Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 7 of 8

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place, (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-201208.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4, chapter 12, part 7 ot 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

Various locations in Iowa and Wisconsin, June 03-16, 2007

****

Tuesday June 12, 2007

We arrived in Elroy nice and early: 6:30 in the morning. We'd left Madison before dawn. Depending on how tired Eric and Mel got, we would take advantage of the shuttle service available to cyclists, or we would do a round-trip, though that would be nearly 70 miles, if we went to the I-90 trail bridge and back. I thought of leaving them at a safe place and riding back to get the truck, what with my, a-hum incredible endurance. Okay, I heal really fast and it takes a lot to wear me out, like DUH! If as anybody else with me I might have considered it. But I dismissed it just as fast as plain-out stupid. Unless I wanted to get them kidnapped or worse. I may be a strawberry blonde but I ain't stupid!

Morning rides were best, as it can get hot and humid this time of year. Eric helped unload the bikes, while Mel got our helmets, water bottles and such together.

"Test your lights; you’ll need them in the tunnels, particularly number three -- it’s almost a mile long. On a hot day, they are a cool, shady treat.”

"If it is that cool and dark, maybe we should huddle together to keep warm, Joanie?”

"In your dreams, Eric.” ~~Oooh, that would be fun. You know, once we were far enough in the tunnel, if we positioned ourselves just right we could ... That would be sooo ... Oh my, I ... It would be awkward but fun.~~

I pulled my mind out of the gutter it was writhing seductively in and returned to the real world. "Remember to keep in a reasonably low gear, you want to spin not grind. Ideally ninety revolutions of the cranks per minute, but in the seventies ain’t bad. It’s much easier on the knees that way, and it makes it easier to shift for hills and stuff. The old roadbed is well-packed crushed stone, so it almost as easy to ride on as asphalt. It can be soft in places so keep an eye out. Depending on how busy the trail is, we may have to walk the tunnels; the water dripping down from the ceilings cuts ruts in the path. You may want to walk anyway, as there’s interesting stuff to see.”

"Yes, Mom!”

"What?”

"Uh, you didn’t hear that, Joanie,” Mel giggled.

I checked their bikes to make sure the tires were at their rated pressure, the brakes worked and the lights, well, Iit up, duh!. I insisted they wear their helmets and padded gloves; I was in serious mommy mode ... Though I did take a rather long time making certain Eric’s helmet was on snug, his t-shirt tucked in comfortably in his sleek riding shorts and that his seat height was just right. I spent a lot of time on that seat. I have come to the conclusion I’m an ass woman; you know, like how some guys are breast men or leg men? If Mel hadn’t been there to remind us, I would have never left that parking lot. Ghods, I was hot for him.

We loaded our bags on the bikes and rode off. "This is an old railway so most of the trail is off-road. Do be careful around the road crossings and driveways, okay?”

"Yes, Mommy,” they called out, causing me to almost crash my bike in my laughter.

"Am I that bad?”

"Yes, Mommy.”

"Aaaaah! You know that would make Eric a Daddy.”

"Joanie!”

* * * *

"Joanie, look over here!” Mel called out excitedly. "Are those what I think they are? Wild turkeys?”

"Yeah, exactly, Mel. Jeese, there must be well over twenty ... I count thirty-three of them.”

"I’ve seen some back home, but never so many. They’re so big.”

"Iowa, particularly eastern Iowa, is good habitat for them, but this Wisconsin coulee country is like turkey heaven, Eric.”

"Coulee country?"

"It means there are a lot of steep-sided valleys, Eric, like the Grand Coulee Dam in Washington State. We learned about it in geography. Spelled differently, it's also insulting slang for a Chinese immigrant in the US."

"I know what coulee means, Mel. I just didn't know this area was called that."

~~Ah, sibling rivalry. At least theirs is friendly.~~

We saw our share of squirrels, rabbits, woodchucks, cows, sheep, horses and all sorts of bird life, in addition to fellow cyclists. Most smiled; many said hello to us as they passed. A number of them slammed on their brakes and raced up after us to get my autograph. All in all, we had a good time. The hand-dug railroad tunnels impressed my companions, so we walked them, as each was different as to its lining and the water seeping or even pouring in. At the entrance to tunnel number two, a DNR warden stopped us to check for our trail permits. The depot/trail HQ at Kendall wasn’t open when we passed it, and the permit drop-box way to pay was out of forms when we started. They let you buy from the warden, so it was no big deal. If you refuse, it can be a big fine. The revenue goes to trail maintenance and expansion, so I didn’t mind paying.

"I’d like three annual permits, non-resident I’m afraid.”

"Welcome to Wisconsin, is this your first visit?”

"I was a life-long resident, until December of last year. I live in New Hampshire, now. Hi, I’m Joan Brown. My friends here, Eric and Melissa Johnson, are from Iowa.” I handed her the money, and we started to fill out the forms.

"You look awfully familiar. Have you been on TV?” The Warden was puzzled. Mel’s reaction was to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Joanie’s been on TV.” Then she giggled again.

"Not as much as your family, little miss *governor’s daughter*,” I replied. The warden looked confused at what to say, until I took pity on her and showed her my ID.

The next ten minutes or so were interesting, but we got our permits after we all signed autographs for her and had a picture taken together with the help of a passing cyclist. Apparently a *good friend* of the officer was a local politician, and she wanted to blow his mind by giving him the autographs of the children of a governor and possible presidential candidate. I got the impression they were VERY good friends and living together.

We ate a snack then rode on. We passed the ruins of the abandoned town of Summit, the high point on the old line. Thank Ghod it wasn't Climax. We soon approached tunnel number three, the big one.

"No! I won't, Mommy. I’m scared,” a girl of approximately six shouted, almost sobbing. She hung onto her girl’s 20-inch bicycle with a death grip. The child was shaking with fear. I saw the bloody scrape on her leg and I almost lost it. The sight stirred something in me. I had to help this girl; I knew I just HAD to.

We rode up to her and her harried looking mom, who had a toddler in a bike trailer. The girl’s bike looked odd; her front wheel had a severe warp. That bike would be difficult to ride, I knew. I’d had my share of tumbles over the years.

"Can we help you, ma’am?” I asked softly.

The young mother turned and spoke, as a look of confusion grew on her face. "My daughter fell and scraped her leg. I don’t have anything to put on it, and I’m sure it hurts. Now she’s afraid to go through the big tunnel, and my husband is waiting for us on the other side in Sparta. I’d call him to come and pick us up back at that last road we crossed, but my cell is dead. You look familiar; have we met?” She sounded frazzled.

"Here, use my cell. I used to fix my own bikes, and I’m afraid your daughter’s bike will be almost impossible to ride as it is. I’m Joan, and no, we haven’t met. I’m in training for my EMT certificate; may I try to clean and bandage your daughter’s cuts? I’ve got a first aid kit along.”

"If you would, please? I agree her bike needs repair. I’ll call my husband to meet us as close to the other end of the tunnel as he can. It's shorter that way.

"Crystal, Joan here is going to look at your cuts and make them feel better; be brave for Momma. You know you will have to walk through the tunnel; your bike is broken, and that’s the shorter way.”

"I'll try, Momma.”

"Eric, would you please move the bikes off to the side, so we don’t block the trail. Mel, could you help steady Crystal, while I clean her up?

"Crystal, Mel -- that’s short for Melissa -- is my very best friend. That's her brother, Eric, holding our bikes. Hang on to Mel tight, because the alcohol in these wipes will sting a lot, but it helps kill the germs.”

"I’ll try, Joan.”

I opened a wipe and gently daubed the wound, turning the pad often to expose a clean surface. It got the wounds pretty clean, but I could see Crystal crying. I used as many wipes as I thought did any good, then I looked through the first-aid kit and found what I wanted. "This is an antibiotic ointment with lidocane anesthetic. Crystal isn’t allergic to anything is she, Ma’am?”

"A mild one to eggs, when she was little, but she’s fine now. Peanuts, whatever, are no problem, thank the Lord.”

"This will help kill more germs and minimize any scarring of your pretty legs, Crystal. I’m jealous how pretty they are, I feel all ugly by comparison.” My comment made Crystal giggle a little. "I’m going to lightly bandage your leg in protective gauze and put an elastic bandage over it keep it in place. Let me know if anything I do hurts, okay?” The girl nodded her understanding.

"I’m not doctor, or even a nurse, so you should take Crystal to the hospital or doctor for a tetanus booster and to have the cuts professionally treated,” I told the mother.

I turned to look at her daughter. "I think you’ll be okay, Crystal. How does your leg feel?”

Crystal tried walking; she was stiff, but okay as I saw it.

"It hurts a little, but it’s better. Thank you, Joan.”

"You’re welcome. If you like, my friends and I can accompany your mom and your baby…?”

"My sister, Rachel.”

"... your sister Rachel through the tunnel. All the lights together will make it easy.” I smiled at her.

"Momma, is it okay if Joan and her friends come with us?”

*Momma* looked relieved. "They are all welcome, Crys.”

"Crys?” I asked.

"Yeah, Crystal’s kinda long sometimes so they call me Crys. Do you have a nickname?”

"All my friends call me Joanie. Hi, I’m Joanie Brown, like the singer, and you are…?”

"Crystal Hoffmeister; call me Crys,” the girl responded smiling.

* * * *

A few people who passed by us snapped my picture -- thank goodness the bicycle shorts kept my butt cheeks from hanging out as I squatted and worked on Crys’s leg. Crys and her mom were too upset and busy to notice. I let it slide. The important thing was to help this girl and her family.

Once Crys was patched up, I took a good look at her bike. I had a spoke wrench along and thought I might try truing her wheel. Then I noticed a broken spoke. "Crystal, hon, I would try and fix your wheel, but I don’t have any spare spokes your size. Don’t worry, a little work and your bike will be good as new. I’m going to make a few temporary adjustments to make your bike easier to move until then, okay?

"Eric, would you bring me my repair kit please?” There WAS a little girl and her mom present so I was being extra polite.

I turned her bike over and let out most of the air from the damaged wheel. I alternately loosened and tightened spokes enough to reduce the warp in the rim. Crystal and her mom watched me in absolute fascination. I explained what I was doing as I went along.

"This is a temporary fix, but at least it will roll without the tire rubbing the fork. Eric, would you help pump her tire up, as I pack up my tools? Crystal, if I had the time, I’d have removed your tire and done a proper job, but that will have to wait. I had to let out most of the air, or I might have torn a hole in your inner tube. Is your leg feeling any better?”

"It hurts, but not as much. Thanks for trying to fix my bike.”

"You're welcome.” Her smile did something to me. It felt right, whatever it was.

* * * *

We packed up and entered the tunnel. Eric took the back to watch for anything we might drop, while Mel walked up front with Crystal and I. Her mom, with Rachel in-tow, took the middle position in our *parade*. We traveled slow to let our eyes adjust to the dark.

"Joanie,” the mother called out after we had gone maybe a few hundred yards into the tunnel, "I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Helen Hoffmeister, but my friends call me Rosie because I like roses.”

"Oh Ghod, Rosie was my mom’s nickname. If you take off the H, your name sounds like my mom’s first name. Some coincidence huh?”

" Mom, can I ask Joanie what she does?”

"Joanie?”

"Sure, ladies, ask away.” That got another giggle from Crystal. "I look a lot younger than I am so don't let it fool you. I’m a teacher at a private prep school in New England, and I go there as a student, too.”

"You said you were in training to be an EMT?” Helen asked.

"The EMT certificate is because I’m a part-time campus security officer. I’m doing the security duty in part to learn to defend myself and my friends. You see, I look like I do because almost a year ago I found out I am a mutant. I’m in school to learn how to handle that as well.”

"Joanie? ... Crys! This is Joanie the singer, aren’t you?”

"Afraid so, Rosie. Is that a problem my being a mutant and all?”

"Not with me, I’m not sure about my husband, but I’ll make sure he behaves.”

"You’re a mutant? Do you have any kewl powers?” Crys asked.

"You bet she does! She saved my sister by running into traffic on a busy highway and freezing time until she got her to safety. I was there! And she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’d say that’s special, too.”

"Eric!”

"It’s okay if your brother thinks I’m attractive.”

"Sorry, Rosie, the young man has a bad case of puppy love and incredibly good taste as I see it.”

* * * *

It took thirty minutes to do the 7/8ths of a mile long tunnel. That was mostly due to letting our eyes adjust to the dark and avoiding some of the ruts caused by water dripping down from above.. We made silly noises and listened to the echoes. I even sang a little for the fun of it. We stopped a few times to look at interesting things Crys spotted in the tunnel. She was a most inquisitive child. It got foggier, as we approached the downhill -- Sparta -- end, as it was turning into a humid, hot day. We exited, turned off our lights as the fog thinned, and prepared to continue riding.

"This is wild, Joanie; the tunnel is making its own fog.”

"Look in the ditches, Mel, Crys; sometimes there are tadpoles swimming in the tunnel-runoff fed pools." The girls walked over to look.

"Rosie, do you want us to wait, or are you okay?”

"Let me check. Can I borrow your phone, Joanie?”

I lent her my phone, and she dialed. "... You are, Hon? ... Yeah, I think I see our van in the distance. Thanks ... I love you too.” She handed back the phone. "We’ll be fine and thanks, Joanie, all of you. You didn’t have to help.”

"But we did. I wouldn’t have felt right seeing Crys and you like that. You take care now, we have to ...” I heard a thumpa-thumpa-thumpa sound that was rapidly getting closer and louder. "Oh, lovely.”

"What’s wrong?” Helen asked.

"I think the press somehow found out I was here, unless your husband called for a med-evac helicopter. We probably have some citizen with a camera cell phone, and too much time on their hands, to thank for it. I don’t worry so much for me, but they could cause you and your family trouble. Maybe we can ride ahead to distract them? I have a few tricks up my sleeve that will cause them to miss us.” ~~If we ride the next few miles in the past, say a day ago, they will never see us. The *side effect* should be tolerable as the duration and time traveled would be modest. It had better be *modest* in Eric’s presence. Ooh, he looks hot in those tight shorts. This could be bad.~~

"Why should you need to do that? You were helping a mother and her children, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

"Wow, a TV helicopter for us? This is so kewl, Mom!” Crys was obviously excited at the prospect of her fifteen minutes of fame. I was already into multiple overtimes with no end in sight.

"If you don’t mind, Rosie? I worry they might pester you or frighten your baby.”

* * * *

Once we got close to the trailside parking lot, I could hear the helicopter land. A reporter ran over to the trail, and a cameraman was soon standing nearby to film us. The cameraman was okay, but the reporter was a pest, deliberately blocking our passage on the trail and grabbing my cycle to stop me. I was pissed but reminded myself there were children present.

"Other than trying to cause an accident and scare innocent children, why are you here?" I asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. All right, it didn't sound all THAT sarcastic. It's not my fault whatever I say sounds sexy.

Mel, Crys and Rosie suppressed giggles. Her husband looked upset, and Eric moved to position himself to protect me from the reporter, if he got any more aggressive. Eric suddenly looked a lot more mature and desirable in my eyes, if he wasn’t already. ~~Years shy of his eighteenth birthday, and he is ready to protect my honor. That is so gallant. I’ll remember this, my handsome champion.~~ Sometimes, I am so sentimental you’d think I’d want to puke, but I love it. You noticed I did not wax rhapsodic about his handsome face, well-toned sweaty body, tight ass and ... Okay I thought about it a little bit, but mostly I was impressed at his defense of me.

"Is it true you treated this young child with drugs, despite not being a licensed doctor or nurse?”

Eric did something that surprised and delighted me though at first it terrified me. "Our dear friend Joanie here helped clean a crying girl’s scraped knee, and you act like it’s a crime?” He was calm and matter-of-fact, but I sensed the anger underneath the façade.

~~Ghod, no! You’ll out us, and it will be over for us.~~

"What would you call it when an untrained person performs a medical procedure, young man?” The basta ... the reporter was baiting Eric -- BIG mistake. For one, that got me furious, for another I was increasingly pissed-off at this jerk and thinking of things to do with his microphone and where to shove it ... up. For another, Eric proved to be a pro at spin control -- I shouldn't have been surprised; Hey! he’d practically been weaned on politics.

"An act of kindness by a woman who is in training for her EMT certification, I must add. This was routine first-aid, sir. They taught us this much and more in the Boy Scouts.”

~~You were a Boy Scout, Eric? I never knew ... My Ghod, I’m in love with a man in uniform! Next stop, I’m the *sweetheart* of the Fifth Fleet.~~

"Joanie asked for the mother’s permission, before cleaning the scrapes. She even asked the girl’s mother if her daughter had any allergies *prior* to applying a common antibiotic ointment found in any well-made first-aid kit. Joanie suggested to the mother that they should take her girl to the doctor or a hospital to have the wounds professionally treated and to update her tetanus vaccinations. The whole group of us walked through the railroad tunnel together to keep the brave girl from getting scared in the dark. My parents keep telling me how important it is to get the facts straight before you speak. You need to remember that, sir, or you won’t last long as a reporter.”

"You seem unusually confident in what you say. What makes you qualified to judge the quality of my reporting skills?”

"That I’ve followed politics and the press from as far back as I can remember. Oh, and my Grandfather is the senior US Senator and my Dad is the governor of the great state of Iowa.”

~~Oh, yeah, he’s a politicians son.~~

"The Senator will not be happy at all at with the way your TV station’s reporters treat children. As Chair of the Senate Telecommunications Committee, he is sensitive to such matters.”

~~Set, match and game to Eric.~~

The cameraman said something to the reporter -- who was in the process of turning a nice pale shade of green. It went well with his tie. They returned to the ‘copter and took off.

"You could have offered to fly Crys and her mom to the nearest hospital, jerk!” I yelled at the retreating chopper. I would have used stronger language but there were children present.

Rosie’s husband walked up to us. "Are you okay Crys? It must have hurt a lot when you fell, huh?”

"A little, Daddy, but it’s much better since Joanie fixed it. She even fixed my bike so it would roll easy. See Daddy?”

He turned to me. "This is not easy for me … I have a problem with mutants; it’s just the way I am. I guess you could call me a bit of a racist, when it comes to that. For whatever reason, I think there is something wrong about mutants; I’m sorry. But I can’t be angry at you for helping my child. You are okay in my book, and I’d like to shake your hand, if I may? Agree to disagree and all that?”

"Sure, and I understand you being uncomfortable with mutants. It took me a while to get used to it, and I’m on the inside of one,” I said and giggled. He smiled back.

We shook hands then he turned to Eric. "Young man, that was remarkable what you did in standing up for your friend. You may be young, but you are a man in my book.” They shook hands, and Eric glowed.

Before we rode off, Mel gave the mother the web address of my fan club; she carried fan club business cards, really! "For when Crystal is old enough. My friends and I run the site with help from our parents and Warner Records, so it’s kid safe.”

I took a permanent felt-tip permanent marker I carried for just such a purpose and autographed the underside of Crys’s bicycle seat where it wouldn’t get rubbed off easily. She was grinning, when we rode off. I felt odd afterwards, like something was missing. Something the size of a child.

* * * *

We rode on in relative calm towards Sparta. I figured to get us a motel room, and we could ride back the next day or we could use the shuttle service; we weren’t certain yet. We had done well over thirty miles as it was, and I didn't want to wear them out. This was supposed to be fun after all.

We got into town alright, stopping first at a fast-food place. Yeah, I know it’s not healthy, but we had burned a lot of calories riding, so it was okay.

"After a hard ride, there is nothing like the smell of a burger and fries; it smells like ... victory.”

"What?”

"Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Apocalypse Now?”

"Apocalypse huh?”

"Never mind. It’s been over twenty-five years, since its premiere. To be honest, I’ve never seen the whole film. Have you had enough to eat? Should we stay in town or get a ride back to my truck?”

"I’m full, and I don’t care either way. I'll leave it up to you and my sister.”

"I’ve had plenty. It might be nice to take it easy and get a room here. I liked the tunnels, and I wouldn’t mind riding through them again.”

"Okay, Mel; we get a motel here and ride back tomorrow. If it’s two beds Mel and I share, Eric. Sorry.”

Mel snorted, then blew into a full blown giggle fit. Eric wasn't much better.

Then *I* got it.

"I... I ...I meant Mel and I would share a bed, not share you, Eric. I may have a ... um, healthy ...imagination but that is too kinky even for me." Fortunately no one overheard my, um confession... I hope!

The patrons of the burger place were good for the most part, but we were in cycling clothes. You know, stretchy, body hugging fabrics, and lots of bare skin to keep cool. We were getting *the look* from passers-by. I had my share, of course, but as it was hot out and summer, quite a few teens were out and about as scantily clad, some more so -- or is that less so?

I used the women’s room to freshen up, and when I came out I noticed some boys checking out Mel and quite a few gals ogling Eric. A pair of young hotties walked up to him, and I felt a stab of jealousy. Not that *I* wanted to kill them -- maybe just maim them a little.

"Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you. I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a visitor, or do you live here? I’m Katie; I’m a sophomore this fall at Sparta High.”

"I’m Amy, her friend, and I think you’re hot. Do you want to come swimming with us? We’re going to this huge community pool with water-slides and everything. It will be a blast.”

"Thanks for the invitation, but I’m not here by myself.”

"You can bring your little sister, if you want. There’ll be a lot of kids her age there, too.” They’d noticed Mel and the resemblance between them.

I walked up from behind. "Eric, um, who are your two lady friends, hum?”

The girls turned, saw me, and got real quiet.

"They were inviting me to come swimming ... Mel too.”

"And I’m not invited?”

"Y-you’re with them? But y-you’re her!”

"Somebody has to be me, don’t they? Oh great, now *I’m* confused. A dip in a pool should be fun.” Remember I am allowed to be a ditz, it says so in the Constitution.

* * * *

We did go with Katie and Amy to the city pool and had a great time. It was just the thing on a hot day. The girls missed out on getting too fresh with Eric, but they got the pick of some decent boys from my *catch and release* flirting. I had to be fair. Plus, they turned out to be pretty decent young ladies, so why not make them happy?. And I did get to show off for Eric. Just because we can’t be intimate doesn’t mean we can’t tease each other. Apparently, I am one of those girls who loves to flaunt it, at least for my man.

"Joanie, stop it. If you tease Eric anymore, it will kill him,” Mel whispered in my ear, as I took an especially deep breath for Eric’s benefit. As I wasn’t diving, I had that tiny pink bikini almost on, and Eric was in pain; at least, one part of him had to be. He was suffering a severe inflammation of the groin. I know, because I couldn’t help but see it. I mean it was ...

~~Oh … my … GHOD!~~.

I was, I mean I used to be a I guy, and I know how it feels to be *that* aroused ... and there was so much that was aroused. I had him in agony, and I felt so naughty and possessive. ~~I did *that* to him? ... YES! YES! YES!~~ In retrospect his hard ... um, Eric’s pe ... He wasn’t exactly hung like a porn star, let's be honest, and even they lie about their *endowments* bigtime, pun intended, but to me, it was gigan ... I think the problem is with the enforced celibacy, our and particularly MY imagination are running wild. For a boy his age, he was ahead of the curve, shall we say; that was in comparison with the other young men at the community pool. Including the lifeguards, and the few adults present, he was well within the normal range for a man -- a fully-grown adult man. He was going to be a tall man, like his father, so proportionally he might end up on the upper end of the *normal distribution* for ... um ... you know.

At the age of fourteen and a few months, Eric had some growing to do, and I sure hoped so. After seeing his dad in that sweaty, body hugging running suit last November, that cold November, I had every hope he would grow some more. It was a statistical likelihood after all. And they say statistics aren’t useful outside of the professions. WHAT? Who made the crack about "world's oldest profession"? For Ghod's sake, I am NOT a lawyer!

It scares me; um ... not the obsession with Eric’s ... um ... you know. What scares me is I have a nasty jealous streak in me. Quite a few girls were attracted to Eric, and when anyone of them paid him too much attention, I started seeing red. I felt so petty afterwards, yet the feeling of possessiveness, almost anger, flared up again and again. I need to recognize and control that, or I might hurt someone. I have to keep in mind that Eric is a man, and men are hardwired to respond to women that appear young, healthy and receptive to breeding, just as women are hardwired to respond to healthy males. If not, the human species would die out. I take solace in that Eric’s *response* is triggered by me and for my benefit. He may be hardwired to respond to healthy young women -- and thank Ghod for it -- but the owner/operator of that hardwired *hardware* is only interested in me. Whenever he got too much attention from other girls, he’d look around for me, and when he’d spot me his face lit up. I don’t have to tell you, dear d/j/w, what that did to me.

To be fair, it wasn’t just Eric who was getting *checked out*. We girls were turning heads that afternoon. A lot of others at the pool noticed our quartet, the two incoming high school girls, Mel and I. We all wore scanty swimsuits. We’re teens; it’s practically regulation for teen girls to wear these *postage-stamp* outfits. We all were eminently lickable.

* * * *

After a nice long swim/sunbathing secession, we showered and dressed. Katie and Amy waited for us to finish, then spoke as we walked out of the women’s locker-room together. Can I help it my hair takes a while to dry?

"Joanie, Mel, my parents are bar-b-queuing tonight as part of our annual block party; would you like to come? Eric is invited, of course,” Katie asked.

"You’d love it. My family will be there too. Our moms were friends in school, and we live near each other. It’s a kind of a potluck meal, so there will be lots to eat,” Amy added.

"Mel, what do you think?”

"I’d like to, but we’d better ask Eric, and what about rooms for the night and your truck back in Elroy?”

"We have this pop-up camper. I bet Mom and Dad would let us use it for a sleepover, and Eric could have my room.”

"Or we could all sleepover in my house, Amy. My older brother moved out for college, so we have tons of room.”

"Yeah, Katie’s house is ginormous!” ~~~Good lord, a Wisconsin Valley Girl.~~ Well, a La Cross River Valley Girl to be precise.

"I’d hate to impose. If someone could direct us to the nearest decent motel?”

"Mom and Dad would have a fit if we didn’t offer you a room. Dad or Mom could drive you back to Elroy tomorrow to get your truck. We’ve got a big van so we could carry all your bicycles.

"Dad’s a firefighter/EMT, and he has nothing but admiration for the cold water rescue you did this spring, Joanie. Mom’s a music teacher, and she’s a fan of yours, honest.”

"Mom’s a fan ... but not you, Katie?”

"Your music is awful old fashioned, you know.”

"Liar! Don’t listen to her! Katie has all your recordings and plays them constantly.”

"She does?”

"So what? Your music may be old fashioned, but it’s good. And Amy, here, has her walls covered in your posters. She had to take down most of her boy band posters to do it.”

"I say we do it, Mel, Joanie.” Eric must have walked up to us partway into our conversation.

* * * *

We walked our bikes the mile or so to the neighborhood block party. Things were just getting set to begin. Some neighbors had staged tables and stuff near the street, but it was still open to traffic for the moment.

"Mom!” Amy called out to a forty-something woman who strongly resembled the slender, blonde teen.

"Amy, Katie, about time you got back. The block party starts in less than an hour, and I need your ... help?” She’d spotted *us*.

"Mom, can I invite some new friends to the party? This Eric Johnson and his sister Melissa or Mel; their dad’s the governor of Iowa ... and this is Joanie, the girl on the posters in my room.”

"If we’re imposing, I understand, ma’am, but Katie and Amy were insistent. We have our bicycles and could quick run for anything you might still need. I’d like to contribute my help or whatever else you think you need. I could always go to the nearest deli and get a variety of potato salads or cheeses or something.”

"Mom taught us both to cook, so we could help you,” Mel offered and Eric nodded.

Amy’s mom looked at us, shell-shocked.

"Liz? Ah there you are. I need your help setting up ... the ... ah....” This second woman was also in her forties. She was a little plump, but in a sexy way, but then Katie had more than her share of curves for a girl her age.

Liz came out of it. "Amy and Katie made some new friends today, and yes, Karen, she really is Joanie the singer.”

Introductions were made all around. We decided it would be best if I did not go shopping, for fear of turning the block party into a media circus. The moms assured us they had plenty on hand and would not run out of food or beverages. They cheerfully accepted our help though. Eric helped Katie’s dad move the picnic tables out into the street and to set up the grills, while Mel and I helped the ladies with final prep for the food. For safety, all the cold items were packed in ice inside of coolers from which they would be served. On a hot day, this was a wise precaution. Everything was set out on a line of tables, cafeteria style. The meat was all precooked or marinated and kept on ice in appropriate containers until needed. The only raw stuff were some thick steaks also kept well iced and separate from anything else. These people knew their stuff when it came to eating outdoors. We started hauling things out to the street, and the grills soon were filling the air with wonderful smells.

Katie’s mom had a wicked sense of humor. She found some old peel and stick name-tags and made us some. "Here we go, Eric Johnson, Melissa (Mel) Johnson, and Yes, I’m really that Joanie. There, that should cover things nicely.”

I started to place it onto my chest. "Um. this is much too small to cover *these*, Karen."

Katie rolled her eyes, and Amy stifled a giggle. The moms laughed so hard their faces turned red.

The burgers, steaks, chicken and sausages cooked quickly -- hey, proper prep is everything, when it comes to grilling -- and we got in line to eat. The neighbors had noticed something was up, and once they spotted me, I got bombarded with questions.

"Why are you here?”

"I love your music.”

"I didn’t realize how tall you are.”

"You really need to try my rhubarb bread, Joanie. It's my mother’s recipe.”

"Be careful; these buffalo wings are very spicy, but good. The blue cheese dressing is bottled dressing, but I added real blue cheese in it to juice it up.”

And more things along these lines. Most people were friendly, though one family looked unsure about me, and one old couple looked upset. ~~Can’t please everyone, I guess.~~ Once we had our food, they left us to eat in peace.

* * * *

We’d finished eating for the most part and were stuffed. "You were right, Liz, Karen, there was plenty of food on hand. I wish I could have done more to help out. You’ve all been so nice, except for a few, but then some people can’t deal with mutants. At least they weren't vocal about it. One couple simply didn't act very friendly, and another family stayed apart from us, that's all.”

"Oh, you must mean the old couple, the Thompson’s, from the end of the block. They're just distrustful of strangers, it’s not you," Karen added for my benefit, no doubt. "Odd, I was expecting her daughter’s family would show up. They said they were coming.

"The family that seems aloof; that would be the Hendersons, and they belong to a conservative church that ... well, they think mutants are being punished by God for some past sin,” Liz explained softly.

"This is no punishment; it’s a blessing. If I was still my old self, I would never have been in Prairie Du Chein, and this lovely young woman would be dead or crippled.”

Mel smiled at the compliment, but she looked increasingly upset that anyone would dislike me. I tried to distract her.

"Do you have any entertainment?”

"There’s a volleyball net set up on the north end of the block. Want to play?” Katie asked.

"Sure,” I replied for us.

Katie and Amy walked off and collected some players. It was an informal game, and we didn’t play real aggressively, as this was on someone’s lawn, and we had all eaten a ton. We had a lot of fun, though. I forget what the score was at the time, but I noticed a car being let into the block and parking a house away. Oh, I forgot to add, we had a lot of boys and younger men watching us, by the end ... I wonder why? Jiggle-wiggle, bouncy-bouncy, ba-doinggggg! All right, my *girls * don't do that exactly, not the sound effects, but I'm sure they were *entertaining*, A sports bra can only do so much, and to be honest it didn't stand a chance against me and *mine.* Eric, I might add, played quite well and kept his eyes on the ball and not my *assets*, at least not all of the time.

I was surprised in both a good way and a bit disappointed people didn't bug me for autographs. Liz and Karen, our two new friend's mom's apparently had put the word out that "WE" were to be treated as family "or else". I learned this quite after the fact and swear I *WILL* make it up to them someday. Damn, we met some fine people that day.

* * * *

"Ah, they made it. I was worried.” Karen said. She and Liz had pulled up lawn chairs to watch the game. "I’d better see if they need any help.”

A few minutes later Karen returned, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. "That was the Hoffmeisters; they were at the hospital getting a tetanus booster for their daughter, Crystal. She took a spill on her bike.”

"Crystal Hoffmeister?” I mumbled.

"Yes, a sweet girl. She was very excited. Something about this tall pretty lady fixing her cut and her bike then helping walk her through a big scary tunnel on the Elroy-Sparta Trail. Any idea who that might have been, Joanie ... hum?”

"Oh no!”

* * * *

The block party went well past sunset, almost 9 PM this time of year. Only after the sky was completely dark, broken only by the stars, did we begin packing up. Why the party went on so late was due, in large part, to a certain six year old girl. Crystal had to tell *everybody*. She dragged me around like I was her dolly -- her very tall dolly. ~~Oh joy, I'm her real, live Barbie doll.~~

"I had an accident, and Joanie helped me, and she’s real nice. She fixed my bike so I could get home, wanna see it? Joanie fixed my owie, too. The doctor said she’d did a good job.” Crystal had to show her bike to everyone along with her *owie*; she was especially proud of my autograph.

The grumpy old couple treated me and my friends like family, after that. They insisted on thanking us for helping their grandchild. Liz and Karen were right, the grandparents were just cautious around strangers. Crystal’s mom, Helen, was their daughter -- their only daughter. Their only daughter was equally as excited as her child, only she spent her time telling all the adults and her parents what a fine young woman I was, how helpful all three of us had been, and ... you can guess the rest. Her husband wasn't much better..; worse, um, better.

Even the aloof family came over and ... "Um, Ma’am, some in our faith say that mutants are that way because they are being punished by God. I just wanted to say, maybe we have it wrong. Someone as nice as you can’t be a sinner. Your mother should talk to you about how you dress, though; some of your costumes are almost indecent. I know who you are, Joanie Brown. However actions speak louder than words, and what you did for Crystal was an act of true Christian charity.”

"I don't think my taste in clothes is that wild. I'll admit, if my mom was alive, she'd suggest I tone it down a little. Well more than a little but then I am a performer, so a bit of flash is expected. As to Christian charity, I did what I felt I had to do. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. I don't ascribe my actions to any divine intervention. To be honest I don't think of myself as anyone special. We were there. Crystal and her mom needed help; we could help -- end of story."

"We'll pray for you."

"You don't need to, but thanks."

* * * *

During the party, I got a call from Babs. Hey! I HAVE caller ID. I excused myself and answered it.

"Joanie? Babs here. Could you do me a great big favor and meet me at the Wisconsin State tourism center in Prairie Du Chien, tomorrow? Pretty please with sugar on top."

I swear I heard her batting her eyelashes at me over the phone; she had *that* kind of tone to her voice.

"Now I know why I don't like cell phones -- no privacy."

"It’s real important you be there, Joanie. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't." Babs sounded hurt.

"I was being silly, Babs, you know I would never ..." Then I heard her laughing.

”Gotcha! It would be a favor to me, if you came to the ceremony. They are dedicating a safety fence and a marker to your rescue of Mel. I want you and my kids in their Sunday best, please?”

"Not topless in a g-string?"

"Um .... no."

"Okay, conservative dress. This works out well, Babs. We were thinking of heading there anyway; Mel wants to confront her fears.”

"Tell her I’m proud. You must arrive no later than eleven in the morning; it’s very important, as the ceremony is set to start right after that. I promised you would be there, if I had to drag you by your heels. Bob and I will be there, as will Dad and Sara.”

"We’ll be there. I’m not that keen on a ceremony honoring me, but for Mel’s sake, and since it did inspire them to put up a safety fence, okay. I'd never want to have anyone see what I saw that day. I'm so glad it turned out as it did.”

"Snap out of it; you're getting maudlin, Joanie." Babs chided me, laughed, then spoke again.

"Put Eric on, Sis.”

"You got it.”

Eric and his mom talked for a while, then Mel spoke with her mom. Mel hung up and returned my cell to me.

"Mom wants us to look real nice; Sunday best nice.” She hugged me.

"What's that for?"

"For telling Mom about me and the tourism center. Mom was so thrilled I wanted to ... Thanks!:" She hugged me again.

* * * *

Where was I before I got sidetracked? Oh, yeah. The block party was winding down. We helped clean-up and move the tables back, despite some weak protests by our hosts. They were tired, too, and welcomed our help. Katie's mom insisted we sleepover, much to Katie's and Amy's delight.

Thank Ghod Crystal was a good girl and minded her parents. As it was, it took a lot of convincing to get her to agree staying over for a sleepover with us was not practical. Not that a large part of me didn't agree with Crystal. I hope my children are a sweet as her.

Crap, if our -- Eric and Moi' -- budding relationship survives all the craziness of my life I'm likely to be a mother of twenty by our 25th wedding anniversary... and pregnant. I am THAT potty over children.

Even my late mother wasn't that fond of kids ... or was she? She did go through three miscarriages and had my younger sister and me after giving birth to a severely disabled child, my late sister Ann. In early life she consumed huge amounts of Mom's time with the special care she needed. Her doctors said she'd be lucky to make it to her teens. She was fifty when she died, smiling until her last hour of life, that's how well my parents cared for her. Shit, I'm crying! I miss you so Annie Rose!

The burden on Mom physically and emotionally must have been tremendous but it didn't show. I always felt loved, and she always was there for me. Crap, now I'm crying. How I must have disappointed her but she never...

Ghod, emotions like a yoyo with a short attention span. Maybe I really am a blonde, huh? Sorry, I got sidetracked again. We didn't need the camper that night , as there was sufficient room in the house. Eric got the hide-a-bed couch in their den, while Mel and I shared a guest room. Our sleep-over was brief, as the girls were all exhausted from the long day. I fell asleep alone on one of the two twin beds but woke to find Mel had crawled in with me. I hope I have a daughter just like her.

* * * *

To be contued and the chapter completed in part 8 and soon.

John in Wauwatosa