, queries to our GSA, working out maps -- And, oh yeah -- homework. So a lot to take care of. Mom had to make me clear off the dining room table so we could eat. And made me STOP and eat. "The busier you are, the more you need to not skip meals." It probably was good for me to take a deep breath. And have seconds of her double-cheese veggie lasagna. It's just the two of us -- my brother's twelve years older and long out of school. We talked about my experience in the Program, a little -- no way I was telling her everything. "Just remember," she reminded me as I cleaned up, "to walk mindfully through the world." That hit me. Not just because all that activity was, at least a bit, to distract myself from thinking about what I wasn't telling. Because this afternoon, I'd lost my mindfulness. My clarity. After dinner, I took my stuff up to my room to be mindful in private. To think. To witness myself. The thing is, threeways? Totally hot. Me, a girl, and a guy, all of us together. I'd only been in one, with Ami and Chuck at camp, a year ago last summer, but despite how badly it fell apart, I'd thought about it ever since. Once I'd hinted at being open to it to Tara, but she'd shut that down so hard I never brought it up again. Back when. When she would have still been trying to convince herself she'd given up guys. I bonked my head on my desk once, twice. Tara, how could you be so stupid? (As if bi wasn't an option.) How could *I* be so stupid, not to realize? (As if omniscient was an option.) Maybe if, over the summer, we had... I sat up and shook my head. Maybes didn't matter, not anymore -- not for us. Though with Teri and Mike... No. Stop that. Pushing it had almost gotten me in trouble -- HAD gotten me in trouble, though Teri had somehow forgiven me. I hadn't noticed till Mike pointed it out: control is REALLY important to her, and the Program is all about letting go of it. Of trusting. I had to make it clear that I was open to something happening with her, with the three of us -- and then let it go. Let it happen if it will. It was up to her. Or rather, her AND him. To all three of us. And no pressure. Oh, but it would be so sweet if it did! That body of hers, that STRENGTH of hers -- and Mike, with his muscled arms and lean chest and, yes, that nice big cock, and most of all, his perception and vulnerability. I gave in and let myself dream about it -- on my bed, as a five-fingered fantasy. After I came a third time, I made myself stop. No more Mike, no more Teri. No more Tara, either. I washed my distracting scent off my hands, changed into old sweats, and sat down again. I still had lot to take care of before bed. Not to mention homework. # Mike I had an hour at home alone before Dad got home -- an hour to think about what had happened. It took me half that time to finally admit the most obvious part: until Dana made a pass at Teri, I hadn't realized how much I liked her. Which is stupid -- I mean, I knew she was gay. Well, not before that scene with Tara, but you know what I mean. But that hadn't stopped me from crushing on her, at least a little. Where by "crushing" I mean "getting hard from just being near her." So, well, it hit me hard. Knowing you have no chance is one thing -- seeing the evidence, another. And just when I'd realized I needed to stop hoping, then she had turn out to be bi. Talk about emotional whiplash. For the record: being jacked off by two girls at once? Damn hot. When Dana sat in Teri's lap, jilling off her, holding her close and crooning? -- dang sexy. That connection they had -- at that moment, watching it, I wanted it so badly. Wanted what Dana and Teri had. Wanted Dana and Teri, themselves. Both of them. Is it possible to fall hopelessly in love with two people at once? Because it certainly is to be jealous of two people at once. I was so hard, remembering, I had to jack off. Twice in a row. And I don't DO that, normally. More proof, as if I needed it, that it was not a normal day. But it cut the ache, at least the one in my balls. The one in my heart, though -- and the obsession in my head. Those I had to purge another way. two hands open two closed two clasping two reaching for another for each other two and two and two who were three made one in the fire of two I know, total crap -- and that's an extract of the BEST part. I knew it as I wrote it. They call notebook-only poems mental masturbation for a reason. But it kinda helped. Still, it was probably for the best that Dad came home and we started dinner. The routine helped -- helping cook, setting table, saying grace, digging in. At least THIS part of my life was normal. Till he started asking about the Program. I gave him the usual blah blah -- including how it was weird both being naked and around clothed people. How it's hard to focus in class. "Get off any?" he asked with a smile that was halfway to grin. I should have expected that one -- had a response ready. Because freezing up like that was as good as saying 'Yes'. He laughed. "I won't ask for details." Good. Because that is NOT the sort of thing a guy should have to tell his father. Yuck. I mean, if anything real happened with Dana and Teri, or even with either Dana or Teri, he'd know about that. Until the "unhoped-for day," as Ms Browning kept saying in English last year, my mouth was zipped AND buttoned. Maybe because of my pre-dinner verbal diarrhea, my journal entry that night was short: cycles in circles arms embracing facing another heart in hiding Obvious, perhaps, but not bad. Maybe the beginning of something? Or the conclusion? I dreamed I was a bicycle, going around and around the school, looking for the bike-rack I was in love with. # Teri I hid in my room, coming out only for dinner. Despite my best intentions, I ate a lot -- skimping breakfast and picking at lunch finally caught up with me. At least Mother cooks for teenage athletes, so the diet at home is good and volume is not a problem. I got to pretty much ignore Sam and Ricky -- they spent most of the meal ragging on the supposed complete embarrassment, as in drop-out-and-move-to-another-state levels, of certain incompetent art students. I managed to give the required noncommittal answers about the Program to my for-once apparently concerned paternal unit. I don't even remember. Then I buried myself again. Alone. And obsessed. I just didn't get it. What the HELL happened? Why, when the only sane and sensible response to Dana should have been to run the fuck away, didn't I? Not only stayed there, stayed where I wasn't the fuck in control, and even made a pass at a boy? -- in front of the girl who'd just made a pass at ME? -- and then let her get me off anyway? -- and LIKED it? What the hell -- no, what the FUCKING FUCK was wrong with me? Where by "obsessed," of course, I mean "completely freak out." Silently. I didn't hit anything. I didn't kick anything. I didn't even pound my head on the wall. Okay, my pillow had teeth marks -- but that was the worst of it. But I went over and over what had happened, by turns angry and frightened and turned-on and so embarrassed I could just die (like I was 12 again or something). The only way I could think to snap me out of it was to work out. Wonder of wonders, I had the presence of mind to set a timer. I don't think I did less than a hundred reps at anything, but at least with the reminder I didn't turn myself into an overcooked noodle. Last thing I wanted was to be useless in the morning -- I may be afraid of losing control of my strength, but I'm more scared of being defenseless. It did me good. I was almost calm as I put the weights away. Back in the realm of the almost sane. I was even up for thanking Zoe and Cal for their messages of support. I thought about copy-editing our novella -- we really did want to publish it next week at the latest -- and even opened the file to stare at it but, well, lost cause. Better to bag it and just go to bed. Only instead of shutting down, I opened a new file and started typing. It wasn't a full story, just a vignette. A guy and two girls, starting with both gals jacking him off in public and leading into an entire MFF makeout scenario. Channeling my experience of that afternoon, the sounds and scents and feels of three people secretly getting it on together where they might get caught. I didn't even have to think -- it just poured out of me. And when I reached the climax, all three together in mutual masturbation, suddenly -- it stopped, leaving me empty. It was if I'd lanced an abscess and it finished draining. I leaned back and rubbed my eyes, stretched my stiff arms. It was, fuck, almost midnight. Because I didn't know what else to do, I sent it to my partners, asking whether anything about it could be rescued as raw material. I puttered a bit, trying to wind myself down. As one does. Just as I was about to shut down for real, a chat window from Zoe opened -- I'd strayed into breakfast time in England: zoeymac: dang teri zoeymac: youre having a good time in the program teristarr2001: fuck u zoeymac: lol gotta catch me first zoeymac: no seriously - this is great stuff zoeymac: we can use it in downstar teristarr2001: srsly? zoeymac: a scene of mac and tris finally get it on with zoeymac: dunno, chickie in a pub, or something zoeymac: srsly - its raw and hot teristarr2001: is kylie a chickie? zoeymac: KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF MY KYLIE zoeymac: SHES MY CHARACTER teristarr2001: yeah yeah teristarr2001: gotta crash - long day teristarr2001: night zoeymac: yeah i can tell zoeymac: night! Before I fell asleep, I decided one thing: even if it was hot, even if it gave me good story, I had to stay the fuck away from Dana and Mike. Especially Dana. Third Day (Tuesday) ------------------- Mike I got to the Program Office five minutes before the bell. Dana and Teri were already there -- Dana already naked, as were Maria and Jake. Marshall, Chip, and Teri were clothed: putting it off as long as possible. Only Gail was missing -- last again. Dana sat across the room from her chair from yesterday, a battered manila folder in her lap -- her pensive look a contrast to Chip's perma-scowl beside her. Her hair clip today was powder-blue. I stifled a random urge to caress the line of her jaw and parked against the open wall -- I stuck out in the way of others, but tough. I tried not to stare at Dana's lovely breasts, and watched Teri instead as she gazed into space -- wearing her usual oversized flannel shirt and black jeans. Knowing how curvy she was, I wondered why -- but then, I knew she didn't like displaying her body. Jake and Mr. Alverez were talking about where to find 'good' Mexican food in town -- as if. Maria was teasing Marshall, and when he claimed he didn't have to take requests till he was naked, said, "Then you request to fondle my tits." Chip and his antisocial headphones just glared at his shoes. Then the outer door opened and Gail stepped in. And Dana suddenly and unexpectedly Turned On -- stood up brightly and spoke: "Okay, everyone's here -- it's a few minutes early, but we have a lot to go through." Her voice was firm and caught your attention -- even Chip pulled his headphones down. "Excuse me," Mr. Skinner coughed. Without pausing, she countered, "Homeroom hasn't started, so we can still talk amongst ourselves. First, I have spare whistles and consent bracelets, if anyone forgot theirs," and she held up her baggies. Apparently our principal still didn't intimidate her. "Oh yes, whistle, please," Gail said, and Dana tossed her the baggies to pass around. "Next, I have suggested routes for getting from class to class." She handed Maria a printout from her folder and continued around the room. "Sorry for the hardcopy. I tried to send it out, but it's in Flash, which is blocked on the school system -- I'll export to PowerPoint after school and try again." She passed me a page with my name on top. One side was filled with a wire-frame schematic of the school, covered with a tangle of lines in eight colors -- the other had smaller, less-crowded versions, each with a single light blue path that was sometimes paralleled for stretches by other colors. The blue lines started and ended at my classrooms, I realized -- one diagram for each period change. She went on, "These show routes between your classes that maximize the time spent traveling with another Participant, for mutual support. The front is all your personal routes, period to period. On the back is everybody's routes for the whole day, which is, sorry, way confusing printed like this. Sometimes these take you by a longer route than you would usually take, but never by more than 50 extra meters. It does NOT take into account going to your locker, 'cause I don't know where those are or when you do that, and it assumes everyone's in the Commons for lunch -- if you don't go there, we can adjust it." On the by-period diagrams, I finally worked out, the other colors were from matching routes of another Naked, with a key code at the bottom. Clever. Very clever. Chip was less impressed. "I usually cut through the Quad. This has me going..." A derisive laugh from Teri. "Baaad idea," agreed Maria. "NEVER go in the Quad as a Naked," Gail explained. "Not unless you wanna get gang-banged." Which Dana summarized with, "These routes were designed as a safety measure. Any more questions?" I raised a finger. "Why don't you ever send me through the other elevator? There's three of them." I showed her on the map. "I usually take this one after lunch." "That would be because I didn't know one was there," she admitted. "I'll correct and rerun it before I send this out tonight. Anything else?" "Where did you GET this?" Gail asked. The bell rang starting homeroom, and Mr. Skinner immediately said, "That's enough, Partlow." Uh oh -- he'd dropped the 'Ms.' Mr. Alverez picked up his cue: "Time for everybody -- that is, the rest of you -- to undress. Boxes are over here as usual, towels by the door." Me being one of the rest of us. As was Teri, who snarled silently as she stood up. Dana again helped me with my pants. By the time I was naked, so was Teri -- and I wanted to stare at her curves as much as at Dana's. I kept having to make myself look away from one, remembering yesterday afternoon, only to find myself watching the other. Dang it. All the while, Mr. Alverez pattered on about all the ways the Program was good for you, better than broccoli, better even than sliced bread with a cherry on top. Or he might has well have, for all anyone paid attention. When everyone was sitting again, Mr. Alverez asked, "Anything anyone want to discuss about the Program?" Maria held up her map. "Good idea, Dana. Thanks." Dana nodded. "Send me corrections today, and I'll post it through our study-group tonight." Last night, she'd set up an online study-group with all of our school accounts -- "to share class notes for anyone who missed something (and exchange notes about the Program in general)," according to the description. The parenthetical being all anyone had posted about -- it was clearly the real reason it existed. "Anything PROGRAM-related?" Skinner said significantly. Dana raised her hand. Skinner scowled, but didn't prevent from Alverez from acknowledging her. "It'd be VERY HELPFUL if there was a bike-rack on this side of school." "I don't think," Skinner said, "it would be worth the expense. Hardly anyone uses the one we have." Skinner looked to Ms Jackson for confirmation. "So far this year," she said mildly, "there's been over a dozen locked up there every day." "Most of them, no doubt, perma-parked." "All but one disappear at night." Skinner humphed. Then to Dana, "We'll take it into consideration. Anything else ACTUALLY Program-related?" Said like that, of course there wasn't. "One more minute of homeroom," Alverez announced, giving us implicit permission to talk amongst ourselves. Jake, Gail, and Maria started comparing maps, while Marshall asked Dana something about his. Teri picked up her pack and walked over to the door -- the quicker to get out of here when the bell rang, I realized. Which put her near enough to me, I could feel the heat from her body. I spoke quietly to her. "Yanno, if you strip before the bell, it's on your terms." She scowled, still looking at the door, but then nodded. "Thirty seconds," Dana called out, gesturing us together. "Everyone gather." Everyone clustered around me -- Teri even let Dana pulled her in. I took Teri's other hand, with Gail on my other side. I was VERY aware of Teri's smooth brown flank. Then it hit me: here's a bare-naked cheerleader I was barely glancing at -- what was I coming to? Within the huddle, Dana said, "We can do this -- together." "Together," Gail agreed, and several of us echoed her. Not Teri or Chip, though. Dana opened her mouth to say more, but the homeroom-end bell went off. Teri dropped my hand and was out of the room before it even finished ringing. "No running, Ms Florez!" Skinner called after her. The rest of us were between him and the door, however, and she got away -- more power to her. I waited for the others to clear out -- and Dana also stayed behind, packing up her supplies. I was surprised Skinner hadn't vanished her baggies of safety equipment. But not as surprised as I was when Ms Jackson approached her. "Have you shown this to Mr. Falcon?" she asked, pointing at my map. "Or Dr. Liu?" "Uhhh," Dana said, as close to completely flatfooted as I'd ever seen her. "N-n-no?" "Just a friendly suggestion," Ms Jackson said. I was nonplussed myself. Liu taught physics -- somehow, I'd gotten the idea Dana was in chemistry with Teri. One more sign, I thought, of how hard the Program was hitting me. # Teri I got past the usual outside-the-Office crowd without harm or hindrance before it gathered, no thanks to Dana's little encounter session. Not that, if I hadn't been impatient, I would have minded much. On a good day, I might even have appreciated it. This week was as far from being a good day as a jock gets from not being a fucking jerkass. By which I mean, yes, at the bottom of the stairwell I got bogged down in requests -- ALL from jocks, NONE of whom let me move a step. Nor gave a second glance at my red bracelet. When the bell for first period rang, five sets of hands were feeling me up, including in my ass- crack, and not all of them belonged to boys. I'd learned Dana's lesson from yesterday, though -- I just started walking, pushing between them. "Hey!" "Playtime's over," I snarled without looking. And marched upstairs to English. English was, well, English. Or British Lit, for us 10th graders. We were starting out the year with everybody's favorite fanfic writer, Shakespeare. I mean, seriously - - he ripped the entire story of Julius Caesar straight from the headlines of history, and his other plays are just as unoriginal. (Yeah, okay, Midsummer, the plot's apparently all his own -- we probably just haven't looked hard enough.) He's BRILLIANT, though, at retellings: putting his own spin on characters, bringing out the stories implied by his sources -- which is exactly what fanfic is all about. Not that I'd get Ms Browning to admit it. She probably thought fanfic was killing western civ. While Browning tried to prod the class into coming up with a single original thought about Brutus and Cassius, I studied Dana's map. It was, I had to admit, a clever idea. Flawed, of course -- in addition to everything she mentioned, the routes didn't avoid the more crowded hallways. But it was startling to learn how close I was to everyone -- I could, if wanted to, meet all seven Nakeds over the day. I didn't really want to, but Dana was right about safety in numbers. I was not proud -- not about this. Something else niggled me. Just as I was putting it away, I realized: she said she'll "rerun" it tonight. She came up with a program to generate this? That was somehow even more impressive than working out them out by hand. I didn't even have a clue HOW. Of course, here I was, studying her map like it was a clue to getting close her -- you know, the person I was keeping at a distance. I put it away for real and read the rest of the play while pretending to pay attention. (For the record, Brutus had the right idea.) Before first period was bad enough, but the real trouble came on my way to math -- during which I was to somehow intersect with Marshall, Dana, and Mike. I'd gotten maybe ten meters before getting sucked into the Request Bog -- again, all jocks. At first it was just grabbing my boobs and pussy, but then a pair of guys made me "shake my booty" for them. Humiliating, but it also got me out of their reach: a quick turnaround, a quick shake, and I bugged outta there -- only to run into a trio of girls from the basketball team, wearing their letter jackets for tonight's game. With Sam smack in the middle. "Oh girl," she practically cooed, tickling the air at me, "it is SO request time." I actually goggled at her. "What, YOU'RE going to feel me up?" Freezing like that gave the other two the chance to cover me on either side, and the shorter one, Sam's friend Tam, reached for my boob before I could even wave my stupid bracelet. I warded her off: "Ya gotta ask first." Sam looked affronted. "It's not like I can't," she said and reached for my crotch. I caught her just above the wrist and held firm, locking all my muscles: arm, shoulder, core -- imagining myself a solid block of stone. A trick Bud taught me, down at the rec center. She tugged but couldn't break my grip -- or even make my arm budge. Heh. "Let go," Sam said, tugging harder. Holding still wasn't as hard as I expected. I still shifted my stance, for better balance. "Even if you HAD asked," I said, "there is no way in all the 50 hells of the 12 worlds ANYONE would agree that it's reasonable for my sister to molest me." "Uh, yanno?" her other friend said, "she's got a point, Sam." She had blonde hair in cornrows -- did white girls still do that? Sam tried suddenly shoving toward me, and then pushing down with all her weight, but couldn't move my hand more than a centimeter. "You're dead meat, Teri," Sam snarled. With her right arm reaching across her body like that, she couldn't easily get at me with her other arm. Nor could she pry up my fingers. I snorted. "Like that's supposed to be a threat? I already am, to you." Tam said, "What do you mean?" I looked steadily at her. "You're wolves. She threw me to you." The bell rang. I let go just as Sam yanked, and she stumbled back into Tam. "Come on, guys -- we're gonna be late," cornrow-girl said. As if, with the bell, they weren't already. As the three hurried off, I took a deep breath -- then studied my hand. That had felt ... interesting. I mean, my sister has a rep for being strong for a girl. As in stronger than most boys. Part of it, just now, was catching her arm in an awkward angle, where it was hard for her to apply force. But even so, it had been far easier than expected to stand fast. I smiled to myself. Years of weightlifting really were paying off. Better yet, I hadn't lost control. She probably wouldn't even bruise. I'd done exactly what I wanted. "Teri!" Mike called out behind me -- with Dana right behind him. Catching up, just like yesterday. Only, of course, this time I'd dealt with the situation myself. "You okay?" Dana asked, stopping beside me. "More trouble?" "Duh," I said, finally looking at her. Her eyes were steady and worried at the same time. She caught the whistle about her neck. "Use it when you need it." "Come on, guys," Mike said as he rolled on ahead. Dana caught my hand, the one I'd held my sister with, and pulled. I let her drag me onward. "It hadn't gotten to that point yet," I told her. She glanced back and up at me as she fast-walked, and nodded. "Keeping things in control by engaging them is good." I managed to keep a straight face. She had no idea. We arrived in math with hardly any time left for relief -- not that we wanted it. Dana and Falcon again exchanged barely noticeable nods as she sat down beside Mike in his front-row parking space. I went to the back as usual, of course. As I sat there, I looked at my hand and flexed it. I followed even less of the lesson, that day, than the day before. # Dana I cannot lie -- I would not have minded relief in algebra. Before and after first period, I'd gotten a LOT of reasonable requests to explore my naked body, almost all from girls -- many of whom knew how to caress another girl. Had word gotten out about my breakup with Tara? -- that I'm not just Out, but Out And Available? Except most seemed to be either athletes or cheerleaders. So maybe, yanno, random. Even more than relief, though, I wanted time to figure out what just happened to Teri. I didn't have that either -- not with polynomial factorizations to focus on. After class, I checked with Mike, who confirmed none of library study rooms had been freed up. So I asked Falcon if we could meet in this classroom after school. "Need a refuge?" "Need study space -- library's booked up today." We could work in the main reading room, if all else failed, but that would leave us exposed. Well, more exposed. "Ah. Well, I'll be coaching the Chess Team over in the physics lab, but I can keep the room open for you." "Thanks," I said. More softly, he added, "I'm holding you in the Light." Which helped, actually, that reminder of Clarity. "Thank you," I said, just as softly. I hurried out to catch up with Teri. Along the way, I saw a few kids holding my consent bracelet flier -- excellent. Gary and Karen from the GSA had said they'd organize getting them handed out. One girl was folding a paper airplane out of hers, but at least she'd seen it. Teri wasn't far down the hall -- caught in a knot of girls, all wearing letter jackets. As I came up, one spotted me and said, "Oh! Even better. You," and she pointed at me, "I request that you two touch each other." "Umm'kay," I said. "How?" "Feel each other's breasts." Teri turned to me, and I faced her. Her eyes were glassy, but not in a dangerous way -- more as if she was utterly weary of what was going on. A response they probably didn't like -- thus their trying something new. I reached out and cupped the undersides of Teri's breasts -- they were larger than my hands, with large areolae than mine -- as she started slowly and lightly patting mine in turn, using just her fingertips. "Oh, by the way," I told her, in as normal a voice as I could, "I found a meeting room for study-group." "Oh. Okay," she said, as if utterly bored by the universe. "You do know," I added, "that I don't want to do it like this?" I tried to pretend that I was talking about the weather in Iowa -- that her fingers didn't make my skin tingle and nipples tighten. A flicker in Teri's eyes. But her voice was as bored as ever. "Yeah, I know exactly what you mean." Which almost made me break out of my role. Okay, yes, she probably just meant she knew I wanted to caress her for real -- but it sounded like she did as well. After yesterday's rejection, did I, maybe, have a chance? Even just a bi-curious one? The bell rang, bringing mixed relief and disappointment. I caught Teri's hand, waved "Bye now!" at the girls, and started walking through them towards chem, leading Teri in my wake. Around the corner in the hallway, she started chuckling. "That was almost fun, fucking with them like that." I glanced up -- her smile was almost wicked. "Mess with them too badly, though, and they'll make it worse," I said mildly. "Oh, don't I know," she said, bitter in her voice. We stopped outside the our classroom. "You have history with them?" She shrugged. "They play with my sister." The girl who, yesterday, had tried to ignore her bracelet. Play as in on the same team, I assumed -- but maybe also in bed? I hadn't yet worked out who was Out at Bridger, especially among the older students, but the requests this morning made it seem possible. To Teri, though, I just nodded. I had nothing else to offer her -- other than a quick hug, skin against skin. She even held me in return, before heading in. We actually had a couple minutes left of relief time, but after that sobering reminder, I wasn't sure I wanted it. It almost certainly wouldn't be seductive to Teri, doing it in front of her. Not to mention, given Vicky was queer, I didn't want to push HER buttons. Despite what I'd said yesterday, that thought made me a little uncomfortable. Cadwallader continued recapping our assigned reading. I wondered, vaguely, if she had designed this lecture style to work with the Program, with its interruptions throughout the first five minutes of class. Vicky leaned close. "I heard what happened yesterday, with you and Tara." So I was, indeed, current news. I made a non-committal sound. "I really am sorry, for -- yanno. I knew she'd had a girlfriend, but not that you were still a thing. Not at first. " I had to look away. Teri was watching me, and caught my eye. I smiled slightly, then turned back to my lab partner. "Thanks." "Not now, but, sometime later, if you wanna hang out..." No, definitely not now. "We'll see," I said. She was attractive, after all -- if I could work with her a while, become better friends, maybe something more could happen. As for working together, we actually got to -- our first lab-work of the semester. It was only practice with pipettes and graduated cylinders, as if we'd never used them before (like, yanno, all through General Science last year), but it required pairing with our lab partner. The whole thing was very old-school: we had to record everything hardcopy on an exercise sheet. Vicky and I finished quickly and for the rest of class talked quietly about fantasy novels for teens. When the bell rang, Teri and I both packed slowly, to give the halls time to clear. Cadwallader cast a skeptical glance at us a couple times -- Participants are discouraged from hiding in classrooms between periods -- but said nothing. Instead of zoning out in her own thoughts, as she usually did, Teri studied me for a while. Off my silent question, she asked, "What's with you and Vicky?" "Um -- I have history with her." I made myself meet her eyes. Hers narrowed a little. "SHE's your ex?" "Heh. No, an ex of my ex. Which wouldn't be a problem, except that happened while we weren't yet ex." Which sounded more confusing out loud than intended, but Teri just nodded, eyes still narrow. "This would be the messy part you mentioned?" "Part of it," I admitted. Teri winced in sympathy, and the room lights flicked on and off twice as the bell rang, starting lunch. Cadwallader looked up and around nervously. "Ooo-kay then," Teri said. Jake and Maria were across the hall again, waiting for their crowd to finish dispersing. "Hey, girl," Jake said to Teri, "what's hanging?" "The apple -- not far from the tree," she shot back. He chuckled, and nodded to me. "Still steady, I see." I thought for a moment he believed I was still going steady with Tara, but no, he meant that *I* was steady, as in solid -- unmoved. As if. "As a rock that is not silent," I said, though the context of the psalm was not exactly appropriate. "Come on, guys," Maria said, heading for the stairs, "let's get some food." Teri followed her, but Jake stopped when saw me standing still. "I was going to..." and I gestured behind me, in the general direction of my locker. "Whatever it is can wait, Miss Rock -- put some lunch in you first." With a hand on my bare shoulder, he shepherded me after the girls. I let him. He was right, really. And besides, since I hadn't made it to my locker yet, my sandwich was still in my pack -- probably mashed halfway flat by now. I could catch up with Gary and Karen after eating -- and they were likely down in the Commons anyway. I wanted to sound them out on starting a student group dedicated to escorting and monitoring Participants between classes, similar to the Angels in California only more organized, before I took the idea to Alverez. Besides, this was a good chance to talk with other Participants -- catch up in person. The other three went through the cafeteria line, so I found a table for us off to one side -- or rather two of them, as the ones along that wall are all small. By the time I pushed them together, the others joined me with their lunch trays. Teri, the largest of all of us, had the least on her plate. Given the food did not look or smell appetizing, I didn't exactly blame her. I munched on lunch while they dug in, listening to the sounds of cafeteria chatter and clatter. Maria peered at my sandwich. "Is that -- bologna?" "Tofurkey, sliced thin." She blinked. "You're a vegetarian? In THIS state?" I shook my head. "Mom is, from when she lived out East. I eat meat, but this is what we have at home." Maria pointed at the cafeteria line. "Right there -- go." "Honestly? This tastes better." "Heh?" Teri was frowning at Maria. "So you worry about how much I'm eating, but Dana's bit of smushed whole-wheat, you give a pass?" Maria waved that off. "She's just a bit of a thing." Teri drew herself up. Before this could devolve into fat-shaming or worse, I broke in, "By the way, any more suggestions for the maps?" "Yeah," Gail suddenly said behind me. "Put room numbers on it, so I can figure out which way is where." I tilted my head all the way straight back to look up at her -- which gave me an odd view of the undersides of her breasts. Not that I was complaining, mind, but it was not the usual perspective, even for short little me. "If I labeled all of them, you couldn't read it," I said. "How about just your start and end rooms, on the by-period maps?" "That should work." Then to the others, "Hey, guys," and she crouched between Maria and me -- my neck thanked her for that. "How's your day been?" I asked her. "Comme ci comme ça. Had to stand at the whiteboard all trig -- got marker dust all over me." She shuddered theatrically. "I hate trig." Maria and Jake laughed. I smiled politely, as I've learned to do when girls claim math is hard. Then to me, more privately, Gail said, "Hey, is it true you're the girl Tara broke up with?" I nodded carefully. Apparently we were even bigger news than I thought. "We knew, some of us, that her steady was a girl, but not who it was. Sorry things got so messy, at the end." "Thanks." I managed not to add, 'I think.' From my other side, Teri looked at me, as if suddenly seeing me for the first time. "Wait -- you're the reason Tara Sarkisian stopped putting out, last spring?" I had no idea what to say to that. I mean, Tara had never hidden, when we first got together, that she'd slept with a lot of guys -- she even used it to try pushing me away. As if past history mattered. I still felt a pang of missing her. "Girl, you are some kind of trouble," Teri muttered, as much to herself as to me. Trouble indeed. It was as if breaking up hadn't untangled me from Tara. # Mike At the start of third period, I was starting to feel a little sour. It's not like a guy WANTS to be the designated victim of state-sponsored molestation (as Teri might put it). But, yanno -- not getting a single reasonable request all morning felt like rejection -- like avoiding the crip. I was seriously tempted to take relief in French, just to make my classmates watch me -- make them see me as a sexual object. I didn't, though. I once heard something about how hate- sex is like acid on the soul -- and jacking off at someone sounded a lot like solo hate-sex, which had to be even worse. Better to just withdraw. Leave them to themselves. Maybe Maria would be interested in some fooling around again at lunch. Or Teri might want mutual consolation. Or Dana. Mme. Gomez, by the way, is the only language teacher I've heard of who lets you request or decline relief in English. I declined in French anyway. After class, rather than following Dana's recommended route, I took the long way around to the far elevator -- that hallway isn't as crowded and her way wouldn't meet up with anyone till the cafeteria, anyway. And because it wasn't as crowded, it was impossible to miss running into Nate, coming the other direction. "Oh, uh. Mike." "Hi. Long time," I said. Three months -- not since summer camp, when we'd fooled around a bit, us and another boy. "Um, right... been busy. You know." He looked everywhere but at me -- and always well above my waist. "Yeah, I know." I almost managed to keep the bitter out of my voice. "Right. So, um. See ya." And then he booked it past me. I watched his back till he disappeared down the stairs. I know I didn't keep the bitter out of my face. I knew he, at least, wasn't an avoid-the-crip type; he'd been happy enough to engage in a little mutual scratch- the-itch with me, even if he didn't go beyond handjobs. Salazar and I had blown each other, and even kissed some, but Nate hadn't. No, this was good old-fashioned gay panic -- as if being seen with me, it'd be obvious to anyone that we'd had sex. Of course, the way he'd acted made it obvious SOMETHING was up. Knowing this didn't help my mood, though. Nate Terifin, meet Tara Sarkisian. In the hall ceiling, the last fluorescent light in front of the stairwell flickered out. A second later it blinked back on as the next one turned off -- which came on as the next in turn went off, and so on: it was like a dead space was heading straight towards me, down an industrial equivalent of a holiday-light string. Kinda freaky, actually -- I backed up to the wall before it passed over me, and then watched as it continued down to the other corner of the building. Ooo-kay then. Technically, I'm not supposed to use the elevator on the gym wing to go down to the basement, only between the first and second floors -- the basement exit is near a boiler and a furnace and who knows what all else, where no students are allowed. Of course, that's one reason I like to take it anyway: it's gloomy and grimy like an industrial factory, and in winter puffs of steam make it even more atmospheric. Another reason is more practical: it puts me on the open lounge side of the Commons, which is easier to navigate than the cafeteria tables. Usually I get away with it, but not now. I was caught by Mr. Rezmirsky, the guy in charge down there -- and after a stern warning, he made me ride back upstairs and down another lift -- the one (gee, thanks) on Dana's route. By the time I reached the cafeteria hot-food line, there wasn't much of one. Plus one for no waiting, minus two for giving food time to polymerize. Though the "beef" patty may well have started that way. As I looked for a place to park, I saw Dana talking earnestly with Marshall -- sitting in the sophomore section. As if she didn't care about the class blocks. Maybe people were giving her a free pass for the naked show. I really didn't know what to make of Dana. On a hunch, I'd checked the overall map and found, in the tangle of colors, she stopped in both the physics and chemistry classrooms. Two sciences, math whiz, pint-sized social wonder. And despite yesterday, all but ignoring me. I moved on before they noticed me. Some of the other Nakeds were sitting against the wall, where they'd gathered yesterday. Gail and Jake were getting all sexyfuntimes with each other. Teri was crammed against the wall across from them, hunched over her tablet beneath a giant psychic DO NOT DISTURB sign. Maria was at table next-door, sitting on a boy's lap and laughing with two others. I found half-empty table among the juniors instead. # Teri I had enough time to myself during lunch, after Dana left on some mysterious errand of own, to start editing our Downstar novella, but after rereading the second paragraph for the third time I realized it wasn't going to happen. Too public to work on it. Especially for something this smutty. So I grazed on Spacefarer fic: poshmelody had posted another chapter of her Doctor Who crossover, which is always a treat. Almost made me not regret sitting alone in the crowded fucking cafeteria. Almost. At least this time I remembered to start drifting toward the stairwell, circling around the major jock packs, before the bell. I saw Mike brooding by himself with a psychic KEEP OUT sign blinking over his head -- well, not really, but that's what it felt like. Three tables away, Dana animatedly talked with a clothed couple -- I caught the words "angels" and "training," which almost made me wonder what THAT story was about. As I said, almost. At least with neither of them chasing after me, I didn't have to worry about keeping my distance. Anyway, I was loitering near the foot of the stairs when the bell tolled for me and thee, so escaped before anyone could stop-and-frisk I'm sorry I mean unreasonably request me. Not only was I on time to class, but minutes early for the first time this week. As if to punish me, the break after world history was the worst yet. I hadn't taken five steps out the door when the first requests, from boys on the basketball team, stopped me in my tracks. I tried the bored response thing, but that doesn't work as well with boys as girls. So when one reached without warning into my crotch with all four fingers at once, I flexed my thighs, squeezing the width of his hand between my legs. "Ow! Ow ow ow leggo ow ow!" "Sorry," I said, releasing him. "Ticklish." He massaged his fingers, letting me escape. There was another pair of boys behind him, though -- wasn't sure what kind of jocks, but they were muscled. That trick probably wouldn't work with them. "I'm gonna do ya so good," one said with a grin, reaching for my crotch. I caught his arm. "Not without asking." "I asked!" Still holding his arm, I said to the other one, "Pray tell me, good sir, could you please define the difference between a question and a statement?" "What?" "Bzzt! That is not a definition but an example of a question." Several of the watching kids snickered, and I shooed both guys off. "Thanks for playing Mug The Muggle, here's a copy of our home edition, and now for our next contestant we have oh Fuck No." The next three jocks were Ricky flanked by two more muscleguys -- I didn't know their names. I put my hands on my hips, which happened to center my stance, and glared. "And his two weenies," I added. "Hey!" protested Weenie One, the guy on his right. "It must feel good to be used as proxies for a guy who wants to grope his sister but can't." "I can too," Ricky said, reaching for me. "I request..." I caught his arm just above the wrist and snapped, "Rejected -- unreasonable." He tried to push into me, but I locked my muscles, as with Sam. Then he yanked back. He was strong, stronger than Sam, yet couldn't budge me more than a centimeter, either. I almost grinned. "Hey, cut that out," Weenie Two said, and grabbed my right arm in turn, again just above my wrist. Because he pulled the other direction than Ricky, he actually helped me. "Let GO," Ricky said, trying to push again, this time with his friend's pull. My arm stayed almost still -- though it was a strain. My grip on Ricky was probably strong enough to bruise. "I got her," the first one said, as he caught my left forearm with both hands -- caught, but he couldn't hold me still. He wasn't even as strong as Sam, and had a horrible stance to boot. "Actually," I said, "you don't." I pulled my left arm across my chest, and he came with it, stumbling into Ricky -- pushing him in turn into the second boy -- both weenies let go of me -- and I let go, sending the three stumbling another step. The bell rang, starting fifth period. No one moved. I would have walked on, but that meant turning my back once I passed. The outer layers of our audience started ablating. "Shit, Teri," Ricky said, rubbing his arm where I'd held him. Him, I figured, it didn't matter if I bruised. "We're just trying to give you a good time." More audience tore themselves away. "No, you're trying to take yourselves a good time." >From down the hall behind the three, Mike zipped past and skidded around, wheels squealing, facing them beside me. Shit -- if he braked like that all the time, no wonder he needed those gloves. "Now I know," he said with a rancher's drawl, "you boys wouldn't be detaining a Program Participant past the start of class. So I have to wonder, what's going on here?" "Obviously," I drawled back, "I grabbed a hold of this here fullback and kept him from sprinting down-field." "Ah see," Mike said. Ricky made a "cheh!" sound, and pushed Weenie One to start walking. "You better watch your step," he said to Mike. "Too late for that," Mike shot back, thumping the wheel of his chair. Weenie Two snorked a laugh, but Ricky backhanded him in the chest. They stalked off, the way I came from, Weenie Two rubbing where he'd been hit. When they were well out of range of trouble and we were alone, Mike looked up at me with slitted eyes. "What?" I asked. "You're the sort to tell the truth in a way that sounds like a lie." Showing once again why I wanted to keep my distance. "Yeah, right," I said sarcastically. He snorted. Overhead, two light fixtures went out together, then immediately flicked on as the two on either side flicked out, which came back on as the next two blinked out -- as if two anti-lights were traveling opposite directions down the hall. Really creepy effect, especially given the wall switches controlled whole banks of lights, not one at a time. I wanted to remember how eerie it was -- if I could figure out how to describe it. "Okay, what the FUCK is going on?" Mike said, watching the lights with freaked-out eyes. "Intermission's over -- time to go back in the theater." He gave me a Look worthy of a seventh-grader. "Look, when wrestlers tangle with you, whistle for backup, 'k?" Then with a nod, he pushed off backwards, spun around without losing momentum and zoomed off. Him and Dana both. I shook my head, and headed to the bloody arena that is Spanish class. Yeah, I know -- I'm fluent enough to talk with my grandparents and still struggling with second-year Spanish. Thing is, just because I can speak it doesn't mean I understand how the grammar works. Nana in particular nagged me for long enough about learning it properly, I signed up when I reached high school -- only to find out it was harder than expected. I've stuck with it as much out of pure stubbornness as anything. I hate losing. Anyway, I managed to explain to Sra. Toussaint that I'd been held up by requests in correct-enough Spanish, or at least comprehensible-enough, to not get marked tardy. She's one of the fairest teachers I know -- demonstrate you're learning and she doesn't sweat the small stuff, like perfect attendance. I spent half of class looking at my right hand. Studying it. Again, I had been strong enough and had gotten out of there alive. But I had to lose a little control to do it, yanking that boy into my brother, and maybe bruising Ricky. I hadn't seen another way out of it, though, not on my own -- and it DID work. But as Dana said, mess with those types and they'll mess you back worse. There was a chance Sam might give up on approaching me directly -- Ricky, though. I knew something of musclebound idiots, especially young and male ones, from the rec center. I needed to keep to public hallways and close to people more or less on my side, especially the less easily intimidated ones. People like Dana and Mike. Irony is one sick fuck, yanno? Halfway through class, half the ceiling lights flickered out -- every other one, like a chessboard. Everyone gasped. Two seconds later, the on lights went off and the off lights back on. Judging by babble through the wall behind me, something was happening next door as well -- and other classes down the hall. The lights alternated three or four more times, until Sra. Toussaint turned them all off at the wall. A few seconds later, she turned them back on: still checkered. Toussaint turned them off again. "That it quite enough of that. We shall make do with sunlight and your tablet- glow." The light from the windows, however, was not strong -- and getting dimmer. In the distance, a rumble of distant thunder -- a late summer thunderstorm, coming down off the mountains. Oh great. I hoped it missed us or blew through before I had to walk home. "With tablet-glow, at any rate," Toussaint added. "Come, back to the present subjunctive of ser -- Señorita Florez?" It took me a moment to dredge up yo sea, tu seas, etcétera -- and messed up ellos sean. For that, she called on me every other time for the rest of class -- so I had to pay attention. That it kept me from obsessing on my siblings was small comfort. # Dana The hall and room lights calmed down at the start of HHS, but it took a long time for everyone else to. Never had dietary deficiencies seemed so mundane. The class was distracted enough that each rumble and crack of approaching thunder caught everyone's attention -- and when the first gust of wind flapped a couple posters off the walls and almost out the door, it took Mr. Cardonez several minutes to quiet us down. Just before the end of school, Skinner came on the PA to "remind" us that accessing any government computer, including those operated by the school board, without authorization was a federal felony and that minors can and have been prosecuted as adults for it. This did not make the class any calmer. The moment the bell rang, ending school, the dark clouds opened up and dropped their rain in a sudden big whoosh. Just as well we had study-group -- I didn't want to bike home till it passed, anyway. Both Mike and Teri had acknowledged my appointment update, changing the location to Falcon's room number. That Teri still wanted to study had to be a good sign -- I hadn't driven her away by coming on too strong, yesterday. Today, though, I had to not come on to her at all -- not unless she first made it clear she was receptive. Teri was not Tara, with whom I usually had to make the first move. I also, I told myself, had to not get jealous if anything happened between her and Mike. I skipped my locker (I could stop there on the way out) and headed straight upstairs. Well, as straight as I could given a few after-school requests, including another drawn-out breast examination by Souxie. By the time she was done and I'd thanked her, the stairwell itself was clear and I hurried up -- bounding enough I felt it in my breasts. I was eager, I realized -- and nervous. Down girl. At the top of the stairs, I ran into Skinner. Well, not literally, though it was a near thing. "No running," he said automatically. I swallowed. "Sorry." "Partlow," he said, taking my flushed and naked state. His eyes narrowed, and he lowered his voice: "I don't know how you've fooled so many people -- Principal Gianelli at Bryant has nothing but praise for you. But know this: I am onto you." What, running up the down staircase means you're a delinquent? There was, of course, no way to respond to him, not without making the vague accusation concrete -- and thus be twisted into a 'confession.' As steadily as I could, I returned his gaze. After a few long moments, he finally said, "Don't you have somewhere to be? Like home, perhaps?" "Study group," I said promptly. "Room 224." I prepared myself to show my appointment. Silently, he gestured down the hall -- my dismissal. Okay then. I walked deliberately past him. I made myself not look back, though it felt like his eyes still followed me from twenty meters away. And not just because of my naked butt. Teri and Mike were waiting together outside our room. Naked. Well, duh. I let out a deep breath as I approached. "Oh good, you came. I mean, you got the message." Which I knew anyway. I was babbling -- seriously off-kilter. And not just from Skinner. Teri shrugged. "Not going anywhere in this storm. But -- one thing." She looked at both of us equally. "No making out." DEFINITELY no coming on to her. I nodded. "Study-group is for study." "Yeah," Mike agreed. Perry Falcon was inside, organizing some papers. He nodded to us as he locked his desk. "Thanks for letting us stay after-hours," I said. "Not a problem. I fully understand wanting to get out of public view." We all nodded. He got up. "Anything you need, before I go?" "Do you have that fourth-power example from class today?" I asked. "My notes are kinda sketchy." He unlocked his drawer, shuffled through a folder, and handed me a page of his lesson plan. "Just put it back on my desk when you're done." I nodded. Then he left us alone in an empty classroom. Somehow, even with the doors closed, the extra space made it feel more exposed than the glass-walled study room. Or maybe it was being naked with these two. I really should not have come on to them, yesterday. No matter how much comforting I wanted at the time. Teri turned around a desk in the front row, so Mike could wheel up to it, across from her. I pushed up another chair to face to the narrow side. Cramped table space, with just enough room for all three tablets, but we probably could make it work. More importantly, though, it meant less touching. No touching, I reminded myself. Even if I couldn't seem to not notice about their naked bodies. "A second thing," Teri said to the desktop, and then she looked up at me. "I owe you an apology." "I... uh... you do?" As opposed to the one I owed her? "I do. Yesterday, I freaked out on you. I always thought I'd be delighted to meet someone who was openly and truly lesbian -- not just a cheerleader servicing a girls' team because it's expected of her. I didn't expect to meet one by her making a pass at me. I handled it badly. I am sorry." As if half the queer members of the GSA weren't cheerleaders or athletes. Teri didn't seem to pay much attention to what was going on around her in school. But I nodded to her -- apology accepted. "Well, I shouldn't have made a pass like that -- in so physical a way. Not until you'd made it clear you would welcome being passed to. I am sorry." She nodded uncomfortably -- but another apology accepted. Mike cleared his throat, also uncomfortably. Teri frowned at him. "I ain't apologizing for blowing you, if that's what you're looking for." A small laugh escaped him. "Good," I told her. "Because there's nothing to apologize for." "Not hardly," Mike said. "You were, err, quite good." Teri blushed a little, and Mike and I both laughed -- a little closer to comfortable. I went on, "But as you say, no making out -- it's study time." She nodded, also a little closer to comfortable. Speaking of which: "Oh, right," I said, "I found this app that lets us synch in a circle." I quickly side-loaded it to their tablets and arranged all three in a triangle, corner to corner -- the small magnets for the flip-cover clicked together to hold them in place. Linked up like that, we could swipe sideways and rotate the display around -- perfect for sitting around the desk. Much less touching that way. Tutoring in math is fun, and a good exercise for me -- it makes me slow down and unpack the solution. To seek clarity. Plus the feeling when someone you've helped Gets It -- that is awesome. By the time we worked through our fifth homework problem together, all awkwardness between us was gone. Though not Mike's erection. Or my awareness of two naked bodies. But I don't think that showed. I leaned back and stretched my arms upward, to unkink myself, and only when the eyes of both Mike and Teri both locked onto my chest did I realize the effect this had on my breasts -- making them jut out. Oops. The only way to cover was to pretend to not notice: no shame. I bent to one side then the other, arms still up. They both watched me. As I sat up and twisted my back in my seat, one way then the other, Teri's eyes narrowed. I looked a question at her as I stretched. She said, "The way you greet Mr. Falcon, before and after class -- it's as if you know each other." Not what I was expecting -- either my covering worked or she was covering too. "We do: from Meeting." Then I added, "Er, church." "You're Quaker!" Mike blurted, eyes wide. I looked at him steadily. "Yes." He nodded as if this seemed to confirm something. "But..." Teri started, then shook her head. "You don't say 'thee' and 'thou'." "Most Friends don't -- that's not simple speech, not anymore. It comes across 'forsooth-y'." "Friends as in... the Religious Society of Friends," Mike said, as if half-remembering the name. "That's the formal name, yes." This attention was making me uncomfortable. "What about you?" Teri shrugged. "Catholic, of course." "Technically, United Methodist," Mike said. "Haven't gone in a while, though." He shook his head, mouth pressed together as in remembered pain. Since his accident? Then he looked at me. "Are all Quakers as badass as you?" I felt my face grow hot, and shook my head. "Oh no -- I've got a lot to learn. Just a Quaker in training." Which came off more boastful than I intended. The light panel in one corner of the room blinked off and on, and then the panels around it did the same, then the ones beyond them: a silent ring of darkness rippling out. Both Teri and I watched it, bemused, but Mike tensed. The rain, I realized, had slackened enough I couldn't hear it. After the dark-ripple passed on and the lights stayed stable for several seconds, Mike let out the breath he'd been holding. Teri looked at him. "What's your problem?" "It's not that I believe in hauntings or anything, but this sort of thing shows up in my nightmares about ghosts. It's just plain creepy." He shuddered. "It is pretty eerie," she admitted. I nodded. "Weird." I wasn't about to dismiss it, not if it hit him like that. I did wonder, though, whether yesterday's art group had anything to do with this. Teri glanced around, then said, "Back to work, then?" "Actually," Mike said, looking at his lap. "I-I... could use a hug." Then after another moment, he looked at me and Teri. "Please?" All the stress of what had to have been another long Program day lay behind his voice. I looked to Teri, it wouldn't be making out, but she still needed to make the call on this. After a moment, she shifted in her chair, swinging her leg out. "Sit here," she said, patting her left thigh. Her foot was solidly placed -- she'd probably have no more trouble holding him as she had me. He rolled around the desk, locked his wheels, and caught her offered arm, and she swung him over to her lap like a crane. He leaned into her, and she wrapped her arm around his back, holding him steady. Holding him close. Telling yourself to not be jealous does not actually work, or not very well. Feeling that weak was humbling. I bit my lower lip, unable to look away. Teri glanced at me and all but rolled her eyes. "You too," and patted her other leg. "Come on." I took advantage of my weakness and shifted over. Mike and I had to interleave our legs. It was nice -- very nice. Feeling Teri's solid arm around me, holding her warm body close. After a moment, I leaned forward and put my arm around Mike's shoulder, and he did the same -- pulling us together into a three- way hug, skin on skin on skin. Teri's chin fit on the top of my head, while Mike leaned his forehead against her jaw and my temple. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but probably no more than a minute. Then as one, we loosened our holds on each other, and Mike and I sat up. His smile was less tremulous. And Teri's was real. Falcon poked his head inside the door -- then cleared his throat and stepped inside. Okay -- awkward. "Group hug," I explained. I shifted to get up, but Teri's hand upon my hip held me down. Right -- no shame. "I see," our teacher said. "Any difficulties?" "No, actually," Mike said. "This has helped a lot." I refused to choke at his double-meaning, though I felt Teri's belly tremble slightly. "We should finish the other half of the problems," I told them. "Yeah," Teri said. But her hand still pressed my hip down. "Well, just checking up on you," Falcon said. "I'll be leaving in a half hour -- you'll have to finish up by then." We nodded, but said nothing else. After a moment, he nodded again, and left. Mike snickered, and when Teri and I both glared at him, laughed harder. Teri and I looked at each other and smiled. She let me up, and swung Mike back to his chair. As he settled himself, lifting his legs into position, I looked at Teri -- when I caught her eye, I nodded slightly. See? -- no making out. With a small smile, she nodded back. Acknowledging my self-control. And then we bent over our tablets again. Together. # Teri The storm had passed east by the time I walked home, leaving the streets smelling of sagebrush and wet grass and the air cool and damp. Afternoon sunlight glittered yellow off the droplets clinging to the piñons and cottonwoods. And with every step, I felt the memory of Dana and Mike sitting on me -- naked asses on my thigh, bare bodies against mine. The minty scent of Mike's shampoo. The way Dana pillowed her head on my boob. The traces of Mike, I could understand. If it hadn't been me who'd insisted on keeping our study session clean, I almost could've gotten frisky with him. But Dana? It's not like I haven't written femslash -- but not as much as Cal or Zoe. It wasn't really my kink, I thought. Had thought. Somehow, I was going to have to figure out how to keep these two close enough to be useful protection yet far enough away to be safe. All while keeping my hormones firmly under wraps. Sam and Ricky weren't home: she had a game, I remembered -- a home game. They always went to each other's games. More importantly, our parents weren't home yet either -- which meant they wouldn't have heard what happened between us. Well, not unless my not-so-darling siblings had texted, which I doubted. Father, especially, didn't like being disturbed at work unless something has literally caught fire -- and you'd better have scorch marks to prove it. Which meant I had a likely opening for some defensive storytelling. Usually I do homework in my room, of course. Even if I didn't prefer it anyway, what with needing privacy to write smut. But sometimes, when I need to spread out, I take over part of the dining room table. I opened all my Spanish dictionaries and made a couple piles of handouts from creative writing to be critiqued -- colonizing as much space as I could. Setting up my defenses. And then stewed amid the fortifications. It didn't help that I didn't have a clue what to say, not really. It depended on what my parents did or did not know, and what the fuck I was actually accused of. I don't deal well uncertain threats. They make me want to go pure defensive, to wait things out. So when Mother arrived and headed straight into the kitchen muttering something about "almost enough time for a pot-roast," I let myself be the coward and didn't interrupt. It'd be enough, I told myself, to counter the not-darlings when they spouted off. Besides, I really did have homework to deal with. I was too caught up in charting Mark Anthony's machinations to notice when they got in -- not until Sam, hair still damp and eyes glittering, pointed at me across the table and demanded at the kitchen, "Do you know what she did today!?" Mother came out, wiping her hands on a towel. "How was the game?" Which was enough to side-track her. "Won, of course -- 85-56." "Never mind that," Ricky said. "Teri FOUGHT us." "I STOPPED you," I said. "Teresa?" Mother said dangerously. "They were trying to molest me." "It was a reasonable request!" Sam said. "To feel my pussy?" I filled my voice with as much scorn I could dredge up. Mother frowned. "Samantha..." "Both of them," I added, nodding at Ricky. "That's not the point," Ricky protested. "You fought with us." Given the number of times he'd wrestled me into submission when we were younger, I had trouble believing getting physical was the problem. His losing was more like it. "It wasn't reasonable, and when you tried to force it, I kept you from touching me." "Ricardo." Mother's voice was even more dangerous. I went on, "I know you two don't think of me as your sister, but I am anyway." As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I'd fucked up. Everyone froze for a long second -- the air all but crackled, like before a lightning strike. My throat felt as dry as tinder. Mother's bolt struck first. "Teresa Caterina Florez! How DARE you say something like that!" All three names -- I was SO fucked. She ripped into me for being ungrateful, unnatural, unfilial, unsororial, and several other un-things -- I can't remember them all. After several minutes of my having to watch my siblings get smugger and smugger, she sent me to my room till dinner. I silently gathered up my defensive barricades and retreated upstairs. The shouting, though, continued below -- and not at me: Sam and Ricky got the triple-barrel-name treatment as well. Heh. If I had only kept control over my big mouth, I'd be winning. Being right is not enough: tactics matter. Stupid, stupid, STUPID! That their dressing-down lasted a lot longer than mine was small comfort. Dana, I was sure, would not have let slip something like that in front of her mother. She was sensitive to what other people felt -- what they were saying non-verbally, their attitudes. She could COMMUNICATE without words. The exact opposite of me. She saw when people were actually dangerous, instead of assuming everyone was. More, she saw ME. Which made HER dangerous. It also made her even more attractive. To keep from thinking about that -- about HER -- I went online. Zoe was asleep, at this hour, but I caught Cal between lectures. californicator: have any more fun in the program? californicator: with that girl and boy teristarr2001: ha ha fuck u teristarr2001: not today californicator: z is right - good stuff californicator: best sex u ve ever written teristarr2001: ....... californicator: srsly californicator: u always been good at plot californicator: this is good emotions, good show-dont- tell californicator: raw californicator: sexy teristarr2001: raw it was teristarr2001: how can i revise - make it better californicator: set up the characters first - show who they r californicator: why they care about getting it on californicator: what they get from it teristarr2001: u mean make it a full story californicator: u got it californicator: gotta run - meeting w tutor californicator: l8r! teristarr2001: l8r Dinner was -- let's just say Not Pleasant. Even without Father -- he was working late, some sort of crisis. Apparently even a paper-pusher for the county can have things literally catch fire. "We will not discuss this," Mother said at the start, looking between the three of us. Her voice sounded as brittle as a sheet of ice. "I am not calm enough, and your father needs to hear this too." I was kinda relieved, though -- it put things off again, if only for a few hours. Sam and Ricky spent the meal trying to stab me by glaring, or maybe burn me with their laser beam eyes. Between Mother's conversation ban and their unwillingness to let the subject go, no one spoke the whole meal. I finished cleaning up as quickly as possible and retreated to my room. Homework was no longer an option, not in my current state. Nor was writing. I worked out instead. I was thankful, given events, I hadn't overdone it last night -- and made sure not to this time. It still left me tired enough to go to bed early. Father still wasn't home. My last thought before falling asleep was: If I was going to keep Mike and Dana close anyway, what was wrong about having a little fun with them? Stupid brain. Things like this are why I call myself only almost sane. # Mike Tuesday after school is PT. Dad meets me there after work, and when we get home we cook dinner together. So it wasn't till after desert, when I was supposed to start homework, that I had the chance to think about this afternoon. About the whole day. Teri was right, I knew, to insist we actually study instead of making out. It still kinda hurt. Especially after a day like that -- not just no one touching me, but those dang-freaky lights. So when I broke down and asked for that group hug -- oh man, that felt so good. My first time jacking off, I just remembered that -- the feel of Teri and Dana's bodies, the scent of their skin and, faintly, their arousal. Or maybe it had been just Dana's. Oh Dana. My second time, I fantasized about her -- her and her lithe body and full tits, her clear blue eyes that look right through you. Her ass against my belly. Her lips. Herself. Knowing Teri was straight, I knew why she didn't go for Dana. But that was intellectual knowledge. How someone could not desire a girl that strong, that sexy, was almost unintuitive. Though of course, Teri was also strong -- physically, I mean. She'd lifted me, hanging on to her arm, back and forth like a human crane. That, too, was sexy -- that power, that control. Control she expressed with every motion, I realized -- keeping herself in check. No wonder she hated the Program, forcing her to give up control. Oh Teri. My third time, I fantasized about her -- her and her full figure, muscles coiled beneath her skin. Her brown skin and dark nipples, and darker eyes. Her mouth, her hands, her warm (I was sure) pussy. Her solid self. After beating off three straight times, I was almost ready to think rationally -- and I had homework. But I stared at my tablet without seeing the words. Of course Dana was Quaker -- it explained so much. Why she was so interested in building a support network outside of official hierarchies. How she connected directly with other students as if we were all peers, ignoring status. They didn't even have preachers. These two girls -- no, young women. Both of them. I wasn't sure who I wanted more. Assuming I'd get the chance to choose. Heh. My journal entry that night was: under hands firm smooth fingers splayed warm soft touch still, strong centered steady, straining full press stretched hot solid flesh tight bodies above "Full" was the wrong word, but I couldn't think of better. Of course, about as subtle as a brick suppository. But then so is sex. I dreamed I was showing Teri and Dana how to grill Panini sandwiches with tomatoes and mozzarella, while they laughed at how sensually I described the process. # Dana Heading home, the wash was still running from the storm and I had to go the long way around -- and arrived the same time as Mom. "You could have called for a ride," she chided. I flushed a little -- I hadn't even thought of it. I was getting in the habit, this week, of working with peers - - I wasn't even thinking about adults. Even with needing to get around the shortcomings of Bridger's administration, there was no excuse for that. Lazy thinking, it was. Clarity, I reminded myself. There were adults who could help. I called a few, before starting dinner. Marshall's idea, that I recruit Mormon kids for monitors/escorts for Participants, was a good one -- and he'd given me a some leads. There wasn't an official LDS group at school, of course, but the leader of the local youth group sounded cautiously interested in the possibilities. If there were any other Friends at Bridger, I'd've gone to them, of course. I wasn't sure if other churches would be appropriate -- I could think about them later. It was my turn to cook, and was feeling harried enough I made basic spaghetti in a mushroom-and-red-chile sauce. An old standby, at this point, but Mom doesn't seem to get tired of it. Again, I had a lot to do after dinner. Even aside from reworking our maps and sending them out (and then, after dithering, a copy to Dr. Liu along with my hastily commented route optimization code). The digital recorder worked well enough -- fortunately, it hadn't been needed, but it picked up close conversations clearly, even those in front of me. Time to recommend, tomorrow morning, that everyone get one. Then there was writing up the couple Program incidents I'd witnessed, while the memories were still almost fresh -- the times students got pushy about requests with Teri, Marshall, and myself. What else? Oh right -- homework. Ha, ha, ha. I took a stretch break before diving in -- which was something of a mistake. Till then, I'd kept busy enough to avoid thinking. About, especially, Tara. She and I had been together for six months -- by far the longest I've gone steady with anyone. We carved habits into each other -- habits that had remained after parting, that I needed to unlearn. Habits that were only partly because of her -- they were my own ticks as well. They were getting me in trouble not just with Teri but also Vicky. Probably others as well, without me noticing. Oh, but it'd been good, at first. I'd been in love. Was still in love, though between the lies and the fighting, this last month, not as strongly. But something was still there. More than a little something. I tried holding back the tears, hands against my eyes, but I still started crying. Crying like I hadn't, this weekend -- not even Saturday night. I didn't think I was very loud, but Mom came into my room and held me. I didn't have to explain anything. She knew. She held me, rocked me, whispered soothing nothings until I was all cried out. Then she sent me to bed, homework unstarted. "You, young woman, need sleep." I let her bundle me into PJs. She was right. And it didn't even take long to fall asleep. My last thought awake was how Teri had been right to turn me down. A rebound fling wasn't a good idea -- and not fair to them. Not till I healed a little. Tomorrow, with clarity, I was going keep my distance from both of them. Work with them as friends -- totally friends. Fourth Day (Wednesday) ---------------------- Teri I arrived at the Program Office entrance at the same time as Gail, ten minutes before the bell. I peered at the cheerleader: she looked exactly as cheerful as I didn't. And sounded it, too. "Morning!" I managed not to snarl. I hate chipper in the morning. I especially fucking hate chipper before the caffeine hits -- I'd only just finished my triple-shot latte. Dana was inside, along with Marshall and Jake -- all three already naked. So was Alverez, as if that mattered, but not Skinner, thank all the heavens. The boys were chatting about country music. Dana was sitting by herself, hands loosely clasping her knees, gazing pensively at the floor. My mother once took a photo of me with the exact same expression she had. It's what I do when I zone out for some alone time. Given how Dana's all brisk-brisk business in the mornings, not to mention engages people all day, I'd assumed she was just another extrovert. But yesterday, too, she'd spent time in her thoughts -- until, that was, she turned on her Public Speaking Skills. Was she actually an introvert who knew how to be outgoing when needed? An introvert like me -- only, of course, I don't do outgoing. As if I needed another reason to be impressed by her. Certainly I'd decided, without really noticing I'd done it, that she's pretty much the almost sanest person I know. She was also kinda cute, in a shoulder-length- plus-assymetric-barrette-brown-hair sort of way -- today's barrette was decorated with a small daisy. Well, not as cute now as when she was moving. But soft blue eyes, a broad rare smile, and breasts I had liked feeling. That I wanted to feel again, maybe. I shook my head to clear it. Another thing I hadn't noticed: Chip and Mike had joined us while I studied her. I was getting dangerously out of it -- gotta stop that. I looked to Mike, parked against the open wall, and caught his eye. I'd thought about his suggestion from yesterday. He was slower at math than me, but far from stupid. Especially about this sort of thing. Slowly, I nodded once -- then stood up and started unbuttoning my shirt. His eyes widened, but he nodded in return. Undressing now, on my own terms, instead of waiting for the bell -- instead of being forced to. I unhooked my bra, dropped my jeans and panties, and slipped my sandals back on. It actually helped -- way less painful than waiting as long as possible. After I binned my clothes, I walked over to Mike. "Want an assist?" "Heh. Sure." I studied his body as he lifted himself, arm-standing on the seat of his chair, so I could pull off his track pants. I'd kinda noticed before, but yesterday, getting in and out of my lap, had made it clear that while Mike wasn't musclebound, he does have muscles. WORKING muscles, from wheeling a chair, even a lightweight model like his. Nice abs, too. His partially wasted legs and the scars crisscrossing his lower belly had distracted me. Probably had most people. Add to that a sharp mouth and emotional intelligence, and you could do worse than him -- a lot worse. I watched, still crouched, as he binned his clothes himself. When he returned, I nodded at his apparently permanent erection. "Would you, um." Fuck -- I had no idea how to ask this. "Like help with that?" Lamest. Wording. Ever. But I did want to thank him, for the advice. For being him. For yesterday. One corner of his mouth quirked. "I don't think we get relief in homeroom." I raised my eyebrows. "But we can make requests." Quirk turned into a full smile. But then Maria came in, last to arrive, and Dana turned On. "Okay, we have a minute before the bell, so quickly, whistles or consent bracelets, anyone?" Both Maria and Gail called out, "Me!" and Dana tossed them a baggie each. I frowned and glanced at my chest -- I hadn't taken my red wrist-band off last night, but forgot the whistle on my dresser. Oops. I raised a finger at Maria, and she handed me one. "If anyone wants a printout of your revised map, I have..." The bell started ringing -- and immediately Skinner said loudly over it, "THANK you, Partlow, but that will be enough." Alverez picked up his cue: "Time to undress, Chip." Who was, I realized, the only kid still clothed. Also, when had Jackson joined us? I really was out of it. Focus, girl. The rest of us collected our maps from Dana while Alverez pattered on. And on, and on -- same old Program bullshit rah rah. Went on longer than yesterday, too. Then Skinner spoke sternly about Teh Evulz of hacking -- looking at Dana as he did so. What, did he think brilliant at math means being a hacker? Idiot. She, at least, didn't seem fazed. Maybe she was used to his always scowling at her. Anyway, after that Jackson put in a word about please report Program irregularities, including teachers not allowing relief as needed (a glance at Chip for that) and students pressing unreasonable requests (a glance at -- wait, why would she know about me?). Alverez immediately followed that with, "Though of course, REASONABLE requests, you must comply with." "Yes," Jackson said mildly, "but not requests being forced on Participants." Alverez hesitated, swallowed. Mild, did I say? He looked like he'd been hit with a mail gauntlet wrapped in fine silk. But he recovered enough to say, "So if there's nothing else..." Dana raised her hand, holding up a small oblong object. "Actually..." The bell rang -- they'd run out the clock on her, the bastards. Without skipping a beat, Dana called out, "Everyone together" -- gathering us up around Mike. My bag was across the room from the door, over by my chair -- by the time I made it out anyway, the howling packs would have already gathered: no point in rushing. I joined the circle, between Mike and Maria. After a moment of catching each of our eyes in turn, Dana said, "All Together..." And the other six said with her "...we can do it." "Right on," added Jake. "Let's be safe out there," agreed Gail. Then we sorted ourselves and our belongings. Dana held the door for Mike to go first -- which was, heh, not a bad idea, using him for interference. The "oogah! oogah!" of his horn cleared the way, and we followed him out into the wilderness, wolves circling around us. They even growled at us, for being late getting out. Wonder of wonders, though, neither Sam nor Ricky was there. Father had been up and gone by the time I made it down to breakfast -- paper-cut crisis still unresolved, apparently. Which also left yesterday's familial explosion unresolved, as far as I knew. I still needed to watch out, though. And get through this. # Dana We had the heaviest morning crowd yet -- even more than the curiosity of Monday. Wasn't interest in Participants supposed to start thinning out, by mid-week? And they were all over Teri, Maria, Gail, and me. Jake some, too, but mostly the girls. That kinda scared me. Maria too. I couldn't see Gail, behind the crowd around her, but Teri as usual acted like it was nothing -- that distant bored affect thing. The requests kept us in front of the Office until the bell rang -- Skinner and Jackson had to clear everyone out before we could move. "Go on," Skinner snapped at Teri and I, "or you'll be marked tardy." "Because, of course," Teri said as she left, "we totally should have been able to ignore requests and walk right on through." Leaving me to receive his glare. I wanted to say something like 'Looks like discipline is breaking down' -- but as satisfying as it would have been wrong to the wrongfinity power. You cannot speak truth to power with sarcasm, not if you want it to be heard. Instead, I met his gaze. "Attitude aside, she's right about blaming the victim." Skinner's jaw clenched, but it was Jackson who responded -- a wry smile as she waved me off with a flick of her finger: "Git!" I nodded to her, acknowledgement, and rushed to English. English was, well, English. Or American Lit in my case. I can't say I appreciate the Puritan fire-and-brimstone we've started off the semester with, especially given the way the Massachusetts Bay Colony treated early Friends. Aside from her curricular enthusiasm for hellish punishment, Ms Emerson wasn't otherwise a bad teacher. Which it not to say that I didn't get distracted. At least the kinks with the lights seemed to have worked themselves out. Or rather, in the light of Skinner's comment, had been rooted out. But more pressing than that was what happened outside the Program Office. Not just targeting the girls -- the number of athletes involved. I didn't know what to make of it, aside from a hunch that it would be a good to get to math as fast as possible, to catch up with Teri. Because I was gazing out the window, thinking about this, I saw the cross when it popped up into view, in the middle of the Quad. As in a blow-up crucifix, at a public school, being inflated during first period. It was about ten meters high, partially inflated. The nylon fabric looked sun-faded, and it wobbled a bit in the wind. By the time it filled completely in, stabilizing a little, other students were noticing it, and pointing it out to the rest. From outside, through the closed window, I could hear shouting but not make out words. The arms of the cross puffed out, stiffening it further. Emerson called the class to order, back to the sermon at hand, but I kept watching the straining cross. Which meant I saw one arm rip off and whoosh away in slow motion, like a released balloon. Several gasps, then a rush for the windows -- me included. I reached the sill just in time to see the arm make a single loop-de-loop and crash into the gasoline generator powering the air pump. The other half of the class, including Emerson, crowded up behind us. A few moments confused of babble, while everyone worked to open the levered windows. "Yanno," Jacqueline said beside me, nodding down at the students being berated by Skinner, "I think these guys are with that Christian group that tried to start meeting after school." I peered at them -- I knew two or three by sight, but nothing about them. I wondered whether they were going to get in as much trouble as the art group from Monday. I was distracted enough by the thought, I didn't notice what happened next until -- "The generator!" -- "OMG it's on fire!" -- "Look out!" -- a few shrieks. The generator, which no one had turned off, had ignited the detached and deflated arm, which in turn caught the fabric base of the upright. Faster than I thought possible, the upright itself came off its moorings, flames licking up its sides, and rose up like a vaguely blasphemous hot-air balloon -- talk about a light not being kept under a bushel, so to speak. All around the Quad, people craned out open windows to watch it climb to the level of the roof, spin once in an eddy of the breeze, then shoot over the building, heading southeast, still burning. "Shit," Julio said, as he pulled back inside. "Language!" Emerson chided. "No, I mean -- my brother's a hot-shot. Hope that burns itself out before it sets the forest on fire." Emerson and a few others shuddered, and one girl (I still didn't know her name) crossed herself. Indeed. By the time Emerson got the windows closed, us back in our seats, and class back to sinners in the hands of an angry God, it was almost the end of the period -- oops. I hurriedly composed a recommendation about digital recorders, which I'd meant to do during class -- and the moment the bell rang, lifting the block on messaging during class time, posted it to the Participants group. Shame I hadn't gotten to speak in person about it -- I'd have to try again tomorrow. But no time to think about that -- I was out of the class as quickly as I could scramble. Through a combination of fast walking, dodging around likely requestors, and asking that requests be taken on the move, I made it up the stairs and halfway down the first hall by the time the bell rang. No sign of Teri or Mike. I hurried on, and when I rounded the corner of the hall, Teri was ahead of me, marching for math. There were two strong-looking boys walking toward her, and two girls hurrying for the classroom across the hall. As Teri passed the boys' bathroom, two even larger guys came out behind her. They were maybe fifteen meters away, which meant I could clearly see but not hear what happened. But it all went so smoothly, I didn't see the danger till the guys had caught her from behind, each grabbing an arm. In memory, time didn't slow -- just turned crystalline, making every moment clear and sharp. I fumbled for my whistle as I broke into a run -- I'd taken three steps and four sharp heartbeats by the time I got it to my lips and started to blow as hard and frantically as I could. The boys in front of her rushed up while the big guys holding her arms pulled her towards the bathroom door. Or tried -- instead, Teri yanked her arms forward and across her chest, and the guys went with them. Even from ten meters away, over my whistle, I heard them collide. The girls rushing to class shrieked. A female teacher popped out the door they were heading for, and stepped out toward the tussle. Another teacher, a man, poked out as I passed his door. One of the boys in front of Teri caught or collided with the guys she'd thrown -- it was Darrell from Saturday night, I realized. The second boy dodged around and grabbed for her. He was snarling, shouting. "Help!" I shouted as I skidded to a stop just out of reach, "Help! Assault!" Somehow Teri had gotten the second boy in an arm lock -- a painful one. Darrell, having let the two guys down on the floor, turned and ran away down the hall. "Stop!" I shouted. "Help! Stop him!" A teacher poked out of his class and watched him run by, but did nothing. The crystal world shattered, impressions coming in shards. Mike's horn, honking up a storm behind me. One of the two big guys, groaning as he clutched his head on the ground. The boy held by Teri, cussing and threatening her. A babble of teacher, of students. The steady pulse in the wrist of a dazed, almost unconscious guy. Mike beside me, looking frantically around, wide- eyed and white-faced. The arrival, eventually, of fear. The thump of the pulse in my ears. My voice identifying Darrell as the one who ran away. Skinner's voice shouting, taking control. The rush, as I sat in a chair in the main office, of adrenaline from my body, like water from a collapsing dam, leaving me hollow. I knew, though, I couldn't let it all out, not yet. I had to Witness. Speak truth, even unto power. EMTs had been tending to the two guys for several minutes before the police arrived. Mike, Teri, and I sat together, he and I each clutching one of Teri's hands, none of us speaking a word. A time later, short or long I couldn't tell, Skinner and one policeman called Teri into a different conference room from the assailant she'd wrestled with -- and she insisted I come with her. As we entered the fluorescent-lit room, someone came in behind us: Jackson, whom I hadn't seen, angry enough to chew barbed wire. She glared at Skinner in his chair at the head of the table. "I thought we had an arrangement. You keep faculty and staff in line, I get the kids. Thus the 'in charge of student discipline' part of my job description." He frowned uncomfortably. "You weren't here." Jackson unhooked a hand-radio from her belt and tossed it on table. "That thing must be useless then, 'cause no one called me. I JUST found out, by walking into the front office." Skinner wasn't wearing one, I realized. He raised his hands. "Michelle..." "Michelle me nothing. My bailiwick." She leaned on the table, staring down at him. Skinner's face turned purple, his jaw worked, but then he nodded, not meeting her eyes. Jackson stood up and nodded to the policeman. "Maurice." Her tone was almost conversational. Still dangerous, though. "Michelle." "May I ask why there's no one here who's a specialist in sexual assault victims?" "Oh come on!" Skinner muttered. Which got him another deadly glare. "When four guys try to pull a naked girl into an empty bathroom, that's pretty much a sexual assault, Program or no Program." Officer Maurice Baring (according to his nameplate) cleared his throat. "Officer Candulia is on her way, actually. Should be any minute." Jackson let out a pent-up breath. "Then we can wait for her." The policeman looked at me. "Were you a witness to the incident?" "Yes," I said. "Then you'll have to wait outside while we take Ms Florez's statement." To make sure our versions of events matched without prompting. I nodded. "Assuming they haven't already talked," Skinner muttered. "We haven't," Teri said. Which was not only true but -- "I can prove it," I added. The policeman looked at me with focused attention. "How?" I extracted my digital recorder from my pack pocket and showed it was still recording. "I was probably too far away to pick up anything of the initial incident itself, but it should have caught everything after the first few seconds through to waiting here in the office, including no conversation." "You carry a recorder with you," Skinner said, voice flat. "I was going to talk about it this morning during the Program meeting, but we ran out of time." "Good idea," Jackson said. "I'll put it on tomorrow's agenda." The policeman held out his hand for the recorder, looking at me steadily. I hesitated: I really wanted to make a copy first, and would have insisted for anyone but a peace officer. But I had no reason to presume he'd mess up the chain of evidence, not yet -- and, indeed, making a backup now might even break that chain. I said toward the mic, "I am turning off this device and handing it over to Officer Maurice Baring." And then did so. At which point Officer Sharon Candulia entered the room and I was sent into Skinner's office to wait. On the way out the door, I told Teri, "I'm still here -- as long as you need." I might be ordered out, but I was not abandoning her. Her shoulders squared almost infinitesimally, and she nodded. Alverez was in the main office, as was Darrell -- being escorted to the other conference room by Mr. White Horse, the other vice-principal (I still haven't learned his first name). Mike was smiling as he watched this -- a mean smile. Alverez turned to me, face poised between worry and fear. "Dana -- what happened, really?" I held up my hand. "I'd rather not speak to anyone until I've given my statement to the police." "The police," Mike added, "would rather that as well." "Ah," Alverez said, not at all reassured. I had no comfort to give him. In Skinner's office, I sat in one of the chairs across from his desk -- the rough fabric was not nice on my naked ladybits (I'd lost my towel), but it was better than the naugahyde seats by the wall. After a moment, I set my tablet to detailed auditing, turned off the network connection, opened a new document, and started typing everything I could remember about what had happened to Teri. While trying not to think about what almost happened. At least, unlike me, the recorder hadn't been completely useless. # Mike Needless to say, none of us made it to math class. In the abyss of frustration after the frantic of adrenaline, even algebra would have been welcome. At least I got to see Darrell Sweitzmann's face as he was marched in by Vice-Principal White Horse, when he realized the police were involved. Yes, young man, they ARE taking this seriously. I gathered he tried to claim Teri hadn't stopped for a request, but even from where I'd been, I could tell he and Mitchell Gragarian had been obviously too far away to have said anything. Not to mention "Del" Delancie and "Mac" McCormac's timing, pouncing right as she passed the bathroom, put the lie to that. I had the very strong suspicion timing of the whole ambush was borked -- Teri can power-walk pretty fast when booking it for class, forcing the pouncers to jump before the front-men were in position. Said pouncers having hasseled her in the hallways yesterday afternoon, as I could attest. I tried to make the dots clear in my statement to Officer Ziti, without actually connecting them. It was something I could do, anyway. Dang it. Speaking of Del, he and Mac walked to the ambulance under their own power -- heading straight for the hospital for CAT scans with police escort. Didn't see either one for the rest of the day, and good riddance. I was nearly ready to punch walls when a middle-aged hispanic woman arrived with a striking resemblance to Teri, excepting only that she was only somewhat taller than Dana. Not quite a Mini-Me version of Teri, but that was the effect. Ms Florez was immediately ushered through to her daughter. I, of course, was still not allowed to help. Dang and blast. After one of the nice police officers finished taking Dana's statement, she sat next to me. After a few seconds, she took my cold hand in her warm one: a firm grasp, for comfort. Aside from that, she betrayed little emotion -- observing everything solemnly, as if she might be called upon to be a witness to the comings and goings. Or in our case, stayings. She had a point. It wasn't over, and wouldn't be for a while. A long while, if the police and courts got serious about it. If all I could do here was be a witness, well, I should take the role seriously. I squeezed her hand a moment, and paid starting paying more attention -- watching and listening. We were well into third period when the police finally departed. Sweitzmann and Gragarian's parents took away their suspended sons. Teri declined, with dull patience, yet another offer from her mother to take her home for the day, and Ms Florez returned to work. Finally the five student witnesses -- myself, Teri, Dana, and two sophomores named Addison and Brianne -- were ushered into the main conference room by Skinner, Jackson, and Alverez. It was not fair to blame the two girls for wearing clothing. They still ticked me off a little. Ms Jackson, to my surprise, took point. "Needless to say, rumors are already flying from here to the far end of the gym. You are going to be asked what happened. This is just a reminder: try to say nothing, or failing that be as brief as you can. There is a chance that you, all of you, may be asked to make a sworn deposition or testify in a court of law. Don't muddy the waters. Is that clear?" She looked from one to the other of us, catching everyone's eye. "Any questions?" Aside from what's the best kind of hammer to use to pound those four into dust? Nah. After a moment, Dana asked, "What now?" "Heh. Well, given there's less than ten minutes left of third period, I'd say it's pointless for you to go to class. The cafeteria should be ready to serve by now -- go downstairs and get an early start on lunch. Catch your breath. I'll let your second- and third-period teachers know you've excused absences." Okay then. After a moment, Ms Jackson made little shoo-ing motions with one hand. Addison and Brianne broke first -- the three of us right behind them and out the door. Around the corner from the main office, Dana caught Teri's hand and pulled her into a big hug -- one that Teri returned. I rolled up to her other side and hugged her hip as best I could -- she caught my shoulders and squeezed. We held that the better part of half a minute before she let us go. Dana shifted back half a step, the better to look up at Teri's face, still holding her hip. "How are you doing?" Teri thought a moment. "I... it doesn't feel real yet." Dana nodded. "It hasn't sunk in -- like you're waiting for it to stop looming and collapse on you already." Teri swallowed. "Yeah, exactly." "In that case," I told her, "I suggest we follow Ms Jackson's instructions and get our lunch before the rush." "Blood sugar," Dana agreed. "Yeah," Teri said tiredly. Above the elevator exit into the Commons, a single light panel blinked on and off, once a second. Everything else was steady, though. With my body still drained of adrenaline, the creepy had no effect on me. I told myself it may have been a dying bulb. More creepy was the empty cavern of the cafeteria. As advertised, we were the third through fifth in line, after the two clothed girls (who at least had to present meal-cards). Dana joined us: Teri bullied her into getting something with meat in it -- as much, I think, to keep her with us. Or maybe that's why Dana gave in. Teri herself put together a meal from the athletic diet plan -- which did, actually, look to have better nutrition. We snagged a double-table in the same place Teri was yesterday, and again Teri took a seat against the wall. Protecting her back. After getting pounced like that, I couldn't blame her. I parked in front of her -- a further screen. I could, at least, help her that much. It was something. # Teri For whatever reason, Jake didn't make it over to our table during lunch. Nor did any other athlete. I wasn't sure whether to be pleased or scared by that. Or maybe they were all scared of the cloud of cheerleaders -- like, half the squad hung around us, getting frisky with Gail and, especially, Maria. As in making frisky reasonable requests. At first, they ignored Mike, Dana, and I -- but then two of them, vaguely familiar but otherwise indistinguishable except one was blonde and the other red-haired, turned from Maria to Dana. The blonde requested Dana stand up so she could feel her -- as in feel her up. The redhead stood behind her, giving them something of a screen from the rest of the cafeteria. I had the vague memory these two had made reasonable requests at me earlier this week -- Monday, sometime. "Word to the wise," the blonde told us over Dana's shoulder. "If someone's request lasts a long time, no one can stop it." Mike nodded. Oh, I thought. As in, later requests can't break in. A single request, possibly especially one that's actually reasonable, could last the whole break. Like Mike and Maria had done, Monday lunch. Teamwork. I felt like someone had tapped a light bulb in my head with a very large sledgehammer. Sometimes, I am a fucking idiot. Dana smiled sweetly at the blonde running a finger through her pussy. "You don't have to, Nikki. Now, I mean." The redhead shook her head. "Girl, we heard what you've been doing for Gail and others." Her eyes flicked my way, just for a moment. "Just our way of thanking you for a job well done." Mike licked his lips. It stood to reason that the no-cutting-in-on-requests rule also applied to Nakeds MAKING the request. I smiled, and gestured Mike toward me with one finger. "Yanno," I said casually, "I didn't get to fully explore that dick of yours, Monday. I request the chance to do it properly." Mike swallowed. "I do reckon that's reasonable." He wheeled between my legs to bump my chair with his. I reached for his shaft, wrapped my fingers lightly around the firm, warm flesh, and slowly stroked up and down his length. This wasn't entirely a lie -- I'd been thinking about his dick, off and on, since blowing him. Mostly on. He has, if I do say so myself, a nice dick: not just long, but straight and firm. A dick I can wrap my hand around. Besides, his chair made him the best single-person screen in the school. A few minutes later, either Nikki got too eager or Dana got too worked up: Dana came on her hand -- eyes closed, face and entire chest flushed, biting her lip to keep from wimpering louder. The redhead immediately made the same request -- and judging by how she had to prop up a weak-kneed Dana, she did an even better job of drawing her out. Not to mention making it last almost to the end of lunch. When it came, Dana's little whimpering cry was, well, erotic. I felt it not just in my own pussy, but in Mike's twitching pecker. When Dana recovered enough to move, I gestured her over to my side, between my chair and the table -- she leaned into me as I wrapped my free arm around her warm (sweaty) body. She smelled of sex -- of pussy. It was time to take pity on Mike and bring him off already. I hadn't meant to turn this into a handjob, but after stroking him this long, it would be just plain MEAN to not give him early relief. By that point, from his reactions, I'd gotten a pretty good idea of what made him squirm. Ramp that up a notch, and he'd -- "'Bout to come," he said through clenched teeth. I grinned -- having this kind of power over someone is fun. Why hadn't I done this more? I let go of Dana so I could lean down and covered the dickhead with my mouth -- it barely fit without scraping it with my teeth -- and with two swirls of my tongue and two pumps of my hand, he started spurting into my mouth: hard, like on Monday. I pumped and sucked and swallowed till the dribbling stopped. I sat up. Mike was breathing hard, muscles rigid. Slowly, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as body relaxed. "Oh man," he breathed. "Thank you," I told him. Score one. Then I stood up. I hugged Dana to me, cupping one ass- cheek with my hand, and quickly bent to kiss her. Then I released her, dodged around Mike, and walked off without looking back. Score two. I reached the stairwell the exact moment the bell rang. Score three. After a fucked-up morning like that, I deserved to have SOMETHING go my way. # Dana I stared after Teri, hand on my lips where she'd kissed me. My butt tingled where she'd groped it. I wanted to run after her, to tackle her and do her NOW, but my legs couldn't move. Finally, I managed the height of eloquence: "Buh?" "I second that emotion," Mike said, watching where Teri disappeared into the crowd. Somewhere in the distant nearby, some girls giggled. The bell rang, ending ... something. # Mike In case you're wondering, I haven't a dang clue what happened the rest of school. I spent it with the attention span of a mayfly on crystal meth. Well, one thing: when Teri walked into creative writing, I blushed to the roots of my hair. The rest is a total blank. # Dana To be honest, it took me half of physics class to truly start paying attention to Dr. Liu's lecture on momentum. It's not that it wasn't interesting, but even the implications of Newton's second law had trouble competing with the feeling of Teri's hand squeezing my butt, of her lips soft on mine. Memories also have inertia. More, it took till near the end of class to remember Nikki's hint about long reasonable requests. While Dr. Liu reconfigured a demonstration involving carts, springs, and ramps, I turned to Vinnie, my lab partner. "Could you do me a favor?" He pushed his glasses up his nose to focus on me. "If I can." "If he can't, I will," Greg said from across the lab bench. Next to him, Souxie nodded. "That's sweet," I told them, "but we (I nodded at Vinnie) have the same next class." "So something between periods?" Vinnie asked. "I noticed that you're interested in the kinetic motion of these," and I hefted my breasts slightly. Greg choked and Souxie rolled her eyes, but Vinnie just nodded solemnly. "I am indeed. I find it fascinating." "Interested enough to film them while I walk, so you can digitize and plot the resonances?" I could all but see question marks form over Greg and Souxie's heads. Vinnie nodded, then frowned slightly. "What's the favor?" "Make it a Program reasonable request, and use up the entire time walking to history." "Ah!" Greg said. "So no one else can 'request' you." Vinnie nodded. "Sure." I smiled at him, and he swallowed convulsively. Dr. Liu finished adjusting his apparatus and called us to order. Greg and Souxie volunteered to help out -- clearing the way in front of Vinnie, so he could walk backwards with his phone, guiding him down the stairs, and warning off potential requestors. Souxie was good at the latter, playing the fearless young punk to the hilt, even to older students -- of which there were quite a few. Most of the boys, especially, were not happy -- as much with me as her, but in any case she managed. For my part, I walked with a bit of a spring in my step, to give good harmonic resonances. And if Greg and Souxie gave Vinnie their emails, well, I couldn't say they didn't deserve copies of the video, if they wanted it. Especially given I'd made them late for their own classes. I just hoped Teri didn't have any more problems, after this morning. # Teri It was kinda cute, the way Mike, during creative writing, kept blushing every time he glanced my way. And more than kinda cool, knowing it was ME making it happen. Not to mention me keeping his dick hard. Especially with everyone else going out of their way to keep away from me. Part of that, of course, was Thomas White Horse's escorting me between classes. Which, yeah, effectively kept away unreasonable requests, but still. Before sixth period, I'd allowed as how I'd be able to leave school under my own power. Instead, I had Mike for an escort after classes. Even without an vice-principal-shaped shield, everyone still gave me a wide berth. Like I was in a bubble. Mike had managed to reserve a study room again, but when we reached the library I stopped, reluctant to go in. Mike wheeled to face me. "What is it?" I shook my head, not sure how to explain. Dana hurried up, face a little flush -- looking almost tasty. No, be honest -- nothing "almost" about it. And I -- oh jeeze, I wanted to taste her. Taste her like I'd tasted Mike, during lunch. Like I wanted to taste him again. To hold them both. To -- To feel solid again. To press myself against a body I knew was real, so I could feel real again. Bodies. "What is it?" Dana asked. Softly, I said, "It's just, right now, I wouldn't mind a little privacy. For us." Her eyes lit with a glow a bright as the flush of her skin. I met Mike's gaze, and he licked his lips. "I may," he said just as softly, "know a place." Across the school, in the unexpected warren of passages tucked around the gym, Mike stopped at a door marked REC ROOM #, with a less-weathered blank where the number had peeled off. I stared at it as he sorted through his keyring. "Why," I finally asked, "do you have a key to this?" He tried a key -- it slid into the lock but didn't turn. "Or not," I added. "PT in PE," he said cryptically. After a moment's jiggering, he explained, "Freshman year, for phys-ed, during activities requiring actual legs, I did physical therapy exercises. They took a couple older machines from the weight room and stuck them in here, to keep from having to chase upperclassmen off. Coach Delgado and -- ah!" With a click, the heavy door opened. He reached for a switch, and old-style fluorescent lights flickered on unwillingly. Inside was a dusty collection of random equipment, mostly for gymnastics: horses, bars, a balance beam. And -- Dana pointed to the side wall and grinned. "Mats!" Mike grinned back. "A storage room with gymnastics mats." Clever boy. I helped Dana lay out a couple -- there was just enough clear space we could all sit together. Or lay down together. I sat cross-legged. Dana joined me, kneeling Japanese seiza style, making the second leg of a triangle. I smiled at Mike and patted the mat at my right knee. With a small smile, as if not certain what we were doing, he locked his brakes and shifted down to the mat. With studied casualness, he peeled off his gloves and tossed them onto the chair seat, before shifting forward to join the triangle. He, at least, was ready for more intimate contact. Dana, though, hedged her bets by pulling out her tablet -- and then laying it on top of her pack. Heh. Well, I could understand that -- I had come down heavy, yesterday, about getting work done. This place, though, was not a study place. But then, what was it? I mean, when I suggested this, I thought I knew what I wanted. Now I had -- not cold feet. Chilly ankles, maybe. Dana watched me with steady blue eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked. I had no idea how to explain. I mean, so far today I'd stripped off my clothes in front of others, slammed together the skulls of two guys bigger than me, talked to the police with a steady voice, been hovered over by my MOTHER of all people, and all but propositioned not just one but two people at once -- one of each sex. A week ago, not one of those would have been the me I thought I knew. All I could say was, "Why?" She took that at face value: asking about her question. "Because I like you -- we like you -- so want to know." Mike nodded in agreement. "How can you say you like me? You don't even know who I am." It wasn't like I did. "Okay then: who are you?" Dana said in that direct way of hers. "When you one day become what you are in your heart of hearts, who will that be?" "Am -- not will," I said before I could stop myself. Oh, I realized. That's who I am. The other things, they aren't what's important. None of those surprises I just mentioned were. More slowly, I said, "I'm a writer -- a professional writer. Me and two collaborators, we have this erotic science fiction series, space opera, that we self-publish as e-books. Four novels out plus a dozen shorter works. And they sell." After a moment, I added, "Very well." As in I already had enough in the bank to cover four years of tuition at the state university. If we kept it up, in three years I could support myself through a private school. "Why on earth," Mike finally asked, "are you taking creative writing?" "To learn how to write better. I mean, we're students, all three of us -- we know what we do is halfway to crap. It's only just enough Not Crappy to keep selling. All of us, we're taking writing classes and getting critiques and bringing what we learn back to the others. If we learn how to do this well, then maybe we can do it long-term -- make a living at it. One day." "You're all in high school?" Dana asked, almost skeptical. Heh. Trust her to always hear what's not being said. "My partners are both in university." "That's a British way of putting it," she said. And hear what you let slip. Way too perceptive for comfort, that girl. "One's in England, yeah." "And the other?" Mike asked. Had to remember, he wasn't deaf either. "Melbourne." "Must be fun, trying to schedule collaboration meetings," he said. "Err, yeah." Definitely not deaf. "How'd you get started?" "We met through fanfic." I paused in case I had to explain that, but they both nodded. "We shared fandoms, especially Spacefarer and Stargate: Alliance, and liked each other's stuff. First we betaed for each other, then collaborated on a couple stories. Then last year we wrote an original fic together and e-pubbed it -- and here we are." Dana nodded, accepting it. That was, I realized, the flip side of being perceptive: she took the truth at face value. Which made it easier to come out to her like this -- a thought that gave me pause. I'd never admitted to anyone else what I was doing. Well, not counting Mother -- with me a minor, she had to be involved for the financial stuff. "Huh," Mike said, contemplatively. "That is really cool." "Uh, thanks." Suddenly I felt pointlessly embarrassed. To change the subject, I asked him, "So what's your thing?" "Linguist," Mike said promptly. "Or maybe a translator - - something with languages." Dana made a small "ah!" sound. "Thus taking both French and Spanish." Wait -- what? And how'd she know? Oh, right -- she had all our schedules, to work out those maps of hers. "Uh, yeah," he said, a little sheepish. "I've studied Latin and German, too, and now Japanese on the side." "Bueno," I said. He shrugged it off, "Eh, bastante bien." Then to Dana, "And you?" She let out a long breath -- seriously considering the question. "If I could find something that was both social justice and STEM, I'd love it. But failing that, something science or engineering, probably physical sciences -- don't know what yet." "Not pure math?" he asked. "Well, maybe. If something catches my passion. But I'm really enjoying physics so far -- well, all couple weeks of it." Wait -- what? "You're taking chemistry AND physics?" "One's my elective." Mike and I glanced at each other, and together asked, "Which?" Her turn for embarrassment for no apparent reason. "Uh, technically? Chem." I shook my head. Two languages on one hand, two sciences on the other. And what was I doing, coasting through classes? Aside from, yanno, working as a pro writer. To silence that inner voice, I leaned forward, braced on my hands, and kissed Dana. Slow, soft, sensual. Real. When I opened my mouth, she did too -- tasting me, letting me in. When she reached for me, though, I pulled away and turned to Mike. He opened his mouth immediately, and I took it for what it was: equality with Dana. When he reached for me, after a minute or so, I also pulled back. I caressed Dana's shoulder and pushed her forward, toward Mike. Whatever else happened now, this wasn't going to be Dana and Mike ganging up on me in my weakness: we had to be equals. If Dana really was bi, she had to walk that talk. But she flowed toward him without resistance, smiling as she wrapped her arms around his neck. As they necked, I stroked her back with one hand, his side and hip and leg with the other. Never before had watching two kids play tonsil-hockey been a turn-on -- these two, though, it was hot. They pulled away and turned to me together. Clever boy AND girl. We traded back and forth who kissed whom, while the other nibbled and licked and stroked. The lanyard of my whistle irritated me, and I flung it off, and theirs soon joined it. Because of Mike's mobility, we couldn't stay sitting up long: I slowly pushed him onto his back, and Dana and I lay down on either side -- harder to kiss the girl, easier to caress both their bodies. Decisions, decisions. Two fingers between my lower lips, stroking - - a hot dick in my hand, throbbing -- a hard nipple inside my mouth, crying out to be nibbled on. It was all good. Too good -- I needed more, something hard. Something inside me. I broke off suckling Dana and threw my leg over Mike, straddling him. I rose up and fumbled with his dick -- Dana's hand helped guide him to my opening. I paused to make sure of the angle, then looked down at him -- he was wide-eyed, hands resting on my steady thighs. I smiled: he was mine. And slowly I lowered myself onto him. It took a few tries. Not just because his dick was dry, but also large. There was a slight pain breaking through what remained of my hymen -- I barely noticed it over how much his thickness filled and stretched my entire channel. Finally I was all the way down -- or he was all the way up. Clit to pubes. I paused to get used to the feeling. At the expression of wonder on this boy's face. Dana pressed against my side -- her fingers tracing sparks across my back, her lips nibbling at the corner where neck met shoulder. With encouragement like that, I was soon ready to move. I drew Mike's hand up to my breast, cupping it, and his other hand followed -- yes, squeeze it, like that. I flexed my thighs and slowly rose up, feeling him pull out -- paused, then slowly let myself down him -- yes, like that. Oh so very much like that. Next time, a little faster. I watched his face as I moved, for hints at what worked. Such as that twitch of my hips when he was full inside me. Or better, that twitch of his hips into me as I pushed down. Working together. My blood rose with our rhythm -- and with his excitement. There -- that rhythm -- the pace of a heartbeat. Two pounding hearts matching the pounding of our bodies. With the boy beneath me straining up, straining harder, with every beat. His eyes closed: he was getting close. I was too. And then Dana's fingers found my clit: ignition. I spasmed, and that lit off Mike. With a strangled cry, he thrust into me, coming. I froze as I came in turn, relying on other hips and hands to keep going. They came through for me -- or I came for them. It's so much better, so much stronger, when someone else can keep moving when you lock up. A white time later, Mike stopped thrusting into me, and I came down. Literally as well -- I collapsed forward, bracing myself on my hands just above his shoulders. I panted down at him, and he grinned up at me. Dana crooned at me, at us, caressing my back, my hips, my inner thighs. Comforting and erotic. Oh, sweet girl. I had just come, but already I wanted more -- this time, her. When her face neared mine, I turned to kiss her -- hard and sweet. Then she bent down to kiss Mike as well, arm still wrapped over my shoulder. I let her, for a few seconds, but desire spiked: I wanted her NOW. I rolled off Mike, pulling her with me -- pulling her onto me. So light, this girl -- so sweet, those lips -- so everywhere, this wriggling little sex-pot. I reached between us, and found her almost as drenched as me -- and her without any spunk. With my other arm, I held her close enough to kiss, caressed her shoulder, back, ass. Her hand stretched to my pussy, rubbed my clit between two fingers. I urged her to rub harder with my lips pressed against hers, with my fingers against her own clit. She gasped, moaned in my mouth -- writhed, stiffened, whimpered into me as she came. As I MADE her come. Oh sweetness, I wanted more. Yes, like that -- rub me there! She started kissing down my neck, my chest -- pulling her pussy out of reach. I didn't mind -- she kept her hand moving in mine. But she didn't stop at my breasts - - she was heading down, to go down on me. I caught her, pulled her up -- it was too dangerous. I spasm up with all my strength, when I come. I've nightmares of someone dying with their head between my thighs. It wasn't worth the risk -- or breaking the mood. So I pulled her up. She followed my lead -- her pussy found my hand again. Within moments, we were humping each other, kissing. Gasping. Danger averted. Another whimpering orgasm for her, while mine slowly built up. Oh yes, there -- that -- I froze, rigid legs together, body arched as ecstasy rushed through me. Another white time later, I collapsed flat on my back, gasping for breath. Dana's hand slowly brought me down, through a series of aftershocks, till she was all but caressing my pussy. "Wow," Mike said behind her. He said it. I reached up and pushed her lightly towards him. "Kiss him for me," I croaked, throat inexplicably dry given how sweaty I was. She smiled and propped herself enough to turn her head his way. It was a thorough kiss, but it wasn't enough. I pushed her more firmly towards him. To Mike, I said, "She needs to get off." She deserved it. "See to it." "Yes'm," he said, without a trace of sarcasm. He was, I now saw, thoroughly hard again. Maybe that had been just as hot for him as for us. To my surprise, they were ready to go straight to fucking. More startling still: he wanted to be on top, missionary style. In that position, I could see how the scars crossing his lower body meet in a knot at the base of his spine. Even with paralyzed legs, between the corded muscles of his shoulders and the strength of his hips, he had the motions. And she, small as she was, she stretched enough to take him inside her. And to willingly fuck him back. She came once more before he did. And then he collapsed on top of her, gasping. She stroked his back, crooning in his ear. It was a beautiful fuck. All three of them. When he recovered enough to move, we rolled Mike off her, to lay on his back between us. Dana and I cuddled close beneath his arms, facing each other across his still-panting chest. Her eyes were even deeper blue than before, and when she made an air-kiss at me, I rested my arm on top of hers and caressed her shoulder with slow circles. "Wow," Mike finally said. I hummed, deep in my chest, almost a purr of contentment. I knew, from everything I've read, everything Cal and Zoe had described, that sex -- GOOD sex -- was better than jilling off. None of it prepared me for just HOW much more satisfying. The simple joy of sharing each other, after -- lying together like this. Dana suddenly giggled, a sweet and surprising sound. Even having heard her Monday afternoon, it was hard to believe she COULD giggle -- or indeed, be anything but full-on earnest. Or, I now knew, ecstatic. "Mm?" Mike asked. She smiled. "I don't think I've ever done it with so strong a top." Mike pulled back his head to peer at her. "You don't?" he said flatly. "Well, okay, I know I haven't." To me, "No wonder you can't stand the Program." I -- uh. Something like a small atomic bomb went off behind my eyes. "'Top'?" I finally managed. Mike nodded. "Yeah, a dominant -- someone who..." "I know what a top is," I said, only just managing to leave off the DUH. "It's just -- didn't think of me like that." My day of revelations wasn't over, apparently. # Dana As we wiped off the mats and stacked them back against the wall, Teri kept looking at me, with occasional glances at Mike. He noticed this and snickered. Off Teri's look, he said to her, "See? She really is bi." Teasing, I realized -- her as much as me. But honesty made me admit, "Well, I'm not a 3 on the Kinsey scale, if that's what you mean. Somewhere between 4 and 5. So far, anyway." Teri raised her eyebrows at me. "More experience with girls than boys?" I pointed at her, "Tenth girl," then at Mike, "Third boy." Not counting Program requests, of course. Which for some reason made her frown slightly -- surely she remembered I had SOME experience. Then she shook her head. "I can't understand how you live so -- so out in the open like that." "Yeah, well, you're a very controlled and private person," Mike said to her. Which was true enough, I realized. Then after a pause, he added, "While Dana tries to be as honest as she can." Exactly. "And yourself?" Teri asked him. "Still working that out," he said with a shrug. "Smart- aleck, maybe." She snorted. "Yeah, just maybe." "Ya think?" I said. "Nah," he smirked. Then in a normal voice, "Though I do know I'm roughly a Kinsey 2." Heh -- a nice little understated outing. Teri looked thoughtful. "I guess I'm really bi myself." "Probably Kinsey 1," I told her. "You're not attracted to All The Girls -- just specific girls, ones you've gotten to know." Mike nodded. "You look at me and Jake and Marshall even when Gail 'Smoking' Conners is naked right beside you." "And at Dana," Teri insisted. "Dana over Marshall any day." I tried to not feel smug at that. Marshall's a nice boy, but I surely wasn't interested in sharing Teri with him. Not like I was willing to with Mike -- quite willing. And to share him. "Easily," Mike agreed with her, leering at me. They grinned as I blushed. We managed to find two of our three whistles, the other having skittered under the crowd of equipment. The remains of my travel-pack of tissues could clean us off only so much -- on the way to picking up our clothes, we ducked into a restroom for a quick application of water, paper towels, and my spare comb. As I held the door open for Mike, he gave me a speculative glance. Off my look, he said, "So on the other hand, you aren't really a dom yourself, despite Monday afternoon." Meaning, the way I'd been pushy. I spoke softly, just loud enough only they could hear -- sound carries well in all-but-empty hallways. "When I know what I want, I approach it directly. But otherwise, no, not dom. Socially, I perform somewhat femme, especially around butch girls. But in bed, I like to trade off roles -- give and take." "Huh," Teri said. Then she looked at me more closely. "Whadya mean, femme? You 'perform' as an earnest Plain Jane." Mike snorted, apparently in agreement. "Remember, we've seen your underwear." As if sturdy white cotton had anything to do with it. 'Earnest,' I'd agree with. "That," and Teri pointed at my daisy barrette, "is the first girly thing I've seen about you." Well, yes -- I'd chosen it this morning in part to play off Teri's relative butchness. I looked at her steadily. After a moment, Mike choked a laugh. Then Teri finally got it. "I'm not THAT butch." "What's important," Mike said soothingly, "is that you believe that." I gave him what I hoped was a quelling look, while saying to Teri, "Maybe not the hairstyle, but body language? Sure." After a moment, I added, "Remember, there's plenty of butch straight women. It's a gender presentation, not sexual orientation." "You look good in flannel," Mike added. I nodded in agreement. Of course, she also looked good out of flannel. As we passed through the main lobby, Skinner came in through the outer doors. "Mr. Smith," he said with a curt nod, stopping next to us, and we stopped perforce. Then he added, "Florez, Partlow." Mike stiffened slightly, but said nothing. "Good afternoon," I said to be polite. Ignoring me, he said to Teri, "Any further untoward events?" As if this were a Victorian novel or something. "I thank you for your concern," Teri replied, "but I am pleased to report nothing of interest to you." Skinner blinked at her turn of phrase. "I still say," Mike said sardonically, "that you're better suited to cosplay than the drama club." Somehow, I managed to keep a straight face. "Well, see that you keep it that way," Skinner said to Teri, as if it had been her fault or something -- then he frowned. "Er." Behind him, a radiator against the wall of the lobby went "poot!" Skinner scowled a little more, though whether at that or his mistake was unclear. His hand radio crackled with a voice I couldn't make out, but he spoke into it, "Copy that." Then with a brief nod to Mike, he walked past us. Mike stared after him. "What. The. Heck?" "Mike, you are way over-socialized," a boy said behind us. We turned -- Zach Tayler-Boone stood shaking his head. I bit my lower lip: it was the first time I'd seen him since Saturday night -- since Tara threw his name in my face as one of boys she'd cheated with. "Yeah," Teri said, "that was definitely a What The Fuckity Fuck." "What can I say," Mike said to Zach, spreading his hands. "Gotta keep it clean during school hours." Zach laughed. "Yeah right -- like you EVER held back your mouth." "My lips are sealed," Mike countered, making a motion of Unlocking his mouth, unzipping it, and throwing away the key. Zach looked at me, hefting what had to be the largest duffle-bag I've ever seen someone carry in one hand. "Hey, I heard about you and Tara. Sorry 'bout that." Sorry about..? No, never mind. I didn't want to explore that. Not now, after this afternoon. I simply nodded acknowledgment. With a brief wave to all of us and a sympathetic shake of his head to Teri, Zach headed out the door. And yanno? Even that reminder wasn't enough to cut through my good feelings. Not all of them, anyway. # Mike Wednesday after school is no PT. And after sex like that, I felt relaxed and wonderful enough to turn going home into a training run, even without my racing chair. A longer scenic route, with mostly smooth surfaces. Mostly. Okay, so I shouldn't have tried to shortcut down to the river walk. By the time I got home, I was tired -- the good kind of tired. And even that wasn't enough to cut through my good feelings. No, THAT took half an hour by myself, staring at homework without reading. Which was stupid, yeah? I mean, not only did I make it with two girls I like, but who like each other. Pretty much ye standard straight guy's fantasy. So why I was niggling myself to death with doubts? It wasn't like they didn't like me -- I mean, both Teri and Dana had (in different ways) made abundantly it clear, even to someone with my kind of self-esteem issues, that they did. If nothing else, neither one (in their different ways) was the sort to sleep with someone they didn't actually like. So yeah: sexyfuntimes with two hot young women. The problem being: so now what? I had no clue -- and neither one had given me any. Teri had been happy enough then, but after Monday's minor makeout session, she'd had major second thoughts. Dana was still reeling from Tara-go-boom, and I was pretty sure she knew it and didn't trust herself. As for me, well, I've had more than one anxiety dream about friends who decide dealing with my wheelchair is too much bother. Not to mention my big mouth. And if one of them put the brakes on, would the other still want me? I could have asked. I still could -- and as I said, I don't like things hanging over my head. Twice I opened an email window, then closed it without typing -- this was the sort of thing best handled in person. Especially if breaking things off, or even putting on the brakes, might be involved. But then -- No -- enough. Better to rot my brain than my soul: I turned on the TV and started surfing. When Dad got home, I'd been trapped on the Weather Channel for twenty minutes. (What can I say? Random splotches of green and angry red are hypnotic. Especially during hurricane season.) "What can we expect?" I turned it off. "Rain tomorrow afternoon followed by our first cold snap -- thanks to an early Pacific storm." "Huh -- that is early." "Welcome to the Rockies. Have some sudden weather." "Gee thanks, kid." He grinned, and we started cooking. Over a dinner of rice and chili (from a can but spiked with his special spices and topped with grated cheese) we talked about school -- specifically, the Program and how I was coping. I allowed as how I'd made a few friends among my fellow Nakeds, and burbled on a bit about some of the awesome things Dana was doing. Possibly I fanboyed a bit too hard -- Dad made that small smile I'm not supposed to notice, the one that means he's seen something he thinks I haven't. When I shut up, he said carefully, "It's good to hear a student involving herself, but is it needed?" Given what happened to Teri? And everyone else? Without Dana, it'd've been a LOT worse for, especially, the girls this week. Cautiously I said, "What do you mean?" "Well, it IS an award-winning Program." "That was, what, five years ago? And Ms Wagner's not around any more. The Coordinator's a newbie fresh out of school." "Mm," Dad said noncommittally. After dinner, I glanced at the algebra lecture notes Mr. Falcon had sent us, read some French comedy instead, then went online to practice Japanese -- got into a video chat with this guy from Okinawa who was a total hoot. Got involved enough I didn't think about Teri and Dana more than, oh, five dozen times an hour. But mostly the good sort of thinking about them. My journal entry that night was: between the bank and the river between the print and the paper between the bed and the blanket there is no choosing between the act and the action between the limbs and the dance between the word and the meaning there's no distinction So a couple of those were a bit cliche, not to mention "dance" really should have two syllables -- maybe revise it to "the dance and desire"? And, okay, the bed and blanket bit didn't make sense. But it was headed the right direction. I dreamed that Dana was printing up money in a bank while Teri operated a bed-and-breakfast next door, and I couldn't convince either one that we should all just open an dance studio instead. # Dana Even a stop at the office supply store for a replacement recorder I couldn't afford (had to dip into savings) didn't break my good mood. I'd gotten well and truly laid, I had -- by two truly good people. The best sex I'd had since, well -- mid-summer, I thought. A little before Tara started trying to make me jealous of her past again, the way she had when we first started going out. The way -- Dagnabbit, I thought to myself as I biked home. Enough about the past. Think about the now. It was, after all, such a delicious now. At the time, even, I'd known not to ruin the aftertaste by probing what would happen next between us. As much as Teri had deliberately made her pass at me as well as Mike, she still needed time to get used to the idea of being with another girl -- to, even, being bi. Mike needed time too, I suspected -- especially if he tended toward monogamy, and was wondering about choosing between us. I hoped not, but I didn't know one way or the other. As for me, well -- Okay, there'd also been some cowardice on my part. Bringing Us up would have given Teri a chance to back out, to regret her impulse. I wanted, at least while it lasted, to hold on to this feeling. These feelings. Tomorrow, though, I was going to have to engineer some time for the three of us to talk. I was focused enough on my new lovers, that Mom caught me flat-footed over dinner. It started out innocent enough: "So how are you?" "Pretty good," I temporized. She knows I'm sexually active, but I try not to rub her face in it. "Good -- I was getting worried about you, holding out for so long." What, against Teri? Oh, wait -- she meant Tara. The breakup, and finally crying. "Last night helped -- a lot. So have friends." "Have you seen her often?" I shook my head. "Only once -- our schedules don't really cross paths. But I do get reminders: our breakup is something of big news, what with it being her coming out. Though everyone who's talked to me at all, they've expressed sympathy for me." Which, I realized, had been quite a few: Gail, Vicky, Zach, Greg, Souxie, Karinne -- and of course Mike and Teri. A good sign. She nodded. "But those are still reminders." "Yeah. Mostly it's been new friends who've helped the most." "Like who?" As good a time as any to introduce the names to her, especially if we kept seeing each other. "Teri Florez, who's in math and chemistry with me, and Mike Smith -- he's in eleventh grade, also in math plus AP history. We started an algebra study-group, the one I've been staying after school for." I left out, for the moment, us all being Participants -- no point in confusing the issue with the whole enforced sexuality thing. Like most Friends, Mom doesn't approve of the Naked In School Program, but she accepts that I consider it necessary to obey the law absent a clear prompting to oppose it. "I may not, given my track record," she said wryly, "be the best person to give advice about relationships." I nodded -- the only one of her three husbands she's on speaking terms with is her first, my brother Loren's father. In my own father's case, I can't really blame her: I'm barely on speaking terms with him myself. For relationship stuff, I usually talk with Aunt Kira. "But when you're ready for another, try not to chose someone just because they're not Tara -- don't rush to the anti-Tara. You liked her for reasons." I let out my breath slowly, and nodded. "My word for the week is Clarity." Which both was and was not an answer, but she nodded and started talking about an anti-nuclear rally at the state capital building she was planning to attend this weekend. After dinner, I thought about Mom's advice, and my sorta-answer. Did I really have clarity with Teri and Mike? I thought so, or at least as much as I could. We three TOGETHER didn't yet have it -- thus the need to talk. But I was clear that *I* wanted a relationship with them, in some form, and that it'd be good for me. And I didn't want Tara's ghost to wreck it. I nodded, and turned to my tablet. I had a lot of research to finish, plus of course homework. Plus I should write up an explanation for Mike and Teri of the algebra lecture we'd missed -- Falcon had forwarded his notes but they were a bit shorthand, and we hadn't even LOOKED at them during today's 'study session.' If I had time, after all that, maybe I could search for Teri's pseudonymous books -- erotic space opera, four novels plus stories, and probably some British-English usage was a pretty large parameter space, but maybe I could refine it further. If I had time. First things first. I smiled to myself. # Teri The endorphins from sex last longer than from even a really good workout. Not even Sam and Ricky's arrival home wrecked my good mood. No, that took Father -- his paper-shuffling crisis apparently resolved. He arrived a half-hour before dinner and immediately convened a family meeting -- Himself and Mother in their usual chairs, us three on the couch, Sam in the middle. He looked at us for several moments. We stayed silent. I'm not sure how he does it. I mean, he's almost a head shorter than all three of us kids -- slender, with gray at his temples. The only thing remarkable are his light brown eyes. He doesn't raise his voice. But when he speaks, we all obey, even me. His first words was a direct broadside. "Samantha, Ricardo -- my understanding is that you both encouraged your friends to harass your sister. Is this correct?" Sam's mouth turned down. "Just trying to help her out, while she's in the NIS Program -- get her out of her shell." "I'll take that as a Yes. It is also my understanding that four of these said friends assaulted your sister this morning." "I had NOTHING to do with that," Ricky said quickly. "The reports I've heard," Sam added, "were exaggerated." "And besides," Ricky said, "she refused to stop for a reasonable request." As if that could excuse assault. Father looked to me. "Wrong -- they attacked me without word or warning." I spoke, I was pleased to note, calmly and without spite. "And witnesses agree on this." He raised an eyebrow. "And Sam's reports?" I shrugged. "How would I know what she's heard?" "Fair enough." He looked to Sam. She had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "According to the wildest story, four of the biggest guys in the school dragged her into the restroom to rape her, but she beat them up. Which makes no sense -- I mean, if Del and Mac were involved, no way she'd not be hurt as well." She shook her head. Father looked to me. "Pretty much true. To be pedantic, I can't prove they initially intended rape, but Mitchell Gragarian threatened to, after." Mother clenched her jaw, and glanced at Father. "After?" he said, in a tone you could almost mistake for mild. "While I held him in a headlock. We got a recording of him making the threat." Thanks to Dana. Ricky snorted in disbelief. "While Del and Mac just stood by and let you do that?" "No, they were lying on the floor, groaning. That's also on the recording." A bit better, in fact, given Dana had bent over them, checking their condition. Ricky stared at me open-mouthed. Father looked at him. "And these four were friends of yours? Ones you talked with about Teresa?" Ricky mumbled something about knowing them a little. I shook my head. "Yesterday, Ricky stopped me in the halls with Gragarian and the fourth boy who attacked me, and told them to harass me." Weenies One and Two, as I thought of them then. "A reasonable request isn't harassment!" Ricky protested. "And in any case, I didn't tell them to JUMP her." "Teri," Sam suddenly said, "the Program is supposed to open you up, make you more accepting of your body and your sexuality. We're just trying to help." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I was not going to lose my temper, not visibly. I knew better. "What part of 'For the five-hundredth time, I don't want help' don't you understand?" Sam lost her patience instead. "Oh, because you're doing so well at having a social life on your own." I opened my eyes to look at her. "Well as it just so happens, I got laid today, no thanks to your efforts." Father and Mother both froze. A week ago, that would have been enough to make me shut up -- to stop while I was still behind, as Zoe puts it -- but not anymore. I went on, "With, in fact, someone I've seen you blow off as a nobody." Both someones, actually: Dana first thing Monday, Mike last year after a particularly snappy comeback at her team's expense. It was the first time I'd noticed him as a person and not just a wheelchair. Silence greeted my revelation. Sam, at least, looked embarrassed, though whether for me or herself, I couldn't tell. Ricky was all total wide-eye baffled. Father and Mother remained frozen for a couple seconds. "Well," Mother finally said. Father drew in a long breath through his nose. "Indeed. In any case, this will stop." He looked at Sam and Ricky. "The way you two have behaved, I do not entirely blame Teresa for saying you do not treat her as a sister." Both of them swallowed. I nearly did myself: 'not entirely' meant I was still in trouble for that comment. He went on, "You WILL stop interfering in your sister's affairs. You WILL stop encouraging your friends to touch her. Is that understood?" Some imp with a death-wish made me say, "That's not enough. A ball doesn't stop rolling just because someone stopped pushing." "Agreed," he said, not looking away from my siblings. "You will GET your friends to stop touching her. You will PROTECT her." Silence. More firmly, "Is that understood?" "Yes, sir," in ragged chorus. His golden eyes turned to me. "Teresa. When you are having problems, you WILL bring them to our attention -- or if we are not available, the nearest adult authority. Is that understood?" Because adults had done so much for me before. Though today, at least, they seemed to be on my side -- thanks to evidence backing my story. But I knew what I had to say: "Yes, sir." The doorbell rang, ending our ordeal: rather than cook, Mother had ordered in Italian, heavy on the meat dishes. Over dinner, Father made me Tell All about this morning -- not just the getting pounced, but also who spoke with me afterwards and what I said to them. I think I had to use more complete sentences in his presence than the entire previous year. In the end, he told me, "It is not clear whether criminal charges will be filed or the School District will handle this as a disciplinary action. Either way, say no more than you absolutely have to -- to administrators as well as other students. And if anyone from law enforcement or the DA's office contacts you, call me immediately." I wasn't sure sour-faced Ricky got just how fucked up the whole thing was, but Sam at least was looking thoughtful -- an unusual look for her, to be sure. Myself, I escaped to my room as soon as we were done. I had a lot to think about. And despite parents and siblings and all, at the top of my mind was: Top? The thing of it was, Dana had a point about how it was consistent with my not liking the Program. I mean, control IS important to me -- has to be, given my size and strength. I learned that lesson in elementary school, all too well. Possibly all too well in other ways. Just imagining not staying on top of what we three did this afternoon felt like a Bad Idea. As in a turn- off kind of bad. Well, exploring that was for another time. For now, I had to wait to decide whether anything more would happen with Mike or Dana -- or even, thinking kinky again, both. I mean, if I went out with one of them, I certainly wasn't going to figure out who till we were well out of the Program and standing on our own four feet. Or two feet and four wheels, as the case may be. Later, though, maybe we'd talk about it. Though given Dana, she'd probably bring it up tomorrow - - the way she lays everything out. If she did, I'd just have to admit I don't know what the hell I want yet. I thought about writing up this afternoon, a la Monday, but it felt too fresh. Too real. I wasn't sure I wanted to share it with my partners, even fictionalized. Instead, I set about revising Monday's braindump into the core of a Downstar short. Or started to -- about the time I admitted to myself it was really just the first half of a novelette, with what happened today as the basis of the resolution, Cal showed up in chat. californicator: any great progrma revelations today teristarr2001: apparently i'm a complete top californicator: you mean? teristarr2001: gotta control what happens in bed or it no work for me californicator: i take it it did work californicator: one of those 2 from before? teristarr2001: worked just fiiiiiine teristarr2001: both californicator: awesome californicator: 3way? awesome squared californicator: u go girl *\o/* teristarr2001: it WAS awesome teristarr2001: best sex i ever had californicator: u better dish to z and me californicator: this weekend californicator: gotta run now teristarr2001: yes ma'am californicator: l8r! teristarr2001: l8r And yanno, it really was awesome squared. Awesome enough, I didn't want to work anymore. A good workout felt more like it. As I was adding weights to the bar for my second round of squats, I heard a "tock-tock" sound from my door. A knock. I blinked, and it repeated. The heck..? I opened it: Sam. She never came up here -- ever. That was the best part of a bedroom in the attic: everyone left me the fuck alone. "Teri, I... you're sweating." I nodded. Her point? She peered past me. "You have weights up here?" "This is so startling?" "Uh, yeah -- face it, Teri, you're not the most physically fit person in the school." I shrugged. If she wanted to believe that, whatever. She studied me a moment, as if starting to doubt that herself. "Did you really knock Del and Mac out without getting hurt?" I sighed. "What do you want?" She took a deep breath. "I think I've been underestimating you. I mean, you do have balls. There's no way I'd ever admit to Mom I've had sex -- to say it Father like that, as if you just don't care? I'd've thought he'd ground you for life." I wasn't about to admit it to HER, but I was just as startled they'd let that part completely slide. Sam shook her head. "Anyway, I wanted to apologize. For real. I am sorry things got this far. I really and truly was trying to help, and it got out of hand." Fucking idiot. "How about apologizing for trying to 'help'?" "It's the Program! It's supposed to be fun." "The Program is broken. I thought it was bad, but now that I'm in it, no -- it's much worse. It's fucked." "It is not!" "What happens when a Participant walks into the Quad?" She grimaced, but didn't acknowledge the point out loud. I went on, "Being in the wrong place is not consent. That. Is. Fucked. Up." "So there may be a few problems..." "Sam, the fact that you even CONSIDERED trying to feel up your LITTLE SISTER shows how fucked up it is. Jocks think Participants exist for their pleasure, regardless of who they are. YOU thought that. This fucking school TAUGHT you that." She looked a little troubled, but only a little. I shook my head. "I may be the most antisocial bitch to ever snarl her way through Bridger High, but even I'VE heard about Aimee Moralez, Waydeen Street, and Cindylee... whatsername. Stanton." Girls who'd been either date-raped or 'coerced' into sex while in the Program, by jocks who never faced punishment or got only token slaps on the wrist. For rape. "They all..." I held up a finger in her face. "If you're about to say they all asked for it, I invite you to walk right back down stairs and tell that to Mother." Sam blanched -- she knew as well as I how Mother felt about rape victims, having been one herself in college. Sam really hadn't thought to apply that lesson to the people around her. After a moment, she whirled about and stomped down the stairs. But not, I was willing to bet, to take up my invitation. I took a deep breath, shook my head, and went back to squats. Fifteen minutes later, during sit-ups, another knock -- and Mother poked her head around the door. For a second I thought maybe I'd bet wrong, but her expression was more worried than angry. "A moment?" she asked. As if she wouldn't come in anyway if I said No. I nodded and sat up on the weight bench. She took my desk chair. "I just wanted to check how you are -- whether you're still doing as well as can be expected." After being assaulted. "I am." After a moment, I added, "My friends helped." "Those two in the office? That's good. It's good to have friends." Yeah, it was. It really was. Mother looked at me a moment, then said, "Do I need to worry about your getting laid, so soon after?" Oh jeeze. Okay, my mother talking to me again about sex? -- just as painfully embarrassing as the first time. "Uh, no." I quickly added, "I mean, it wasn't sudden. I'd decided to anyway." Then mentally winced -- way to all but admit it was my first time, or at least first with this partner. Partners, but I wasn't admitting THAT if I could help it. But she just nodded. "Then it sounds like you're being careful." "Um, yeah. Not rushing. Sincere like on all sides, not just lust." Another mental wince -- 'all' wasn't as ambiguous about number as I'd expected. This whole conversation was throwing me off-balance. Mother nodded and stood. "I'll let you get back to your exercise." She stepped forward and, before I realized what she was doing, gave me a one-armed hug around my shoulders. "We love you, you know. You don't have to shut yourself off like this." And then she was out the door. I... uh. DID I know that? Day of revelations, indeed. Fifth Day (Thursday) -------------------- Teri At breakfast, Father greeted me with, "I'll drive you to school. I have business there anyway, so might as well kill two birds with one stone." I blinked. "Yes, sir." Usually I walked -- it wasn't even 2km. Sam drove Ricky, but their before-school practice was way too early for me. Besides, it'd mean riding with Sam and Ricky. If we left here at my usual time, though, we'd arrive too early -- but I could cope. I had to. Though -- "Um, can we stop at Starbucks on the way?" I looked up from his tablet, solemnly amused. "Ah, is that the way of it? Certainly." Except for what was necessary at the drive-through window, we didn't talk. He paid for my triple-shot latte -- hadn't expected that. It had almost cooled enough to drink when he pulled into a parking spot. Wait, this wasn't the visitor's lot, but the small one reserved for administrators. Was that allowed? Father reached into the back seat to pull a manila folder from his briefcase, then looked at me. I tried to meet his eyes. I suspected that somehow, Dana would be able to, even with him. I had no idea how. "Teresa," he finally said, "you are a strong young woman, capable of protecting yourself in many situations. Don't let this blind you to those around you who can help." I swallowed. "I've been learning that, this week." He nodded. "Good. Come." He got out and headed for the main entrance, and I followed. As we passed the Program Office entrance, I stopped and said, "I, uh, have to go in this way." He considered me a moment. "This once, I think, it would be best if you were clothed. Come." I took a deep breath. No, really, Participants have to strip, strip HERE, before entering school. The prospect of even a single Program demerit frightened me -- I did NOT want to repeat my week. But I obeyed, chugging down my latte as quickly as I could. In the main office, Father greeted Skinner with a nod and a quiet, "James." Skinner nodded in return. "Manuel. To what do we owe the pleasure?" He did not look at me at all. Father held up the folder. "About your lighting issues - - we figured you deserve an incident report in person, at least." "This way." Skinner gestured towards his office and headed in himself. Father indicated I should precede him. This was rapidly reaching What The Fuck territory, and I try not to even THINK that kind of language around Father. I went in, and he closed the door behind him. Skinner sat down at his desk, and we took the chairs in front of it. Father tossed the folder on top of it. "Basically, the boys told the truth: they found a utility that would let them take over the main school marque display. Their intent was to insert a couple messages into the sequence at the behest, probably coerced, of members of the JV basketball team. Unfortunately for all of us, the utility included a worm designed to wreck random havoc, one sophisticated enough to also take over the general lighting control systems." Skinner frowned. "How sure is the JV connection? Could they be shifting blame?" Father smiled with less warmth than a rattlesnake in February. "Positive -- the messages to insert were sent to them, couched in threatening language, using school accounts. The relevant evidence has been sent to Michelle Jackson to deal with as she sees fit. But the important part is, our system admins assure me that, as of yesterday afternoon, the worm has been completely flushed and all systems are restored to their previous state. If there are ANY reports of erratic behavior, please let Azula know ASAP." Skinner continued frowning, but nodded. After a moment, he said, "But you didn't bring your daughter here just for that." Sweat trickled down between my shoulder blades. Father smiled, slightly more warmly -- more like a rattler coiled on a warm June rock. "Of course. I'm not here to jog your elbow, but I'd appreciate, given my personal connection, knowing what's being done regarding yesterday's incident." Skinner closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "With all due respect, this is not my favorite topic right now. Jackson suspended all four boys for a week, 'to start' she says. Coach Delgado is on my case for leniency -- he has high hopes for the wrestling team this season, and the boosters know it. I told him he'll have to wait till we hear from the DA." He sat up and folded his hands on his desk. "Which brings it back to you. Are you going to press for charges?" Father glanced at me out of the corner of his eyes. "We're still considering it, pending the DA's report." I stared at him. We were even considering letting them off because -- why? Father caught my eye and shook his head fractionally -- a we'll-talk-later sort of shake. Skinner grunted. "Fair enough, I suppose." Behind him, the radiator went "poot!" Father stood, the rest of us with him. He shook hands with Skinner saying, "We'll be in touch." Then we left the way we came. As we walked outside, I realized Father was sweating too -- and it was not from nerves. He'd been cool as a cold- case cucumber in there. At first I'd thought he was reporting up to Skinner, but no, he was telling Skinner off -- 'not to jog your elbow' and 'with all due respect,' like he was SKINNER's boss. We stopped outside the Program Office entrance. "We'll talk about charges when I get home," he said, "but do think about it. We need to be certain, either way." I nodded. Certain about what? "Anything else?" he asked. I knew this was pretty much the least of my worries right now, but I had to ask. "What, exactly, is your job?" Eyebrows raised. But he said simply, "My title is Assistant Superintendent of Public Instruction. It's the highest non-elected position working for the School Board." So not just working for the county -- he was one of the people running the county schools. "So the computer admins report to you?" "Es verdad." I shook my head. "I didn't know that, exactly." Or even, at all. "Yes, well -- I don't think I knew what exactly my father did till I left for college. A humbling reminder. I'll see you tonight. Take care," and with a gesture to my entrance, he strode off. When he was far enough away he couldn't hear, I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. I just hoped this wasn't prologue to another day of revelations. I wasn't sure I could handle more. Either way, I wanted to see my friends. # Mike Teri was already in the Program Office when I rolled in. With a sly smile, she looked at me through lowered eyelashes. Not exactly a smoldering look, but I still almost went over and asked, "Is it hot in here or is it just you?" But no, we needed to act normal. As normal as I could, anyway. Besides, it really was warm. Had someone turned up the thermostat anticipating the coming storm? Dana stumbled in soon after, wearing a light-pink sweater and matching hair-clip, and blinked at the warmth. She smiled to me and sat down next to Teri -- who did the same lowered-eyelashes thing at her. Then Teri stood, turned somewhat toward us, and started stripping. For us. Not stripping AT us, mind -- nothing so blatant that others would recognize it. Her gestures as she took off her clothing were not erotic. But it still got me hard. Dana was as interested as I in watching, and waited till Teri finished binning her clothes to stand herself. With her chair between us like it was, she couldn't face us both at once, so she looked across the room to strip. Her gestures, like undressing alone for bed, were even less erotic. It got me still harder. That had to count as two statements of 'still interested.' My turn. When Dana finished adjusting her flats, I gestured them both over -- as subtly as I could while using both hands. They knelt in front of me to take off my deck shoes while I pulled off my sweatshirt, then together they worked my track pants off. Again, nothing erotic -- indeed, it was the fastest I've ever undressed since the accident. I was going to need relief in English, though. Teri, though, had other ideas. Still kneeling at my left knee, she whispered, "Save yourself for second period." I swallowed. She wanted to do something in math. "I'll try," I said dubiously. "You're strong," she countered. "Time to pull down my big boy pants, is it?" She barked a laugh. "That's the spirit." Ms Jackson came over to Dana. "You never got your recorder back, did you?" Dana shook her head as she pivoted around to her pack, and pulled a finger-sized object from the outer pocket - - the same as she had yesterday at the end of homeroom. "Replacement?" Ms Jackson asked. "Right -- invoice the school for reimbursement. We don't have approval yet for supplying them to Participants, but you shouldn't have to cover a loss made in the line of duty. What model?" Dana went into a spirited solo discussion of the tradeoffs between storage space, mic gain, and price. After a minute, Jackson held up her hand. "Send me your recommendation plus two alternatives -- BRIEFLY explaining your reasons." Heh. Dana nodded, and she and Teri sat down. Gail asked, "Are you an audio geek or something?" "Nah," I said, "she just likes tech specs." It was supposed to be teasing, but Dana nodded in agreement. As if she didn't care about having a nerdy reputation -- or maybe wanted one. "Ha!" Gail said, as if it were a good joke. I glanced about: Teri looked mildly amused, Marshall was watching Dana as if fascinated, while Chip looked... smug? Smirky, anyway. Maria and Jake were ignoring us as they flirted -- I heard him say, "Is it hot in here or is it just you?" and cringed. Wait -- that meant all of us were here. Did Dana want to say anything before... The bell rang. "Okay, people," Mr. Alverez called out, "again, we've got a lot to cover, so while Chip finishes disrobing we'll get started. "First off, as most of you have probably heard, there've been a couple incidents of violence involving Program Participants, at least one specifically Program related." Wait! Other than Teri? What else was going on? He went on, "If at any time you feel unsafe, get out of the situation. Use your whistle, if you need to. Don't worry about crying wolf: if you feel threatened, you feel threatened. If you don't have your whistle today, I expect Dana has more? -- ah, yes, she does." While Dana handed replacements to Jake and Chip, plus another consent bracelet to Maria, Mr. Alverez wiped his sweaty face with a handkerchief. "Second, I want to talk a little bit about relief before class. Many of you are taking the opportunity, as expected, but some of you aren't so much. Specifically, over the last three days, Chip has requested relief only twice, Mike and Dana once, and Teresa never." Thank you for paying attention, I thought sourly. "The typical Program Participant relieves their arousal, in one way or another, twice during the day. Now this is not a quota, and you are not required to take that relief in class -- but one goal of the Naked In School Program is to provide a safe venue for exploring your sexuality. Not relieving yourself as needed is one warning sign that this might not be happening." Meaning that, unofficially, it is required. Great. The radiator in the corner, behind where Mr. Skinner sat in a grump, went "poot!" Teri scowled, and raised her finger to be recognized. "My next class is almost always on the other side of the school, but I rarely manage to walk ten meters between periods because of constant 'reasonable' requests. By the time I get to class, there's no time left for relief." Mr. Alverez looked startled. "By 'constant' you mean?" "I mean five, six, eight requests to touch me between classes -- finish one, take a step, and there's the next." Dang. Not counting lunches and our study-group, I'd gotten a grand total of ONE touching request. I knew I shouldn't be jealous, given how she hated hated HATED that kind of forced attention. But maybe, for a few moments, I felt envy. Mr. Alverez looked around. "Has anyone else experienced this?" Dana raised her hand. Maria did as well, saying, "Not to Teri's level, but some -- and I've seen what she goes through." Alverez smiled at Teri. "Popular, are you?" Bastard. I clenched my fists. If I could walk, there was a good chance I would have lunged and swung for him. Teri, though, just snorted in derision, as did Marshall. Gail actually snickered. Alverez got the message -- and looked troubled. "This is the sort of thing we need to know about -- the Program should NOT be used by peers to punish the unpopular." Ms Jackson broke in, "Ms Florez, we'll talk later, 'k? Before we run out of time on this AGAIN, we've got one more topic to cover." She held up Dana's recorder. "This is a digital recorder. Because of Ms Partlow's foresight, she had one on her person during one of those 'incidents of violence' and so provided some key evidence of what actually happened. They are also useful for Participants in general, such as when there's a disagreement over requests without other witnesses. They've been recommended by the National Counsel for a while, and we've just proven why. We're still looking into providing them for Participants, but if you or your parents have one already, we urge to bring it to school and set it to record through the day." "What about the mic on our tablets?" Marshall asked. Dana shook her head. "If you carry it in a sleeve or your pack, it doesn't pick up conversations very well." "Anyway, that's all for now," Ms Jackson said, glancing at the clock -- less than thirty seconds before the end of homeroom. Dana gestured us into the center for our huddle. Softly, almost too low for me to hear, she said, "Remember, we're allowed to give each other requests between classes." "Extended requests," Maria added, just as softly. I added, "Check your maps." Nods around the huddle as Dana caught each of our eyes. Slightly louder, she said, "All together -- " and we all came in with, " -- we can do it." The bell rang. And I knew what I wanted to do for Dana. # Dana It took me a moment to put away my (sadly depleted) baggies of whistles and wrist-bands, and Mike hung back -- so we were the last two Participants to leave. "I have a request," he said as I picked up my pack. "Blow my horn." "Excuse me?" Much as I might like to give him one, requesting a blowjob is NOT considered 'reasonable.' He grinned. "Sit on my lap, O naked girl, and honk -- so I can use both hands to maneuver through that crowd. I'll give you a ride most of the way to English." The stinker -- he teased me but good, there. "That sounds reasonable," I said as I held the door for him. He slipped through, I slipped after, and quickly popped myself into his lap. Just in time, too -- a boy I thought I recognized as an associate of Teri's sister Sam, from Monday morning, stepped forward. "Hey, I got a request." "Sorry!" I called out, and honked twice. "Already in the middle of one!" And with another couple honks, we pushed through the press. I had to go "oogah!" every other meter, it seemed like, till we got near the stairwell. Mike's horn is the classic rubber-bulb type, mounted on the low chair arm, near his right knee -- no electronic replacement for him. Which made sense, for a joker. And every jostle of the chair, his erection rubbed against my bare lower back. His thighs were warm too, almost sweaty, though that wasn't due to me. Or not just me. Made me regret not having HIS English class -- mutual relief with him sounded good. Though of course, world literature also sounded a lot more interesting than Puritans a la Hawthorne. He let me off at the hallway junction. "Catch you before math." "You can factor on it!" he countered as he zoomed on toward the elevator. I groaned and headed to class, grinning like a polynomic loon. Never mind it was so atrocious a pun it didn't make sense -- I was happy. English itself was -- well, Hawthorne's historical fiction WAS better than actual Puritans. Even if Goodman Brown's a total twit. I have to admit, though, pagan they may be, but I have a soft spot for maypoles. It would have helped if the vents weren't blowing at full fan, without heat -- made it a bit chilly on naked skin. At the end of class, I asked Jacqueline, "Quick favor -- you turn left out of here, right? Could you make me a reasonable request I can take while walking, that will occupy us to the stairwell?" "Ooo-kay," she said dubiously. "Like what?" "Walk behind me while holding up my breasts, because you want to feel how heavy they are when they're this size." I was taking a small risk here, given I knew from our time at Bryant that she's totally straight, but she's a tall, willowy girl with a nearly flat chest -- and had shown enough curiosity in science class last year to make a good lab partner. Curiosity won: she tocked a forefinger forward and intoned, "Make it so." I hadn't known she watched old science fiction -- learn something every day. Took us a couple moments to synch up our strides, what with her legs being so much longer, but with the top of my head coming well below her chin we fit together quite nicely. "Gotta ask," she suddenly said, "why are we doing this?" "While I'm fulfilling your request, I can't take another." After a moment, "Ah!" As we reached the stairwell, she commented, "You must really want that bra, when you put your clothes on to go home." "Oh yeah," I said fervently. And just as fervently, "Thanks a bunch." "No prob." Thank goodness she'd never been offended by my asking her out three separate times. (I can, sometimes, be a bit too persistent.) I tore myself out of her hands and up the crowded stairs. Mike was easy to find -- he'd almost reached the stairwell himself. I jumped in front of him and said, "Request: Carry me." "Ha! Reckon I deserve that. Hop on, O my callipygian delight." I giggled and settled in, and with another "oogah!" we rolled off. "We need to catch up with Teri," I said quietly. "Gotcha." It didn't take us long, which was fortunate because Teri needed help. Four guys with ugly expressions stood in front of her, one with his hand between her legs. Double-fortunate: they didn't block her back. "See?" she told the boy. "It's a pussy." I pounced on Teri's arm, clutched myself to her. Looking up, I said, "Request: Carry me." She flexed her thighs -- the boy yowched and yanked away his squeezed hand. As soon as he let go, she told me, "You got it," and crouched down, low enough to get her shoulder under my butt -- and then just stood up, lifting me so I sat on her shoulder and upper arm, head less than a meter from the ceiling. "Ack!" I almost shrieked, laughing. I steadied myself on her upraised hand. It was easier once I slung my bag over my other shoulder. "Hey, I was next!" a boy protested. "Tough -- she asked first," Teri said and started walking. They parted before her, eyes and mouths open. They weren't the only ones looking at us -- looking at ME. Talk about standing out in a crowd! By the time we reached the corner, just about everyone had a phone out, taking our picture. Couldn't exactly blame them: I knew from yesterday that Teri's strong, but it was astonishing how effortless she made it seem, holding me up like this. Not a tremor in her arm beneath me -- I felt completely safe. The view from that high up was odd, though -- I'm not used to being able to see over people, let alone the tops of their heads. It was like I was visiting a kindergarten or something -- one where I seemed to them a seven-day wonder of a giant. As we approached our classroom, Teri said conversationally, "Yanno, for a strong boy, you look like you could use a little relief." Mike drawled back beside us, "Ah reckon I could, Miz Teri." "In that case -- " Teri bent down to set me on my feet before the door, as pretty as you please, " -- we orter do something about that." She looked at me expectantly. Did she mean I should? I raised my eyebrows, and Teri nodded. I smiled, then bowed Mike into the room. "If you'll come this way, Mr. Smith, we'll see to your needs." The bell rang right as I stepped through the door. Falcon nodded to me. "I'm very glad to see you," he said to us, looking especially at Teri. "Relief, anyone?" Teri and I shook our heads. "Please," Mike said. "With assistance." Falcon gestured him to the front of the class, as I sat down in front and Teri headed to the back. "Any volunteers?" I raised my hand, as did a half-dozen other girls. Mike looked startled, hesitated half a moment, then nodded to me. I pulled my travel-size bottle of baby oil from my pack (I get dry skin in winter) and knelt before him, using my towel as padding for my knees. As we spread his legs wider, so I could lean between them, I said quietly, "You can pick someone else, if you want." "I'm not stupid -- and neither are you." Meaning this was what Teri wanted -- and I ought to know he wanted me anyway. As I lubed my hands with a generous dollop of oil, I felt even odder than during Teri's ride -- what with Mr. Falcon, Perry-from-Meeting, watching me about to give oral sex one of his students. I wasn't sure whether it was that or the chilly room that gave me goosebumps, but I surely didn't mind the warmth of Mike's legs as I draped myself over them and wrapped my fingers around his generous cock. Very generous -- I could barely get my hands all the way around it, and there was more than enough room for both hands on its length. Had this really fit inside me? And was I starting to drool at the thought of getting this boy inside me again? Well, all the better to lubricate and stroke, then. As I rubbed oil up and down his shaft, I licked around the broad head -- salty with sweat -- he twitched as my tongue passed over that sensitive area just below the hole. I smiled -- no way I'd take more than his head my mouth, but I could at least do a good job with that. What I wanted was time -- time to give this boy pleasure, to draw it out, to draw HIM out. I had only a few minutes. I wrapped my lips over his head, licking the underside, and I stroked him with my right hand while caressing his balls with the left. I immediately struck a steady pace, matching the tempo of his pulse beneath my hands -- beating him to his heartbeat. After a few seconds, his eyes rolled up and he took a gasping breath -- his next breath, he closed his eyes, lifting his head up and gripping the arms of his chair. I watched him as I worked him, and found, there -- that pace, that rhythm, those places. That pleasure -- and his pleasure was my pleasure. Oh, but this was a nice cock. And I don't say that about many of them. Soon he was panting, straining, holding himself still as I built him toward his sweet release. He was already seeping pre-come, bitter and salty, and there, in his balls -- twitching, tensing, swelling. Jerking -- pumping -- his semen burst into my sucking mouth, and I swallowed as quickly as I could. Spurt, and spurt again. Only as he dribbled off did I slow down, and when he relaxed, finally, I started to lick him clean. He opened his eyes. Behind me, applause. But the only approval that mattered was how he looked down at me and smiled. # Teri Dang, but that was sexy. I could almost see the appeal of pornos, if they could capture moments like that. Sexy enough, I could almost conceive of taking relief myself. Sexy enough, it wasn't till the lecture started that I noticed a reminder of a meeting with some dude in the athletic department. No message, just an appointment for right now. Obviously meant for someone else. I dismissed it and tried to pay attention to the powers that be -- or at least of X. Or even of XXX. # Mike Whoa. Okay, that was even an better blowjob than the ones from Teri -- better even than Tara's. Which was not a fair comparison. It was as if Dana read my body every rising step of the way, like some sort of whatchamacallit -- feedback loop. My arms were so limp, it took to the end of our relief time to wheel over to my parking spot. As I set my brakes, Dana leaned over, pointed at the whiteboard, and said firmly, "Focus." Mr. Falcon had already put up two hairy equations and graphs to go with them. Dang, dang squared, and dang CUBED. But most of all: Whoa. # Dana I should probably not give Program relief to people I have an emotional connection to -- it turns me on too much. It took being Very Firm with myself to concentrate on the lecture. I was going to want relief in chemistry. Pity Mike wouldn't be there, but Teri would. Would she be willing? Would she want it herself? Would X ever manage to settle down into equality with Y? Tune in tomorrow, when Dana is less giddy! Or that's something of what I was like, anyway. I at least got down notes good enough to use later, but the one time Falcon called on me, I looked at the equation cross-eyed. At the end of class, I twiddled my fingers at Mike -- though what I wanted to do was kiss him -- and headed back to Teri's desk. She looked up at me with a sly smile, much like the one she wore before undressing. Hello, hotness. A boy, Hunter, stopped and looked at me, then shook his head. "I thought you were lesbian?" I smiled. "No, sorry, bi." "Oh." He looked nonplussed. "And on that note," Teri told him, "buh-bye." He took the hint and left. "Ready to brave the great narrow world of the hallway?" I asked. "No," she said, and stood up with a sigh. "Got any bright ideas?" "I request that you hold my hand while we each count the number of steps it takes to get to chem, using our regular strides, so we can compare how our bodies work." "Sounds as reasonable as anything else." She took my hand and led me out the rear door. We did it properly, too -- lined ourselves up in the middle of the hallway, put our feet together, and started deliberately pacing. A few steps in, I started counting aloud, and she followed suit, under her breath -- making it more clear we're Doing Something. A few guys tried to break in, but I waved them off: "Sorry -- twenty-five -- in-a-request -- twenty-seven..." and so on. I'd forgotten about the corner of the hallway, though: because I was on the outside side of the turn, I had to travel the longer path. We deliberately came to an exact stop even with the classroom door: "Forty-two" to "Fifty!" Then before another request could step up, we hustled into class -- with over a minute left before the bell. Early for the first time this week! I looked up at Teri, she looked down at me -- and we started giggling. I hadn't heard Teri do that before -- she has a nicely deep, gurgling laugh. She shook her head. "That was either crazy-brave or crazy-stupid." "Or just crazy." She measured the top of my head with her hand. "Do you always take such long steps for your height?" "I'm used to having to keep up with longer legs," I said. "Do you always take such short ones?" "Better balance for my weight." Which made sense. She moves very deliberately -- it makes her look heavier than she actually is. When Vicky hurried in, half a minute before the bell, I was already sitting on my stool. She stopped short in surprise, then joined me. "You're early." Which isn't the sort of comment you can say anything to. "Yeah, well." "I hear," and her voice dipped lower as she leaned close, "you got a bit of a 'boost' this morning." With all the phones snapping pictures, I wouldn't be surprised if two-thirds of school knew about my ride. "It was certainly a new perspective -- actually being able to see OVER people." "'If I have seen further, it is by sitting on the shoulders of a giantess'?" I looked at her severely -- Teri's sensitive enough about her body image, I was pretty sure she wouldn't like being called that. But then the bell rang, and Cadwallader asked Teri and I if we wanted relief. It'd been a full period in a chilly room (the vents were still going full-blast) since getting off Mike, which had cooled me down a bit. Relief from her might have been nice -- but from the way she shook her head, no. I declined as well, and Cadwallader immediately started her review of last night's readings. I tried to not sigh and pay attention. Even if the only interesting thing to happen in class was ending with a pop quiz, and since it was pure vocabulary, it wasn't THAT interesting. At the end of class, as I packed up as slowly as I could get away with, Vicky glanced at Teri, then leaned toward me. "Weren't you scared?" she asked. "Getting carried like that. I mean, she's not the, ah, most athletic kid in school." "No" I said simply. I hadn't -- not with Teri's strength solid beneath me. "I've done much scarier things." Such as -- I glanced away from Vicky a moment. Such as dating Tara. I forced myself to look back at her. Vicky's expression sobered, slightly, then she nodded goodbye. I'd known from the start that Tara would not be an easy girlfriend. She spent the two weeks after we met rubbing my nose in it, trying to drive me away, and didn't stop till I convinced her that if SHE didn't want to see me, it was up to HER to walk away -- I wouldn't do it for her. Once things settled down, though, I stopped worrying about it -- hadn't thought she might pull the same crap when she wanted to break up. She didn't have the courage to do it herself. I felt a large warm presence standing next to me. Teri. She raised her eyebrows in a question. I opened my mouth, then shook my head. I was not going to regret my time with Tara -- I had loved it, loved her. "Just thinking about what it takes to do something scary." She nodded. "Like get naked in school." The bell rang, starting lunch. "That, too." Though at this point, it wasn't the naked part that was scary -- just everything else that went with the Program. We headed out into the everything else. Jake's usual fans were slowly peeling away from him. A few moments later, Maria poked out of Dr. Liu's room. "All clear," Jake told her. Teri shook her head. "Bastards." "Yeah," Maria said heavily -- then she smiled weakly. "I've gotta say, though, that was pretty gutsy of you two, putting on a show like that. If you weren't already, you'd be the most famous kids in the school now." Meaning carrying me. Teri frowned. "It wasn't 'gutsy'," I protested. It'd been fun, really. "Fame means attention," Teri told me, "and I don't want attention while in the Program." Put that way, she had a point. I didn't agree with it -- visibility reduces abuse -- but I could understand thinking that way. "Regrets?" "Nah, we cool. I almost don't give a fuck anymore." "Now THAT is brave," Jake said with a laugh. "Using language like that in school." Teri grimaced, but didn't disagree. But it did make me think about bravery and fear, and people who needed courage. And down in the cafeteria, I spotted them. To Teri, I said, "I'll catch up in sec -- need to talk to someone." "What about food?" "Got it with me," I said over my shoulder, and threaded my way around a table -- evading a stray hand reaching for my butt as I did so. I stopped across the table from the two other witnesses to what happened to Teri yesterday, the ones who saw it best. "Hi Addison, Brianne." They looked up, Brianne biting into a burger, Addison with a carrot stick halfway into her mouth. "Uh, hi, Dana," Addison said as Brianne hastily chewed her bite. "I wanted to ask you, -- uh, do you usually go by Addison?" "Addie," she said with a small smile. "And Brie," who had swallowed. "Could I sit down a sec?" They looked at me warily, but Brie nodded. I spread my towel on the chair across from Addie and sat. There were a couple consent-bracelet fliers on the table, looking a little the worse for wear. "It's about yesterday..." I started to say, but the boy sitting next to Brie interrupted: "Hey, fresher, aren't you a little out of your league here?" "Stuff it, Dirk," said Addie, "we're talking." I blinked -- were they out of my league? I told him, "But neither one's my type anyway." Brie choked. Addie explained, "He means we don't serve your kind here." I blinked again, this time at her -- surely she didn't mean bisexuals. "Droids?" I guessed. It was her turn to choke. Brie explained in turn, "Freshmen. This is where the sophomores sit." I looked around -- everyone I recognized nearby was, indeed, in the tenth grade. Under the next pyramidal skylight, I knew quite a few kids from Bryant, all ninth graders. I craned about: under a third pyramid, those I was sure of were all eleventh graders, and as for the fourth -- I pointed, "Twelfth?" Addie and Brie nodded. "Gotcha. Thanks," and I smiled at them. Weird system -- no wonder I hadn't sussed it yet. "The point being..." Dirk started to say, but I rudely interrupted him in turn, "...that we're having a discussion about courage." "We are?" Addie asked. "Well, we are not her type," Brie told her. Which almost made sense. "Well, in the sense that you're not the specific girl I want." Not that they weren't cute -- Brie especially, with that dusting of freckles under ash-blonde bangs. Addie blinked, then said to Brie, "Okay, we are." Still with the almost making sense. "The hell?" Dirk sputtered. "Stuff it, Dirk," Addie and Brie said together. He gave up and let us be. Addie looked at me. "So what about yesterday?" "I just wanted to say it was brave of you to bear witness to what happened." She nodded slowly. "Well, you did too," Brie said. I acknowledged the point, but went on, "And it will continue to require courage." "Meaning?" Brie asked. "Have you felt any pressure yet to, ah, modify your statements?" "No," Brie said at the same time Addie said, "Yes." Brie looked at her. "Not a threat... yet. More of a heavy hint." Brie frowned. I took a deep breath. "I can't do anything about threats, but if you need support, advice or just someone to be there for you or whatever, I'll do anything I can." I reached out to touch the nearest hand of each girl. Brie nodded, and then Addie, more slowly. I took my hands away. "One thing that would help is to document anything that happens in the way of threats -- as soon as you can, write it down, preferably pen and paper, exactly what was said, who said it, where, and the date and time." "Like for harassment," Addie said. "Exactly." "That's a good idea," Brie said. From across the cafeteria, I heard something like cheering mingled with shouts -- from the direction of where many of the Participants had been eating lunch. Should I be worried? "Anyway, I just wanted to say that," I said as I stood up. "Thanks," Brie said. Addie leaned toward me, and I bent down to hear. "Just to be clear, you are out, right? As in gay?" I nodded. "Well, one act of courage deserves another." Which made some of the above make a bit more sense. More cheers and razzing -- definitely over where we'd been sitting, and something to worry about. I waved goodbye, and headed that way. # Mike I reached the cafeteria line just as Teri, Jake, and Maria were leaving it with laden trays. Teri caught my eye and nodded toward the far wall, where they've been sitting. Excellent. I nodded and tacked myself onto the end of line. When I finally arrived, they'd left a space next to Teri free without a chair. Better and better. Jake was shaking his head at Teri. "Seriously, that's just not cool. I'll talk to the guys." "Thanks," she said, not very gruntled. "Anything that can help..." Maria said. "Toning down your hallway 'admirers'?" I asked Teri with air quotes. She snorted. "Ya want some?" "Not ALL of them," I said. "But if it'd help, sure." Maria gave me a look through narrowed eyes. "Okay, Mike, just how many requests HAVE you gotten?" I tried to keep the bitter out of my voice. "Outside of you guys? Three. And the one touch involved a tape-measure." Jake burst into laughter. Maria stared at me. Teri just shook her head: "What the fuck is wrong with this place?" "Apparently," I said, and this time let the bitter all hang out, "people have learned a little too well the lesson about not bothering the crip." I thumped my chair arm for emphasis. Jake realized what he'd been laughing at, and got a very odd look on his face. "That's just not cool," Gail suddenly said behind Maria. Nikki was with her again, and she also shook her head. "We'll get the word out," Gale told me. "You deserve to get SOMETHING out of this week." I managed to not look at Teri. I'd already gotten a lot. "Thanks. I think." Nikki leaned against Jake, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Gail leaned against her in turn -- making her clothed in a naked sandwich. For that, I couldn't avoid glancing at Teri. Eyebrows raised and a wry smile -- for me. "Whatever floats your boat," she whispered. Meaning the promise of requests, not the playing at a threesome. I shivered, as much from her implications as the chill air blowing in. As if that was her cue, Nikki said, "What's up with the heating system?" "Dunno," I said, "but it makes me want to head over to the couches, near the radiators. Those are going full steam ahead." This had to be Mr. Rezmirsky's worst day ever. I had no trouble not crying for him. "There she is," I heard someone say behind us -- a familiar voice. I glanced around: Craig Neilsen, captain of the wrestling team and reputed strongest boy the school has ever seen, looking this way and pissed. He and his friend Ricky Florez, our starting fullback and terror of defensive linemen throughout the state, had something of a bench press competition going, with Craig always winning. Speaking of whom, Ricky had a hand on Craig's chest, trying to talk him out of -- ulp! -- heading our way. Craig shrugged him off and headed toward us, trailed by a couple other jocks. No, he was heading toward Teri. Wait, Florez? I looked at Teri then back at Ricky -- his nose had the same strong profile, chiseled into handsomeness. Somehow I hadn't connected their last names -- hadn't realized she's his not-so-little sister. And he'd been hassling her in the halls Tuesday with Darrell and Mitchell? I'd thought better of him than that. If they had THAT bad a relationship, I guess I shouldn't be surprised about her attitude towards jocks. Craig stepped up behind Maria and loomed over me at Teri. "So you think you're strong, do you?" I was glad, despite the danger, to see my chair was finally working as a screen for her -- to get to her directly, he'd have to circle all the way around the empty table behind me. Not unless he had tried knocking me over deliberately, which no one had done since freshman year. Teri looked up, baffled. "What's it to you?" "Wrestle me." Teri gave him a look worthy of a thirteen-year-old girl with the stupidest parents in the world. It was even disgusted than mine. "Come on, Craig, give it up," Ricky muttered. "No, I'm serious," Craig said to her, "arm-wrestle me." "Yeah, right," Teri said like the most annoying thirteen-year-old girl in the universe. "Chicken, are you?" She rolled her eyes, and took another bite of Green Sauce Surprise. "No, she's NAKED," Gail said. "Sheesh!" Craig got a crafty look on his face. "All right then, I REQUEST that you arm-wrestle me." I let out an incredulous sound. "Okay, in what possible universe is that in ANY way related to the Program?" "It's reasonable!" he insisted. "It's not like I'm asking for a blowjob." Ricky made a brief face-palm. If I'd been in his shoes, I'd've made it a lot longer. But then, I've never liked Craig and so wouldn't have been there in the first place. Gail started arguing with Craig, but then Teri spoke up. "Fine. Let's do it." "Alright," Craig said, with that leering grin of his. I stared at her, incredulous, as she stood up. "What the heck?" "To get it over with," she told me, coming around to stand at the table behind me. I scootched myself around in place -- giving me a ringside seat, as it were. To Craig, Teri said, "On one condition: that you swear on your dick that we do this only once -- no do-overs. That means if you ask for a rematch, you are DISSING your own dick." I snorted -- okay, THAT was perfect. Gail and Nikki tittered. Ricky looked at his sister like she'd sprouted a second head. "Whatever," Craig said. "Like I'll need more than one try to crush you." "Teri, I don't..." Ricky started, but she pointed at Craig. "Say it out loud -- 'I swear on my dick' et cetera." He rolled his eyes -- and didn't do it nearly as well as she had. "I swear on my dick I won't ask for a rematch," and then a muttered word that was probably, but not provably, "bitch." Just for that, I hoped she had a chance against him. She seemed confident, but that could have been just screwing with his head. Not that he has much of one. Teri looked around at the audience -- no, at the jocks who'd come with him. "Can I get witnesses?" "I hear it," Ricky said, and other guys agreed with smiles. Gail spoke up, "If he asks for a rematch, he's a dickless wonder -- got it." "All the cheerleaders will spread the word if he does," Nikki agreed. Which, bizarrely, got one of the guys to sober up. But only one. The wrestlers sat down, and people crowded closer -- Ricky stood across the table from me. Maria leaned on my chair, behind my shoulder, and I set my brakes to leave my hands free. Teri stretched her right arm once, popping her shoulder joint, then set her elbow down, hand open and in position. "Any time, dude." Not, for her, a compliment. Heh. It took them a minute of jockeying to get in position. Ricky as referee held their clasped hands. "Ready?" They nodded, and Craig grinned like a feral dog facing an open chicken coop. "Set." Teri narrowed her eyes and somehow... solidified her entire body. I can't explain it -- it's like she locked herself in place. "Go!" Ricky jerked away his hands and they started to wrestle. Or rather, Craig did. While Craig grunted and groaned and strained, putting on a good show, Teri sat there, unmoving. Unblinking. Not without effort: her arm and shoulder bulged, making it clear her stockiness wasn't the fat it appeared to be but powerful muscles. But nothing Craig did made their hands move even a centimeter. I knew, from how easily she lifted me and carried Dana, that Teri's strong. Some people are like that -- their musculature just happens to be that much better than average. I hadn't realized, though, Teri was hiding THIS strength. She was awesome, this girl. "Get her, Craig!" one of the guys said softly, trying not to attract official attention. "You got her now!" -- "She's tiring out" -- "Go Teri!" (this from Gail) -- "You the man!" After a minute of this, Craig's grunting had gotten louder and sweat beaded on his forehead, despite the chilly draft. The calls got louder: "Come on, Craig!" -- "Whatcha waiting for?" -- "Do it already!" It was as if they couldn't tell what was really happening. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and said, "Teri, stop playing with him." Which momentarily quieted the guys. Then one said, "Shut the hell up." I ignored him and said to Teri, "What are you waiting for?" Without looking away or shifting her position, she said clearly, "For this bozo to prove he's taking this seriously." "Shut! Up!" Craig said through clenched teeth. "You taking this seriously?" "Yeah!" "Right then," Teri said. And then she moved. Slowly, smoothly, one centimeter at a time, she bent his hand backwards. It took work, obvious effort, but she was inexorably winning. It was incredible to watch. When his hand was a span above the table, Craig gasped and grabbed their hands with his other arm. "FOUL!" I cried out, and others echoed me, but Teri shouted, "No foul!" And then slammed his hand down. Whoa. For a moment, all were silent as she yanked her hand away and stood up. Then half the crowd started cheering. I hooted it up. She looked down at Craig. "On your dick," she said, punctuating each word with a jab of her finger. Sweat sheened over her entire body -- her powerful, sexy body. "You said you were serious." He snarled as he massaged his wrist, not looking at her. "Fuck!" he muttered, but nodded. She looked at the jocks behind her brother. "This was a one-time thing. You set your best wrestler on me and lost -- even with cheating. Deal with it." Then she looked down at her brother -- she was a handful of centimeters taller. Conversationally, so I could barely hear over the crowd, she said, "Are you going to tell Father, or do I?" My stomach dropped. I didn't know what was behind it, but I knew a threat when I heard it. But he took it calmly. "I will," he said. "I'll tell him I couldn't stop it." She nodded, watched the guys walk away with their collective tails between their legs, then sat back down to her lunch -- now thoroughly congealed. Which didn't seem a fair prize. I wanted to hug and kiss and slap her back hard. Instead, I reached out my right hand in a clasp. With a wry smile, she took it with the hand that had just won. And then we grinned at each other. # Teri Mr. White Horse arrived just as the crowd was breaking up -- of course. So much for keeping track of me in case of reprisals. I let Gail and Mike explain the foofarah. Halfway through, Dana popped up, peering around White Horse. It took her like half a second to grasp the sitch -- then she scooted around to my seat and crouched down, warm arm draped over my clammy shoulder. Then she took a second look at me, and handed me her towel. "You'll get chilled." I already was. I took it and wiped my sweat off as well as I could, given it's just a hand-towel. "Are you okay, Teri?" White Horse asked. "I was just fulfilling a reasonable request," I told him. "That's not..." he cut himself off. "He insisted it was reasonable." I kept my voice bland as I could. "Some people seem to have been taught a pretty elastic definition of that word." Mike snorted. "Sounds to me like some people need some re-education." I do like that boy's mouth. He knows how to take a line and run with it. "I'll say," White Horse said. "You sure you're okay?" "I'm fine. Really." Certainly a hell of a lot better than the remains of this so-called lunch. I think it had polymerized into a cousin of PVC. Yuck. The vice-principal shook his head and walked away muttering. I turned my head to look up at Dana -- not that standing she was that much taller than me seated, but I still shook my head. "Get a chair," I told her, pointing with my thumb at the one I'd wrestled in. She pulled it to the corner of the table, between me and Mike. She sat and studied me while I studied another forkful of plastic -- a POOR cousin of PVC, I decided. There was a disappointed look in her eyes. I couldn't blame her -- the adrenaline had worn off and I was starting to realize some of the implications. I looked at her. "What?" She shook her head. "I realize you didn't see any other way out." I shook my head in turn. "That WAS the way out. I had to do it, engage with him, before it escalated -- got violent. Violent again." I closed my eyes a moment. "It wasn't the way I wanted it to come out, how strong I am, but I couldn't think of better." To my surprise, that made Dana look thoughtful. "Not hiding your strength," she said, "probably would keep you from being bothered so much, but it's still though the implied threat of violence." Huh? Then I remembered: Quaker girl. She was probably a pacifist. She worked not through threats but by organizing social pressures. "But you're not scared of me." A statement, not a question. Dana chuckled. "That's what Vicky asked. No, silly. Anyone with eyes can see how carefully you move -- you're controlled." I'd worked at it long enough. I glanced at Mike, who shook his head. "You're too sexy to be scary." Which made no sense, but I let it pass -- otherwise I'd have to think about how it fluttered my belly. Had to be hunger. Speaking of which -- I turned back to Dana. "You eaten yet?" "Oh! No -- thanks," and she dug into her pack for her inevitable brown-bread sandwich. That girl. "Who were you talking with?" "Mm? Oh, Addie and Brie, from yesterday morning." The other two witnesses, I realized. "We had a nice chat about courage." Mike looked puzzled, but I nodded. I could see that -- it wouldn't surprise me if friends of the four dicks put down pressure to recant. I hadn't thought of that. "I think they have it," Dana added cryptically, and took another bite. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or shake my head. For all that she's a STEM wiz, she's also pretty a good social engineer -- not at all nerdy. Well, except maybe over the tech specs of digital recorders. I considered another bite of Faux PVC, and hazarded it. Wrong choice. The bell rang about the same time as I managed to finish my lunch, and Dana her bit of whole-grain-n-protein. Leaving the cafeteria, I noticed Dana was right about one thing -- not one jock approached me. They were giving me an even wider berth than when White Horse had escorted me. Better yet, on the way to class, I got not a single reasonable request. The only person to stop me was a short, slightly heavy girl in the company of a weedy boy who looked like he played too much Magic: The Gathering. She looked at me seriously and announced, "The 12 worlds have only 48 hells -- everyone knows that." It took me a couple moments to remember my offhand comment to Sam from, what, Tuesday? -- a few days ago, anyway. "I must have miscounted," I told her. She nodded, apparently satisfied, and they walked on. Ooo-kay then. When I walked into history, Mr. Crisantes looked up. "Check your messages." Huh? I opened my tablet and found an order to report to Vice-Principal Jackson at the start of fourth period. Like, immediately. Ugh -- probably more fallout from yesterday. Well, at least I could almost afford to skip this class. I headed down. The hallways actually got warm as I neared the main office -- something was definitely up with the heating system. Jackson was waiting for me at the counter. "Nice of you to join us." I was getting soft: I actually felt the need to defend myself. "I just got the notice." She nodded and ushered me into the smaller conference room, which was even hotter than the outer office. Inside, Skinner and a silver-haired guy in an athletic windbreaker were chatting. What the..? Jackson sat down next to windbreaker-guy and gestured me to an empty chair across from her. She and Skinner both wore shirt sleeves, and Skinner had loosened his tie. Everyone looked uncomfortably hot. The heat was the only part of this that felt nice, though. Jackson said, "Principal Skinner is sitting in on this meeting strictly as an observer -- this is between you, me, and Coach Delgado. Got that?" If it was just her and Skinner, this would for sure be about yesterday, thanks to Father's visit. But what did this Delgado geezer have to do with anything? I nodded and sat down. Jackson went on, "This morning, you had a second-period appointment with Coach Delgado that you failed to keep." Okay, that threw me. I blinked. I'd all but forgotten this. "That was for real? I thought it'd been sent to the wrong person." Delgado frowned, but it was Skinner who spoke up: "You didn't think he might have wanted to apologize?" Jackson cleared her throat loudly while pointedly not looking at her boss. Apologize? Now I was completely the fuck confused. Despite Jackson's hint, I answered him anyway. "I should assume that a completely blank appointment sent at the last minute by some guy I've never heard of, taking me away from my hardest class, is an apology -- why?" Except, no, wait -- I had heard that name. Skinner mentioned Delgado to Father: the coach pleading for leniency for yesterday's assholes. What the fuck? Jackson turned to stare at Delgado. "COMPLETELY blank? Seriously?" Delgado grimaced. "I'm not much for written words." Then he looked at me. "You don't know who I am?" "I have never heard of you before today." I shrugged. "You weren't my gym teacher." He frowned. "Everyone in freshman P.E. gets a week on the gym equipment under me." "That was the week I had my tonsils out," I said. Coach Adams, who'd already written me off as unathletic for my slow running, told me not to bother with making it up. Since I knew all the machines at the rec center, I hadn't bothered to fight it. "Right," Jackson said. "Ms Florez, next time you think you've been sent something in error, it would be helpful if you replied to sender to point this out." It would be -- if I bothered to. I nodded. To Delgado, she said, "Given the circumstances, I fail to see any reason to actually discipline Ms Florez -- unless there's more?" He nodded. "Well, now that she's here, we can get on with our appointment." Which had to be the REAL reason I'd been called down here. Or rather, why he'd used HER to pry me out of class. Jackson narrowed her eyes -- I got the feeling she didn't like being used as a crowbar. But then she nodded and leaned back in her chair, watching us closely, as Delgado leaned forward. "Florez, what's your best clean-and-jerk?" Excuse me? "Answer the question," Skinner said, firmly blowing away the fiction that he wasn't really part of this. I told him. He smiled as if pleased with himself. "Excellent! -- that's collegiate-level for your weight class, let alone youth division. Might even be a record. I'd heard rumors of a young woman who lifts with the big boys at the downtown rec-center, with an eye-popping clean-and-jerk. I had no idea she'd be a student here at Bridger." "And -- so?" I barely hid my anger. What I do weekends is fucking mine -- nothing to do with school. "Your brother and sister are strong, too -- must be something in your genes -- but they don't have what it takes for competitive lifting. Bud says you do." I was going to have some serious words with Bud, Saturday morning. But first, I was more than seriously pissed off at this fucker -- I was reaching the solid- ice level of rage. "What's your point here?" "The point is," he said excitedly, "we can get you into the athletic program here, get you some real training -- get your snatch up to snuff, too. With our help, I'm sure we can get you to nationals, maybe even Olympics." I had no words. I don't even. Skinner added, "This is a special offer -- it's not a sport we normally cover here. An exciting opportunity for you." Delgado went on, "I was going to do it second period, but come by after school and we'll do a full evaluation." I finally found my tongue. "Fuck. That. Shit." "Florez!" Skinner barked. "Language," Jackson added mildly -- and not the pleasant sort of mild. I stood up -- the roller chair clattered against the wall behind me, then knocked into the back of my knees. I looked at her. "You want to know why everyone KNOWS no one here matters but jocks? Right there -- this prick doesn't give a flying fuck how his players treats a faceless mundane. He's even lobbying to get the first four off, even while Craig Neilsen comes after me. But find out I might be useful to his Olympic dreams, and he's all over THAT -- as if none of the rest happened. And he thought I'd be GRATEFUL?" I looked at Skinner. "'Apologize' my flaming ass." Delgado gripped his chair arms, jaw working. "What," Jackson said flatly, "did Neilsen do?" "Insisted that it's a 'reasonable' Program request to arm-wrestle me." Skinner actually face-palmed. "Please don't tell me you agreed," Jackson said, voice just as flat. "Okay then, I won't." Skinner's eyes went wide. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" Gee thanks for the vote of confidence. "I'm too fucking pissed off to be hurt." "I don't blame you," growled Jackson. "Young lady," Delgado started. "Richard," Skinner said. "Leave it." Delgado stood up, still looking me. "I will NOT be disrespected." "Given the way you've treated her," Jackson said, "I can't say I blame her. Setting Neilsen on her." He waved that aside. "That was not my doing." I snorted. "Oh, like being ineffectual is SO much better a defense." "I think this meeting is over," Skinner said firmly. "Damn straight it is," Delgado said. He gave us all a disgusted look and stalked out, leaving behind the sweat-activated scent of his cologne. Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're done here, right?" I managed in an almost level voice. "Needless to say," Jackson said, "this goes nowhere -- is that understood?" My turn for the disgusted look. "Like I'd find anyone with a twisted enough sense of humor to appreciate it." Skinner made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement. He looked up at me. "Get back to class. Just -- get out of here." Gladly. I was almost out the door when I remembered -- I turned back. "Hall pass?" Jackson made an expression that looked suspiciously like an eye-roll. Without looking at me, she turned on her tablet. "Got it, now git." I got. I waited five seconds in the main office for the pass to show up on my tablet, then left skid marks. The hallway was a little cooler than the main office, and the main lobby cooler still -- drafts of actual cold air from the main doors made it almost comfortable. Around the corner, out of sight of the office, I leaned against the wall. What... The... Fuckity... Fuck? "Opportunity"? Like he thought I'd WANT it? Like -- Like he thought it might work as a bribe. It took a minute to pull myself together, at least to the point I stopped trembling. Two heavy adrenaline jags in an hour are not my idea of fun. When I thought I could keep my voice steady, I dug through my pack for my phone -- fucking naked means no fucking pockets. I looked at it a moment, took a deep breath, and dialed Father. # Dana Rain started clattering against the windows halfway through physics. By the end of class, it had turned to icy sleet -- and my teeth were chattering. The air from the vents was colder than ever. "Apparently," Dr. Liu commented wryly, "the arctic front pushed south faster than the weather critters expected." Not a comforting thought. At the end of class, Greg turned to me. "I request that you let me and Souxie walked with you huddled between us, to your next class." An offer of their body heat. "Sure!" And you know, it did help -- I was shivering a lot less, especially with Souxie chaffing the skin on my back like that. Takamiya took one look at me and Mike, and shook her head. "Nope -- out." She started tapping the screen of her teacher's station. "I'm sending you to study hall -- go find an actually warm room and answer the third question at the end of chapter two." "What about us?" Gabrielle called out. She was shivering in a spaghetti-strap top and short skirt. "YOU had the chance to dress for the coming storm," Takamiya said. "THEY have no choice." Then to us, "Go!" With an apologetic shrug to Gabrielle, I followed Mike out. In the hall, he asked, "Is Teri in one of the warm classes?" "She's got Spanish with, uh, Toussaint. Which are the warm ones?" As far as I knew, they were all cold. He spun around to head left down the hall -- I had to hurry to keep up. "I just came from there -- not at all warm. Rooms with radiators are overheated, but that's better than fridge vents." Radiators? I thought a moment. Oh -- in the original school building, before they built out the Quad. Old parts still had the original steam system, while the newer rooms had more efficient vents. A third of the way around the Quad, Mike flashed a key card at a door, and let us into what I'd assumed was a janitorial closet. Inside were utility shelves piled with various equipment, mostly AV supplies and in the far wall was the door to a freight elevator, the one I hadn't known about. The lack of venting meant the place smelled dusty but was close to room temperature. Mike pressed the Up button, and it opened immediately. Upstairs, we reversed course to the room directly above history. Mike wheeled to a stop in front of the door. "How's your fast-talk skill?" 'Skill'? I told him, "I'm a horrible liar." "Right," he said. He moved forward, and I jumped ahead to get the door for him. The entire class stared at us, most of them hunched over -- including Teri, in the back row as usual. Ms Toussaint said, "¿Sí?" "Por favor, Señora," Mike said, and then spoke rapidly in Spanish -- the only word I caught was "Programa." Toussaint frowned, but in the end nodded and gestured Teri up. A brief exchange and another notation at a teacher's station, and she was released into our custody. "Thanks guys," Teri said as we walked away, heading back to the elevator. "But Nana would be ashamed of me -- I caught only about half of that." Mike affected nonchalance. "It's been recommended that Program Participants be sent to study hall so they can stay warm." "It has?" "By our history teacher," I told her. "Heh," Teri said. "So where are we going -- the library?" I shook my head. "That's in a new wing." All those glass walls made THAT clear enough. And while it'd be warm, yesterday's storage room was out: other things would happen again. Mike let us into the elevator vestibule -- which like the first floor's was a storage room, here for old desks and worn chairs. Teri looked around. "Man, study hall's gone downhill." "Yeah, those budget cuts really sucked," Mike said as he pressed the single button. Below us, something clanked in the shaft. Why hadn't the elevator stayed here? "Seriously, though," Teri said. "Where to?" "There's radiators in the Commons," Mike pointed out. Good idea. "We can push a couch over to one, if we need to," I said. "Well, you can," Mike said -- but he was smiling. The elevator door opened. "Oh *I* get it," Teri said as we got on. "Make the big girl do all the work." She kept a straight face, but I could tell she was just teasing. In the end, though, we didn't have to move a thing -- someone already had, during lunch. We huddled together, Teri in the middle, her arms around Mike and I, facing our sputtering source of warmth. Gusts of precipitation rattled the pyramidal skylights behind us, and every once in a while, one of the radiators went "poot!" Mike and I had our tablets out. At Teri's dubious look, Mike said, "It's study hall. We should at least look like we're studying." She grumbled but retrieved hers, leaving it closed on her lap. I preferred her arm around me, anyway. And myself tucked up against her. After a couple minutes of warming ourselves (and just maybe getting a bit interested in getting a little warmer, if you know what I mean) Teri asked me, "So why didn't you ask for relief in chemistry? I mean, the way you looked, after doing Mike in math, I thought you were pretty turned on." "I was," I admitted. "Two reasons. It was too chilly to stay turned on, and because it looked like you weren't interested in giving me relief -- and I didn't want it with anyone else." She made a rumbly sort of grunt. "I'd been planning to offer to help you, but you looked like YOU weren't interested. I thought maybe it had something to do with Vicky." "So you're saying this is one of those 'If only they had just talked' moments," I said quietly. "Yeah." "Face it, Teri," Mike said, "you aren't always the easiest person to read." "So you're saying this is one of those things we'll have to work on," she said. "If -- yanno." If we did anything more together. I looked up at Teri's face: she was gazing at the radiator. It had, I thought, taken a lot of courage to admit the possibility. I reached awkwardly across her belly and hugged her, briefly. Her arm squeezed my shoulders, briefly. "So, yeah, communication," I said. "From everything I've heard, the two most important things, in a non-normative relationship without social structures backing it up, are really the flip sides of the same coin: honesty and trust." Mike nodded. "Without honesty, it's hard to trust." "Exactly," I said. "You need Clarity." Teri looked down at me. "Why did I hear you say that with a capital letter?" "Heh," I said. "It's a Quaker technical term. Means more or less what you think, though in context it can also imply testing your understanding against the Spirit of God that is within us all." "And just how much have you heard about 'non-normative' relationships?" Mike asked. "Let me guess," Teri said, "you've already been researching this." In reply, I picked up my tablet and brought up the files. "It's just preliminary stuff," I told them. "Most of what's out there, at least at the 101 level, is about polyamory in general, but I found a couple articles with advice specifically for triads and Vs that SOUNDS reasonable, as best as I can tell with limited experience." "You seriously have," Teri said flatly. "Hey," Mike told her, "she waited till we asked before pushing it onto us." "Mmm. True." "No pressure to read any of this," I told her. "I'm sending these on in case you find something in them useful." "Thanks," Mike said. Teri frowned a moment, then squeezed my shoulder again - - another apology and thanks. Then after another moment, "Triads and Vs?" "A triad is three people, everyone in a relationship with both the others." "So a menage-a-trios?" she said. "Only without necessarily living together," Mike said. She stuck out her tongue at him. "A complete three-way relationship," I clarified. I omitted for moment the concept of a primary couple as a second-order complication. "A V is two people in a relationship with a third, but not each other." "So the classic love triangle," Mike said, "only without the apex choosing." Teri nodded slowly, as if the concepts themselves were revelations. "Got it." I looked up at her a moment, had she, maybe, been thinking of us as needing to choose which two went out? Instead of all three together? If so, she DEFINITELY needed time to think, to come to terms with the possibilities. Which made me glad I skipped the 'primary' issue. My instinct was for full equality, anyway. "We don't have to decide anything now," I said, looking between them. "This thing, whatever we have, is going to grow and change -- even if it's just to drop everything after we put our clothes back on, tomorrow afternoon." I swallowed, throat suddenly tight. Then I whispered, "Though that's not what I'd like." Mike nodded slowly, then glanced up at Teri. "Nor I. If we can make it work." "I don't know what I want, yet," Teri said, gazing at the radiator. "Though I'm open to maybes." She chewed her lower lip a moment. "And I'd rather not lose you two." Which was enough of an admission that it called for a group hug. A good long one. We didn't loosen up till we heard footsteps echoing through the Commons. We sat up and turned to look behind us -- Mr. White Horse was crossing the diagonal. He saw us, and turned our way. I quickly closed down the articles, and Mike and Teri opened their tablets. "What are you doing here?" he called out. "Study hall," Mike answered as I held up my tablet with my reassignment on-screen, "in a hall with actual warmth." He came up and glanced at my tablet. "What are you working on?" "We have algebra together," I said. Mike added, "And she's saving our butts." White Horse took another look at me again. "Ms Partlow, is it? Well, it was a good idea to send you down here. I'll talk to Alverez about getting all the Program Participants in cold classrooms sent here, next period. What do you have then?" Mike nodded at Teri. "We're in creative writing with Wylie." White Horse nodded. "Just stay put." He looked to me. "HHS," I admitted. "Gym wing, the heat's working," he said cheerfully. "Off to class for you, young lady." I nodded. Not that I wanted to move. Stretch my legs, maybe, but I liked cuddling with Teri. He added, "I'll find out where the others are, and work it out." I said, "Jake and Gail are in P.E. and Marshall has jazz band, so they should be okay, but Maria and Chip are in cold country." White Horse looked at me an unreadable moment, then said, "Okay then. Thanks. And take care, you guys." We waved him off, and settled in for a last few minutes of cuddling. When he was far enough to not hear, Teri murmured, "I'm almost surprised you didn't think to arrange this for the others." "I was waiting for end of the period," I admitted, tapping my tablet, "when the embargo on messages lifts." "Huh?" Mike leaned forward to look around Teri. "To Alverez? Message to him should go through anytime." "Uh," I said, then closed my eyes. "Stupid." I looked at him. "I was thinking messages to Maria and Chip, suggesting they ask to be released." Teri snorted. "Organizing from below really is reflexive for you." "Well, it's my training, but yeah. Speaking of organizing, study-group this afternoon?" "Considering what we've missed, I'd love to," Mike said. "Yeah," Teri said. "But I have to say, I'd really like it if we studied somewhere with a NORMAL heating system." "Like one of our homes," I suggested. "Though my place isn't remotely accessible." Teri glanced at Mike's wheelchair. "Uh... hmm. Well, except for front stairs, our first floor should be okay. My room's two flights up, though." "My place?" Mike said. "Except, well. Thing is, I don't want to lose track of time: I've got PT at 4." Still? His accident had been nearly five years ago, the same night his mother died in a separate car crash -- I'd found the newspaper articles online. Teri nodded. "Getting distracted just might be a problem no matter where we meet, if it's private." Mmm -- distracted. That word had a nice sound, right then. "There's the Program Office for, say, a half hour," I finally offered. "Ick," Teri said. "Warm," Mike countered. After a moment, Teri said, "Fine." The bell rang. I sighed but didn't move. "And after," Mike said, "I can give you guys a ride home, 'specially if the storm's still going." "You drive?" Teri said. "Licensed to run over curbs and knock down mailboxes, that's me." I shook my head sadly. "My bike." "No prob -- the van's got room." "Van? Cool," Teri said, surprised and pleased. "Thanks," I told him. I still didn't get up. Eventually, Mike said to me, "You'll be late." I sighed again, and finally stirred. Bag packed, I gave each of them a quick hug, and headed the direction White Horse had gone. "Wrong way," Mike called out, pointing to the other end of the Commons. I checked my mental map -- he was right. "Thanks," I said. And as I passed them, I gave each a kiss on the cheek. # Teri My cheek tingled for several heartbeats after the sound of her footsteps had faded away. Mike's cock, which had softened slightly if not actually gone flaccid, was hard again. Our radiator coughed twice, then pooted again. I cleared my throat. "She did say, when she knows what she wants, she goes for it directly." Mike chuckled. "She did." After a moment, "Will that be a problem?" I shook my head -- I didn't know. Chip wandered in, gave us a nod, and pushed a chair over to another radiator and walled himself away inside his headphones. To change the subject, I said, "Just so you know, I'd been planning on giving you relief sixth period." "Dana in the morning, you in the afternoon?" "Something like that." I pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Not going to happen, though -- not here." "Fair enough." "Chilly enough." Even with the radiator, there was enough of a draft from behind us to make cuddling naked for warmth a lot less sexy than you might think. After a moment, Mike started reciting: "Some say the world will end in fire, Some say in ice. From what I've tasted of desire I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate To say that for destruction ice Is also great And would suffice." I glanced down at the top of his head. Really -- poetry? But then again, for both assignments in creative writing, he'd turned in poems. Hidden depths. Or even, not so hidden. I really needed to start pay the fucking attention to people. Instead of just assuming I know everything at first glance. Besides, Frost had a point. I cuddled him closer to me. This boy who didn't act like a pussyhound yet seemed to want me and Dana equally. And who also seemed to like it when we two got it on. I wanted to ask him about this, but had no idea how. More footsteps, from down the room -- Maria. "Hey, guys." "Hey." "Feel free to join us," Mike added. She shivered as she sat down, further away from me than Dana had been. Well, she could hardly have been CLOSER than Dana had. That girl does know how to curl tight into a body. "If you want to get warmer," I said to her, lifting my arm. "Um, that's okay," she said. "Though I wouldn't turn down cuddling with Mike." I wasn't sure whether that meant she was scared of me or scared of Teh Gay. Well, whatever. It wasn't like I was looking for another girlfriend. POTENTIAL girlfriend. I mentally shook my head. We shifted down, so Mike sat in the center. With his weak legs and being a little shorter than me, my leaning against him was actually more awkward, but we still got the benefit of each other's warmth. "What are you not in now?" Mike asked Maria. "English -- Alighieri gave me some extra reading to, ah, keep me from getting bored." He nodded. "I have her first period." This was actually getting annoying -- which was also annoying. It was like I didn't mind sharing Mike with Dana, but didn't want to share with another girl. Almost as much as I didn't want to chose between them. And if Dana was right, maybe I didn't have to. Except -- Enough. I tapped my tablet awake, and found our neglected math homework. "Shall we get back to it?" I asked him. "Yeah," he sighed. To Maria, he explained, "We're in algebra together." "With Dana, right? Cool." He nodded, and brought up the assignment plus Dana's explanation of yesterday's notes -- not a bad idea. We worked at it steadily, despite everything I wanted to ask him -- and do with him -- and by the end of school we'd gotten through half our homework problems. Dana's notes helped with the concepts, but not so much the actual work. When the bell rang, we stretched, saddled Mike up, and headed out to meet our girl. Our POTENTIAL girl, I reminded myself. # Mike Ah, study-group. On the one hand, algebra went a lot quicker with Dana there to explain it. On the other hand, the Program Office itself is not a great place to study. Or talk. Or when it comes down to it, even to strip and get dressed again -- though somehow we made it work for that. (I had to wonder what it was like mid- winter, with the door opening and closing all the time. I guess no one undresses till everyone's inside?) Despite the distractions of dressings and departures, Dana kept it brisk and in less time than I expected, we finished tonight's homework. Reviewing yesterday's materials could wait, by common consent: it was time to leave -- as in leave well enough alone. Or something like that. We dressed and headed out, and discovered actual snow on the ground in mid-September. Not much, just a few centimeters on the grass and dirt, and it'd barely stuck on pavement. It still made the ramp annoying to navigate. The drizzle slanting down in the wind didn't help. Dana clasped her sweater-clad arms and stamped on the sidewalk. "I hate cold rain. Gah." "Then let's get this show on the road," I said, and led them to my van. Teri stopped still and stared. "What the hell color is that?" I grinned and opened the side door. "We think it was originally midnight green, but it's been touched up enough we're honestly not sure." "How can I help?" Dana asked me quietly. "Oh, it's been touched up, all right," Teri countered. "Even the patches have patches." I pulled myself into the van, and asked Dana for the pack from the back of my chair. Teri stepped forward to help. I showed them the chair's latches, and once I pulled myself into the driver's seat, together they folded and secured it in the open back. "No lift?" Teri asked as she climbed into the passenger seat. Dana slammed the side door and settled into the lone rear seat, behind me. "No lift -- came with the hand controls for paraplegic driving, though." With the levers on the brake and gas pedals placed so Dad could also drive. I started the engine and set the vents to full blast, highest heat. Dana directed me around the school to the theater entrance, where her bike was parked. She hefted it into the back just in time before the next round of heavier rain. "Where to, ladies?" I said over the rattle on the metal roof. They gave me their addresses. Dana first, I thought -- she lived the furthest out of all of us, on the bluffs north of town, while Teri's place was not far from PT. The streets were pretty much clear, what with traffic and the rain, but I still drove carefully. Hardly anyone had snow tires yet and the salt trucks weren't in evidence. Dana's house sat, or rather sprawled, on a large plot covered with piñon and juniper, plus one old ash tree, but it'd take hella work to make it wheelchair-friendly: at one point it had been a basic split-level ranch, but a series of additions had crept up the hill, turning it crazy-multi-level. "There's a couple steps between every single room," she explained. "Funky," I said. "Mom describes it as 'very 1970s'." Teri glanced at me. "Not the best place for you to visit." She was starting to see some of the implications of being wheelbound. "Yeah," Dana said, then to me, "I'm really sorry!" She sounded genuinely distressed. I turned around as far as I could in the driver's seat to look at her. "It's. Oh. Kay," I said. "Really. Just because I've made the lifestyle decision to give up stairs doesn't mean the whole world has to." Teri snorted, then said, "But I see her point. My place isn't this bad, but it still won't be easy for you." "Things work out," I said. If we really want to work them, anyway. I really did not want to give these guys any excuse to give up on me -- especially for my own supposed convenience. "Thanks for the ride." Dana gave me a quick hug, then Teri, and lugged her bike out into the rain. She hurried it up the walk and around the corner to a half-hidden covered patio. "It's just as funky as her," Teri murmured. She had a point. Teri lived in the old town, two blocks from the downtown shopping/tourist district. You could tell it's old by the elms and cottonwoods lining the street and how the houses all had second floors. Hers turned out to be an actual Victorian house, with dormers in the attic. It was probably worth more than Dana's and my houses put together -- maybe even as much as one of the mcmansion estates across the river. Should be a lot more interesting to live in than one of those, though -- at least if you have the legs for the half-dozen stairs to the front porch. "Nice," I said as sincerely as I could. "Built by a partner of the original silver mine, for his wife from back east -- Boston, I think." She looked at me for a few moments. Finally, I said, "Buck up -- just one more day to get through." It was the best I can think of. "Oddly enough, that's not what's biggest on my mind." She opened the door and climbed down. "And even odder, I'm actually feeling optimistic about that, too. Thanks for the ride." Meaning about what was up with the three of us? Before I could respond, she slammed the door and power-walked through the rain up to the front door. I swallowed. Oddly enough, that made me optimistic about us, too. # Dana Once I'd warmed myself up with a good pot of herbal tea, I called Aunt Kira -- which was well after work for her, because of the whole east-coast time difference thing. She's been something of a mentor to me, ever since I realized I'm queer, and our trip out to Massachusetts when she married her wife was pure awesome sauce -- meeting so many accepting lesbians in one place. Plus, of course, the beautiful wedding itself. I'd texted her after breaking up with Tara, but I hadn't yet talked with her about it. It was a really good phone call -- Kira was sympathetic and critical in all the right places, both about my ex and the Program. This wasn't the only reason I called, though. When we got to a good place to change the subject, I said, "I don't know if you have any experience with this, but do you have any advice for three people who are considering entering a relationship with each other?" A pause. "I take it this is not a hypothetical question?" "No, it's not." "From your wording, I assume it's not a couple plus a third. That's what it was for me -- I once dated a woman who was married to a straight guy. Lasted a year or so, till they decided they wanted children." I hadn't heard THIS story. "Not like that, no. No prior relationships between us." "Ah. Well, I've known a few triads, but never asked for details. Hmm. Well, there's the obvious: Don't rush it." Definitely not. "We're taking it slow -- feeling our way." "Good. Is this shaping into someone seeing the other two or all three together?" "Well, so far, we've only gotten together as a threeway." "Taking it slow, she says." I could all but hear her shaking her head. "So this is just a suggestion, but you might want make sure that all three constituent couples are also healthy." I nodded, though of course she couldn't see that. I walked through reasoning aloud: "To make sure both that each pair is bonded and that there's no problems for the third person -- jealousy or whatever." "That too." A slight pause. "Between that and the reminder to always listen to the Inner Light, I don't have very much." "That's a lot of help, though. Thank you." Another pause. "So do I get to hear about this threesome, then?" I giggled. Down in the front of the house, Mom called out, "I'm home!" "You do," I told Aunt Kira, "but not now. Mom's here and I have to go cook dinner." "Put Helen on, then, while you twiddle your magic fingers at the stove." I giggled again and handed Mom my phone -- though I felt some momentary trepidation. As one does. Even if I was pretty sure Kira wouldn't repeat what we talked about. Pretty much sure. For dinner, I made flat noodles in a mushroom-cream sauce with a side of edamame goulash. Mom praised it, even while teasing me about cooking 'shrooms again -- I'd forgotten the spaghetti from two days ago. Tuesday seemed so very long ago, at that point. After dinner, I worked through another round of messages about possible volunteer escorts for Participants. Enough people were expressing interest, it looked time to set up an organizational meeting this weekend at the local AFSC office -- Michael Harmon offered the space, without my asking. I'd just finished sending out the announcement and was about to start on, yanno, my actual homework when Dad called. He can have the worst timing, sometimes. "Hey, Pumpkin. Just wanted to let you know that Sally and I are engaged." Sally? "You mean Selma?" "Oh, we broke up last week -- she, uh, found out about me and Sally." If I needed another reminder not to rush into another relationship so soon after Tara, it would be the idea of acting even just a little like my father. Not that I'd been the one cheating. "Um, congrats?" I managed to say. "So I was wondering when you could come out to meet her -- when's your fall break?" "Thanksgiving, but I think we're visiting Gram." "I'll talk with Helen." Apparently thinking, despite all past history, that it would make Mom MORE likely to send me to him. "Are you still playing around with that girl -- what's her name, Tara?" I gritted my teeth. "No -- we broke up." "Well, don't limit yourself. You may find as you grow up that you like boys after all." "Dad," I said as patiently as I could, "I've always known I'm bisexual." "Just saying." Which seems to be his way of excusing having said something offensive. He was going to be insufferable when he found out about Teri and Mike, I just knew it. Maybe I could at least keep them from ever, ever meeting him. "Anyway, talk to you next week." He always said that, though he'd never called me more than once a month. Which was, sometimes, way too often. We hung up, and I stared at my phone. After that, I REALLY wanted to talk with Mike and/or Teri. Why hadn't we traded phone numbers yet? Probably because, with no pockets, our phones were never in easy reach. Stupid Program. Well, whatever. I turned to my tablet and the homework I felt less like doing than ever. # Teri Father came home just before for dinner and took me aside. Something about his expression, looking almost harried, prompted me to actually speak first. "Do the heating guys also report to you?" A thin smile. "Indeed. Though today, it was again a problem for the sysadmins -- apparently the emergency security patch to the electrical control systems was not as thoroughly tested as our vendors claimed. The issue was finally isolated and the patch rolled back just after school ended." The clean-up from the lighting problems borked something else? Figures. I shook my head. "But regardless of that, I think you should know that Skinner also called about your little meeting with Delgado. Jackson reported it up, too, though to the superintendent instead of me. Skinner's take, for what it's worth, was the athletic department had so clearly overstepped themselves that this could be used to finally reign them in." What, as if that whole farce had been entirely Delgado's idea? "Is he for real?" Father turned up his hand. "Who can say? You don't stay in his position for more than a decade without knowing how to play politics. He has complained before, quietly, about the power sports have in our district, but whether because of the effect this has on other students or that it undermines his own authority, I won't presume to guess." I thought about that a moment. "He thinks Dana Partlow is undermining his authority. A freshman." Raised eyebrow. "The right freshman, with the right lever, can move mountains." I nodded. And Dana's lever was getting people to work together. It even worked with me. "But speaking of levers, any ill-effects from arm- wrestling?" Apparently Ricky had indeed reached him earlier. "No, sir" I flexed my arm and shoulder. "Feels pretty good, actually." "I understand Neilsen is also reporting no injuries, other than those to his pride -- which is just as well. Injuring a state champion looking to repeat would not be looked upon kindly, regardless of who started it." As opposed to how I'm already looked upon? "Regarding the other wrestlers, the DA in charge has indicated, privately, that she doesn't think she can make anything more serious than misdemeanor assault stick, and only for the two who actually laid hands on you." Meaning what? I acted too quickly and fought them off too well? "What do I need to do?" I growled. He nodded, pleased. "Next week, probably Monday or Tuesday, you and the other witnesses will be formally deposed. Depending on how the boys' lawyers feel about it, the two may plead guilty in return for a lighter sentence -- especially if this will let them return to wrestling." Bastards. I tried to control my breathing. "Is there any way to make them not get away with just a slap on the wrist?" He smiled, not a nice smile. "We shall do our best to make sure it is not. You have my word on it." I nodded. Just as he made us hold to our word, he held to his. I was pretty sure I could trust him, here. "Yes, sir." This time, I got to stay silent through dinner: SOP ruled again. Well, not counting Father's talking with me beforehand. Or at all. Anyway, conversation was pretty much monopolized by strategizing Ricky's football game tomorrow night, with some transitory attention spared for Sam's Saturday basketball game. Football was, I gathered, even more of a Big Game than usual: at home against the school who'd beat them for the state championship last year. After dinner, I had homework for desert -- including the extra helping of Spanish I'd gotten for the privilege of escaping into study hall. A half-hour of poking at it later, I decided it'd been long enough since eating to work out. I was changing into sweats when someone knocked on my bedroom door. What, again? "One sec," I called out. The door opened anyway while I was still pulling a t- shirt over my head. "Whoops," Ricky said as I tugged it down. I glared at him. "What part of 'one sec' don't you understand?" He held up his hands. "Sorry -- I'm used to locker- rooms." Which was an actual sincere apology. From my brother, wonder of wonders. "In case you hadn't noticed, this isn't the boys' locker-room." "No, it -- whoa." His eyes widened as he took in my equipment. "What, are you hiding a gym up here?" Not hardly -- why else would I go to the rec center on weekends? I just have some free weights, an adjustable bench, chin-up bar, a few other things. He pointed at my pile of weights. "How the heck do you keep that from falling through the floor?" "The beams in this place are, like, as thick as your head." I'm careful to stack the heavy stuff only on top of those, and never, ever drop anything. One advantage of living in a really old house. "Anyway, what do you want?" "Oh, right." He took a moment to gather his thoughts, then looked at me -- I couldn't read his expression. "I told Father about Craig, and how I couldn't stop him." He shook his head. "Did you hear what happened this afternoon?" There was more? I raised my eyebrows. "Craig stormed into the locker-room and started trash- talking you, trying to talk up getting back, how the wrestling team wasn't going to stand for this. Then Coach Delgado blew HIS lid, and slapped him down for not taking his loss like a man -- after being so stupid as to tangle with you in the first place. Apparently, Craig wasn't even thinking about how it looked, given his teammates are under criminal investigation -- for him, it was entirely about the idea that someone might be stronger than he is. He thought you were showing off, carrying that girl like that." I made a face at the stupidity. "Yeah," he agreed. Then he took a deep breath and looked at my weights again. "And you know, listening to some of the guys? -- they were getting worked up at the idea that someone not in the athletic program was disrespecting them, just by being better than them." I waited for the other mental shoe to drop. He looked at me. "But it's not disrespect, is it? You just want to do your own thing." Wonder of wonders again: he actually got it. Part of it. "Right." He hesitated. "Word is, you turned down the chance to train with Delgado." I nodded warily. "Why?" he asked. I resisted throwing something at him -- the closest object at hand was my desk chair and I didn't want to break it. Besides, he was beginning to show signs of being trainable, possibly even glimmers of intelligence. "You mean, aside from how he's trying to get your four friends off the hook for attacking me?" He nodded. "Right -- I mean, aside from that, why not? If you switched to the athletic track, you'd finally get some respect -- make a name for yourself at school." I closed my eyes and counted to ten. So close, after getting the disrespect thing. "Ask yourself this: why should I have to do that instead of being respected for being myself?" Complete bafflement. "Out," I said, pointing at the door. "I got iron to pump." He shook his head, but got the hint and left without saying anything. I had to take a couple deep breaths to center, before starting. I took it light -- after Mother left my room last night, I'd pushed it a bit. It was good, after today's arm-wrestling, to see my curls and pull-ups were as smooth as ever, if not more so. After clearing my brain with endorphins, I sat down to a chat request from a handle I'd never seen before. danapartlow12: Teri Florez, is that you? I stared at the screen. My Dana? Seriously? danapartlow12: Hello? teristarr2001: yeah its me teristarr2001: whats up? danapartlow12: *\o/* danapartlow12: I found you! danapartlow12: Had a bad call with Dad and was looking for a friend teristarr2001: ugh fathers teristarr2001: what happened? danapartlow12: He's engaged again danapartlow12: Wants me to fly out to meet her teristarr2001: that sucks teristarr2001: fly out where? danapartlow12: San Diego teristarr2001: dont want to go? danapartlow12: I didn't like my last two stepmoms danapartlow12: Which is unfair of me, I know - she isn't them danapartlow12: But he still cheated on his prior girlfriend with her teristarr2001: sounds like theyre both jerks danapartlow12: I don't know anything about her, but Dad? danapartlow12: Yeah, he can be a jerk We chatted a bit longer. I think she mostly just wanted to whine a little. I could relate -- Zoe and Cal are there for me, as a screen of messages about the Program proved, ditto us when Cal whinges over her string of bad boyfriends. But it was a totally new side of Dana, one I hadn't seen before. I hadn't even known her parents were divorced. Only after we signed off did I wonder -- how the hell did Dana find my handle? It's not linked to my school record -- I make damn sure of that, believe me. I wasn't sure whether to be amazed or annoyed at her mad hacking skillz. Mostly annoyed, I decided. But the reminder of her and Mike got me to thinking about that half-story I had, the one that needed to climax (so to speak) with a real threesome. After sitting on it a day, I thought I knew how to make it work. Maybe. A couple hours later, I had a lot of words and a hot mess -- and not the erotic kind of hot. I rubbed my eyes and realized it was way past my bedtime. Which was, of course, Zoe's cue to show up in chat: zoeymac: hows the story going? teristarr2001: sucks teristarr2001: keeps wanting to change pov on me teristarr2001: headhopping like a telepathic bunny zoeymac: lol zoeymac: i meant the one u editing teristarr2001: o that one teristarr2001: am partway through zoeymac: o that one she says :-0 teristarr2001: should have it done this weekend I all but facepalmed, though -- hadn't thought about it even once today. Not that my head wasn't completely messed up or anything. It was too late and I too tired to work on it tonight. I signed off, pleading sleep, feeling just a smidge guilty about my partial lie. Tomorrow, I told myself. One more day. Just one more. # Mike PT went as well as it ever does, which meant I left a little sore. But not so sore I couldn't drive Dad home. Which is how I learned driving wet streets at sunset is not my idea of fun, what with getting half the lane markings and double the glare. "Practice!" Dad said as I pulled into the driveway, as he always does when I do something for the first time. "Let me guess: night-time snow is actually worse." He laughed and went to get my wheelchair out. I decided not to call him on not answering the question. Dinner was a good, hearty soup for the cold weather. I told him about the problems with the school heating system. He nodded. "They sent out a mass email about that, full of apologies and assurances that it won't happen tomorrow, cross their hearts and hope to die." "Good." I mock shivered. "The Program's bad enough." He looked at me mock-sternly. "I thought I told you to have fun." "I've, uh, had some fun," I said as noncommittally as I could. He cracked a grin. "Any good stories?" Oh Jeeze. I kept as straight a face as I could. "Nothing I can tell my father." "Aw, come on, kid." I sighted down my finger at him. "Wasn't it you who taught me a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell?" He squinted one eye at me a moment -- I think it's supposed to be his way of raising one eyebrow. "What happens in public doesn't count -- all those reasonable requests." Gee, thanks for the reminder. I covered my sourness with an eye-roll. "Nothing to tell there, Dad." Which was, brilliantly, the exact truth -- told in a way he wouldn't believe it. Thank you, Teri. He teased me a little, but I held firm on the 'privacy' thing and eventually we moved on to the Broncos game this weekend. But as we were cleaning up, he stopped stacking the dishwasher to ask, "Is it really so bad, the Program?" How to describe it -- admit just how little I've done, except with my fellow Nakeds? How much my fellow Nakeds meant to me? Just how much they disliked the Program? I settled on, "Let's just say, there's girls who are willing to stay in class after the end of the period and risk being tardy for the next, rather than go out into the halls." He frowned, troubled. "But you haven't had problems like that?" Just the opposite. I looked at him steadily. "You say that as if it'd be okay if I hadn't, even if they did." "I didn't mean it like that!" he protested. But he also let the subject drop. Which was good, as I was keeping the lid on that can of worms, thank you very much. After dinner and what was left of my homework, I went back to level-grinding -- something nice and brainless as a break. I'd just gotten a sweet treasure drop when I got an outside chat request from someone not in my guild: danapartlow12: Mike Smith from Bridger HS, is that you? What the..? Okay, how the heck did she track me down? I mean seriously, this was totally off the school system. And were there really 11 other Dana Partlows in the world? taninohana: ok Dana, how'd you find me? danapartlow12: *\o/* danapartlow12: It's you! danapartlow12: The profile on your old FB account taninohana: FB? danapartlow12: The one you haven't posted to in a year and a half taninohana: jeeze - haven't *thought* about it for a year and a half taninohana: what's up? danapartlow12: Had a bad call with Dad and was looking for a friend We chatted for a bit about her father and his apparent hobby of collecting serial fiancees, punctuated by the occasional marriage. Sounded like a real piece of work. I told her a bit about my dad, and how he'd literally rearranged his life after the accidents. Which was perhaps not the most tactful, given her parental problems -- it just happened that way. Just before we signed off, she asked: danapartlow12: What's the handle mena? danapartlow12: mean taninohana: "flower of the valley" in Japanese danapartlow12: Cool I almost told her it was a pun on "takane-no-hana," a flower of the peak, meaning a beautiful and unobtainable person, but realized she'd probably take the self- depreciation seriously. Well, at the time, it was serious. It wasn't now, or not really -- despite my Program insecurities. I just hadn't changed it. I probably ought to. My journal entry that night was: the suddenness of hands, of skin opening mouth to words, to breath thoughts wide, sharp, whole aimed and taken straight to heart I nearly crossed it out as soon as I was done -- waaay too obvious. Cliche, even. But at least it wasn't as bad as the gooey little rhyming ode to blue eyes and black eyes I'd started in my Spanish notes. I dreamed Teri and Dana were dressed up as little cupids, complete with bow-and-arrows, and every time one of then shot me I ejaculated. (When I rolled over in the morning, I discovered this had, in fact, been a wet dream. Ew.) Sixth Day (Friday) ----------------- Teri I kind of regretted not getting a ride to school, even from Father. The storm had cleared off, leaving lingering clouds wreathing the peaks and a hard frost. The walk should have warmed me, but I had to tread careful around frozen puddles and patchy ice in the many places no one had gotten to salting. A preview of winter no one was ready for. And preview or no, below freezing is still below fucking freezing. A hot paper coffee cup was nice on my hands. It was pretty though, the way my breath fogged in the low sunlight. Droplets on some of the trees, especially the larger piñons, had frozen before dripping, leaving them halfway between jewels and pearls. Even the black ice had an austere beauty. The purple-n-gold Spirit Day banners being put up above the main entrance -- not so much. The moderate warmth of the Program Office was welcome. So was the sight of Dana already naked. I paused, back against the door, to look at her -- the way her body, short but not slight, moved with a poise like it was hers by right. Or because it was right for her. She was stacking her clothes in a bin, and didn't see me till she turned back to her chair. I liked that smile she gave me, but not the dark shadows around her eyes. I stepped across the room and put down my pack on the chair next to hers, beside the inner door. Today's hair clip was decorated with a small five-petaled pink flower. "Morning," I said. "Yeah," she said, almost a wince. "It is." "You okay?" I asked. "Why didn't you warn me about TV Tropes?" she whined. Because I thought everyone knew the danger? But then, how long did I lose the first time I lost myself down that rabbit warren? -- Or if I'm being honest, first couple times. Before I could say anything, though, the outer door opened to let in a blast of cold and Mike. "Hey," he said. "Mikester!" Jake called out, and gave him a fist bump as he passed. "Duuude," I said to Mike, and he rolled his eyes. I don't know why he puts up with crap like Jake's. "Morning," Dana said, still not reconciled to the notion. To her, I said, "It's just Something You Have To Do Yourself -- learn how TV Tropes Ruins Your Life." Mike took in her bruised eyes and cackled. "What made you touch the tar-baby?" "Oh, it is SUCH a tar-baby!" she softly wailed. "It's awful, but I want to be briar-patched again -- I barely scraped the surface." "Girl," I told her, "NOBODY can read the whole thing. How'd you get drawn in, anyway?" "Well, see, I was reading up on this SF series that sounds interesting, Downstar Runner, and one of the top hits was the TV Tropes page." The hell it is -- it's like on the second page these days, least on just the name. What the hell search was she running -- ? My stomach dropped out. She was searching for me. And she fucking found me. This was her way of telling me. Fuck. It was coming out -- she was -- Her eyes widened and the rest of her face went pale. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, so quiet I could barely hear over the rushing in my ears. She reached out and touched the fist resting on my knee. "I didn't -- " then she quickly pulled a zipper across her lips, and mouthed, "Later." Mike's eyes widened slightly -- he wasn't dumb, either. Now it was three. That's not a secret any more. Fuck fuck fuck. To him, Dana made a brief shushing gesture with a fractional shake of her head. To his credit, he nodded just as subtly. "Anyway," she said at normal conversational volume, "it led on to a bunch of tropes that got me thinking, about The Masquerade and Secret Identities, the various narrative ways of being in closets. Which are, yanno, important to me." Because, what, of being gay? Mike nodded. "You've gone out with girlfriends who aren't out, right?" Like Tara. But then I got it, what Mike was helping her say -- Dana was codedly telling me she meant to keep my secret. She hadn't outed Tara -- Tara had herself. And she'd talked about Downstar in a way that didn't link ME to it. "Right," she said, "not everyone can come out, and you have to be good with that in others, if you're queer. And, yanno, not a jerk." I swallowed. We had to get off the subject -- too fucking dangerous. Step back and think about this. "That's the truth," I finally said. Then I stood and started undressing, not looking at either of them. Rude, yeah, but any more rude than what she'd done? Mike took it as his cue to wriggle out of his jacket. Dana took it -- just as Jackson came up, Alverez at her heels. "Ms Partlow -- while we're waiting, a question." Dana turned around. "Uh? Sure." "This map generating program of yours -- can you package it as an app? Something others can use?" Alverez added, "For later weeks." Not my fucking problem. I sat down to untie my laces -- cold means enclosed shoes, annoying at it is. "Shouldn't be too hard," Dana said. "I'll have to remove the elevator constraint used for Mike, add more robust error trapping. Sanitize the inputs ... " "Excellent," Jackson said. "We can arrange extra credit for it -- call it independent study in computer science, or something." Bridger offers independent study? Since when? Dana said nothing. I glanced up -- she was gazing at Mike's jacket in her hands, distracted. "Dana?" Alverez said. "Huh? Oh. Just thinking about the inputs." Dana shook her head. "The way it's coded now, it won't work till the Participants are announced, Monday morning, and to redo it, you'd have to give me the privileges to look up student records, which you probably won't." "Student records are protected personal data, yes," Jackson said, voice wary. "Why Monday?" "That's when the Participant list on the Program website goes up -- I scrape the class schedules from there." "That information is not on the website." Jackson's voice was as cold as the this morning's dawn. Uh oh. I stood to step out of my jeans, which put me at Dana's back. Sure I was pissed at her and it wasn't like covering her back would help against this sort of attack, but I still owed her. "Sure it is," Dana said. She took out her tablet, started tapping. "See? Program site -- this week's Participants -- tap a name and get basic info -- tap Details, and there's their current class schedule, along with assigned counselor, current discp. act., whatever that means, some other stuff -- I had to parse out just the schedule." Surely, the way she pushes, she's had disc(i)p(linary) act(ion)s before. I sure as hell was about to give her one, and I'm way more forgiving than the average authority figure. Well, to the almost sane. "That's protected data," Jackson said, staring at the display. "PERSONAL data." Dana shook her head. "This shows up on the public website -- I checked with a browser not logged in to my school account. Thought it was intentional." Jackson closed her eyes. "James," she called out, "we've got a problem." Skinner looked up from his tablet, set up on Alverez's desk. "What has Partlow done now?" "Exposed a security hole." Jackson showed him Dana's tablet. "THIS is available on the school website." Skinner glanced at it, then pounced on Dana like an authority prowling for a discp. act. "How'd you get access to this?" It took Jackson a couple go-rounds to get it through his head that Dana hadn't hacked anything -- that this was out in the open. "How the hell, excuse my language, did THAT happen?" Skinner finally asked, with a glance at Alverez. Then he sighed. "I'll call Azula." The sysadmin Skinner was supposed to contact if there were more problems. I hoped Father wasn't going to get in trouble for this. The bell rang the start of homeroom, catching all the authoritative types by surprise -- especially Alverez. I sure as hell hoped this wasn't a sign of how the rest of the day would go. # Dana "Okay, people, let's get this show on the road," Alverez called out, "while the rest of you finish undressing." Meaning Teri and Mike, both mostly nude, and Chip, just getting started. And possibly also Jake, if the purple and gold body-paint covering his torso counted as not being nude enough. I started to help Mike, but Alverez started with, "Whistles, anyone?" Oh, right. I grabbed my baggies instead. Maria had to dig through her purse-pack to find her whistle, and both Marshall and Chip needed consent bracelets. Between this faffing around and the bleary world, I missed what, exactly, he had to say about the cafeteria lunches -- though since I bring my own, it didn't apply to me. (Odd Man Out, my fuzzy brain noted. Was I going to see everything in terms of TV Tropes?) "Next -- relief. Dana and Teri, neither of you took the opportunity yesterday either." As if, despite his words, it was in fact an issue. "You said it was optional," I said. "It is -- but we need to be sure this isn't a warning sign for deeper issues." Teri rolled her eyes, and I couldn't exactly blame her. "Personally," I told him, "I do not find refrigerated classrooms erotic." Mike coughed as if covering a laugh, and Maria snickered. "Um, well. I there's that. I suppose it's the same for you, Teri?" I looked at Teri, caught her eye. I knew that certainly wasn't it for her, or not all of it -- and that if she didn't tell them why, they'd never fix the problems. I glanced at her consent bracelet, then back to her, trying to put meaning in my look. She frowned -- distaste, but whether at the prompt or still angry at me, I couldn't tell. "In any case..." Alverez started to say, but Teri spoke up, "Actually, that's not it." "Ah, okay?" Teri picked her words carefully. "There are ... aspects of the Program that are... not a turn-on." Jake snickered. She ignored him. "Specifically, the non-consensual requests are a complete turn-off. I'm wearing this for a reason," and she held up her red bracelet. Skinner looked at her sharply. "So you equate the Program with rape?" I chewed my lower lip -- surely she knew how to evade that rhetorical trap. But as she'd said: something she had to do for herself. Teri looked at him steadily. "No. I obey reasonable requests that involve touching me when I do not want it, because I am compelled to. Being forced to allow someone to molest me does not turn me on -- it pisses me off. When I am pissed off, I am not aroused." I did not grin, as I wanted to, because Skinner and Alverez would see it. I did nod my head firmly. This -- this was truth. Skinner looked skeptical. Alverez was puzzled and uncertain, as if this was outside his training. Jake and Gail looked frankly baffled, Jackson bland, Maria and Marshall thoughtful. Mike nodded agreement, and Chip -- well, he was actually LOOKING at Teri, as if for the first time really seeing her. Alverez recovered after a second. "Let's come back to that later -- we have more things to get through and not much time. The most important being that 'later': it's a good practice at the end of a Program week, especially one where there's been any sort of trouble, to bring everyone together for a sort of debriefing meeting. So, sixth period, instead of attending the pep rally, come here..." "What?!" Gail said. "No!" Huh? Why not have a debriefing? Alverez was not fazed by this, however. "You have an issue with this?" "You bet I do, I'm a cheerleader, I HAVE to be at the pep rally. That's the whole point of cheering." Jackson spoke up, "We've confirmed your schedule change with Coach Simmons." "You don't understand," Gail said, "we've got a special routine planned." "It's about school spirit," Jake added. "For tonight's game. How can the Program be more important than that?" Teri cleared her throat. "I can show you a certain restroom and ask you the same question in reverse." "I didn't mean it like that!" Jake said. "I'm just saying..." "In any case," Alverez began, but the bell ending homeroom drowned out the rest of his sentence. "You don't just pull a cheerleader from a pep rally!" Gail countered. "Especially a naked cheerleader," Jake added. "Exactly!" I wanted to say something, help reach clarity somehow, but I was hampered by not wanting to compromise on this: I really don't have much use for pep rallies and fixing the Program is important. I mean, obviously it's important to her -- but so was this, to me. This was -- Oh, I realized. This was what Perry was talking about, during meeting, about it being difficult when emotions run high to speak to that of God in everyone. I needed to reach for clarity -- to bare myself, be more open again to the Spirit. I took a slow deep breath, centering. "ENOUGH," Skinner growled. Gail glared right back, hands on hips. Out in the hall, I could hear the rumble of the usual morning crowd, waiting for us. "Gail," Alverez said, "you will come here sixth period or receive a third Program demerit. Is that understood?" She already had two? -- from what, I wondered. Had skipping the recitation of the rules been a mistake? After a moment, she growled but nodded. The sounds in the hall were resolving into -- a chant? Jake said, "But since I've got only one demerit, I can afford to go, right?" "No, Mr. Lipton," Jackson said crisply, "you will be marked as skipping class." It was a chant: "Naked spirit! Naked spirit! Naked spirit!" Teri's eyes widened, and she turned to glance at the door. My heart tingled, and my hands and feet felt faint. Those words -- Teri's accusations about athletes and their attitudes toward Participants was sounding a whole lot more plausible. That was the chant of people who thought we were their due. The chanting got louder -- loud enough everyone could hear clearly: "Na-ked spir-it! Na-ked spir-it!" Skinner and Jackson shared a glance and started for the inner door. Skinner stopped in front of it, unhooked his radio and said into it, "Code Two at the Program Office." Then with another glance at Jackson, he opened the door just enough to slip out without exposing us more than necessary, and she followed him. "Na-ked spir-it!" "What on EARTH do you think you're doing!?" he barked. Responses -- chanting -- more arguments. "We'll just stay here for the moment," Alverez said. "Got that right," Maria said. No, said the still, small voice within. The one I was holding myself open to. We had to go out there -- I had to, with the same certainty as speaking in Meeting. Hiding, even behind the protection of due authority, would not shame the oppressor. Only confronting them with their shame would. And that meant meeting them on their own ground. Dangerous, yes, but necessary. I stood up, put on my pack, and headed for the door. "Dana?" Mike said from somewhere far away. "Dana!" Teri said, just as distant but louder. As I reached for the door, Teri caught my wrist. "Oh hell no you don't -- I don't know what you think you're doing, but you are NOT going out there." Her grip didn't hurt, but it was as solid as steel. I pulled steadily, without tugging, and couldn't budge a millimeter. "Dana," Alverez said, "let Principal Skinner deal with this." It is one of my failings, I think, that in the grip of certainty, I could not speak clearly. The words choked. How to explain to someone without training in non- violent resistance, without a common conceptual framework? What I managed to say was, "If we back down, they never will." I looked at Teri: her eyes had anger and anxiety -- fear for me. "I have to," I told her. "Tactics, Dana," Mike said elsewhere. Which -- yes, a consideration. But the still, small voice still spoke this course. The door to the hall opened, forcing me to step back or get struck -- Jackson looked in, saw me, and said over the hubbub, "Oh no, you don't." She quickly stepped in and closed it behind her, muting the noise -- Teri pulled me back to give her room. "You are staying RIGHT HERE, Ms Partlow. Is that understood?" Outside, Skinner was still speaking sharply -- alternately ordering people to move and giving out detentions. The chanting had stopped, the moment passed. The still, small voice was silent, leaving me empty. I closed my eyes and nodded. Teri gently pushed me to my chair, and shifted her grip from my wrist to my hand. I laced my fingers through hers, holding her so hard my arm trembled. Jackson told us, "All of you will have excused tardies for first period -- we'll tell your teachers it was 'Program business'. When we let you out of here -- " a severe glance in my direction " -- you'll have five minutes to get to class. Any questions?" I don't think a one of us looked satisfied. But no one said a word, and she left with Alverez in tow. I was tired -- and not just from lack of sleep. Now I was drained as well. And there was still the rest of the day to get through -- after two personal failures even before first period. No, three: I never did get to bring up the volunteer escorts meeting like I meant to. It did not feel like the start of a good day. # Mike A few angry minutes later, Ms Jackson released us into the empty halls. Teri, Dana, and I silently walked and rolled together to our separate English classes. At the intersection, I finally asked Dana, "What were you planning to do?" My voice was steadier than I'd any right to expect. She licked her lips but her shadowed eyes were steady. "I don't know exactly what. The prompting of the Spirit was still unfolding. I didn't know what was out there. I just knew that -- like I said, if we gave in, they never would." "'GAVE IN'!" Teri all but exploded. "Going out was giving them exactly what they wanted!" Dana shook her head. "No, going out and accepting their power over us would give them what they wanted. Going out and speaking truth to power, through actions, would not." Teri stared at her a moment, then shook her head -- both denial and incomprehension. "Teri," I said, and after a heartbeat she looked at me. "My father once said a true pacifist is the most ruthless type of person, because they are first and foremost ruthless with themselves." She considered that a moment. "Spirit as in the Holy Spirit?" she asked Dana skeptically. Dana nodded. "It's a Quaker thing -- I can explain later." "Right -- later." Dana took that as a goodbye -- she waved tiredly and headed down the side hall. "Never a dull moment with us," I told Teri. She gave me a disgusted look. "Dull has its moments." And without another word, she started up the stairs opposite the cross-hall. My throat tightened. Was she saying no to us..? I raced to the elevator, but by the time I reached the second floor, she'd disappeared into class. Dang. I paused a moment outside English to take a steadying breath, a second. Then I pushed the door open and rolled in. "Glad you could join us, Mike." Not quite sarcasm, not like some teachers can wield, but I still had to bite back a retort. "Program business," I told Ms Alighieri. "Should be listed as excused." As she checked her teacher's station, Gordon called out, "Have fun with your 'Program business'?" Oh, yeah, because I totally love having near-riots aimed at me. I shot back, "You know bureaucrats -- LOADS of fun times." Which got me titters. "Red tape, eh? Kinky." Which got him a few more titters. "Whip me, beat me, make me fill out forms in triplicate." Outright laughter -- ha! Playing off each other, almost like old times. Ms Alighieri finally found my tardy notice, and marked me as arrived just in time for those five minutes. As I turned for my usual place near the door, splashes of purple-and-gold caught my eye -- Marco, Calvin, and Verity in their varsity letter jackets for School Spirit Day. I glared at them for half a moment, though I'd no way of knowing if any had been downstairs, before backing into my parking space. Ms Alighieri brought us back to wrapping up the Iliad -- yesterday had been the death of Hector. As usual, for the next passage for discussion, she called someone up to the front to read aloud: this time Gordon was given Priam's pleading Achilles for Hector's body, and did a surprisingly bad job of it for a self-dramatizing guy -- this is poetry, for heaven's sake, with rhythm and pull and strength. Priam was not a whiner, either -- his Manly Tears are calling upon his son's killer to not cut himself off from human decency. From humanity. The final lines of the Iliad went to me to read aloud, and I used my best recitation voice, ending with: ...And once they'd heaped the mound they turned back home to Troy, and gathering once again they shared a splendid funeral feast in Hector's honor, held in the house of Priam, king by the will of Zeus. And so the Trojans buried Hector breaker of horses. Gave me a shiver up the spine, that last line. "Oh my," a girl whispered, I think Alice. "You are a very good reader," Ms Alighieri said. "I should call on you more often." "I'll say," said Bette. "You measure up quite well." I blushed, remembering her measuring tape from Monday. I think they thought it was from the praise. I hoped so. "Aw, he's tongue-tied," Cheryl said. I stuck my tongue out as far as I could and waggled it at her -- which got the laughs I hoped for. "Thank you, Mike," Ms Alighieri said, dismissing me from my moment in the limelight. "So what should we make of how the Iliad opens with Achilles and ends with Hector?" When class ended, Cheryl came over and crouched beside me. "Why do I suspect you're pretty good with that tongue?" The undertone of her voice made it clear: at giving head. "I haven't heard any complaints." She smiled flirtatiously. "Too bad oral sex isn't a reasonable request." Translation: maybe we could get together outside of the Program and I go down her. I managed to keep my cool. Hey, I don't get passes made at me all that often. But I played it honest -- in a quieter voice, I said, "You'll have to take a number, I'm afraid." "Darn -- you should have let us know you're handing out numbers." Then she left the room with Alice and Bette. As if it wasn't clear I was interested in people. As if I was stand-offish, or something. There were a lot of letter jackets in the halls, as well as cheerleaders in uniform. Every jacket I saw, I wondered whether they'd been outside the Program Office this morning -- whether they had chanted for our naked hides or merely let others do it. I caught up with Teri and Dana at the corner of the hallway -- they were waltzing down the corridor at a pretty good clip. Literally. Two naked girls, waltzing without music, moving back and forth in the middle of the floor, always heading forward towards math. Teri was leading -- it'd've been hard for Dana to, what with her face almost between Teri's breasts, if I understand how dancing works anyway. It was ridiculous and incredibly cute at the same time. (Okay, and maybe this was just because I knew they'd slept together and were not just playing this up, also kinda hot.) A lot of kids stared as they passed, and while there were fewer phones out than yesterday, I still heard shutter sounds. I rolled up behind them, matched their progress, and started humming "The Blue Danube." They immediately matched my beat. Together, we arrived at math right as the bell rang. Teri and Dana pulled apart and -- heh -- curtsied to each other. They looked at each other a moment -- Dana biting her lower lip, still anxious about Teri and her secret authorial identity. Teri didn't give any hints back, but at least she didn't read as actively pissed off. Dana silently mouthed "later" -- then, looking significantly at Teri, nodded slightly my direction. Teri's eyes took in my erection (the result of that kinda hot dance) and smiled. "I do believe it's my turn." To give me relief? My cock twitched, and she smirked. Dana held the door open for us. As I entered, I immediately told Mr. Falcon, "Relief, please." Like a dozen hands immediately rose up -- volunteers. Seriously? Where have you guys been all my life? "Sorry girls," Teri told them. "Prior arrangement." "Aw," someone pouted. Any more of that, and I was going to get a swollen head. Instead of just a rock-hard one. Teri handed off her pack to Dana, made a pad for her knees with her towel, and draped herself over my lap. As her hands slid up and down my cock, making it ache, she whispered, "Just so you know, I may not have Dana's experience or deft touch..." "But?" I croaked. She grinned up at me. "But I do write porn." Then she bent down and took me in her mouth -- not just the head this time, but a few centimeters of shaft. I gasped. Then her tongue rubbed against the sensitive ridge, under the head. I gripped the arms of my chair. Then she sucked as she pulled back. I gasped again. I caught a glimpse of Dana, watching us -- blue eyes bright, red lips almost smirking. Then I closed my eyes, lost to the sensations. Teri quickly established a rhythm of bobbing, licking, and sucking. This wasn't like Dana's drawing me out -- this was dragging me straight towards orgasm, yanking me. She touched my balls, started fondling them, and my hips jerked. And then she started humming. I've no words -- it was like she flipped a switch and with almost no warning I came, hard, sharp, fast. She sucked until my last dribbles were done. I panted while Teri stood up and the class whistled. Dana really was smirking. Teri was just plain smug. And I -- I was braindead. Why didn't I learn my lesson, yesterday, to not take relief in algebra? What a day. # Teri Okay, so I felt just a leetle bit smug that my humjob worked so well. Reading smut and having friends who sleep around in university can help with your sex life - - who knew? As does having lovers who apparently aren't intimidated by me. Even if one of them, at least, doesn't know how to leave well enough alone. Which, I knew, wasn't entirely fair: Dana waited till the end of chemistry, as we waited for the lunchtime halls to clear, to try to talk with me. She came over after my lab partner, Xavier, left. "Can I apologize yet?" she said softly. I looked down at her. She does humble well, I had to admit -- it went with her Plain-Jane style, somehow. And shadowed eyes. Sitting on my stool, I was even taller than usual -- making the top of her head even further lower. "Only if you sit up here," I said, patting the lab bench. "Um." She looked dubious at the height. I reached down beneath her armpits, and she let me boost her up. I tried not to think about how warm and soft the skin near her breasts was. "GAH! Cold!" She squirmed on the bench-top, shoving her towel under her bare ass. Cadwallader gave us a hairy eye, but as usual did nothing. Our eyes were nearly level. Hers were solemn, haunted. "Boundaries," I said. "Boundaries," she agreed, voice too quiet for the teacher to hear. "Secrets are important. I really do know that. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me, and I cross boundaries I shouldn't. I did, and I am so sorry." And she was. I took a breath, let it out. And nodded -- apology accepted. # Dana Half a boulder rolled off of my rib cage. "I'm still pissed," Teri said. I nodded. "It will take me a while to repair that trust." She blinked. "Yes, it will. But I'm willing to let you. I want you to." "Which is the important thing." The boulder rolled the rest of the way off -- a time to cast away stones, indeed. The bell for lunch rang. "How do you do that? Say what I'm thinking -- you a telepath?" With a glance at Cadwallader, she got off her stool -- we were being shooed out. "Not hardly." I dropped to the floor, jarring my feet, and retrieved my towel. "Just equal parts active listening and constructive empathy." "This another Quaker thing?" "Not exactly -- Alternatives to Violence training. Conflict-resolution stuff." I walked out the door and held it open for her to follow. She sighed. "Never a dull moment, he says." "Not with me around," Jake agreed from across the hall. Teri and I looked at each other and laughed. # Mike The two girls who sit behind me in French, Janet and Izzy -- or Jeanette et Isabeau, as they're known in class -- are on the basketball team and cheerleading squad, respectively. Which meant I had a lot of purple- n-gold looking over my shoulder. By the end of class, I was no longer twitching over the colors. Desensitization training works -- who knew? Though it helped that they were girls, I think. As we packed up, in response to something Janet said I didn't catch, Izzy said, "I just hope the Program thing doesn't lose us tonight's game." That seemed important enough to wheel around for. "No offense, Mike," she added. Which made it sound like something actually offensive. "What Program thing?" "You haven't heard?" Jane asked. "There was some sort of ruckus outside the Program Office this morning -- though of course, you were there. Anyway, something like eight of tonight's starters, including half the defensive line, got detention, which means they can't play against Alpine." Way to avoid resentment against the Program, Mr. Skinner. Not that I wasn't about to pile on. "At the risk of making myself even more unpopular, good. That mob was halfway to rioting before they broke it up." Izzy nodded. "Gail said it was pretty scary, the way they were demanding you guys come out and play." "But giving detention to starters?" Janet protested. I cocked my head at her. "So that jacket you're wearing is a get out of jail free card?" "Of course not." She shook her head, and left in a huff. Driven off, apparently, by my impeccable logic. Or something. "Speaking of Gail," Izzy said, "she said you've been having a lonely week of it, and asked that the squad to show you show you a good time -- request-level stuff, I mean." Gail had said something, yesterday lunch -- only took a full day for anyone to act on it. "No offense, but that sounds an awful lot like you're offering me a mercy handjob." Which offended her almost as much as she had me. "The way you keep pushing people away, I can't say I'm surprised you haven't gotten many requests." She walked out in almost as much of a huff as Janet. Way to go, diplomat boy. After a moment, I slowly squeezed the bulb of my horn between thumb and forefinger, then suddenly let go -- "gah!" without the "oo!" I shook my head and headed to lunch. As if to make up for yesterday, today the cafeteria offerings not only looked but smelled pretty good. Even the baked enchiladas weren't bad -- they'd found some actual queso instead of generic American cheese. On my way to what had become our usual table, at least for this week, I caught sight of Dana at one of the freshman tables -- talking with Chip. As in, he was actually talking as well -- animatedly. Emo-boy actually had another expression beyond disdainful and smug, and it was enthusiastic? I swerved around a pillar to avoid a knot of purple-n- gold jackets, which let me pass behind her. They were, I realized, talking about music -- Chip rattled off three or four bands I've never even heard of who "all drop crunchy beats -- barely even acid." Dana nodded, "Okay, yeah. What about -- ?" and named another unknown act. She seemed totally focused, as always, on the person she was talking with. Well, fine -- if she wanted to sit with him instead of the rest of us, she could. I headed on. She was a free person. We weren't even actually going out yet. Which I KNEW was stupid, even as I thought it -- kick- in-the-balls stupid. If I'm behind her, it's not like she's avoiding looking at me -- avoiding me. This was me rolling away from her, not her walking away. What had Izzy said about pushing people away? I rolled up between Teri and Maria again, and put my tray on the table. Suddenly the enchiladas smelled stomach-turning. Or maybe that was my stomach turning on its own. "Yeah, it's been that kind of day," Teri said. Maria was preoccupied talking with Marshall and a clothed girl sitting on his lap, Jake had abandoned his chair and half his lunch, and Gail was nowhere to be seen -- leaving the two of us effectively alone. 'More barriers?' a part of me thought. "Yeah," I agreed. I took a bite of enchilada -- I might not have had an appetite, but I was still hungry. "Did you see where Dana got to?" Without looking at Teri, I said, "She's talking with Chip." Teri paused and looked at me more closely. "Feeling jealous?" "Not exactly. More, feeling cut off." Like I'd cut myself off. "She may look like a social butterfly -- or maybe that rare beast, a queen bee who actually uses her power for good -- but she'll flitter back. She gave her word." "And not lying matters to her," I said slowly. Quakers don't swear, I remembered, or even make promises -- all statements are supposed to be equally true. Teri snorted silently. "She's even more of a hard-ass about that than me." I paused, mouth open, then shut it again. "I was going to say something about no, her ass is pretty soft, but it would almost certainly come out wrong." "So you won't say it, uh huh." Then after a moment, "One thing, though -- someone recently gave me the advice to not cut myself off from those who can and want to help." That hit home. Hard. I took a deep breath and glanced at her. "Yeah. That." I took another bite -- somehow, I'd managed to eat half my plate. I picked my words carefully: "You don't need to keep tabs on her, like -- yanno?" Like in bed. "Put a leash on her? Nah -- whap her on the nose with a rolled up newspaper, when she piddles inside the house, sure." By which I gathered that they'd made up, from Dana's prying into Teri's other life as an author. I smiled, a little bit. She went on, "What you and her have, that's up to you two. I have to not interfere. Well, if you had a spat or something, I'd try and get you to make up -- but that's different. But otherwise, it's a matter of trust over impulse." Which also sounded a lot like what I needed to learn. Especially if my reaction to someone pulling away is to push. Like with Nate. Like with Gordon, last year. Teri looked past me, and said more conversationally, "Besides, the number of people she socializes with is too exhausting." Dana arrived in time to hear the last of that. "Ha!" she said as she scootched a chair between us and collapsed on it. "I surely hole up in my room, resting, when I've been around people too much." "Ha," Teri echoed to herself, as if she'd just won a private bet. Then she looked mock-sternly at Dana. "Lunch?" "Right here," Dana said with an unrepentant grin, pulling another whole-wheat sandwich from her pack. "Fine," Teri said, and handed her the bottle of iced coffee drink from her tray. "Thank you," Dana warbled, and took a big swig. Her sandwich was thicker than previous days' -- and from her bite, it sounded crunchy. "What's in it this time?" I asked. She quickly chewed and swallowed before answering. "Peanut-butter and sprouts." Teri's shoulders started shaking with laughter, though she kept a straight face. "What can I say?" Dana said, "I'm a weirdo." "Honestly, no more weird than the rest of us," Teri said. "Nuh-uh," I said seriously, "sprouts is definitely weirder." After a heartbeat, I couldn't keep my own face straight -- and we all laughed together. When we recovered, Dana asked, "We meeting this afternoon?" "On a Friday?" Teri said dubiously. "I confess I don't really feel like study-group," I agreed. "So how about," Dana said, "instead, we go out?" Was she -- "Out as in...?" I asked. "The three of us, on a date -- dinner together. That way we can figure out what we're doing, alone." "And clothed," Teri added. Dana nodded, then waited for us. I looked at Teri, trying to gauge her. She met my eyes and nodded slightly. "Okay, yeah," I said. "Sounds like a good idea," Teri said. Trumpets blared as if in approval. What the..? On the other side of the cafeteria, members of the marching band spread out at the edge of the tables, all gleaming brass fortissimo. Several cheerleaders came out in front of them, shaking their pompoms -- Gail front and center and naked. I couldn't see what, exactly, they were doing through the crowd of students, but the band played something peppy that I simply could not make out -- in the big room of all hard surfaces, sound was so distorted, it all just came out as blare. If anyone could hear the actual cheer, I'll eat my father's hat -- yes, the llama wool one. People were covering their ears, Dana included, and kids at close range started evacuating. After half an minute's eternity of rising pain, I caught -- just happened to be looking in the right direction -- what looked like a glass pane drop from one of the pyramidal skylights, right in front of the cheerleaders. Seconds later, the band trailed off -- letting the screams and shouts be heard. Plus the bellowing of Skinner and his minions as they converged on the ruckus. Teri held Dana in her seat with a hand on her shoulder. "You trained in first aid?" "Um, no." "Then don't get in their way." Dana nodded reluctantly. "Right." She took another swallow of her coffee. I shook my head. "I thought your Program week was supposed to get LESS strange at it went on." # Teri I admit it: I laughed and laughed. The good news was the loose pane didn't land on anyone, though a handful of kids were nicked by fragments of the supposed safety glass. The worst hurt (not counting ringing ears) was Gail, who hadn't been closest but wasn't protected by any clothing -- she showed up for the Program debriefing with two band-aids on her belly and a patch on her arm. Apparently, the whole thing had been her idea -- or her and the rest of the cheerleaders, it wasn't clear. They'd planned on featuring her naked in a special routine during the pep rally, but since she was being forced to skip, they decided to bring it to the people, as it were. No one involved seemed to have realized that noises that are bad enough in the gym would be dangerously loud in a low-ceiling room. Nor that windows with old, dried-out seals can be rattled enough to shake out the glass. But even before learning that, I spent all of history and half of Spanish trying not to chuckle out loud. I love the sweet scent of irony in the afternoon. # Dana On Fridays, history is essentially an open-book essay test, by way of training us for the AP exam, as we answer questions from the end of the current chapter. You can use the textbook, online resources in the school library, or anything you've downloaded, though the net is locked down. You can write up all the notes you want beforehand, or even the full response -- but you have type it in during class. Because we'd been assigned the third question for study hall yesterday, even if we hadn't gotten to it, I wrote it out last night then went on to notes for the other two questions. I even got to pull in a couple Puritan bits from English class. (Why isn't American history normally the same grade as American literature? In the couple weeks so far, the two classes were playing off each other nicely -- colonial writings that reflect colonial doings. Made me gladder than ever I'd pushed to get into history.) With that kind of prep, I finished my answers with half the period left. Which left me with a lot of time to reflect. And boy did I have reflections to examine, first and foremost being: What happened in the Program Office this morning? I can, when I set my mind to it, be a logical girl. There were several obvious possible failures in the chain of events: * What I felt was not truly a prompting of the Inner Light, but I mistook it for one * It was a true prompting, but I mistook what actions I was to make * I had the right action, but acted too slowly and the moment passed * I had the right action, but the situation changed too quickly and the moment passed (That there are no prompts, I set aside: the Inner Light within us all is an axiom discarded only at last resort, and I've nowhere near enough spiritual doubt for that.) (Teri's holding me back fit either the last two, but was irrelevant to my failure. Discard that as well.) (Lack of sleep was also irrelevant: it may have compounded the failure, but did not cause it. Another discard.) Any of those was plausible. For the first, certainly, I thought I had the same feeling as when moved to speak in Meeting, just a few long days ago -- but in my haste, I did not test it for nearly as long. I am, as I told Mike, but a young Quaker -- I do not have much experience with promptings of the Spirit, and not of this fashion. It could have been just a personal impulse. And even if it was a true prompt, to what action? To go out into the corridor, I had thought. But alone, as I tried to do? What could I, one naked young woman, have done? Was it supposed to have been just me? Together, all the Participants, we might have -- no, certainly WOULD have been more effective. Even if the others did not have the non-violence training I had, united is always stronger. Mistaking what to do was entirely possible. The last two could be framed, to use Mike's term, as matters of tactics -- or rather the tactical situation. As could, indeed, the second, choosing the wrong tactics. I'd started the week focused on Clarity -- on keeping my lens clear to let the Light through, as I put it in Meeting. I was wondering if, instead, I needed more Mindfulness. The Mindfulness to test impulse for Truth, the Mindfulness to discern the proper course. The Mindfulness to know not to dig into Teri's closet. It was something to think about, next Meeting for Worship. And possibly ask for guidance from an Elder. Quaker in training, indeed. The bell rang, ending class. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. Then tapped my tablet, sending my answers to Takamiya -- committing myself. By way of waiting for the halls to clear a bit, before leaving for the Program Office, Mike and I talked with Takamiya about the first essay question, and where to find better information about the origins of colonial settlers by region -- it sounded like an interesting potential term-paper topic. By the time we left, the flow heading for the gym was slacker, but it was still easier to roll with it and circle the long way around the Quad. As we trundled along, Mike suddenly asked, "Did you know any of the bands Chip mentioned?" He must of seen us at lunch -- and me again so wrapped up in the conversation at hand, I hadn't noticed. Mindfulness, indeed. "Some, well, not when I asked for recs, of course. That's the POINT of asking." "What kind of music?" "EDM, mostly chillstep and types of post-house." He looked blank as we rounded the corner, and I explained, "Club-scene dance music. He's a DJ." "No way." "Way. He had a couple gigs over the summer at Driverz." An all-ages club in a former warehouse by the tracks. "Just as an intermission guy while the main DJ took a break, but they just asked him back for a full set next week." "Uh, wow. Cool. What's his stage name?" I grinned. "Chipset." He groaned, as the name deserved, then shook his head. "How do you know all this? He's..." "Not exactly the most friendly?" Much like Teri, if it came to that -- a thought to file away for later. I shrugged. "We both went to Bryant, and always had three or four classes together -- and then here, weirdly, not one. Today was the first chance we've had to catch up since -- July." I didn't manage to hide a slight hesitation before that last word. Mike looked at me more pointedly. I nodded -- fair enough. As we approached the last corner, only a few people were left hurrying past us. "Since Tara and I went to his first show." I sighed. "I know, I'm getting better, really. That was only my second reminder all day." We rounded the corner and I got my third: Tara herself. All three of us stopped short. My pulse thudded in my ears as I looked at her. Tall, of course, and slender -- sharp-eyed as ever. No longer mine. After a long, long moment, Tara said, "Again, the two of you together, every time we meet, it seems." "Two data points do not a trend make," I said as steadily as I could. She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, enough with the pseudo- science. I just think it's rich that Little Miss Faithful managed to replace me so quickly -- and going straight to boot." "I'm still queer," I told her. "Half the girls' basketball team seems to think so, anyway." Meaning all their reasonable requests, once they'd heard about me and her, but if she wanted to understand another meaning, she was free to do so. Yes, a little bitchy of me, but I was not exactly calm. Or clear-headed. She sneered. "Well, it's not like I've been trapped in your memory, either." Mike suddenly spoke, "And I suppose you're going to tell us all about them." "That's rich, coming from Mr. Smart-mouth himself." "Where, what, you prefer speaking with other parts of your body?" he countered. Tara snorted. "You ought to know." To me, "Do you know what he and I..." "No," I said firmly. "And I don't need to." Which was exactly and precisely true -- I felt the words ring with it. After all, it's not like prying into everything that Mike and Teri do would make them any more faithful, if we went steady. It would not help me trust them anymore. Even though Tara had hidden infidelity, I didn't need to -- no, I needed to NOT mistrust them. Let them trust enough to tell me. To Mike I said, "Come on, we'll be late." "Already are," he said, pushing off after me. Behind us, Tara said, "Not that I care what happens to you, but the gym's this way." "Program business," I replied without looking back. Behind us, after a moment, I heard her footsteps hurry the other way. As we neared the Program Office, Mike said, "I should probably tell you..." "Only if you want to," I said. "Or need to." He nodded slowly, meeting my gaze. "I lost my virginity to Tara, over a year ago. A one-time hookup." I could believe that -- by her own report, she'd spent much of last year, before we started going out, hooking up with all sorts of guys, not just the popular kids. "Was it good?" He blushed a little. "Um, yeah." "Then honor that memory, and move on." Just like I meant to do. # Teri Dana and Mike showed up five minutes after the debriefing started, right at the end of the relief grace period. "You're late," Skinner acidly observed. No, I don't know why he wasn't at the pep rally -- unless it was to make it look like he cared about the Program. Mike nonchalantly said, "Talking to teach about our term-paper topic." "Sorry," Dana added. She looked like the coffee drink I'd gotten her helped. Alverez gestured them toward the empty seats beside me - - Mike ignored that and parked against the wall as usual. "As I was telling everyone, I have an assignment for you: write me a report, due Monday, on everything good and bad, as you saw it, about your Participation in the Program this week. There has been much of both, and we need to know what -- so that we can figure out what to fix and what NOT to fix." Which actually made sense. If it ain't broke and all that. Well, aside from ditching the Program altogether - - which, I know, not a legal option. "Which brings us to the next announcement. While we work on that figuring out, the Naked in School Program is on hiatus for a week. Frankly, we need the time to investigate what should be done. Until then, it would not be fair to select another slate of Participants." "As opposed to us," I muttered. "I am sorry that we had to find out through your experiences," he told me. He looked around the room. "All of you." I glanced at the other Nakeds: more frowns than smiles, that's for sure. I didn't fucking blame them in the slightest. "Some changes, however, are obvious and are already in place. To reduce problems for Participants as they leave the Office, and avoid any repeats of today, the school administration is forbidding loitering anywhere outside the administrative offices between classes -- especially before and after homeroom -- under penalty of detention." "The official excuse," Skinner said, "is to keep crowds of students from interfering with visitors to the main office -- which has indeed happened, and not just today. But it's really about the Program." "Then why not put it in those terms?" Mike said. "Hear, hear," Maria said. Dana nodded, as did Marshall. I just glowered. "Believe me," Skinner said, "the safety of Program Participants is paramount." As if that was a fucking answer. "Yeah, right," I said. His hooded eyes aimed straight at me, like a cobra ready to strike. "You disagree, Florez?" I was too pissed off to hold back. "If you really meant that, about our safely, not only would you have backed everything Dana's done, you would have instituted them yourself years ago -- plus all the things she can't do because she's just a student. You'd have every teacher standing outside their classroom between periods, monitoring the halls. You'd have a Coordinator who's allowed to wipe his nose without your prior approval. A dozen other things." Skinner clenched his jaws, but didn't answer. "Like what?" Jackson asked. Pfft. "Google it yourself. Or better yet, ask your Coordinator with the shiny new certificate." Alverez coughed. "I was planning, in the next few weeks, to suggest more teacher supervision between periods." "Ray," Jackson said, "we need you to tell us these things earlier rather than later." "Or during Monday's planning session," he amended -- to Jackson alone, not Skinner. Which one, I wondered, was his real boss? "Perhaps also," Skinner said, voice almost calm, "Ms Partlow has other suggestions." Which made Mike look at him sharply -- what had he caught that I didn't? Dana cleared her throat. "I do -- well, more of a possibility, actually. A group of students, about a dozen if everyone comes, are meeting tomorrow to discuss organizing volunteer escorts for Participants between classes, to reduce the worse abuses. If anyone here would like to come, please do. I sent Mr. Alverez an invitation, and although it's outside his work week, we'd appreciate it if he could attend -- so we can coordinate our efforts with the Program itself." Huh? How would that even work? "I plan to," Alverez said. Skinner looked sharply at Alverez, apparently for wiping his nose without permission, then at Jackson, who smiled slightly -- it wasn't a surprise to her. Heh. So maybe this Coordinator was getting his legs under him after all. Somehow, this cut my anger from boiling rage to simmering pissed-off. Alverez nodded to Skinner, who left -- getting back to the important job of rallying our peps. "So," Alverez said, "let's talk about the Program itself." The rest of the "debriefing" was one long bull session about the Program Experience. Chip and I didn't speak, and Mike very little. The only ones to actively offer suggestions for how to make things better were Dana and, of all people, Jake (with his body-paint now smeared into surrealism). Several endorsed the consent bracelets, and Alverez agreed they'd be a good innovation without actually committing to using them. For the rest, notes were taken. We'd see if anything came of them. One thing did strike me, though: near the end, Alverez said, "What I'd like to see is that a Participant can walk safely across the Quad. If we can't reach that point by the end of the year, if not sooner, I'll consider my tenure here a failure." My first reaction was, Good luck with that. My second was, That's worth working for. The bell rang the end of school -- and the end of my time Naked In School. # Mike It wasn't a date-date -- that was the point, to finally talk over whether we were going out and, if so, how that worked. But I still showered and dressed up in a blue button-down shirt and jeans. I even shaved, though a week after my last cheek-scraping, it was barely noticeable that I needed to. A guy's gotta dream. I was, of course, ready half an hour before it was time to leave, which meant futzing around while I waited, trying not to get nervous. Any more nervous. The loom of it all. I tried reading another of Dana's polyamory articles, but it didn't really stick. Just as I was about to head out anyway, early or no, Dad arrived home with the results of his weekly shopping run. "The hunter-gatherer returns home successfully!" he cried out. As usual. "Starvation averted!" I responded, as usual. He gave me a second glance as I shoved leftovers around the fridge to make room for more milk. "You're looking spiff." "I, uh, have a date." He froze for a moment, then continued stacking extra soup cans in an upper cupboard. "As in a date-date?" "Um," I said, trying to resist saying 'It's complicated.' "Maybe. Or maybe just friends hanging out. That's what we want to find out." To my surprise, he smiled. "That's pretty mature of you." Which didn't come across nearly as condescending as it might have -- would have, a week ago. "They say the Program is like a hothouse: it force-grows relationships. Maybe it's nothing more than that." I shrugged. "I HOPE it's more, but dunno yet." "Well, if you're going out, maybe I'll head down to The Art House -- they've got a noir double-feature, Double Indemnity and The Big Sleep." I shook my head. Dad has this weird Thing for old movies. "Sure, whatever." He grinned. "Just don't read her any of your poems." I rolled my eyes. "Duh -- not till the third date." Hey, it's a thing -- I tease him about his ancient moving pictures, he teases me about my poetry. A few minutes later, the last of our gatherings stored away, it really was time to leave. I grabbed my jacket and headed out to pick up Dana and Teri. My maybe date-dates. # Dana Mom got home shortly before Mike was to pick me up. I'd just finished changing back to the first sweater I'd tried on, the red one, and skipped down to the front of the house for her sartorial approval. She nodded. "Not bad. Big plans?" "Dinner and hanging out with Mike and Teri. Mike's picking me up in ten." I'd already texted her after lunch, letting her know I was going out. I didn't actually call it a 'date' on the grounds we hadn't officially agreed we were going out. After, if, I'd have to be more honest. "Where?" I followed her into the kitchen. "Shelby's Diner -- it's downtown, behind the courthouse. Mike likes its accessibility and its burgers." "That's important? The accessibility, I mean." Pointedly not asking about the possibility I'd eat meat. "He uses a wheelchair -- paraplegic from a car accident." Hadn't I mentioned this, Wednesday night? I guess I hadn't. I must have been even more tired this week than I thought. The short nap after school had helped quite a bit. "Oh, I'm sorry for him. Any pain issues?" She put on a kettle of water for tea. "He hasn't mentioned. Well, aside from complaining about physical therapy." "That's good. Both no pain and they're keeping up PT." I followed her back into the living room. "Question: what's my weekend curfew, now that I'm in high school?" School days, of course, I had to be home in time for dinner, but the way things broke up with Tara, this hadn't come up yet. "Oh." Mom thought a moment. "I would prefer it if you were home by Quaker Midnight, but I think you've demonstrated enough maturity that you can stay out till 11 if you want to." "Thanks, Mom. I'll try for 10, but might be somewhat after." A brief honk out front -- I checked through the window: yup, ugliest van ever. I grabbed my jacket, since it looked to be another cold night, and asked, "Want to meet Mike?" # Teri There wasn't much, I decided, I could do with my hair until either it grew out more or I cut it again. It's just curly enough, it doesn't style well, not without a lot more work than I was up for. Or had time for. So my usual curly mass for now. Two large gold hoop earrings, plain gold chain necklace, gray knit pullover with a deep neckline, and a pair of charcoal slacks later -- it's not like I ALWAYS dress butch -- I was ready as I would ever be. Almost time to go. Father met me at the bottom of the stairs, wearing an athletic jacket remarkably similar to Coach Delgado's -- his usual uniform for the Friday night football game. "Ah, Teresa. Ready to go to the game?" Guh? Since when have I EVER expressed the slightest desire to watch ANY sporting event? "Dressed up as you are," he added. He looked like he expected it, too. "No, sir," I blurted. He raised an eyebrow. "No?" Oh f-- uh, crap, I managed to change that to. I licked my lips. How to explain? I tried to imagine how Dana would word it -- which somehow gave me the courage to say, "I do not want to go naked anymore -- not in those stands." I was, after all, technically still in the Program, as far as school events was concerned. Even if I had thrown away my red bracelet. Father considered a moment. "That is fair enough, and not just because of the cold." He got THAT right. He went on, "In the future, however, we will be spending more time together. Your mother has pointed out that I can hardly complain I don't know you when I've hardly made the effort TO know you. I won't deny that I've focused on your sister and brother because of shared interests. For this, I apologize -- it is past time to make up for my mistake." I -- he -- what? Apology? More time with him? I didn't know whether to be nonplussed or flabbergasted. I settled on a faint, "Yes, sir." "You'll be staying home again tonight, then." Against a direct statement like that, I had to fess up. "Actually, I have a date." He froze. "This hasn't come up before with you, has it," he said, half to himself. Then more focused, laying down the law, "For future reference, when you will not be home for dinner or going out afterward, either your mother or I must be informed in advance, preferably at least the day before. We also need to know whom you will be with, where you will be, and when you expect to be home." He looked at me, and after a moment I realized that was my cue. "I'm meeting Dana Partlow and Mike Smith for dinner at Shelby's. Afterwards, we'll probably hang somewhere -- we haven't made specific plans. I intend to be home before my curfew." After a moment, I added, "Which I assume is 11 on weekends." What Ricky's was last year, when he was my age -- this year, his had moved to midnight, just like Sam's. "So this is just hanging out with friends, not a date." One thing Dana showed me this week, by example at the very least, is that hiding your true self and then scorning others for not seeing it is, in fact, hypocritical. It still took putting on my Dana Face to say, "No, it's a date-date." He blinked. "With both of them?" I nodded. He swallowed, clearly rattled. It was a very odd feeling, knowing I could throw Father for a loop -- that my confession Wednesday evening was not a one-time fluke. It made me want to do it more often. Finally, he said, "Well, it's not like I have any personal objections to either of your, er, dates. Eleven p.m. it is, and text both myself and your mother when you decide where you're going after dinner." "Yes, sir." Out front, a quick honk. I glanced at the clock -- right on time. "That should be Mike." Another raised eyebrow. "Not picking you up at the door?" "Um, stairs with a wheelchair?" "Ah -- a point." Another loop thrown -- score. The doorbell rang, as if giving me the lie. I opened the front door to Dana. # Dana Shelby's turned out to be a "traditional diner," as it called itself -- 1950s styling, complete with chrome, though the memorabilia spanned the second half of the last century. A waitress greeted Mike by name, and directly showed us to a booth in the corner, under the windows, that had an extra long table he could roll under. Teri and I sat across from each other. The waitress handed us menus, introduced herself as Natalie, and bustled off. The fare was about what you'd expect for Americana greasy-spoon. I was very aware of Teri's legs and feet, so close to mine. And her cleavage. "This feels kinda weird," Mike said. "Clothes," Teri agreed. "That too. I've only ever been here with my dad." Not with a date. Or dates. "Speaking of clothes," I said, "now that we have pockets to hold our phones, let's finally exchange numbers." "Don't want to rely on school messages?" Mike teased. "Nuh-uh," Teri said. "Those are monitored." According to the fine print on the matriculation email, yeah, but they didn't exactly make it easy to find -- I wondered what first-hand experience she had with it. Natalie zoomed back as we finished adding each other as contacts. I was waffling over what I wanted and so ordered last: a mocha malt, burger with Swiss cheese and mushrooms, and a large order of seasoned fries. As Natalie buzzed away, Teri and Mike stared at me. "What?" "Usually you eat so little," Mike said. "For lunch, yeah. Dinner's my large meal of the day." "Will all that fit in you?" Teri asked. I stuck out my tongue at her, then said primly, "And now you know a little more about me." Mike snickered. A lock of his hair curled over the back of his ear in a way that made me want to brush it back. Teri smiled at me, as if aware of my thoughts, then frowned slightly. "I suppose you're going to want to talk about -- " and waved her finger, indicating us three. About us. I nodded. She was, I'd noticed, reluctant to discuss relationships in general, or anything personal really, and while Mike was perceptive, he tripped over his own emotions sometimes. But this was important -- essential. Because of what we were doing. And because boundaries. Clarity and mindfulness. To reassure them, I said, "Well, you two ARE word people." "But you're the analytic one," Mike countered. Which made me feel as nonplussed as Teri looked. Natalie returned with our drinks -- my malt and their sodas. Mike held his up. "Well then -- to us?" "To us," Teri and I echoed, clunking our glasses together. Then I put my malt down without tasting it. Mike blinked. "Second thoughts?" "No," I said quickly. "But I do have reservations. I don't know whether I'm ready." I looked up, at Mike solemn and Teri carefully blank. "I WANT to go out with you guys, but if I'm honest, I know I'm still off balance from Tara. Still hurting. I'm going to mess up - - again." "Messing up is what friends forgive," Teri said steadily. "Even I know that." Which, yanno, made me sniffle a little. I pressed my foot against hers. Mike said, "You're not taking seriously that little barb of Tara's, are you? 'Cause that was crap, potshotting bitchery." To Teri, he explained, "We ran into her snarling ex after history." I shook my head -- I knew it was just bitchery, however much it ticked me at the time. And how much I worried it might be true. To Teri, I said, "Anyway, this is part of why I keep pushing your boundaries, I realized. I want to know more about you, because of what she hid from me. Which is not your fault -- it's me. I'm working on it, but when I overstep, tell me." So I can be more mindful. Mike glanced at Teri. "Or whap you on the nose with a newspaper." She stuck out her tongue at him. Private jokes meant they were talking with each other: good -- and about me: better. To me, Teri said, "Girl, you'd push even without Tara behind you. You live so openly, and expect others to also." "But on the other side," Mike said, "you hold back so much of yourself." Teri nodded, but before she could respond, Natalie arrived with our plates. Mmm, cheeseburger. With sloppy mushrooms. Even better: eating a cheeseburger with two lovers. Which, yes, I wanted them to be. I did want this. Want them. When we'd slowed down to no longer inhaling our food, I down put my half-burger, chased down the last bite with a couple wedge fries, and cleared my throat. "So." When they both looked up at me, I put it formally: "The proposal on the table is that each of us go out with the other two. That way, any pair of us can hook up whenever without it being sneaking around, as well as all three getting together. Of course, every pairing also has to be careful they're not excluding the other person. And as an aside, I suggest that we confirm this works by each couple going on a date alone with the other's full knowledge." A thoughtful silence. # Mike That certainly was an interesting proposal. As in scary. And if I was honest, a smart one, too -- Dana was right to want to talk this out explicitly. Certainly it gave me an opening to make my confession. Before I lost my courage, I took from the inside pocket of my jacket a small gift box with a gold lid and set it on the table above my plate. I looked at the girls: Dana with her eyes nearly level with mine, Teri well above us. "I think you're right, about the three separate dates." Teri nodded at the box. "And that's relevant because?" "When I bought these," I said carefully, "I meant to give them to you two when -- if -- we agreed to go out." I opened the box to show two matching gold hair clips, one for each of them. They glanced at each other, then looked to me -- waiting. I swallowed. "It took me a while to realize: that would signal this is me and two girls -- not all three of us together." Dana smiled and Teri nodded. Almost felt like I'd been patted on the head. "Right, this is a triangle," Teri said. "Needs to be something each of us gives to the other two." 'Is' -- did she mean that she agreed with the proposal? Dana picked up a wedge fry in either hand and presented them to Teri and me. Heh. I accepted mine. Teri gave Dana a Look, but took the other -- then broke off two bites of her baked potato and put one on each of our plates. So of course, I gave each of them a bite of my mashies. By the time we ate our spudly gifts, we were giggling. But you know, it did make me feel that much closer to them, sharing food like this. And laughing together. "But seriously," Dana said, picking up her dripping cheeseburger, "we should all give each other the same thing, something unisex. Like braided string bracelets, or something." "Ankle bracelets," Teri suggested. "Rings?" I countered, but immediately shot it down, "though that's expensive." Teri waggled the fingers on one hand. "Can't wear them while lifting." As in, weightlifting? Is that why she's so strong? Huh. "Hmm," Dana said, munching another fry. "Anyway," I said, bringing us back to the point I'd been making, "just as you have your issues, I have mine. This..." I picked up the box and lidded it "...is how I think, sometimes. If I don't watch it." I slipped the box into my jacket. "Which is why I think you two should have the first date. I need to test myself." Prove that I won't get, yes admit it, jealous of what they have. The girls glanced at each other, and something passed between them -- something I couldn't catch. Which is as it should be, I told myself. Dana nodded to me, answering for them both. Teri stabbed a steamed broccoli floret with her fork. "If it's any consolation, I'm new at all this, too. Going to make mistakes myself." Dana considered her a moment. "You do have experience with a working three-way relationship -- your collaborators." Teri froze with a bite of chicken halfway cut off. "That..." She put her knife and fork down. "Okay, you have a point." While Teri considered that, Natalie checked in on us. After assuring her no, we don't need refills yet, she left us alone again. One perk of being a regular is good service, but right now I... we... wanted privacy. Dana took a sip of her shake, set it on the table with a clank that caught our attention. "Not to air dirty laundry or brag, but you should know I also have some experience with -- I've been in a threesome before. It didn't end well, though, and some of the mistakes were mine." Teri frowned at her. "So you can tell us what not to do," I said to Dana. She blinked a moment, then nodded, as if she hadn't thought of it that way. "What happened?" Teri asked quietly, no longer frowning. "This was at camp, two summers ago. I liked this girl, Ami, crushing something fierce -- and she liked me but she also liked this boy, and said she couldn't decide between us. I was afraid she'd take the, ah, straight and easy path, and said I was willing to also have sex with Chuck if I could have her as well. We agreed -- I pushed them into agreeing -- that we'd only have sex all three together." She leaned toward me with the full force of her maximum earnestness. "This is not happening now. You do know that -- right?" I felt a little hollow, despite being filled with meatloaf. I was, she was saying, not just part of the Teri Package for her -- she wanted me for myself. And, a part of me noticed, she would have the chance to prove it, when we had our date together. I nodded. "So many ways this could go wrong," Teri murmured, almost fascinated. "Which was it?" "They had sex alone, and I found out. At the time, I thought Ami had decided between us but was a coward about telling me. She later admitted, this last summer, that she'd agreed to sleep with me in the first place because Chuck wanted to try a threesome. She'd liked the bi-curious experiment, but she'd already decided on him at the start." "Bastard," Teri said without heat -- more, cold contempt. "Bitch, too -- but him? Bastard." Dana spoke carefully. "Her apology was real. She'd learned. *I* learned." Teri frowned, as if she'd be less forgiving. But before we could go down that tangent, I leaned toward Dana, trying to look in her eyes with as much earnestness as she had. "This is not happening now. You do know that -- right?" She returned my gaze, and nodded. Then she and Teri's met, and they nodded together -- then Teri and I. "After all," Teri said reflectively, "past experiences are past. I mean, they're there, they're part of you, but it's the present that matters." "Exactly," Dana said. Right. Two beautiful girls, both of whom seemed to like me -- that was good enough. More than enough. And I really meant that. "So what do we tell people?" I asked. A pregnant silence. # Teri It took me a moment to get the words together. "Is it any of their fucking business?" "No," Dana promptly said, "but what did you tell your father about tonight?" Okay, fine -- point. "I said I'm on a date with you two." And even if I hadn't already decided to tell him, I'd've had to say SOMETHING when he met her. Mike's eyebrows rose high -- hadn't expected that, had he? Dana, on the other hand, was abashed. "I said I was having dinner with you two, but nothing more -- I didn't know what our story is." Mike said, "I said I was hanging with kids from the Program, with the option of something more happening." "I can, as I've demonstrated," Dana's voice was just a little bitter there, "date in secret. Can date someone in the closet." Evidence for the defense: Tara. "But I'd rather not. It is harder to pull off if you're both, err, all at the same school." That, I believed. And frankly I wasn't sure I wanted to go to the effort of hiding. But I still didn't want to announce it, either. I pressed Dana's foot, the one resting between mine, and she pressed back. Natalie came by to take our empty plates and our desert orders. Dana still had half her malt, but Mike and I wanted apple pie -- a la mode for him. As the waitress bustled off, I said, "I'm not much for PDAs." "Yesterday's cuddling aside," Mike said. Which wasn't exactly fair, given the cold -- though I'd liked it for more than just warmth. "That's different," I said. "It was a private thing. Okay, yes, sitting in public, but we were alone." At their skeptical looks, I added, "You know what I mean." Dana rubbed her foot against my ankle, which did make me kinda tingle, while saying to Mike, "I predict that, in two weeks, she'll protest she doesn't like holding hands even while reaching for one of ours." He snickered. Yeah, right. And then I had to laugh. If you'd told me a week ago that I'd not only make two friends at school but be comfortable enough to let them tease me like this, I would have marked you down as terminally insane -- and not even bothered to answer. Friends! Natalie returned with our pie -- larger wedges than I was expecting. I'd need an extra protein shake before bed, to balance all the carbs -- and an extra-long workout tomorrow, for the calories. I do not want to return to being the pudgy kid I once was. I shook my head. As I took my first bite, Dana looked a question at me. After I swallowed, I told her, "Just thinking -- you guys are my only friends here. I've got Cal and Zoe, and now suddenly you two. And just so you know, those girls? -- we tight. Whatever works out with us three, I won't let it get in the way of that." "Friends and collaborators and partners," Mike said. I keep having to remind myself that he's no less smart about people than Dana. "All that and cherries on top." "So few friends," Dana murmured. "If you didn't have all that anger, you'd be shy." I met her eyes with a steady gaze. "Boundaries," I didn't quite growl. "Oh, bulltish," Mike said. "That's a personal deduction from public observations, no privacy invaded. Just because something makes you uncomfortable doesn't mean it crossed a line -- it just means you're uncomfortable. So say THAT." Ah, fuck. I looked at my plate. Dammit, he was right. And I HATE being wrong. "So what are your commitments with Cal and Zoe?" Dana asked -- both giving me a way out and honoring that relationship. I nodded to her. "We have a weekly chat, or sometimes we skype, that's Sunday morning my time. We'll meet up online other times, but that's the commitment. Plus I write, edit, and format -- during the school year, last spring, I spent twenty to thirty hours a week on that, twice that over summer. Aside from them, I spend Saturday mornings at the rec center." "Lifting?" Mike asked -- so he'd caught that. I nodded, but didn't elaborate. "Sunday mornings," Dana said, "I'm at Meeting. Plus I've a few volunteer commitments through the week -- GSA especially. This Program escorts thing, whatever we call it." Which seemed as good a time as ever to bring it up. "Speaking of which, why did you assume we wouldn't be interested enough to even mention it to us?" Her eyes went wide. A glance at Mike, who also looked at her sternly. "That would be because sometimes I'm an idiot?" I nodded agreement and acceptance. "Are you interested?" Mike asked me. "Is that so surprising?" "Given how self-isolated you are in school, yeah." Dammit again, he was right again. "Yeah, well, and that got me in trouble. If it weren't for you guys, especially Dana, I'd've had it a whole lot worse, this week." I let out a long breath. "And that's the sort of thing that can only be paid forward." "I'm sorry I scheduled the planning meeting during your workout," Dana told me. "That, actually, is okay," I said. "I'll volunteer, but don't want to be a planner. All the talk, talk, talk, would just piss me off." She smiled, then looked to Mike. "I like the idea, but my usefulness is constrained by elevators." Said with almost no bitterness. Dana nodded. "That's why I assumed you wouldn't." Then, "You have PT when?" "Tuesday and Thursday after school, plus take-home exercises at the rec center Sunday afternoon while Dad works out. Plus I sometimes train during the week." So those muscles weren't just from the wheelchair? Though I should have realized: he couldn't get those abs just pushing himself. But before I could ask about it, yet another interruption from our waitress: our check. Dana reached for it: "Since I asked you guys out." I cleared my throat. "Speaking as one of the word people here, actually you didn't, you suggested we all go out. This is dutch." Mike nodded firmly. "Divided equally." "Tomorrow night is mine then," Dana told me. Since when were we going out tomorrow? Oh, got it, this was her way of asking me out. "Deal." For which she rewarded me with more footsie. I bet she didn't even realize how good she is at this sort of manipulation. Of course, it was working -- I was looking forward to some privacy, more and more. Despite the distraction, Dana glanced at the total and took just a second to work out equal shares, tip included. Mike only had twenties, but between us, we had enough change for him. "I hope," Dana said as she double-checked the stack of bills, "all this talk talk talk didn't piss you off." I let out a sigh. "No. You were right -- we needed to work this through." Possibly, even, I should look at those advice columns for triads she sent. "So what is our story?" Mike asked. He does have a way of bringing things back to what he brought up. "It's probably not practical," I admitted, "but I'd just as soon not hide it but don't announce it either, and let whoever figures it out do so." "But be honest with our parents," Dana said. "We kind of have to," Mike said, "since we're minors." "You," I told him, "are way too lawful." "That works for me," Dana told me. "And me," Mike said. The diner was, by this point, pretty full -- they probably already wanted our table cleared. Which I was willing to give them -- in exchange for that privacy. "So," I asked, "where to?" An expectant silence. # Dana "Well," I reluctantly admitted, "not my house." Teri shook her head. "Parentals will be back after the game and anyway, my room's two flights up." Mike licked his lips. "Dad's at a double-feature till near midnight. We could watch a movie, or something." A smile curled my lips, and a flutter tickled my tummy. Or 'something'. And from the caress of Teri's toe against my lower leg, she agreed with my assessment. "That sounds good," I said. Teri shifted along the bench, to get out. "Won't you, my dear, come up to my room to look at my ... DVDs?" "You have to twirl a fancy mustache, for the full effect," Mike told her as he rolled back to let her out. "Oh darn," she said, completely unrepentant. Teri and I ducked into the restroom before leaving. While we were alone, I suggested tomorrow night we do dinner + movie -- the latest science-fiction blockbuster was opening at the mallplex. We weren't ALONE-alone, though: a young mother was herding two small children, both reluctant to go, so I couldn't say the other things I wanted to. I wondered how large a bed Mike had. Outside, the fading sunset had taken what little warmth was left of the day. Tomorrow, it was supposed to warm up again, at least, but for now, inside sounded good. As Mike pulled out of the parking lot, Teri suddenly pulled out her phone and started texting. "Sorry," she muttered. "What's your address? Gotta tell the 'rents." "Ah," Mike said, and told her. "Tight leash?" "Possibly I'm being paranoid," she said. No friends, little experience -- this had been, I realized, her first date. Or at least her first night out. I'd talked with her father for no more than half a minute, but he did come across as on the strict side. "Was he disappointed you aren't at the game?" I asked. Teri turned in her seat to look at me a moment, eyes sharp. Oops. Then she nodded and faced forward again. "Fortunately, I've never gone before, so I wasn't breaking expectations." Mike lived in a white house with a wide ground floor and a half-size upper story. There was a ramp at the front door and another at a side entrance that faced the wide driveway and detached two-car garage. Above the garage doors was a basketball hoop. He parked outside, and between my unloading his chair (without needing room for my bike, he didn't fold it up, just buckled it down) and Teri assisting him, we got Mike out faster than it'd taken to get in. Practice. The side door opened between the kitchen and enormous dining-plus-living room, with the latter stretching all the way across the front of the house. The effect was airy: not just being so open, but there was less furniture than expected and wide aisles between. All the floors were smooth -- laminate in the kitchen, wood elsewhere. "And back there," he waved at a door on the other side of the stairs from the kitchen, "is my den of iniquity and avoidance. Want something to drink?" "No thanks," I said politely. That malt was going to last me a while. Above the fireplace were half a dozen photos, including two sets of grandparents. Those with Mike young enough to stand included a woman, his mother, but she was in none of those with a wheelchair. Teri looked over the case of DVDs and video games. "Into classic movies?" "Ah, no," he said firmly. "Those are Dad's. I keep my stuff in room." Teri grinned. "Don't want to get it contaminated?" "Heh. Something like that." "What sort of your stuff?" I asked. "Um, mostly foreign stuff -- French, Italian, anime." "Anime, eh?" Teri perked up. Then, "Of course -- the Japanese." "For the practice," I agreed. "Bingo," he said, leading us into his iniquitous den. It wasn't the first boy's room I'd been in, of course, but the first as anything but a friend or sister -- the room of someone I was interested in. Mike's was large, with space enough to roll around, wooden floor completely clear but every shelf and horizontal surface crowded with stuff, at least up the level he could reach -- books, CDs, DVDs, notebooks, random stuff. Well, except the bed, a twin-size, which was made but not neatly. Neither the roll-in closet nor bathroom had doors, and the walls were pale blue. "You watch anime?" Mike asked us diffidently. "Some," Teri admitted. "Mostly SF series -- Gundam, Evangelion, Bebop. Plus I read yaoi." Heh -- it made sense she'd like gay male romances written for women. Especially given some of the slashy content of Downstar Runner. Mike's collection of mostly shonen adventure and sports stories, including a small stack of manga in Japanese, also made sense. "Dana, you?" Teri asked. "Mostly just Ghibli movies. I read more manga, a few-- oh, hey, Revolutionary Girl Utena!" "Now that one's WEIRD," Mike said. So I heard -- Aunt Salette, Kira's wife, had recommended it. "Wait, let me guess," Teri said. "Yuri fangirl." "They're fun," I said, sounding more defensive than intended. It's not like there's much fluffy lesbian YA in English. "I also read shojo school romances." "In that case," Mike said, "you both might like Simoun. It's SF with spaceships and a cast of lesbians. We'd have to stream it, though." "Cool," I said. I'm always up for science fiction with lesbians. Teri nodded as well, but continued looking through his shelves. None of us made a move for the living room. On the wall next to those shelves, a medal in a case caught my eye -- silver. Underneath it, in the frame, a photo of Mike in a three-wheeled racing chair crossing a finish line. The same chair, I realized, folded in the corner of the room. "Denver?" I asked him. He nodded, diffident again. "What's that?" Teri asked. "Second place in the men's under-18 T54 wheelchair division at this year's Denver Marathon," I told her. Teri stared at Mike, then at me. "It was in the paper," I explained. "Local boy makes good," Mike agreed. "You mean I'm dating a JOCK?" Teri shook her head. "Says the girl who hauls heavy metal," Mike countered. Was that related to the lifting they'd mentioned? -- weightlifting, I was guessing. Teri flipped him the bird, then grinned. "You look exhausted," she said, waving at his picture. "Oh man, was I. I bonked, the last k -- was in the lead till that happened. Ten meters more, and the third place guy would have passed me. Couldn't even get myself across the room for three days, plus I messed up my back -- took like six weeks to heal." "Well, I'm impressed," I told him. Which I was, as well as interested in finding what other depths he had. They both had. "So am I," Teri said. "Yeah, well," Mike mumbled. It was kind of adorable, actually. Time to make a move, to push things along. I looked at Teri, asking permission -- or at least her approval. After a moment, she raised her eyebrows slightly, a question. I turned to Mike, bent over the arm of his chair, and looked in his brown eyes from a few inches away. "Very impressed," I said. And then kissed him. I meant it to last only a few seconds, but oh those lips were sweet -- and his tongue. He cupped my cheek with a rough gloved hand, drawing it out. When we finally pulled apart, a little breathless, Teri was on his other side. "To the victor goes the spoils," she murmured, and kissed him -- long and warm and hard and hot. If my kiss had looked half this passionate, she must have been close to burning up from watching. I was about to spontaneously combust, it felt like. Why was I still wearing my jacket? The sweater alone would be too much. When they broke, Mike was close to panting. Teri pulled me close and kissed me, lips sharp and hard. With the arm around my shoulders, she nudged me toward Mike. I smiled for her, looked into his eyes until he recognized the fire in mine, and kissed him again. Sweet kisses with someone in a wheelchair are easier than passionate fumbling -- wheels and arms get in the way, chairs slide away. Soon Teri and I helped him move to the bed, shedding clothing as we went. Lips and ears and necks, fingers and tongues, and still too much between us -- more fumbling, with Teri's assistance, and he and I were naked. Deliciously naked, not that homogenized nudity product we'd been in school. I pushed Mike onto his back and straddled him. I caught Teri's shoulder, leaned into her for a quick kiss -- she allowed that much but wanted to take me later instead. I smiled agreement, and focused on the boy beneath my thighs. >From this vantage, the muscles of his chest and belly that Teri likes so much were much more obvious -- especially when he strained up to meet my kiss. His hands, too, were strong -- caressing, supporting me, holding my breasts -- and smooth, without the gloves. And the hard cock, hot between my legs -- I wanted that inside me. Wanted that joining. That release. I took it slow, stretching myself, as I took him. Enough times with him, and it'd be easier, but drawing it out this way was also nice. Very nice. All the way in was almost too much. I rose up, smiled down, and settled again, and he arched his back, rising hips up to meet me. Again. And again. Like a pulse. It did not take me long to come the first time. And there was more to come. # Teri The first time Mike and Dana fucked, I was satiated myself -- too high on the fucking endorphins to mind others screwing. When Dana gave Mike relief in class, it was pretty hot -- but it had been my idea. Dana's suggestion that we test ourselves, while the others are together, was a good one. This time, making it with Mike was Dana's idea. I was feeling sexy but hadn't gotten wrapped up in either one yet. Could I handle it, when they got it on without me? Survey says: DAMN that was hot to watch. The flush of Dana's skin -- the bounce of her tits as she rode him, the obscenity of his thick cock stretching her to fit, of it pushing in and pulling out of her. The cords of Mike's muscles -- the tightness of his abs as he thrust up into her. The cries as they came -- her whimpers, his gasps. These two -- they deserved that joy, that release. And now I damn well wanted my part of it. I'd undone my slacks as I watched, to make room for my hand. As they came down, so did my pants. Sweater stripped and bra unclasped (so weird, having to actually undress), and I was ready to caress them -- hold them -- take my turn. I knelt one knee on the edge of the bed beside them, kissed her shoulder -- sweet sweat. Wrapped my arm over her shoulder. Dana was nice to hold up, so I bent down to kiss Mike tenderly. "Now you watch," I whispered to him. He needed the recovery time, and I needed to test myself again. By going down on her -- to confirm I really am bi. I pulled her off him -- his cock came out with a slurpy pop -- and pushed him up the bed for room. I lay her across the bed, legs over the edge, and lowered myself to kiss her -- she tasted of Mike and lingering chocolate malt, but mostly of her. And she was delicious, all of her -- the curl of her ear, the arc of collar-bone, the slopes of her smooth tits. The gasp as I sucked her hard little nipples. The salt of her sweat. As I continued down her belly, she said, "You don't have to..." I kissed her to shut her up. "Yes I do," I said firmly. "Because I want to." And I did, I wanted to give this lovely exasperating girl the best time I could. I was NERVOUS, but wanted to anyway. Wanted to pleasure her. I knelt on our scattered clothing between her legs. When reached her pussy with its light brown curls, I realized this wasn't a complete test -- she was sopping with Mike's cum. I wouldn't be eating the pure girl herself. I'd have to do this again to try the taste of herself -- maybe tomorrow night. I realized I was looking forward to that. But enough -- focus on the moment, at the job at hand. Err, at mouth. Whatever. You know that thing about how girls are better at muff- diving because we know what feels good? Total crap -- just like everything else with sex, it takes practice, and I barely knew what I like done to ME. Before this week, my personal (as opposed to written) experience had been a second-base make-out session and giving a guy head twice, and a whole lot of dates with Miss Rosy Palms. She had to show me where to touch her to start, on her outer lips and around her hard little clit, and how to change it up as I brought her up -- to circle in, to reach inside her, to flick her clit lightly, then harder. As she got closer, wetter, the taste of her own juices came through. While I tasted them, licked her, worked her up, Mike caressed her -- kissed her sometimes, held her hand. Loved her. And when I finally brought the wave crashing through her, she writhed and whimpered between us. # Mike I tried to hold back, let the girls have a time of their own, but Dana caught my hand -- then drew me in. Time enough, tomorrow night, to test myself. Possibly that was a coward's thought, but for now, we were together. I was a part of this, not apart from this. And yes, it was hot. Not just that it was two girls getting it on -- it was THESE girls. These lovers I wanted not just to have, but who I wanted to have joy. A woman in the throes of orgasm, I decided, was the most beautiful thing in the world. I made a promise to every future female lover to get them there as often as I can before my own release. I did what I could, caressing and kissing, to help this one along. When Teri finally looked up, face glistening, Dana was totally limp. "Enough," Dana managed to gasp. "Uncle. Done. Fork." Teri had what my father calls a shit-eating grin -- mighty damn pleased with herself. She kissed her way up Dana's body, with a stop to enjoy those firm tits, ending with a slow kiss on the mouth. "Give me a couple hours to recover," Dana said weakly, "and I'll return the favor." "Nuh-uh," Teri said. "No one goes down on me." Dana's eyes went wide. I didn't blame her -- that hurt. "You've seen how I lock up when I come," Teri said, "and how strong I am. I'd crush your head." Dana looked up at me languidly. "Our challenge is clear: find a way to go down on her safely, then convince her it's safe." That girl is nothing if not brave. "I like a challenge," I said gravely. "You guys need to take this seriously," Teri growled. Dana smiled sweetly and caressed Teri's cheek. "Oh, I do. You, my darling fool, don't know your own body." Teri started to protest, but Dana stopped her with a finger on her lips. I leaned forward to kiss Teri's shoulder, the only place I could reach without shifting. "Trust your experienced lover," I told her. "What's in it for me?" she growled again, this time with a twinkle in her eye as she looked at me. "Oh, nothing important," I said. "Just incredible sex." "Oh yeah?" Teri shifted closer to me. "Yeah," I challenged her. "I'll show you incredible sex," with that snarl, she was on me. She tasted of spunk and Dana's juices. Delicious. She pushed me back, straddled me, and immediately took me insider her -- hot, hard, and heavy. Nothing sweet or subtle about this -- this was raw fucking. She came before I did, freezing up for several seconds, mouth open in a wordless, silent shout -- leaving me to thrust up into her. But as her wave passed, she began to ride me again, hard and fast again, and soon I came myself. And when I was spent, Teri collapsed on top of me -- firm and sweaty flesh, but propped on her arms to keep from crushing me. Her deep breathing curled inside my ear. Dana slowly crawled up alongside us to cuddle up, half draped over Teri while resting in the crook of my arm. She seemed to vibrate against my skin with what felt like a half-remembered melody. After a while, Teri said, "Dana, are you PURRING?" "Just humming," she said. "There is a difference, you know," I added. Three heartbeats later, all together, we started giggling. Seventh Day (Saturday and After) -------------------------------- Teri I woke obscenely early. As in cuss a blue streak early. But I didn't cuss -- I felt too good to cuss. Apparently, good sex is good for more than just the orgasms -- who knew? So when it was clear I wasn't getting back to sleep, I got up and buckled down to work: actually copy-editing the Downstar novella already. The easy edits, I made myself, but reading it through, there were two things that needed extensive rework. First, Zoe's established character acts completely out-of-character in an early scene, either this needed to change, and so change the plot, or that it was a problem needed be threaded through the rest of the story, which would be much better. Second, the climactic sex scene, which we'd all worked on, needed polish -- rushed in some places, missing sensuality, too drawn out in others, almost turning into tab-A-in-slot-B. I annotated the rougher places -- comments I would not have known to make, a week ago, but wanted their approval before rewriting it myself. Or better yet, that we each make a revision pass on the whole scene, to blend our pieces together. Apparently good sex is also good for writing better smut. Which I knew, really -- that's why I usually left most of our sex scenes to Zoe and Cal, and focused on plotting and characters. Well, no more of that. I typed up my beta notes to send on with the edited text. At the end, I added: "As you've probably guessed, I'm seeing someones now -- and fair warning, going out with two people will probably cut into my time with you guys. I'm still all in for Downstar and will keep up my writing and editing, and nothing but nothing keeps me from our weekly meeting. (I'll even tell you guys all about my sexy sex-life tomorrow.) But I may not be online as often through the week." And then tapped Send. One commitment down. I checked my unfinished story, but decided the climax still wasn't ready to be written -- needed more time in backbrain, though last night had given me a couple hints. I thought for like half a second about starting that report for Alverez -- but I felt too good for that. Besides, I was getting hungry -- and no wonder, it was past my usual breakfast time. I pulled on some workout clothes, packed civvies and school tablet in my gym duffle, and headed downstairs. Extra large protein shake, I decided -- light enough for the heavy lifting, but enough energy to get me through. Also, quicker than fixing something solid. I wasn't sure about this new flavor I was trying, though. I drank my breakfast standing up, a mouthful at a time, near the sink. I didn't reckon that running late would mean running into Sam -- usually I was out of there before she got up. As it was, she looked like she needed a few more hours down: she gave me one glazed-over glance and shambled straight to the coffee maker. Heh. Saturdays, I waited to take my dose till after working out. Besides, I preferred it with a lot more steamed milk. I'm not sure I wanted to know she had sushi-print pajama bottoms. TMI, yanno? Sam's unfocused eyes gazed though my duffle bag in a chair of the kitchen table. After her second sip of elixir, she frowned. Another sip, while I chugged some more shake -- nope, artificial vanilla wasn't doing it for me. Maybe if I blended in some frozen berries. "Where you going?" she said suddenly, frowning at my duffle. "Rec center," I said, as if that was normal. Which it was -- the going, not the explaining. No more hiding my true self. "Since when do you go there?" "Since seventh grade." Blank look. After a couple seconds, a couple synapses started firing. "I thought," She shook her head, to clear it. "You just always hide in your room with that fanfic stuff." "Mostly I do," I said into my nearly empty glass. "Saturday mornings, I get out." "What the heck do you DO there?" Since she asked so politely: "Use the machines to work on muscles I can't isolate here, then lift some heavy iron." Puzzled frown. "'Heavy iron'?" "Clean-and-jerk and snatch." The competition weightlifting events. Ricky came into the kitchen, looking more chipper than either of us, despite yesterday's game. He barely glanced at me, then zeroed in on the canister of shake powder I hadn't gotten to putting away. "Hey, that's mine!" "No, yours is marked with an R," I said, rotating this one to show the T sharpied onto the label, before returning it to the cupboard next to his. He stared at me. Then, "What -- you mean that disgusting strawberry stuff was yours? I thought it was, like, a mistake no one had gotten to throwing out." I rolled my eyes and turned to rinse my glass in the sink. Behind me, Ricky said, "Ow!" I glanced back -- he rubbed the back of his head, as if Sam had whapped him upside it. "Thanks," I found myself telling my sister. Never thought the day would come. "What was that for?" he protested. "My stuff's been on the shelf for two years, and you never thought to ask about it?" I shook my head and picked up my duffle. As I left the kitchen, Sam asked, "Why the rec center and not Delgado?" I looked back at her. "I'd rather get tips from an Olympian in the event than be coached by a guy who's never taken anyone further than state champion, and that in another sport." It'd been twenty years ago, and Bud came in 18th in his weight class -- but that's still 18th in the whole fucking world. I almost walked straight out the door, before remembering tonight's plans. I found Mother in the den, skyping her sister. I did the Hi thing with the aunt, and confirmed my parents had gotten my message about going out with Dana -- THEN I left. I spent part of the walk looking forward to telling Bud exactly what I thought of his ratting me out to Delgado -- but more of it looking forward to meeting Dana and Mike afterwards, at the main library, to do homework together. And maybe, just maybe, to tonight. # Mike I woke from torrid dreams to the smell of sex -- I'd aired out the room before Dad came home, but my sheets were permeated with the sweat and secretions of sexyfuntimes. Despite having washed up with Teri and Dana (more fun times), I needed another shower after lying all night in that. I wasn't sure I wanted to change my bed, though. Not yet. Well, I'd have to before the next visit, which I hoped was soon. I contemplated my wheelchair. I've spent five years fighting back against teasing and sometimes outright bullying with every tool at hand -- sarcasm, tattling, brute strength, anything I could. I'd pretty much been left alone, on that front, since freshman year. Carved out place on my own. And sometimes broken things off with friends, after one hurtful comment too many. Pushed them away before I could get hurt again. Sometimes that wheelchair was not the real problem -- sometimes I used it as an excuse. It got so tiring, though, just trying to cope with it all. Suddenly, I was really, really glad Dana and Teri hadn't taken my revelation of the barrettes the wrong way. Very glad it was THEM that I was going out with. I'd needed to show them, however badly I actually did it, but I would have handled their anger even more badly. When I emerged from my room, Dad was already up, eating breakfast at the table. He was peering at his phone through -- were those reading glasses? "Nice specs," I told him as I rolled into the kitchen. "You totally rock the tortoiseshell look." He grimaced. "From the drug store. I've reached the age where they actually help, more fool me." And, indeed, he looked much more confident, tapping the screen. It was middle-aged eyes and not just terminal cluelessness -- who knew? Cereal, bowl, spoon, milk -- a circuit of the kitchen and out to the table. Dad looked over his glasses at my sugar-loaded breakfast and shuddered, as usual, before taking another spoon of that tasteless mush he calls 'oatmeal'. "Have a good time last night?" he asked. I paused to consider how to describe it. "Yes, I do believe I did." He grinned. "I take it you anticipate more date-dates in the future?" "We, ah, decided to make a go of it -- see what comes." He nodded. "Thought you might, the way you talked." I did not roll my eyes, though I was sorely tempted. "Yeah, yeah," I told him. "Anything planned for tonight?" Here it came. "Ah, not tonight, no. It's my night off." It took him less time that I expected to catch on to the implications of the pronoun. He licked his lips. "Is this the part where you tell me 'It's complicated'?" Well, it WAS going to be. Time to make it as simple as possible. "I'm going out with Teri and Dana, who are also going out with each other." Dad slowly put his spoon down. "Well." Then he pulled off his glasses and set them on the table. "So they are..?" "Bi, yes." "And all three of you also..?" "Together, yes." My stomach fluttered, but my voice stayed steady. A small, wry smile. "You always did like a challenge." Said the same way as when I told him I wanted to marathon. And, shortly before the accident, to play baseball. My throat suddenly felt dry, and my hands tingled. I realized I wanted to say even more -- a lot more than I'd intended. While I was being confessional. "There's something else I need to tell you. Not about them -- about me." He looked at me steadily. "I'm also bi. I'm not seeing any guys now, but I've had sex with boys." "I... see." Does Dana feel this lightheaded, when she's prompted by the Spirit? "Um," I finally said. "I should probably mention I'm not out, or not yet -- I've told Teri and Dana, and now you." "Are they out?" "Dana's been for years, I think. Teri's told her family, but no one else yet -- I think she plans to come out by people realizing she's with Dana." He blew out a light breath. "I don't know what to say. No, that's not true -- this is where I tell you that I'm glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me." That, actually, made me feel better -- a lot better. I nodded. It WAS good that I could, and I knew that. "And if I could offer some advice -- I'm not suggesting staying in the closet as a long-term strategy, but you may find that the furor over publicly being in a triad will be enough to deal with, without coming out as well." "Ah -- yeah. I'll think about that." Hadn't thought about it at all. But if Teri's doing both at once... "And when you do come out publicly, do let me know so I can join PFLAG without outing you." Over the rest of breakfast, we had, well, not a good long talk -- but a good short one. I think he wanted to get away to think. I thought about starting my report for Alverez before heading out for a training run, but didn't feel like it. I wanted to get out -- outside, I mean. Then I realized, better than a run would be something that got me together with people. Like, say, a pickup game of basketball at the park downtown. I could change at the rec-center, after, then head across to the library -- where I was meeting Dana and Teri. No, just for algebra and other homework -- we're not THAT out. But I was, yes, looking forward to even this. And maybe, just maybe, to the rest of the year. # Dana I slept in -- a long, relaxing sleep. I do like good sex, especially with someone I love. And it's even better with two someones I love -- who knew? Mom woke me up, finally, on her way out the door to her anti-nuclear power rally -- she'd be gone all day. After assuring her I'd text any change in plans, she finally left -- and I realized I wasn't going to fall back asleep to those loverly dreams. So I got up and got to work. I started with refactoring my Program route optimizer, by way of repackaging it as a standalone app -- a map-app. I couldn't get very far till we had a decision on how schedules would be inputted: direct database calls would be best, but we could also set up a query in the school system that outputted a spreadsheet, and read that in. I sent a note to Alverez and Jackson, detailing options, and set that aside. Next I triple-checked that I had everything ready for the Program Escorts organizational meeting -- this Thing I had called. Ran through the notes for my presentation. Deep breath. I can do this, I told myself. Just be Mindful. I had a half hour till it was time to leave, so rather than work myself up into Even More Nervous, I started that report for Alverez -- which was time enough to get through only Tuesday morning. Chronological narrative was possibly not the best organization, I decided as I rode across town. It encourages me to say too much, burying the important points. Maybe by type of incident, with supporting detail as expandable inline notes? The AFSC offices are on the south side of town, just off the state highway -- not the best place to get to by bike. I got there a little early, in time to print up agendas. In the few minutes before anyone showed up, I considered the differences between speaking in public, like this, and speaking in Meeting. I knew I was going to do this, but an ordinary knowing -- not that CERTAINTY, not been like yesterday morning. Speaking to people, on a set topic, striving for a consensus on a project. A more mindful knowing. Maybe this was less like Meeting for Worship than a Meeting for Business. I should attend one of those sometime, to see what it's like. Five minutes before start time, I began greeting arrivals. Some I knew from the GSA, including Karen and Gary, and from Bryant, Greg and Souxie. The Mormon kids, I only knew two: Diannia from history and Brie (who conveyed Addie's regrets -- family commitment). Maria didn't show -- she'd said she'd be a maybe, anyway -- but unexpectedly Gail did. "If this works out, I'll see about recruiting more of the squad." All told, an even dozen students, including myself. The adults were Michael Harmon from the AFSC attending as our host, Perry Falcon as a presumptive faculty advisor (not using his classroom as refuge, but his position as support), Brie's mother Marcianne as both a sponsor of the LDS youth group and her daughter's transportation, Ray Alverez as liaison with the Program itself, and James Skinner as, supposedly, strictly an observer. "I will stay in the corner of the room with my mouth shut," he told me. "I think," I said carefully, "it would make everyone more comfortable if you joined the circle." Then, "Please." After a moment, Skinner nodded -- and took the chair furthest across from me, and pushed it slightly back. After a few minutes for stragglers, I started the meeting with a moment of silence "so we can focus ourselves and discuss this mindfully." Then we introduced ourselves, and I took ten minutes to explained my idea: volunteer student Escorts would be matched using the map-app with Program Participants for one or more class changes, based on how close their schedules took them. Their main duty would be to witness and to intervene when other students got out of hand. An add-on module to the school system would let teachers check Participants in on arrival (letting the Program Coordinator they were safe) and give Escorts a further minute to arrive in their class before being marked tardy. This last part went over well with both Falcon and Alverez. Skinner remained stone-faced -- maybe Jackson would like it better. The rest of the hour was discussion and coming to consensus. The biggest challenge was training, of course, on both the finer points of Program rules and when and how to intervene -- Michael generously offered conflict-resolution training from the Alternatives to Violence Project, including training me (!) up into being a trainer going forward. Related to that was how to screen volunteers -- especially for those with good intentions but who aren't up for difficult situations. I had to explain to Gail that this would be worse than the current situation: "It's the difference between neglect and betrayal of trust." We did find consensus on our basic administrative structure, including how to coordinate assignments with the Program. Throughout it all, I tried to emphasize (in small ways) the importance of mindfulness as an escort. Or as one of the older Mormon boys put it, "situational awareness." In the end, we agreed to apply for recognition as a student group, allowing us access to a meeting room on campus, and to make a formal proposal to the Program (Alverez) and the administration (Skinner) for necessary coordination. "Now all we need is a snappy name," Brie said. "Let's take that online," I suggested. "Since we've used up our hour." True to his word, Skinner never spoke during the meeting. As we broke up, he told me, "This is not a bad idea, Ms Partlow. I can only hope that in the future, you will continue to work with school administration, instead of trying to end-run around it." "Understood," I said -- without agreeing to do so. After all, sometimes authority IS the problem. As she left, Souxie told me, "The NIS Program really does suck -- not at all the fun they make it out in middle school. It really is a pity you didn't get a chance this week to cut loose a little." Body memories of last night were powerful enough I could only respond, "Huh?" Greg explained, "Well, with all that went on, we don't blame you for staying your usual serious self. You deserve a little fun." "Um, thank you for your concern, but even with all that happened, I did have some fun. Really." I wasn't sure they believed me. Speaking of which fun, after helping Michael clean up, I had just enough time to bike over to the library to meet up with Teri and Mike. I was looking forward to doing homework with my lovers and new best friends. And maybe, just maybe, to the rest of our lives. # Teri's Afterword: This is not what we wrote for Alverez. What we turned in was edited down to just the official facts, but as Dana has pointed out, the full story is important too. Another way of witnessing, as she puts it. And since, as Mike puts it, I'm the Official Writer among us, I got stuck with compiling our separate accounts into a coherent story. Gee thanks, guys. Hope you're happy with the result -- suckers. But I jest. Actually, it's been... educational. And not just finding out that Mike has weird-ass dreams. Reading his and Dana's stories, I've fallen that much more in love with them. Both of them, in their own ways. After putting this together, I don't just AGREE to a stable triad: I'm going to WORK for it. For as long as we can hold it together. We've tried to be as honest as possible, and I think it shows. Sure, none of us has the whole story, and sometimes we disagree -- we're all unreliable, in our way. But I, for one, haven't hidden what kind of a bitch I was, any more than Dana glosses over when she's being a snot or Mike when he's a twit. I still am a bitch, though I'm working on it. We're all working on it. Just as I hope you, whoever you are, you're working to make yourself better -- and make this fucking world a better place. # Author's Afterword: I tried to write this story several times, using various permutations of these characters. In the very first version, the Mike character was the young Quaker. Another time, an older Dana was dating a grad student and trying out for the International Math Olympiad team. Sometimes Teri was a musician in a band starting to break out on YouTube, and sometimes a star athlete much like Sam in this version. In all variations, though, the story was built around the image of three naked students huddled together for comfort during a mid-week crisis -- which might be an ice storm, a student riot, the zombie apocalypse. (Believe me, you do NOT want to face the zombie apocalypse during your Program week.) This version may not be as goofball zany or as sexy as I hoped, but it's the one I finally finished. And now, perhaps, I can let the NIS Program go. -END- ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider seeking professional help. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 80