The Changing Room universe, also known as “Changing for Gym”, was created by Xoop and added to by Maggie Finson and Dustin C. I was intrigued by the power of the school, but also the limitations. I wish to stay true to the universe but nudge things a little further; I have referenced characters from the last two in the series, “Slipping In” and “Slipping Out”, and used the traditional opening as Prologue.

Hill Street High School has always worked its wonders on the students–perhaps faculty might be involved as well?

Changing for Gym: Family Affair, by Karin Bishop

Part 3

Hill Street High School was frustrated that the school grounds defined the school’s authority and abilities. If only the school could help things along with students at home. At least the school could get parents in for conferences regularly and sometimes more often. But how to do it with Frank McMahon and his wife at home? It wouldn’t do to have another bogus financial mistake. Ah–but she was a parent, too, right?

Kathleen McMahon was relieved as the counselor went on about how well both boys were doing academically. She’d had years of despairing counselors, and always left their meetings with the shameful feeling of having failed as a parent. But today was a wonderful meeting as the counselor sorted through the teachers’ comments and added her own. The upshot was, whatever they were doing, keep doing it. The dismal performance of the boys in the past was well documented, and the turnaround was astonishing. The counselor knew what she wanted to say but couldn’t: That without the influence of Frank in their lives, the boys were flourishing. But she was able to tell the boys’ mother that in terms of grades and new friends, they were doing well.

‘Blossoming’ was actually the word she used.

***

The first thing Tommy thought about when he looked at the bra was ‘tear-it-up’, like the nickname his father had given him, ‘Tear-em-up’. And Patrick called him ‘Tear’ anyway. The bra hung in his locker and was the first thing he’d noticed when he opened it. He was alone in the locker room, of course, and walked out of the showers, dried off and wrapped the towel around his chest. Automatically he walked to his locker but then corrected himself.

It’s over here now, he thought. For some reason his locker had seemed really high but now he was in a lower locker a few down from his old one. Vaguely, he remembered complaining to Administration about it …hadn’t he? He must have, right? Because they changed it, right? But hadn’t he used the old locker just this morning?

Then he remembered the smile Dave had given him this morning so thoughts of locker changes faded. Tommy sighed. Dave was so cool! He was really lucky that Dave was his friend. No, it was more than that. There really wasn’t a word for it …they were buddies, but more than that …and the way they said so much between them just with their eyes! And the way his heart raced when he saw Dave, like this morning. He hoped Dave felt the same way; he hoped he did. Tommy would have to come up with a new name for how Dave and he were friends. Because it was so …special!

Then he opened the locker.

And there was the bra.

His initial instinct was to look around to make sure he was alone and then grab the bra and tear it up into pieces and hide it in the bottom of the garbage can and then–

Tommy shook himself. Tear up the bra? But it was so pretty! Creamy ivory satin, with the prettiest little bow in between the cups. It looked yummy. He reached out and gently felt a cup. It was yummy. He had to try it on! He just had to! Even if it was just the prankster putting it there …

That didn’t feel right. Why would some prankster put it there–it was his bra, wasn’t it? He couldn’t quite remember wearing it before, but he sure was going to now, he thought happily. It was so yummy …

He took it off the hook and without thinking, slipped his arms through the straps and reached behind and did the clasp. Of course it was his bra, he reasoned. It fit and he knew how to wear it and it felt so good. The jiggle that had been bothering him the last two days was gone. Good, friendly, familiar support.

Familiar? He frowned, then shrugged. Whatever.

He must have been wearing it today, because his panties matched. Duh! He was so glad that Mom had taught him and Paddy how to wash their lingerie. This set was so nice and he shuddered to think about just shoving it in with jeans and detergent. Mom was so thoughtful, and he was learning so much! They all were. Well, everybody except Daddy. He just lay there going ‘murf’ and …well, it was hard to tell, but it looked like his eyes were swinging between looking full of rage and then looking full of misery. Hard to tell anymore, like the last time Tommy had seen his father …

Tommy had come into the master bedroom to collect a blouse for Mom. It was hot in the house; since Daddy’s stroke, he got cold all the time so they kept it warmer. So Tommy wore shorts–these khaki ones that Heather and he had found at that new boutique at the mall. They had a cute flare to them, and for some reason they reminded Tommy of shorts a really hip summer camp counselor would wear. The kind of counselor that would have a blouse with the ends tied across the tummy, and hair up in a ponytail? Really good tan? The thought had made Tommy try putting his hair up that way. He stood staring at it in the bathroom mirror, wondering about maybe going to a tanning salon, as Patrick had passed by on his way to meet up with Rachel.

“Looks really cute, Tere!” Patrick smiled.

“You think so?” Tommy asked, still turning his head side to side, watching the ponytail swing.

“Really,” Patrick nodded. “Rachel and I are going to the park. You want to come?”

“Thanks, but I’m going over to Heather’s. She wants some help with her Winter Ball gown.”

“God, the Ball!” Patrick said. “I just wish …”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, since both boys were dateless. Then he brightened. “Hey, I know! Maybe you and Luke could go together, you know, stag? Maybe be more fun that way. Going with your best friend, I mean.”

“Well, Rachel’s my best friend, but …well, yeah, Luke is, too, but in a different way. Kind of like you and Dave.”

The ponytail stopped swinging as Tommy dropped his chin to his chest. “Yeah,” he sighed heavily. “Be really cool if Dave and I could …go …”

There was a moment of sadness and something else between them, and then Patrick said, “I’ve got to get going.”

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, still depressed. “Well, say hi to Rachel. And thanks, Paddy.”

“What for?”

“Just …thanks,” Tommy smiled and for some reason felt like crying.

And it would be okay if he cried. If Patrick saw him cry. If he shared that with him. It would be okay. Good, even.

But not good to cry in front of Daddy; Tommy knew that it sort of should be, but Daddy always looked so angry. But then, Tommy couldn’t really remember a time when his father wasn’t angry …

His thoughts ended when his mother called out that since he was already upstairs, could he get her turquoise blouse for her? She needed to sew a loose button and so Tommy went to get it.

So that he wouldn’t startle his father by coming into the bedroom unannounced, Tommy knocked and called out, “It’s just me, Daddy. Mom needs me to get something from her closet.”

There was a loud ‘murf’ followed by a couple of other sounds. His father had been laying propped up against pillows, watching TV, and when he saw Tommy he sort of jerked and dropped the remote. It was hard to tell if he’d dropped it because he didn’t need it, or because his hands couldn’t hold it, or because it was his attempt to hurl it. He did that sometimes when his team lost on ESPN; they were afraid he might hit the TV and blow it up! But he was staring or glaring or something at Tommy.

Tommy had the cute shorts and a red tank top. And still had the ponytail. He stopped on the way to the closet and looked at his father.

“What is it, Daddy?”

His father twisted awkwardly to the nightstand and fumblingly picked up the notepad and stylus. Kathleen had found one of those pads with a plastic sheet over it; you could write with the stylus and pull up the sheet and clear it. It was cheaper than all the wasted pieces of notepaper that Frank would litter the floor with.

Furiously, Frank clenched the stylus and haltingly wrote out ‘godam fa’ before a strangled ‘murf!’ sound caused him to sag, dropping the pad to the bed.

Tommy looked at the pad and then at the television. “What were you trying to write? Um …Falcons? Farve? Um …I can’t tell.” He lifted the sheet, erasing it. “There you go, all ready for you again.” He put the pad and stylus next to his father’s hip, picked up the remote and wrapped his fingers around it. It was a special kind they’d found, with huge square numbers. “There you go, Daddy!” he smiled brightly as he stood. “Well, I’ve got to get Mom’s blouse for her. Then I’m going over to Heather’s. Paddy already took off to meet Rachel. So you better hold onto that!” He nodded to the remote and smiled.

Going to the closet, he easily located the blouse and took it out. It was such a lovely shade of turquoise, and Mom was so pretty in it. Hey–he had his mother’s coloring, didn’t he? How would it look on him? He held the blouse against his chest and looked in the full-length mirror. The color was good for him, but not the blouse itself. It was kind of an ‘old lady’ cut, as Heather called such adult clothing. The color did look nice with his khaki shorts, though, but something …something bothered him. He thought about it as he spun and left, his father’s growled ‘murf’ sounds fading behind him. By the time he handed the blouse to Mom, he knew what it was that had bothered him.

He’d called Heather and begged a half-an-hour extra, then took a quick shower. He’d asked Mom for the razor and gel that he used now; she’d given him some advice and a small bottle of baby oil, too. So he’d felt smooth and sleek and felt like bouncing as he walked to Heather’s. His ponytail bounced, but his chest did, too. It had been getting so kind of puffy lately, which was nuts because he’d already lost so much weight–very nicely, too, thank you very much!–and was exercising up a storm in PE.

And his legs had gotten great comments in PE and he’d been so happy when he came out of the shower but all of that didn't match how happy he was now as he wore his satin panties and bra. He pulled on his pants, some really cute baggy capris that Heather and he had gotten in different colors. They were almost like cargo pants; his were khaki and Heather’s were white so they joked that he was a carpenter and she was a painter but they were great for hanging out in the committee room after school, planning events.

When Tommy pulled his top over his bra, his happiness increased. Now the scoop-neck made sense! He could see the creamy swell of his boobs and they were in the bra and Tommy couldn’t wait for Dave to see how he looked now! Tommy buckled his strappy sandals and noticed that the polish was chipped on one toenail.

Have to fix that!

***

The school knew the contents of the books in its library. One of them had the phrase ‘curious and curiouser’. If the school could giggle to itself, it would, as it thought that as far as the McMahons were going, things were going ‘excellent and excellenter’. Things were nearing balance; this was the home stretch. And speaking of stretching, Patrick and Luke seemed to be doing very well.

***

Patrick stared at the skirt. It wasn’t his, was it? But it was in his locker, so it must be. He never …he’d never worn it before, right? Didn’t he wear Rachel’s diggers this morning, the ones that fit so tightly? Yes, that was right; he remembered how happy he was that she’d given them to him and today had been the first day he wore them. He recalled when they had found them. They’d been hanging out at the mall, and passed by Rachel’s favorite store and there were these new manikins in the window and Rachel had turned to him.

“God, Patty! I have got to try those!” and she’d pulled him in by the hand.

The clerk had given Patrick some odd looks and he thought maybe it was because of his clothing. He wasn’t as hip as Rachel; her family had money. All he was wearing was flats and some blue plaid walking shorts and a pink polo with the collar up under a white hoodie. Rachel had told him, ‘Collar up, hair up’ and his hair was swept up in a loose chignon. He was learning so many new words from Rachel! He really liked the look, especially because his new earrings were visible.

A couple of weeks ago, right after the last conference with their counselors, his mother had taken both boys to the mall for some winter clothes. The funny thing was the heat wave had lingered, as if summer refused to surrender. They just couldn’t wrap their heads around long woolen shirts and down parkas, so they went to the food court for a snack. There were a lot of cute guys and girls there and they talked about the fashions and Kathleen had told them how pleased she was with their counselors reports of the boys’ improvement. Then, smiling widely, Kathleen had led them to Claire’s. She stood watching with a happy smile as her boys got their ears pierced, and she joined in the giggling fun of choosing new earrings as part of the package deal.

Patrick had just moved from those gold ball studs to small hoops and loved the look. With his hair up they caught the light prettily. And while Rachel sorted through the boutique’s racks, he smiled back at the clerk and her face softened and they began discussing the styles on the manikins.

Rachel found a pair of black denim clam-diggers that looked great on her, like a second skin. They ended just below her knee and had the cuffs rolled up. Patrick was happy for her, and Rachel loved those jeans for three whole weeks. Then her brother had somehow washed and dried them. Rachel had brought her hamper to the laundry room and had begun sorting things out when Greg called. By the time she finished her call, her brother had thought he was being helpful and had added the basket contents into the wash. To him, jeans were jeans. Hot water, high heat …and in one cycle, Rachel’s tight diggers were now too tight.

The strange thing was …they fit Patrick. They’d been hanging out in her room after school and Rachel was grousing about her brother’s ‘help’ and then she looked at Patrick differently. He was a bit shorter than she was, so maybe …

And the pants fit really well. Tight, but they were supposed to be. Good thing Patrick was smaller than Rachel! He dimly recalled that when he’d first met Rachel in Dance class, her eyes came to about his chin. Hadn’t they?

Maybe not, he reasoned. Her clothes fit him so maybe she was growing. They had a lot more fun now that they could share things–well, not really share, because Patrick had so few clothes. But his mother liked Rachel very much and approved of them hanging out and sharing things.

So the diggers were now his, and Rachel had convinced him that his legs screamed for ‘strappies’. Another new word he had to learn; he thought it sounded either kinky or silly but the first time he tried them on in her bedroom, he was hooked. The strapped sandals had about a two-inch heel and now he was taller than Rachel, he grinned at her. But she was pulling out something called ‘pumps’ and suddenly she was taller than he was and they just giggled about a ‘height war’.

Rachel had said, “Careful, Patty! You don’t want to be taller than Luke!”

Patrick giggled at the thought. He had a vision of towering over Luke and reaching an arm around Luke’s shoulders, like in a kindly-uncle, big-brother-y kind of way, and suddenly it was all wrong. No uncle, no big brother, and he didn’t want to be taller than Luke. He liked being smaller than Luke. He liked the idea of Luke’s arm going around Patrick’s shoulders. Being cuddled. Being protected. Being …cherished.

And, yes, he had worn the diggers this morning, he was sure of it. But here was a denim miniskirt and the diggers were missing from his locker. Good thing he’d shaved his legs, he thought, remembering when Tommy told him that he’d shaved. As if I couldn’t tell, Patrick grinned to himself. Tere’s legs looked great! And his did, too, now–so there!

It was so funny to think of, now–that first time. He didn’t usually use the shower in the changing room, not since quitting football. He just didn’t get sweaty like he used to. But for some reason the teacher had let Dance out ten minutes early.

Rachel had fanned herself as they left the gym. “Whoo! Pretty stinky!” she giggled.

Playfully, Patrick had raised an arm, sniffed his pit, and pretended to gag.

“God, Patty, you’re so funny!” Rachel grinned, slapping his forearm with her fingers.

That did it; with the early dismissal it made sense to grab a quick shower. As Patrick was stepping out of his soffe shorts, he thought about Rachel’s legs. They were so smooth and his own legs were so disgusting and maybe he could ask Mom …

The thought trailed off because as he stepped into the showers, he saw a can of shaving gel and a pink razor. Maybe they were Tere’s? Then he saw the label said ‘Flirty Mango’ and thought of a pretty yellow skirt of Rachel’s that she’d said was that color. That’s all it took! And how hard could it be, if the girls all did it? Guys, too, from what he heard …some of the swim team. That led him to think about gymnastics, and Luke …

Before he knew it, he was sliding his jeans up and his legs felt fantastic! There had been some lotion that he’d found in his locker; he didn’t remember getting it but it seemed to do the trick. Must have gotten it when he got the Secret deodorant–it was strong enough for a man, right? He’d giggled at that, but his underarms felt great, too, and he was proud that he hadn’t nicked himself even once. Now I can wear sleeveless tops, he’d thought happily as he went to class.

Then he’d complimented Tommy and his brother had smiled and told him he’d started shaving. Patrick had giggled at that statement.

“No, I mean …” Tommy protested and then grinned. “You silly! Not my face, my legs! You really should, too, Pat. Your legs are really cute!”

Patrick just smiled and nodded a thank-you, secretly pleased that his legs were already shaved. It was one of the first things he’d done without checking with Tommy first, and it made him proud. And, yes, his legs were cute, and it was a shame to cover them up with jeans.

Even capris or clam-diggers only hinted at how cute his legs were …like the diggers that he thought he’d worn that morning, as he stared at his locker.

He stepped into the skirt and zipped it and swung it into place and God, yes! Legs looked great, strappies looked great, and this raspberry sweater top was so cute. As Patrick brushed his long blonde hair–he loved that now he could reach behind him and grab the ends–he thought he looked a little pale. He’d have to ask Rachel if she had something he could use. At the least some lipgloss!

He slung his bag over his right shoulder and cradled his books in his left as he left the locker room. Down the hallway and to the left, Rachel was at her locker.

“Hey, Rach, do I look okay?”

Rachel regarded her best friend. “God, yes! I hate you, Patty. It’s official now. That skirt is killer on you!”

“Thanks, but, um …didn’t I have the black diggers on this morning?”

Rachel started to say something and then her face smoothed. “No. Yesterday. You told me you were going to wear your new skirt today. That’s the one you got at Wet Seal, right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick nodded absently. “When you got your brown boots.”

“You should have bought those heels, babe!” Rachel grinned. “So cute!”

“Couldn’t afford ‘em,” Patrick shrugged but frowned.

“I know; I know, babe,” Rachel said soothingly as she rubbed her friend’s shoulder.

Poor thing just doesn’t have the money she should to dress better, Rachel thought sadly. But I’ll help where I can. Then she spotted Luke walking towards them.

“I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up,” Rachel grinned. “And he’s twenty feet away!”

Patrick’s smile burst like fireworks as he spun.

Luke was also smiling widely. “Hey, babe. Looking good!”

Patrick blushed a little and swayed to and fro; his skirt followed the movement. “You think so? Thank you, Luke!”

“You look so good, you deserve something,” Luke grinned as he leaned closer.

Without thinking about it, Patrick leaned forward and puckered and they kissed once, quickly and dryly.

Rachel tried to sound gruff. “Hey there, hey there; no PDAs allowed at Hill Street High School–unless I get some, and Greg’s not here, so knock it off.”

The three laughed and as they turned to head off to class, it was the most natural thing in the world for Patrick to slide under Luke’s arm as they walked.

Really glad I wore this skirt today, Patrick thought happily.

***

Yes, things were happy all the way around, or almost, the school thought. There were some adjustments to be done here and there and how the school wished it could help things at home. It had long ago gotten over any guilt for Frank McMahon’s stroke; it had been obvious that it was long overdue and was completely natural, brought on by Frank’s intolerant personality. The school had several thoughts on how it should be handled, if at all. If there was some way to get Frank onto the school grounds again, that would do it. The school had thought that maybe planting the idea that Frank’s recovery might be aided by coming to a team rally. Then the school might be able to ease things at the McMahon household.

But the school had never broken through to Frank; granted, he was weaker now, but from what the school had learned, the McMahon family was significantly happier. Quieter, more loving. Yes, there was an unhappy presence in the upstairs bedroom, but it couldn’t do more than mumble and write nasty notes.

Better to leave things alone, the school thought. Frank could not harm his family further.

Meanwhile, Kathleen was quite pleased with her pretty children.

***

“Oh, honey; I was hoping you’d avoid that,” Kathleen said with dismay.

“Avoid what?” Patty had asked.

“Avoid looking like a raccoon!” came from down the hall.

“Not helping, Tere!” Patty called back.

“Or a dead Goth!” came right back, accompanied by a giggle.

Kathleen rolled her eyes. “Teresa! Stop hassling your sister,” she called out. Then she looked at her youngest and sighed. “Sweetie, you’re so pretty; you don’t need to trowel on the makeup. I know it’s new, it’s fun, it’s exciting, but it’s like …gilding the lily.”

“I don’t think it’s too extreme,” Patty said, looking at herself in the mirror. Then she admitted the truth. “Yeah, it is a bit much. But it’s such a hassle to take it off and put it on again.”

Teresa appeared, leaning against the bathroom door, grinning. “Oh, listen to the freshman, already tired of her makeup.”

Patty stuck her tongue out. Teresa returned in kind.

“Girls, girls!” Kathleen laughed. “Look, it’s new to all of us, but let me ask you this. Patricia, are you ugly?”

“Huh? What? Mo-ther!” Patty frowned.

“Teresa, are you?”

“No,” Teresa said simply, running both hands through her hair. The action made her breasts rise.

Kathleen said, “Stop trying to be a centerfold. Alright, you girls listen. Think of a really pretty cottage. Then add a little touch of new paint here and there, a little trim of tree branches, and you can see just how pretty the cottage is. That’s you two; you’re both very pretty and because of that, less is more. Don’t cover up the pretty cottage with too much paint.”

“Yeah, Patty, don’t cover your cottage,” Teresa teased.

Kathleen said, “On the other hand, don’t show too much cottage. Are you going out dressed like that, young lady? Don’t let your father see you like that; you’ll give him a coronary!”

Teresa wore a tiny black miniskirt and her new black heeled boots and a white ribbed sweater.

“Um, yeah. Just over to Heather’s,” Teresa shrugged.

“And then to the Burger Barn to meet Dave,” Patty grinned, getting her own teasing in.

Kathleen saw Teresa loading for a retort and held up her hand. Her girls knew the sign and were quiet.

“Thank you. Teresa, I will allow that skirt if you put some tights on.”

“Mom, they’re in the wash!” Teresa complained.

“I got a three-pack,” Patty said. “Haven’t worn the white ones yet.”

“Thanks, sis!” Teresa smiled happily.

Kathleen turned to Patty. “And you, young lady, will remove the makeup and then re-apply correctly.”

Teresa was feeling kindly to her sister with the gift of tights, so she tried to smooth things. “Hey, Patty? Here’s something you didn’t think of: Nothing makes you look like a makeup newbie as much as raccoon eyes. You’re not Avril Lavigne or some punker, so it makes you look like a seventh grader that just got her first makeup kit.”

“Yeah, guess so …” Patty half-grumbled.

Kathleen gently stroked the back of the head of her youngest, marveling yet again at how soft and silky her long blonde hair was. “I don’t know; I think she’s as pretty as Avril Lavigne.”

“God, I wish!” Patty said fervently.

“The important thing?” Teresa said. “Luke thinks you’re as pretty as Avril!”

They giggled and Teresa left to put on the tights while Patty reapplied her makeup. She came out to show her mother, who approved. Kathleen was just heading into the bedroom with some pillowcases.

“Want to say hi to your father?” she asked, in the way of parents expressing their desire.

“Sure,” Patty said, although she always felt slightly creeped out by her father.

Then she would feel guilty about that, but he was so unknowable these days. She knew the doctors and physical therapists had said he was ‘trapped in an unresponsive body’ but he’d been so active. Coaching those football teams and stuff. Now he was a mostly-silent husk that flared up in angry grunts. At first, he’d moved slowly between three fixed points in the house: The kitchen, the bathroom, and the bedroom, where he spent most of his time. He’d made it out to the living room a few times but everybody had felt so uncomfortable with him there that he didn’t repeat it. And now he seemed to stay in the bedroom; she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him anywhere else.

‘Unresponsive’ was the doctors’ word for it; ‘unknowable’ was Patty’s word for it, but ‘unlikeable’ was more like it. He didn’t fit in as family anymore. Patty had only the haziest, dim memory of a lord and master yelling at everyone and everything, and the three McMahon women cringing and scurrying around to meet his approval. There was something wrong somewhere with that thought, but it wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on.

The McMahon women lived their lives in the rest of the house, full of happy chatter and cute clothes and cheerfulness and love, and then there was this black hole of misery alone in the bedroom. Patty really sympathized with her poor mother having to practically wait on the guy hand and foot, but then, that was marriage. For better or worse, in sickness and in health.

One thing was for certain: Luke would never treat her that way. Or Dave with Teresa. He absolutely cherished that girl! You could tell in just five seconds how much he cared for her.

They’d doubled to the movies, and as Patty snuggled next to Luke–after giving him a very nice kiss!–she was so grateful to her sister. For some bizarre reason, Patty had completely spaced out on her period. She actually couldn’t remember her last one! Obviously it was a month before today, right? But she couldn’t remember. And for some reason there wasn’t a tampon in her purse. Didn’t she always carry at least one? But her sister to the rescue–Teresa had given her one and she’d quickly inserted it and fortunately she had another pair of panties in her locker, and she was good to go. She’d gone to the mall with Luke and they’d rendezvoused with her sister and her boyfriend, and the four went to the new version of High School Musical and it was good to get the tension out.

The Winter Ball tension …because it was tomorrow night.

Patty sighed with happiness and giggled to herself at seeing Luke’s eyes dart to her rising and falling breasts. Well, he’s gonna see a lot more of ‘em tomorrow night! The dress was perfect, and Rachel and Kelly and Sandy all said she was nuts if she didn’t get it. Icy blue with the tiniest of rhinestone straps and a sweetheart neckline that was killer with that new pushup bandeau bra she’d found at Victoria’s Secret …and her heels. It was amazing that anything so delicate could hold her as she would be dancing in Luke’s arms …

She sighed happily again and glanced a few rows over to her sister who was getting her ‘pre-movie kisses’ in. God, they were so cute together!

For her part, Teresa was deliriously happy. Dave’s kisses made her almost dizzy, but along with the dizziness was an urge, a craving, a wanting of him. She wanted him, pure and simple. All of him. All she could get. She wanted his lips on hers, she wanted his tongue in her mouth, and she really wanted his fingertips on her breasts. Oh, and his lips, too! But what she wanted most of all–what she absolutely had to have, and was going crazy with thinking about it–was Dave inside of her. She could only dream about what his manhood looked like, and it gave her hot sweaty nights. She actually liked the term ‘Manhood’, because it wasn’t just the physical objects, the anatomy. It was the masculinity contained within, driving into her. Dimly she recalled some playground thing–probably some rude boys she’d overheard–saying ‘it’s not the meat, it’s the motion’ and that was true for her. The motion she was most interested was Dave going in and out of her and oh God she had to stop thinking about that or she’d go crazy!

It was going to be hardest tomorrow–and then she immediately giggled at what that implied.

“What is it, Tere-bear?” Dave asked in a whisper.

He wasn’t the type to use names like that, but Teresa had shyly told him she liked it, so he used it.

“I was just …thinking about tomorrow night.”

“You’re going to be gorgeous, babe,” Dave smiled. “Heck, you’re gorgeous right now!”

Teresa blushed happily and snuggled under his arm, reaching up to hold his hand with both of hers, her tiny fingers and long pink nails contrasting nicely with the rugged tan of his male hands. She sighed with happiness as the theater darkened further and the previews began. Just for a moment, she looked back and up at her sister, entwined with Luke. They really were a cute couple, and he seemed like a really, really nice guy.

He’d just better treat her sister right!

***

The school enjoyed weekends. It could relax, rebuild, regroup, and think about things.

Of course, tomorrow night would be the Winter Ball. Tomorrow morning the students involved in the various committees would meet early to finish decorating, and then dash home to transform themselves into handsome young men and beautiful young women. It would be heavenly and dazzling and school dances always went off without a hitch and everybody always had a good time, the school included. It could almost warm itself in the glow of happiness from the students and teachers. Just a few hours and it all began …

In the meantime, the school thought about the year so far.

The angry darkness that had appeared with the McMahon males was gone. Frank, the turbulent center of the dark, was now completely out of everything, trapped in a hell made of his foul personality and his own body. The rough, nasty boys were gone, thank goodness. They were pretty, charming, intelligent girls, with many friends and two very good, very strong boyfriends. It was nice that any rumors about Luke being gay by being a gymnast and taking a dance class were over. The school had always known that he was a nice guy. And Patty was dazzled by Luke, just as he was by her.

And Dave was a very good guy as well. He’d shown that when he’d recognized the reality of the love shared by Bree Miller and Danny Halding and had stepped aside, and had been kind of on the edge of things ever since, even as he was preparing to go to Stanford after graduation. The school couldn’t know what the future would bring for any of its students, but Dave should go far. And that would be heartbreaking for his girlfriend Teresa, who was only a junior. But if their love was as strong as the school was feeling from them, they very well might make it as a couple. Perhaps even marry, as the school was certain that Bree and Danny would.

Still, the school felt that the girls’ mother Kathleen was getting the short end of the stick. She was so nice that her pain should be lessened somehow. To be reduced to being a nurse and maid for a man that she’d stopped loving–long before the stroke–wasn’t fair to her. And it was just her nature to continue that unfortunate relationship out of loyalty and a sense of duty. The school had felt how strong that was within her, and was proud of her, but also sorrowed for her.

The last time she’d been to the school, to drop off a book that Teresa seemed to have left home–so unlike that girl!–the school had taken stock of Kathleen. No, she would never leave Frank, or arrange for his hospitalization somewhere else. Even if it drained all the family’s finances, she would persevere. In the meantime, she took such joy and pride and happiness from her girls that it balanced the misery that was Frank, in her mind. But she would continue to hold the family together, because it was her nature and because she owed it to her beautiful daughters.

***

There was a part of Kathleen that dreaded Teresa growing up so fast, and being so involved with her boyfriend. But even there, she was happy for her daughter, because Dave was a genuinely nice guy who was so obviously in love with Teresa that it brought tears to Kathleen’s eyes. Too soon, Teresa would be graduating and maybe, just maybe, following her heart to Dave.

And little Patty–she had to stop thinking ‘little’ that way! She wasn’t really little as much as she was petite, and so very pretty. Kathleen had pleasant thoughts about Luke, too, even as she was surprised he was a gymnast? And took Dance? And wasn’t gay?

She had it on very good authority on that particular point–Patty herself. It wasn’t through a mother-daughter conversation, although Kathleen loved and craved those with her girls.

She’d been watching Frank, just watching him, her thoughts rolling around going nowhere in particular. He’d fallen asleep so she took the opportunity to mute the damned ESPN for a time. Then she just sagged under the situation and sat thinking, her hands limp in her lap. She’d been so silent that the girls had come home and didn’t know she was there. It was rare that they were both home at the same time in the afternoon; they had so many girlfriends now as well as their boyfriends. And yet they kept their grades up!

Kathleen heard the girls in the kitchen; the house was so quiet she could hear most of the conversation and then all of it as they made their way to their rooms. Patty was telling Teresa how much she loved Luke. That’s as simple as it was, and as monumental.

There was a moment where Patty’s voice faltered and she’d asked, “Is this all …wrong, somehow?” and both Kathleen and Teresa knew that she didn’t mean something about Luke; Patty had meant something wrong with the universe, or the way things were right now.

Kathleen loved Teresa’s remark; she’d calmly said, “Well, if it’s wrong, it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to change a thing. I love Dave too much to change.”

Patty had agreed they were a ‘magic couple’ and Kathleen thought warmly of the love behind that statement. Once again she was humbled that both of her daughters loved and supported each other, and had found wonderful guys, unlike the man she’d …

As she always did, Kathleen felt guilty even thinking that, and listened as her daughters chatted as they walked to their rooms.

Patty moved from the general to the specific, asking Teresa if her breasts reacted the way Patty’s did when Luke touched them. Kathleen drew her breath in, staying as motionless as possible as she thought, ‘My baby! She’s only a little girl!’ but instantly she knew the truth of it. Her youngest daughter was growing and, yes, a cute boy touched her pretty breasts and she wanted to share things with her sister. It was natural and loving and so female and–

–and Frank was awake and startled her with an agonized ‘murf!’. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought it was a plaintive wail of despair. What on earth could cause such misery? Had he heard the girls talking? No; it had to be about his own situation.

Certainly not about the happy girls’ chatter. Unless it was the father of a pretty girl who was upset at a boy touching his daughters’ breasts; maybe that was it.

She turned to look at Frank, whose flaccid body was trying to tighten and was twitching a bit. It almost sounded like he was whimpering; that whatever was bothering him disturbed him so deeply that whimpering was the only response available.

And even then, his eyes didn’t meet hers.

He didn’t usually even look at her anymore; his eyes were fixed on the TV. She wasn’t really sure if he was unable to move his eyes or just didn’t bother looking at her. Often the only thing that moved, for hours, was his finger twitching over the remote control. Usually it was just on ESPN darned near round-the-clock. At first she had followed doctors’ orders and turned the TV off when it was regular bedtime; they wanted him to stay in the normal day-night cycle of the family. But he’d murfed and twisted and was so angry that she told him–told him!–that he could have the TV on; the light wouldn’t bother her, but it had to be muted. Each night, she got ready for bed and at the last minute, took his remote away, muted the TV, put the remote on the table near her and went to sleep, trying to not think about her husband, preferring to think happily about her daughters.

***

The school delighted in the pretty McMahon girls but mourned for Kathleen, but it took solace in some of the things it had found in the outskirts of Kathleen’s consciousness when she’d last visited the school. They were things that she wasn’t dealing with right now, and had made a determined effort to not think about. That had the effect of making them more substantial and noticeable to the school, even though they were ephemeral wisps of thought to Kathleen at this point.

They were things the doctors had told her. Well, not so much ‘told’ her as much as ‘prepared’ her for. Things to watch out for in Frank, little indications and signifiers, clues as to his overall condition–and the condition was not good. From what the school picked up from Kathleen’s memory, the doctors felt that Frank was a prime candidate for further strokes. Specifically, little ones, unlike the massive seizure that felled him. These were like tiny hairline fractures in porcelain, spread out from the area of the original cerebral incident. Tiny bleeds, actually. Not enough to cause a ‘before and after’ type of event, like collapsing in the gym from the stroke. These were miniature leakages and would only make their presence known when the cumulative effect became evident. And by then it would be too late; nothing on earth could save him.

The school scanned Kathleen’s mind as well as the library’s medical books, along with the wonderful internet terminals in the library, and knew the truth.

Frank McMahon was dying. Frank was slowly entering the darkness. He no longer left the bedroom. Kathleen had begun feeding him in bed, gently spooning soup into his slack mouth and wiping his chin. Later she would slide a plastic sheet under him and then remove the soiled diapers he was forced to wear. Soon, Kathleen would come in to find him unmoving, or–God forbid–wake up next to him, cold and pale and dead. Because the school was convinced, from what it had learned from the minds of the McMahon females, that Frank’s ‘murf’ sounds were in fact screams. It was Frank being Frank, yelling and blustering and threatening and browbeating and they were screams every bit as vehement as his tirades had been on the playing field, or on Parents Night when his rage had felled him.

Just a lot quieter and confined to one sound.

But each of those screams–because ‘murf’ might mean ‘Thanks for the soup’ but more likely was a bitter blast of venom–each scream caused another tiny cerebral rupture. It wasn’t the stroke killing Frank as much as it was Frank killing himself by not changing. The school had been unable to change him; how could it hope that he might see the light? It was Frank’s nature, and his nature was killing him.

Overall, the school felt confident in the diagnosis that Frank would not last the school year. The school didn’t wish him ill; after that terrible Parents Night, it had gone over its actions in detail and knew that it had no complicity, no culpability in Frank’s stroke. It was just the type of man he was. But there was more to it–Frank was just bad luck. Bad luck for his family, the school, and himself. And knowing that recovery was not possible, the school wished for a speedy and painless end for him, to close the Frank McMahon chapter in everyone’s lives.

And that meant that Kathleen would be freed from the prison she was in. Perhaps …perhaps …

The school grinned to itself. Yes; the new Biology teacher, Bill Stanton, had sadly lost his wife to cancer three years before. Patricia was in one of his classes and …yes; the school checked the grading. She was currently at B+ and almost certain to finish with an A. Still, there would be reasons for the widowed Kathleen McMahon to talk with her daughter’s biology teacher …

Yes, they’d all have to wait out Frank’s death sentence. Meanwhile, his daughters were blossoming and soon their mother would, too.

Hill Street High School was content.

The End