Peter/Patricia tires of Caitlin McBride's antics and decides to remove her as queen bee. Gretchen's father takes notice of her new best friend. Themes and Elements listed apply to entire story, Rating applies to this submission. Thanks to Marina Kelly and Robyn Hoode for editing assistance.

SEVERANCE PAY

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It’s been two days since Gretchen made her grand entrance. She’s gone back to wearing her old uniforms but she’s interested in making alterations. I’d like to help her but Sister Carmela’s going to be hardnosed about girls doing the work themselves. That’s one way to make sure only the most dedicated take advantage of the loophole. So far, I’ve only seen a couple of girls even make the attempt, and the results weren’t pretty. To be honest about it, that doesn’t bother me at all. If it works out that I’m the only girl with attractive uniforms, so be it.

Gretchen and I hang out at lunch and whenever we aren’t in class. I’ve told her that I could probably make all her clothes fit as well as the altered uniform. Have sewing machine will travel. I can tell she wants it badly but doesn’t think her dad will allow me to come to the house. I can’t push her but I can keep making sure she knows the offer is available. With luck, I can wear her down and she can try to wear him down.

She told me that she told her dad about me, which is very good news. I want him to know my name, to know as much as he can about me. Not the real me, of course, but the public me. I’d send him my resume if I could.

By the end of the day, I can’t wait to climb onto my bike and ride home. Physics was a bear today. Even if the knowledge is in my head, I’ve still got to understand it to use it; I can’t just spit out a bunch of factoids. Connelly was trying to make a connection between physics and economics, and then she expected me to explain it to the rest of the class. I had no idea what she was talking about. It was a tense class to say the least.

As I approach my bike, I notice three girls loitering around it, looking suspicious. You have to be an expert to intentionally “hang around” without standing out like a sore thumb, and these girls weren’t experts. When I got closer, I saw it was Caitlin McBride and her two henchmen, Sinclair and Woodruff. It’s taken them longer than I thought to get around to this. It should improve my mood.

Woodruff is partially blocking the right side so I pull my helmet on and mount from the left. I kick out the starter and hop up to fire the engine when McBride reaches out and grabs the handle bars.

“We need to talk.”

I settle back into the seat and flip up my helmet’s visor. “About what?”

“I know what you did for Gretchen Hobbes.”

“So do most of the girls in St. Ann’s.”

“I’m not most of the girls.”

“Really. Who are you? I don’t think we share any classes.” That’ll piss her off.

“She’s Caitlin McBride you stupid little BITCH!” said Sinclair.

“No use getting rude about it. I’m Patricia Conner. What can I do for you all?”

McBride’s grip on my handle bars tightens.

“You can fix my uniforms so that they’re better than yours or Hobbes’.”

“Just yours, not all three of you?”

“Well sure … eventually, but mine are first.”

There’s just a hint of uncertainty on Sinclair’s and Woodruff’s faces.

“Sorry, can’t help you. The rules are you have to do it yourself. Sister Carmela might let me be an instructor but that’s probably as far as she’d go.”

“I don’t care what Carmela’s rules are. You’re going to do what I tell you or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else things will get hard for you around here.”

“Could you be more specific?”

“What?”

“Could you give me some more details as to your specific threat?”

“Never mind how we’d do it, we can do it.”

“I don’t think you can. You see, there’s nothing I have that you can take from me.”

Woodruff steps closer, her fist drawn back. “What if I just punch your lights out right here? Is that good enough for you?”

“Here? Now? In broad daylight with all of these security cameras focused on the parking lot?”

Sinclair and Woodruff start looking around, suddenly aware of the three security cameras Sister Carmela uses to monitor the parking lot, mostly to watch for smokers but also to protect all the expensive cars the different girls drive. Woodruff drops her hand to her side and unclenches her fist, but McBride keeps staring at me.

“We have our ways.”

“Well, when you feel like telling me about them, you know where you can find me. Until then, I suggest that you let go of my bike so I can go home. My mom’s expecting me and I hate to disappoint her. Of course, if you don’t want to let go, we can get involved in some kind of fight, which would lead to your expulsion.”

“Or maybe yours. It would be our word against your word.”

“Plus the video cameras, plus three against one, plus you three are so much bigger than little old me, plus you’re not exactly Sister Carmela’s favorite person, are you? I like those odds. So … what is it going to be?”

McBride’s hands flex several times, then she suddenly releases my handlebars and steps back, scowling at me. The other two also step away.

“This isn’t over, Conner. I’ll be seeing you later.”

“I look forward to it, ladies.”

I drop the visor, hop up and push down on the starter, gun the engine a couple of times and roar off, doing a little bit of a wheelie as I head for home.

Not a bad start.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

As I pull up to the house, there’s a Florida Power and Light van parked in the street opposite it, two guys sitting in the front seat. They eye me as I turn into the driveway, slide to a stop and kill the engine. I keep a watch on them with my side view mirrors as they get out of the van and walk up behind me. When they get about ten feet away, I pull off my helmet and hop off the bike, facing them. The taller guy, a young blonde hangs back a couple of steps as the older guy, salt and pepper hair, mostly balding, walks closer, smiling.

“Afternoon little lady, is this the Connor residence?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Good. We’ve got a work order. The automated meter has been sending some weird data. Either it’s broken or you’ve got a big power surge somewhere in the house. We need to check all the circuitry to make sure everything is safe. Is your mother home?”

Interesting. He didn’t ask if a parent was home, he specifically asked about my mother. It may just be the normal sexist assumption that the woman of the house should be at home this time of day … or maybe they already know something about me.

“I’m afraid she’s still at work. Could I see your work order?”

“Sure.” The older guy reaches back and the younger guy hands him an electronic pad. He punches in a couple of numbers and touches the screen, then steps closer, handing it to me but not letting go. “It’s right here.”

I turn the pad a little to reduce the glare reflecting off the screen. It looks legitimate. I’d never seen the electronic version before but I’d used the same trick back in the day to plant bugs in some target’s home, only my work orders were paper and on a clipboard. I swear, you could go darn near anywhere you wanted if you wore a hard hat, carried a clipboard and acted like you knew what you were doing but weren’t happy about doing it. The power of the appearance of authority and expertise. It was hard to keep from smiling at these guys.

“Gosh. It sure looks official. I guess it would be okay for you to come in. My mom would want me to see some I.D.s’ though. Do you have an I.D.?”

Baldy gives me that condescending smile you reserve for children and pets. “I certainly do, little lady.” He reaches up to his shirt collar and pulls out a laminated card on a chain around his neck. Blondie does the same. I check out Baldy’s first, then Blondie’s, memorizing both of them. Ryan Koharchick and Zach Rosing.

“Well Mr. Koharchick, I better let you in so you and Mr. Rosing can get to work. Mom should be home in an hour or so. How long should this take?”

Baldy stuffed his I.D. back into his shirt. “Not too long Miss. I can check the meter and Mr. Rosing can start checking each room.”

“EVERY room? My bedroom’s kinda a mess. If you give me a couple of minutes I can straighten up and …”

“That’s not necessary Miss. We’ve seen it all in this business, haven’t we Mr. Rosing?”

“Uh … Yeah.” Blondie hasn’t had much experience with this, Baldy’s clearly the Senior Partner.

Baldy takes back the electronic pad, handing it to Blondie, who puts it in his tool bag. “If you could just show me to the electric meter, I’ll get started and we’ll be out of your pretty hair in no time.” Oh, he’s gooood.

I lead them to the back door. The meter is on the wall next to it. Baldy stops there as I open the door and Blondie follows me in. I drop my book bag on the kitchen table and pull out a chair.

“Do you need anything from me?”

“No … nothing.”

He really needs to work on his patter. I sit down and take some books from my bag. “Okay. I’ll just be here, working on my homework. You can call if you want me.”

Blondie strolls out of the kitchen, carrying his tool bag. I spread my books out on the table and then carefully listen as he moves through the house. I’d rather follow him around, it’d be easier to find the bugs after they leave but it would just cramp their style, making them suspicious. After about ten minutes, Baldy comes in through the back door. He‘s surprised to find me sitting there but recovers quickly.

“Was the meter alright?” I ask.

“I can’t say yet, it seemed to be but we won’t know until we check the rest of the house.”

“Do you need to check the kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m not in the way am I?”

“No … no, you’re not in the way.”

As long as I stay in the kitchen, they can’t plant a bug in here. This is the one room they’d really like to cover, people spend a lot of time in the kitchen, but I’m not budging. This will give us a safe area.

I watch Baldy as he messes around with a hand held meter while checking each outlet. “Any problems?” I ask after he finishes with the last one.

“Nothing yet. I’ll just go help my partner.”

“I’ll stay right here until you’re done.”

“Great.”

He leaves and I go back to listening. They’re working independently, covering the house quicker. By the time they come back to the kitchen, it’s only been about twenty five minutes since they first stopped me in the driveway. They’re either very good or very sloppy. I keep my seat at the table.

“All done?”

“I think so, Miss” said Baldy. “We didn’t find anything wrong with the wiring in the house so the problem must be in the meter. I’ll change the modem card before we leave, that should solve the problem.”

“Will we get a messed up electric bill this month?”

“No, it should look completely normal. We caught the problem early.” Blondie hands him the digital pad, he makes a couple of entries and hands it to me. “If you could just sign on that line there, saying we were here.”

“I don’t know if I can, I’m only sixteen. My birthday’s a few weeks away.”

“That’s okay Miss, it’s not a contract or anything, anyone in the household over fifteen can sign.”

“Well, I can do that.” I take the pad and stylus from him, sign and hand it back with a big smile. “Thanks for coming and checking it out; I feel sooo much safer now.”

Baldy returns the smile. “You’re welcome, little lady, just doing our jobs. We’ll be checking out some other houses in the area over the next few weeks, so flag us down if you have any problems.” They head for the door, but I stay seated and wave at them as they leave. I wait ten seconds then hurry to the window and carefully peak out.

They are both walking down the driveway toward their FPL van, so no one did anything to the meter. I also notice a couple of extra antennas on the roof of the van. That was a nice touch, adding that bit about checking out other houses in the neighborhood. That way, we aren’t supposed to be suspicious if we see the van again near the house. It’ll be interesting to see what kind of range the bugs have; Hobbes probably can afford the best equipment.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“How’d it go Mitch?”

“Easy Peazy Louie. Put your damn candy wrappers in the trash, will ya? We’re gonna spend a lot of time in this van the next few days and I’d rather it not be a pig sty.”

“Don’t worry about it Mitch. You’ll lose what little hair ya got left.”

“Funny man. You wait a couple of years, see how much hair you have.” Louie’s always been a slob but he’s also one of the best techs in the business. Though, after a few days cooped up with him in the back of a van, the balance starts to tip towards dumping his ass in the street and hosing the van clean.

Johnny climbed into the driver’s seat, closed the door and started the engine as I closed my door. “Take us around the corner Johnny, give Louie the chance to calibrate the bugs.”

“Sure thing. You think this’ll only take a couple of days?”

“Do you see her?”

“Yeah. I’d like to have her dance on my dick, watch those titties bounce.”

“I meant that she’s just a kid. I don’t know what Cardoza suspects but there’s nothing there. You saw the house, her room … just a normal kid … with great knockers.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

When I got home, Patricia was just sitting at the kitchen table. She hadn’t started supper yet.

“What’s up? Why haven’t you started supper?”

She handed me a piece of paper and put her finger too her lips.

“Some guys were here from Florida Power and Light. They said there might be something wrong with the electricity.”
She pointed to the paper. I read it.

[The house has been bugged. We need to talk. Suggest we go out and eat.]

I’m stunned for a moment. I don’t know what to do but Patricia reaches out and taps the paper with her finger then points at me. I know I have to say something.

“Uhhh … maybe it’s not safe to use the stove. Let’s go out for supper.”

“No, I’m sure it’s safe. They said everything was fine.” She rolled her hand, encouraging me to keep going.

“I’d rather be safe, honey. We can go to Burger King. You love Whoppers.”

“You sure Mom? I’d be happy to fix something.”

“No, no, let’s go out.”

She winks at me. “If you say so.”

How is she so calm about this?! Someone came in and bugged our house! I think she reads my face because she comes over to me and leans over to whisper into my ear.

“This is a good thing. Just be cool and I’ll explain. Talk about normal things until we get to Burger King, your car may be bugged too.”

What?! My car?! Who are these people? Patricia seems to be handling this well, certainly better than I am. She takes my arm and leads me to the car.

“Do you want to drive?” I ask.

“Why?”

“You could use the practice.” And I don’t trust myself to concentrate right now.

“Fine. Give me your keys.”

I toss my keys to her, which she easily catches with her left hand. We get into the car, she starts the engine, backs out of the driveway and drives off, circling the block. She slows as she passes a FLP van, nodding her head at it as we drive by.

“Is that …”

“Those are the friendly guys who checked out our home.”

“I see … so, how was school today?”

“Fine. I had a nice talk with Caitlin McBride and her friends just before I came home.”

“Really. Haven’t you been wanting to talk with her?”

“Yes, it went very well too.”

“You’ve had a productive day.”

“Yep.”

She reached over and turned on the radio, tuning it to a popular music station. It was a little loud for my taste but I assumed it was to cover any conversation we might have. She didn’t say anything else all the way to the restaurant, but she did keep checking the mirrors and made a couple of very sharp turns.

Once we got to Burger King, we placed our orders, got our food and sat down. I didn’t say anything for a minute or two, waiting for Patricia to go first, but she said nothing. I couldn’t wait any longer.

“So, this is a good thing how?”

“It means I’ve got his interest, he’s checking me out. Even as paranoid as he is, Hobbes wouldn’t waste his time having somebody investigated unless there was something he had in mind. It’s probably just the fact that I’m his daughter’s friend, but once he thinks he knows me, he’s less likely to be wary of me and more likely not to object to me being at his house. He’s never going to let a total stranger in, so this is a way for me to not be a stranger.”

“How long do we have to let this man invade our privacy?”

“Hard to say for certain, it depends on how quickly I can find a way in. There are no bugs in the kitchen and I should be able to find the one in your bedroom.”

“They bugged my bedroom?!”

“Probably, I certainly would have if I was them. I’ll leave any that I find in my bedroom. Unfortunately, this means were on stage 24/7 now, no breaks. The Balancer will have to stay at operational settings for now.”

“Matthews won’t like that. He strongly suggested that you spend more time at Blue Fifty, not less.”

“Can’t be helped. This is a break we cannot afford to miss. I checked as we drove over here. We weren’t followed. Your car is probably clean but I’ll check it out to make sure.”

“That was a nice trick, turning the radio on to that youth station and cranking up the sound.”

“I was watching out to make sure we weren’t being followed but I turned on the radio because I like the music, it’s really cool. Don’t know why I didn’t listen to it before.”

Why indeed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

No one talks to me like that! No one! If that little bitch thinks she can just disrespect me like that and get away with it, she doesn’t know Caitlin McBride!

She’s not stupid though, she knew about the cameras, knew I couldn’t do anything to her right then. We don’t normally have to get physical. Usually, the silent treatment gets to them almost immediately. They’re so desperate for someone to be their friend that they’ll do anything I want. It’s probably because she’s got Gretchen Hobbes to talk to that prevents the shunning from working. God! That’s another smart move. If she’d just picked anybody but Gretchen Hobbes! I may control St. Ann’s but there’s no way I’m gonna do anything that brings Hobbes’ dad into the picture. People who fuck with him end up dead!

I need to get Kendall and Olivia to come over here to my house tonight so we can come up with some kind of plan. I’ll just text them now.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I did not get into this business to do paperwork. Every day there are more reports, more decisions, the constant need to stay alert, stay ahead of my enemies. Those crazy bastards in Mexico … who can predict what they will do next. They are insane sometimes, probably using too much of their own product. Just this morning, I received a report about a newly discovered mass grave near Morelia. Eighty three people, twelve of which were women and two were children. Children! Whoever did this was mad! I reach out and push my intercom button.

“Hector.”

“Yes, Mr. Hobbes?”

“Contact Enrique. If he is on the grounds, I want to speak with him immediately. If he isn’t, I want him back here as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Mr. Hobbes.”

I turn back to today’s emails and their attachments. Shipping schedules from Columbia. Sales figures from the East Coast and California. Banking reports. Last month’s statement of expenses. The money rolls in but it rolls right back out. Personnel, equipment, bribery, vehicles, ammunition, it all adds up over time. And now, thanks to those idiots in Mexico, it will be even more expensive to do business. Thankfully, the world’s appetite for drugs is never ending and people will pay practically any price, particularly Americans, but there is just too much uncertainty today. There is a knock at my door.

“Yes?”

“It is Enrique.”

“Come in.”

My door opens just enough for him to step through, then he closes it immediately. I have always appreciated Enrique’s … economy of movement.

“Enrique, do you ever find yourself longing for the days of Miguel Gallardo?”

“What do you mean, X-ray?”

“Back when there was just one man in charge, Gallardo. He had the world’s drug market in his hand. He was the undisputed king.”

“Things were not so good for us back then.”

“No, they weren’t, but at least we had order. None of these crazy idiots shooting each other over territories. You were assigned an exclusive territory, you ran it well, made lots of money, and didn’t have to worry about some moron high on his own merchandise shooting a bunch of children while trying to expand his territory. There were RULES for God’s sake!”

“Which you broke a number of times, if I recall correctly.”

“But I was never caught … and I only broke the letter, not the spirit. Besides, I knew what I was doing. These undisciplined children today create chaos simply for the joy of creating chaos. They will be the death of our business. Look at these expenses.”

He sits at my desk and I hand him the summary sheets and he begins to read them.

“Unfortunate, but it is the cost of doing business these days.”

“But it shouldn’t be. Besides paying for a small army to protect my assets in Columbia and Venezuela, it costs me four times as much to bribe a policeman today. Every little gang who thinks they are a cartel is offering bags of money to every cop on the street. I have to pay more just to stay competitive. It costs me as much today to buy a precinct sergeant as it did to buy a captain three years ago. I don’t want to even think what the captain wants today, greedy bastards. And it’s all because every hoodlum who wants to be top dog is offering more than they are worth. And what is worse are the one’s who are either too stupid or cheap to bribe the police are trying to kill them. Nothing pisses off a cop like trying to kill him. Then they take it out on the rest of us, the sane, reasonable, people who are just trying to make a living in this difficult economy. Increased transportation costs, storage, bank fees, they all add up. Enrique … it was so much easier in the old days.”

“I think you have an unreasonable fondness for the past.”

“Perhaps you are right, but I remember it as being … less complicated.”

“And less profitable.”

“Perhaps. What progress have you made on infiltrating my unruly competitors?”

“A surprising amount. Loyalties are constantly changing. Alliances between the assorted cartels seem to change almost daily. This uncertainty seems to have trickled down to the people on the ground. We have been able to recruit a number of people from each group. We haven’t asked them to do much yet, just keep us informed of their group’s activities.”

“Another expense.”

He shrugs. “You get what you pay for, you know that.”

“Sometimes, you don’t even get that. Will these people stay bought?”

“I believe so.”

“More importantly, are any of my people working for someone else?”

“They know how you deal with traitors.”

“Let’s hope they don’t forget. What have you found out about my daughter’s friend?”

“Not much yet. I have not received any reports from the investigators, though they are supposed to get me some preliminary information in the next two days.”

“Make sure they stay on it. I need to know who Gretchen is spending time with.”

“It will be taken care of, X-ray.”

“See that it is, Enrique.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

There’s a knock at my bedroom door.

“Caitlin?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Olivia and Kendall are here to see you.”

“Have them come up to my room, we have work to do.”

“I’ll send them right up, Dear.”

They both dropped whatever they had planned and hustled over here when I told them we needed to meet tonight. I can hear them walk up the stairs and stop just outside my door.

“Come in.” I tell them. They troop in, Olivia sitting in the butterfly chair and Kendall flopping on my bed. “Okay, what do we know about Conner?”

“She’s smart” answered Kendall. “She can answer any question in class.”

“Who says?”

“Anybody who’s in class with her.”

“We know she’s a scholarship girl” said Olivia, “so she’s poor.”

“How does that help us?”

“It means she should know her place.”

“Somehow, I don’t think she does. Has anybody checked her Facebook page? That might tell us something.”

“I haven’t.”

“Me neither.”

Christ! I have to do everything! I open the browser, hit bookmarks and click on Facebook. It opens almost instantly, we’ve got a very fast internet connection at home. I search for “Patricia Conner” and find about thirty five separate pages, but none of them are hers.

“She doesn’t have a page!”

“WHAT?!”

“NO!”

“I know!” They don’t believe it. I double check to make sure. Nothing.

“What person doesn’t have a Facebook page?” asks Olivia.

“Someone who’s completely off the planet” said Kendall.

This is really too good, a gift worth its weight in gold. “We should help the poor girl out.”

“Are you MENTAL Caitlin? Why should we help her?” asks Kendall.

Olivia looks confused for a second or two but then she smiles. “Yeeeeaaah. You’re right! It’s the friendly thing to do.”

“What’s wrong with you two?!” Kendall’s always been slow on the uptake.

“Kendall, how many girls at school have done what we just did?”

“I dun know. Thirty or forty probably.”

“Or more, particularly after she started wearing those uniforms to school. They got the same result we did, nothing. What if they got a really interesting Facebook page? One that we created ourselves? Full of embarrassing pictures and stuff. We don’t even have to get someone to hack her page, we just make up our own and pass it off as hers.”

“But we don’t have any embarrassing photos of her. We’ve made sure that none of the other girls are friends with her so nobody else is likely got any either” said Kendall.

“We don’t need any” replied Olivia. “We can make our own! Jerri Stevens is an absolute genius with Photoshop. We could download pictures from the web and she could add Conner’s face.”

“What kinda pictures?”

“What ever we want Kendall, drunk girls, fat girls, porn, what ever.”

“How long would this take?” I asked.

“I don’t know … a week maybe.”

“Call Stevens, get her started. I’ve got another idea we can do quicker than that.”

“What’s that?”

“First, we need someone who has gym the same time as Conner.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I had a good day today at phys ed. Sister Rita’s teaching volleyball and I dug out anything that came my way. The quickness of this body is flat insane. I just think it and I’m there. Sometimes, I’m there even before I think it. Gretchen and I were on the same team and I was able to set her up for some easy points. She started out very tentative but by the end of the period, she was spiking the ball pretty hard.

She might not be half bad with some practice; it’s all a matter of confidence. She’s got decent coordination, reasonable body control, can jump a little … no Dr. J, but not too bad for a girl.

When I first started school, phys ed was certainly eye opening. In the same locker room with forty naked teen age girls, using the same mass shower stall, all those breasts, all those vaginas, I had to fight like mad not to stare. We should have planned for that while getting ready for this job. Gradually, it got easier to act naturally. Eventually, it wasn’t an act.

Despite what you might think, a girls locker room isn’t a very erotic environment. It smells bad, there’s mold, the fluorescent lights make everybody’s skin look like heck, some of the girls are very good looking but others aren’t. All in all, it falls way short of the fantasies. Besides, any time I need to look at boobs, I just drop my bra in front of a mirror.

Sister Rita stopped me after class and asked me if I had an interest in maybe playing for the school’s volleyball team. I told her I’d think about it. I couldn’t say that I was hoping to be out of school in a few weeks. By the time I got to the locker room, practically everybody else was done showering and was dressing. I’m going to have to hurry to get done in time to make it to class.

My shower only took a couple of minutes. I quickly dry off and scamper to my locker.

It’s empty. Someone’s taken everything. All my clothes, gym clothes, the skirt, the blouse, underwear, shoes, socks … everything.

I’m surprised it took this long for it to happen. This move would have been third or forth on my list of annoying things to do to a person, right after spray paint in their locker through the vent holes and just before the chocolate Exlaz cookies. Luckily, I’ve got a plan.

The locker room is connected to the coach’s offices. The locks to those offices are ridiculously easy to pick and there’s an endless supply of hairpins scattered around on the floor. I’ve got Sister Rita’s door open in a few seconds. The office has a phone that is both part of the internal school system and gets an outside line. I can get a direct connection to Sister Carmela’s office. I hope she’s in. I enter her intercom code and wait. It buzzes three times before she picks up.

“Yes, Sister Rita?”

“Sorry to bother you Sister Carmela, this is Patricia Conner.”

“Miss Conner? What are you doing in Sister Rita’s office?”

“Right now, I’m naked, wrapped in a towel that’s not big enough to do the job and starting to shiver a little bit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone stole all my clothes from my gym locker and I’m the only one left in here.”

“Goodness! Who would do such a thing?”

“We both know the answer to that Sister Carmela.”

“Did you see who actually did it?”

“Of course not, I was in the shower. Don’t bother to question any of the girls, I’m sure they saw nothing, most of them likely made a special effort to see nothing.”

“I see. You’re probably right. Stay there and I’ll have someone bring you one of our emergency outfits.”

“No, Sister. That’s just what they want. I’ve got it under control. Page Gretchen Hobbes and buzz me here when she gets there.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, please hurry.” I hang up the phone and leave the office, the door open. There’s something I want to check before Sister Carmela calls back. I scurry to the exit door, keeping a death grip on my towel, and slowly open it just a crack, so that I can see if anyone is waiting outside.

There’s a group of at least five girls, cell phones ready, doing a lousy job of acting nonchalant. Someone really needs to teach a class. I hurry to the back exit and find four girls waiting, same routine. Caitlin McBride is not among them. I’d be surprised if she was. Always leave the dirty work to the underlings.

The phone’s already buzzed twice by the time I get back to the office.

“Hello, Sister Carmela.”

“I have Ms. Hobbes here, as you requested.” I hear her hand off the phone.

“He … he … hello?”

“Gretchen, it’s Patricia. I need you to go to my school locker, open it and bring me the large clear plastic bag in the bottom. I’m in the gym locker room.”

“I don’t know your combination.”

“It’s twenty five, sixteen and nine, got it?”

“Twenty five, sixteen and nine. What’s going on?”

“Bring me the bag and I’ll explain later. Don’t use the doors. Come round to the windows opposite the soccer field and throw it in. I’ll be waiting. Put Sister Carmela back on, will ya?” I hear the hand off again.

“Yes, Ms. Conner?”

“There’s four or five girls at both exits to the locker room, hanging around with cell phones, waiting to get pictures of me out of uniform. You’ve got rules about cell phones during school hours I believe.”

“Yes we do. I’ll send someone immediately.”

“If you could, wait until I leave.”

“Isn’t that what they want?”

“I plan on giving them something to see, just not what they expect.”

“Very well, I’ll wait.”

“Thanks.” I hang up and hurry to the open windows in the back. I really am getting cold. Hopping from one foot to the other, rubbing my arms, I look around, checking out the room. Gray green paint on concrete block walls, worn wooden benches, mismatched metal lockers, the whole place looks second rate, at best. It’s clear where they put their emphasis, but the athletic facilities really are an embarrassment. Right now, I could use a heater.

“Patricia!”

It’s Gretchen! That’s my girl!

“Here Gretch!”

She reaches up, waving her hand in the open window.

“Can you see me?”

“Yeah, I can. Did you find the bag?”

“Right here. What is it?”

“You ever see those ads on late night TV about storing your clothes in a vacuum bag to save closet space?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what it is. Hurry and toss it through the window before I freeze to death.”

“Okay, here it comes!”

They vinyl bag flies through the half open window and I grab it with both hands, losing my towel in the process.

“Thanks.”

“You need anything else?”

“No, I’m fine. Just go back to class and act normal. I’ll tell you all about it at lunch.”

“See you then.”

I hurry back to my gym locker, sit down and open the seal on the bag. Air rushes in. What seconds ago looked like squashed road kill is now a complete uniform, as altered by me, including socks and shoes. It’s one of my better jobs, if I do say so myself. I figured that someday, some one would take a shot at my uniforms. “Accidentally” spill paint on them, tear them, or steal them, something. I wanted to have a spare set within reach, ready to go. Going at the gym locker was a nice touch, shows a little planning. If I came out of the locker room dressed only in a towel, they’d have some embarrassing pictures for the internet that would be devastating to the normal teen age girl.

Lucky for me, I’m not the normal teen age girl.

It only takes about a minute and a half to get dressed but I spend an extra few seconds in front of the mirror to get my hair just right.

Don’t want to disappoint my fans.

When I get to the door, I push it open just a few inches and pause, letting the girls waiting on the other side get ready, then I throw it open and pose, hand on hip, smiling.

They’re all snapping like crazy, fast as they can, not even looking. The frenzy trails off after a couple of seconds when they realize I’m not a semi-naked, wet headed, cowering girl. I walk slowly past them, still smiling. I’m half way down the hall by the time two teachers start to confiscate the cell phones.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

“SHE WAS WEARING WHAT?!”

“A regular uniform … well not a regular uniform, it was one of her tailored uniforms. Here, see for yourself.”

Olivia handed me her cell phone. She was right. Conner was just standing there, smiling, as if she was waiting to have her picture taken.

“So what went wrong?”

“Nothing went wrong! Allie and Becky cleaned out her locker, they gave it all to me. I checked, it was all there!”

“So where’d she get this?” I hold the phone so Olivia can see the picture. Kendall leans in to also get a look.

“I don’t know, Caitlin! I had all her stuff and she didn’t borrow it from somebody else because it’s not a standard uniform.”

“I like what she’s done with her blouse” said Kendall.

“What?”

“Her blouse, I like what she did with the collar.” She takes the phone from my hand and points at the picture. “See what she did with the collar. The top is more open but it lays flat. I wish I could get mine to do that.”

“Kendall?”

“Yes, Caitlin?”

I take the phone back and toss it to Olivia. “Shut up!”

Just then, Conner and Hobbes walk into the cafeteria, like they own the place. Some of the girls are smiling at them. There are a few who actually waved at them! What the hell happened to my shunning order?!

“Where the fuck did she get that uniform?!”

“I said I don’t know, Caitlin! Get off my back, will ya. Everybody did exactly what they where supposed to do.”

“Then somebody warned her, told her the plan.”

“WHO would do that? WHY would they do it?”

“I don’t know, but that’s the only explanation.”

“Only five girls knew what was supposed to happen.”

“What about the ones taking pictures?”

“They were just told to wait until she came out of the locker room. Everybody except Allie had their cell phones confiscated and she only kept hers because she passed it off to Tammy as she walked by. That’s how I got the one picture.”

“So … who warned Connor, Olivia?”

“No one warned her. These girls are our friends, they wouldn’t do that.”

Hobbes and Connor are sitting by themselves, as usual, but other girls are walking by, smiling and saying stuff. Connor’s really enjoying it, I can tell.

“Fine, nobody said anything, Connor’s some kinda magician who can make clothes appear out of thin air. When is that Facebook page gonna be done, Kendall?”

“Jerri said it might be a week or two.”

“Tell her it needs to be done by the end of this week. I want it up and running Monday. I want to wipe that smile off her face … permanently!

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Mom’s not handling it very well. It’s not easy for me but I’ve been through it before, Mom’s never been under constant surveillance before. The first few days she tried to put up a brave front, using all the rooms in the house but since I debugged her bedroom, she spends practically all her non-working time there or the kitchen. It’s only natural to hide out where you feel safe but it looks odd to someone on the outside, which we can’t afford. About the only time I can get her out of her bedroom in the evening is to watch TV or play a DVD. Either way, she doesn’t have much to say.

She didn’t eat a lot tonight, claimed to have an upset stomach. She probably did, nerves will do that to you. Once the dishes were done, she went straight to her room. We can’t go on like this much longer.

I knock on her bedroom door.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Do you feel up for a movie this evening?”

“I don’t know Honey … I’m really not feeling well.”

“I rented ‘The King’s Speech’. You know how much you like Colin Firth.”

“I appreciate all your effort but …”

“I can put real butter on the popcorn.”

“It sounds tempting Patricia but …”

“It’s important, Mom.”

“I know.”

She doesn’t say anything more, but I hear the door knob turn and the door opens with a long squeak. Standing in the doorway, I can see her sunken eyes and pale look. I don’t think she’s been getting a lot of sleep. I hold out my hand and she takes it and I slowly lead her out of her bedroom into the hallway, towards the living room. She resists just a little bit but I keep moving and she reluctantly follows me to the couch. She sits and I start the movie, the volume just a little louder than normal.

I hurry to the kitchen and finish the popcorn. I don’t want to leave her alone for long. When I get back, she gives me a thin smile and pats the couch next to her. I sit down, tucking my legs under me and leaning against her. She puts her arm around my shoulder.

“I’m sorry” she whispers.

“You’re doing fine” I whisper back.

She takes a bite of popcorn. “No, I’m not. I shouldn’t let it get to me … but it does. I can’t get a decent night’s sleep even though I know my bedroom’s clean. How do you do it?”

“Practice. It gets to me too sometimes.”

“Huh, I haven’t seen it.”

“You should check our ice cream supply; it’s down at least a gallon.”

That gets a chuckle out of her.

“You want something to drink, Mom?” I say loudly.

She winces, then sighs deeply. “No thank you, Patricia.”

“Not even a beer?”

“No, nothing.”

“Okay.”

She lays her head against my shoulder and is soon asleep, quietly breathing. I reach over and move the hair out of her eyes. She needs this to end as soon as possible. I may have to push the schedule ahead.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

There’s four knocks on the van door before it opens. That’s our code so nobody freaks.

“Hey Mitch.”

“‘Sup Johnny?”

“I got your sandwich and coffee. They were out of regular chips so I bought the rippled ones.” He hands me the carryout bag, then sits in the second seat. “What’s happening?”

“They’re watching ‘The King’s Speech’.”

“Damn! A chick flick! That’s the fifth one this week!”

“I know, I’ve had to listen to each one. I don’t know how the kid gets the grades she does, I’ve never heard her do homework.”

Johnny takes his sandwich from the bag, unwraps it and takes a big bite. He chews a few seconds, then swallows. He’s gonna choke one of these days and I’m not gonna do shit about it when he does, I’ve warned him about gulping his food enough already.

“She does her homework in the kitchen while she fixes supper. Don’t you remember the day we placed the bugs?”

“Yeah, I remember, that’s why we couldn’t get that room. Did Louie ever figure out why we lost the mom’s bedroom?”

“Nah, there’s only the two of them so were not missing anything. Did you hear the kid last night? I just about pissed myself when she screamed. What could scare a girl that badly?”

“Hell, she has bad dreams most nights. Not our problem. Have you been able to find out anything we don’t already know?”

“Not really, she just seems to be a typical teen age girl for the most part. A very good student but doesn’t seem to have any friends.”

“No friends doesn’t sound typical.”

“The real smart ones usually don’t have many friends, they’re too busy with school stuff.”

“How do you know that, Johnny?”

“My sister, she was top in her class.”

I’ve met her; Johnny’s sister ain’t exactly a looker. Our girl is a hot babe yet we haven’t seen any boyfriends … or girlfriends. Mom doesn’t seem to be doing anything to keep her daughter from dating boys but isn’t encouraging it either. Maybe it’s related to her nightmares. Either way, I don’t think that’s what Ray Hobbes is worried about.

“Johnny, you think this kid is anything out of the ordinary?”

“Other than being smart as hell? No.”

“How about her mother?”

“She seems to be your average single mother, more or less. Been sick lately but the stomach flu’s been going around.”

“So, nothing suspicious about either of them?”

“Nothing I’ve seen or heard.”

“I agree … let’s go home. Wanda’s been bitching about these late hours.”

“Late hours pays the bills, Mitch.”

“When you get married Johnny, you’ll find out what real life’s like.”

- * * *** * * * *** * * *

Science has yet to describe how fast news spreads through an all girls school … and rumors spread twice as fast as news because truth is never as juicy as rumors. This time though, truth won out. It was less than thirty six hours after Caitlin McBride pulled that stunt on Patty in the locker room and the entire school knew the story. Not the whole story, only me and Patty know how she got the replacement uniform. Not even Sister Carmela knows the whole complete story.

Now, when we walk down the halls, some of the other girls actually smile at us. A few give us the “thumbs up” sign, though they don’t make a big deal of it. McBride still runs St. Ann’s and she’s got spies everywhere. If anybody is caught actually being nice to us, they’ll have to deal with her, or her goon squad. Patty doesn’t seem to care, but she’s keeping track of who does and says what, I can tell.

We’re sitting by ourselves at lunch, as usual. At least thirty different girls have casually walked by and whispered encouraging words. Short, simple stuff like “way to go”, or “keep it up”, or “kick her ass”. There’s also been a lot of girls glancing our way and then talking among themselves, usually huddled around cell phones or laptop computers. The groups then break out in giggles or laughter. I’m beginning to get an uncomfortable feeling about the whole situation but Patty just keeps eating her brown bag lunch. I’ve offered to buy her lunch or share mine but she says the only way to know exactly what you’re eating is to fix it yourself, which seems a little paranoid.

She’s just finishing her tuna fish sandwich when I see MClairuff headed our way, McBride in front carrying a laptop, a big grin on her face. This really can’t be good.

She walks right up to our table and sits down, doesn’t ask if she can or anything. Sinclair and Woodruff stand behind her, one on her left, the other on the right.

“Connor” she says. “I’ve been enjoying your Facebook page.”

Patty carefully picks up her trash and puts it in her empty lunch bag, rolling it down from the top and crushing it into a ball, which she drops on my lunch tray. “I don’t have a Facebook page. It’s mostly used by people who want to project an idealized version of themselves and their lives. Either that or businesses trying to sell you something. I don’t care about either one.”

McBride’s still smiling. “Are you sure? It’s a reaaallly interesting page.”

“There have to be a lot of Patricia Connor’s out there, maybe it’s someone else.”

“There’s thirty five Patricia Connor’s but I’m sure this is you … have a look.” McBride flips up the screen and turns it toward us.

It’s a picture of a girl who looks a lot like Patty but she’s not wearing a blouse, just a bra and shorts and holding a beer bottle in her right hand. She looks drunk.

“You know that’s not me” said Patty.

“I don’t know anything” said McBride. “She sure looks like you and there are lots more, even better ones.” She pushes a key on the keyboard and other pictures start to display … terrible, horrible pictures.

In some, the girl is practically naked, others she’s kissing boys. Some of the pictures show her kissing girls. I want to get a better look at those pictures but they’re gone too fast, replaced by others. In one, she’s down on her hands and knees and a big dog is behind her, paws on her back. All the pictures are of a girl who kinda looks like Patty but they’re gone too fast to get a good look. I’d say that, while they all sorta look like her, they don’t all look alike.

Patty is staring at the screen, a mixture of shock and anger on her face. McBride reaches down and clicks on the Wall button on the Facebook page. It loads in seconds.

It’s full of hurtful, terrible, nasty, vicious comments. Some are actually obscene. Girls can be really horrible to one another, particularly when they can do it anonymously. Some of the stuff actually makes me sick to my stomach.

Patty just sits there, reading it all, while McBride points to particularly obnoxious ones, gloating all the time. Patty finally says something.

“No one who knows me will believe this is mine.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no, but who here at school knows you? I’ve made sure you don’t have any friends. People believe what I tell them to believe. Once this spreads, you’ll never stop it!”

Suddenly, Patty smiles. “That’s a very good point Caitlin” she said, then she quickly climbed up onto the top of the lunch table, stood up as tall as she could, put two fingers into her mouth and whistled. It was so loud, I had to put my hands over my ears. McBride and the other two ducked their heads, scrunching up their faces. Patty whistled for like thirty seconds, the sound, filling the lunch room, bouncing of the walls and windows. When she finally stopped, every face in the room was turned towards hers and it was dead silent.

She smiled brightly at everyone. “Hi!” she shouted. “I’m Patricia Conner. I’m sorry I don’t know many of you, but we all know why that’s happened. My good friend Caitlin McBride just showed me a Facebook page that she thought was mine. How many of you have seen that page?” She raised her hand high above her head. “A show of hands. How many have seen the page?”

Nothing happens right away. There are several teachers in the room but they aren’t doing anything to stop Patty, they just look confused. A few hands start to slowly creep up.

“Oh come on! I’ve seen the phones and laptops! Who’s seen the Facebook page?”

I raise my hand and wave it slightly. More hands start to go up, the numbers increasing quickly. In seconds, all hands are high in the air.

“Alright! Good, great! Glad to see it! I haven’t had much time to check it out but there are a lot of interesting pictures there. Apparently, I’m a big dog lover.” Laughter and giggles flow through the room. She shrugged her shoulders. ”Who knew?” More girls laughed. “I sure hope Sister Carmela doesn’t see it.” Even more laughter. “Let’s keep this just between ourselves, okay?” Bigger laughs as Patty starts to walk around on the table. I glance at McBride, she looks completely confused. Patty waves her hands to quiet the girls. “I bet that something like this might get a girl expelled or even worse … like grounded.” Gales of laughter. I don’t know whether it’s the jokes or the totally weird appearance of this short girl standing on a plastic table talking to the entire school in the middle of lunch, but Patricia has the crowd hanging on every word.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

My intercom buzzed as I was preparing to leave my office to walk down to the cafeteria for lunch. I prefer to get there ahead of the students so that they are all aware of my presence; it tends to keep the disruptive behavior to a minimum.

“Yes?”

“Sister Carmela! I need to see you immediately!”

“What is the problem, Sister Rita?”

“It’s about Patricia Connor!”

It may have been a mistake to admit that girl. “What about her?”

“I must show you, it’s terrible, just terrible!”

“Well, hurry up, I’ll meet you in my office.”

I have barely sat back down in my seat before Rita bursts through my door, and, without another word, picks up my wireless keyboard, launches the Mozilla Firefox browser and opens a Facebook page.

“Look at this!” she exclaims.

We routinely monitor Facebook and other social media to try to keep ahead of the ever changing world of teenagers, but I have never seen such a vile personal page before.

“How did you find this?”

“Mary Wiltz told me about it. McBride had her troops out, spreading the word starting this morning. Naturally, something like this has spread like wildfire.”

“Surely Patricia didn’t …”

“Of course not! It’s a complete fraud! I’ve been looking at a number of pictures. Some of the girls have a passing resemblance to Connor, others are Photoshoped, the quality of work varies from quite good to average. McBride or some of her followers have spent a lot of time on this.”

I continue to review the site. “How is it that we can see this? Shouldn’t we need to be ‘friended’ first?”

“I used Wiltz’s sign in, with her permission of course. Someone is monitoring the site and accepting any friend request that comes in. They want maximum distribution.” Rita leans down and looks over my shoulder. “That poor, poor girl! I can’t imagine what it would be like to be so publicly humiliated. And we can’t do a thing about it.”

I reach out, pick up my phone and buzz Jensen.

“Ms. Jensen, I need to speak with Senator Douglass’s office immediately.” I place my hand over the mouthpiece. “It’s time to call in a favor or two.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“And what about that one of me with that really old dude? Clearly, someone’s got Daddy issues.”

She’s been at it for over five minutes. Some of the girls can barely sit up straight from laughing so hard. All the time, she’s been making fun of herself, as if it was actually her Facebook page, though she’s never actually said it is. I don’t know what she’s up to. She waves the crowd quiet again, though some of them keep laughing.

“Though, when you take a closer look at that particular photo, the girl doesn’t have a tramp stamp … but I do.”

She turns around and pulls down her skirt and lifts her blouse just enough to show her tattoo. Half of the girls laugh and the other half gasp in disbelief. She came within inches of mooning the entire school! Patty quickly pulls her skirt back up, tucks in her blouse and then turns around towards the girls, smiling sheepishly.

“So, I guess that one isn’t a picture of me. And the animal lover, she’s got a tattoo on the back of her hand … and I don’t.” She holds up both hands so that everyone can see them. Several girls start to look at their phones or laptops. “Also, there’s a whole group of pictures where the girl does have a tramp stamp but it’s different from mine, so those are out. But, really, how stupid do you have to be to put pictures like those on the public area of your page. You’re either the dumbest person on the face of the earth or you’ve got a death wish, am I right?” A lot of girls smile and nod while others applaud. “So, I guess the question is … am I the dumbest person on the face of the earth? How about a show of hands. Who here thinks I’m stupid enough to post a whole bunch of faked photos to a Facebook page in my name and subject myself to the ridicule of the entire school?”

The laughter’s stopped. Patty isn’t smiling anymore. Girls are looking back and forth at each other, whispering. The girls who share classes with us seem to be arguing with the girls around them. I occasionally hear the word ‘genius’ above the buzz. A few of McBride’s hardcore supporters raise their hands. I look over at Sinclair and Woodruff, both of their hands are raised, McBride’s isn’t. Patty turns and slowly squats down so that she’s nose to nose with Woodruff. “Do you REALLY think I’m that stupid … Kendall?” she quietly hisses.

I can feel the anger radiating off Patricia, the look in her eyes is frightening. I’d always heard people say if looks could kill. Now I know what they meant. Woodruff tries to match the intensity but Patty stares her down, Woodruff’s hand slowly dropping to her side. Patty swivels her head to the left, fixing her eyes on Sinclair, who immediately drops her hand. Patty stands up again, turning to face the crowd. No hands are raised.

“Well, I’m glad we got that settled. I’d like to thank my good friend Caitlin McBride for bringing this … situation to my attention. Anyone who wants to see those pictures better look at them soon, because they’ll be gone very quickly.”

“I have already taken care of that, Ms. Conner.”

All eyes turn towards the cafeteria door. It’s Sister Carmela, Sister Rita right behind her. They both step into the lunch room.

“I have spoken with the management of Facebook and they are removing the page even as we speak.”

Many girls turn to their computers or phones. From the looks on their faces, it would seem that Sister Carmela is right. Patty jumps down to the floor, hands at her side to keep her skirt from flying up.

“Thank you, Sister Carmela. Your office?”

“If you don’t mind, Ms. Conner.”

“Not at all, Sister.”

Patty starts for the door. I stand up to follow her but she stops and looks back at me.

“I’ll be fine. You go on to class. I’ll be there soon … I hope.”

She marches to the door, nods her head towards the nuns as she passes them and walks out, the Sister’s falling in step behind her.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Sister Carmela asked me to wait outside for just a few minutes, she wanted to talk with Sister Rita first. The lunch break is over and the hallway outside the office is full of girls heading to class. A lot of them are looking in the windows as they walk by. I try to keep a smile on my face but it’s hard. I’m still angry about what McBride tried to do to me. It’s really just a matter of luck that I was able to stop her so quickly. If she hadn’t said something to me at lunch, it would have been too late. She wanted to embarrass me in front of the entire school, which thankfully gave me an audience to make my case to. I don’t know how Sister Carmela was able to spike the web page so fast but that helped a lot. Unfortunately, nothing ever completely disappears on the web, but you’d have to work pretty hard to find those pictures again. I don’t look forward to doing it.

The outer office has several stacks of phonebooks against one wall, there must be fifty there.

“Why all the phonebooks, Ms. Jensen?”

“They always deliver three times as many as we need. Sister Carmela has me keep the extras until she gets tired of seeing them and then I throw them out. Do you want one?”

Sister Rita opens the door and signals for me to come in. “I’ll let you know, Ms. Jensen” I reply.

When I get into the office, Sister Rita has me sit down, then she walks around the desk and stands behind Sister Carmela. We all stare at each other for a few seconds.

“I don’t know where to start, Ms. Connor” said Sister Carmela.

“Me neither, Sister. How did you get the plug pulled on that web page so fast?”

“Your benefactor, Senator Douglas, is a member of the Senate committee that has oversight on the FCC which includes …”

I nod my head, “telecommunications, which means the web, which means Facebook.”

“Exactly. I contacted his office, which put me in touch with Facebook’s management, who were very happy to grant my request after they reviewed the content and Senator Douglas’s staff suggested to them that it would be the responsible thing to do.”

“Thanks, you certainly saved my bacon.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. Connor. Can you explain why you thought it necessary to turn St. Ann’s lunch hour into a public meeting?”

“I didn’t have any choice. Once the genie is out of the bottle, it’s practically impossible to stuff her back in.”

“Why didn’t you just contact me, we could have dealt with it.”

“There wasn’t any time. Almost everybody had already seen it. Once the girls left the building, I was dead. I had to take advantage of the lunch hour and strike fast. I understand you may have to give me some demerits or detention, but it was the only way.”

“I didn’t see your entire performance, but I understand that you did an admirable job of persuading the other students that it was a fake web page. As for demerits, Sister Rita and I will need to discuss it. My question is … what happens next?”

“Frankly Sister, I’m tired of messing with Caitlin. If she threatens me with some kind of physical attack, I’m going to force her hand, bring it to a head.”

“There is no way I can sanction some kind of brawl Ms. Conner, you know that.”

“With any luck, nothing will actually happen, but I need you and the staff to not be around when the confrontation occurs. The other girls have to choose sides and I can’t have your people influencing that choice. I want McBride out of business for good.”

“As do I, but there can be no fighting. If girls get hurt, there will be no end of the complaints by the parents and they will be well within their rights to do so. My primary responsibility is the safety of my girls.”

“What if I guarantee that no one will be hurt? I know what I’m doing. It shouldn’t be too hard to disable any fighters without hurting them.”

Much.

“That is unacceptable. St. Ann’s will never tolerate its students fighting. I can agree to give you some space, at least initially, but Sister Rita will be keeping a close watch on the situation and she will be authorized to take appropriate action against anybody involved in fighting, no exceptions.”

“You can’t really expect me to get rid of McBride without at least the legitimate threat of kicking her behind, do you?”

“You know my terms, Ms. Connor.”

“Yes, Sister Carmela. Could you do me a favor?”

“Which would be?”

“I’d like to have copies of the fake pictures from that Facebook page. Can you ask your contact to make copies before deleting them?”

“I can ask but it may be too late. Why would you want copies? I saw most of them and, if it was me, I’d want them to disappear forever.”

“I’d like to try and find out where they all came from.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It may not, but I’d like to know.”

“I’ll do what I can, Ms. Connor.”

I stand up. “Thanks. I’ll let you know how things go with McBride.”

“Remember … no fighting.”

Walking through the door, I look back. “I remember” I say, then close the door.

Ms. Jensen is working at her desk. There are still at least ten girls loitering outside the office widow. Everybody loves to rubberneck at a car wreck. Guess they were hoping for another show.

A show … a show. No … a demonstration.

That’s exactly what I need right now.

“Ms. Jensen, could I have one of those phonebooks?”

“Certainly, take as many as you want. The fewer I have to get rid of later.”

I take one book from the top of the pile. It’s a standard business yellow pages, or what used to be called yellow pages. Now it’s the Yellow Book or some such thing. I squeeze and flex it. Soft paperback binding, about two and a half inches thick. I used to do this in bars all the time as a bet for drinks. It should still be possible even though my hands are smaller.

With the spine of the book on my left, I firmly grip the book with my right hand, then grip it with my left and bend the book in half. I reposition my right and left hands so that the cover is taut, the next few pages are also taut but the rest of the pages are pinched between my hands in a bulge. I take a couple of short breaths and try to tear the cover by flexing it and tearing in opposite directions with my hands, pushing down and away with the right while pulling up and towards me with the left. If I can tear the cover and the next couple of pages, I’ll be able to tear the entire book in half, a few pages at a time.

You don’t have to be a muscleman to tear a phonebook in half, you just need to be of at least average strength and know the right technique. Most people don’t know that. I re-grip the book and try again. Several of the girls are blatantly staring at me through the window.

Good.

This was easier when I was a man. Just as I’m about to change my grip again, the cover rips with a pop, the next group of pages right behind it. Shifting my grip, the next set of pages grow taut and split.

“What are you doing?!”

“Recycling, Ms. Jensen.”

In less than a minute, the entire book is in two pieces, well, actually one big piece and eight hundred little pieces. I walk out of the office and drop the remains of the phonebook in a trash can by the bathroom. I don’t get more than ten feet away before two girls go digging in the can to recover them.

McBride should get the news by the end of this class period.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

A complete and total waste of time! It took over two weeks to get that page ready and it was deleted in less than four hours! Four God damn hours! “My good friend, Caitlin McBride.” Connor is dead! That Bitch has fucked with me for the last time!

This stupid Spanish class can’t end soon enough. When I get to Study Hall, I’m going to have Kendall get all the girls together and we’ll pay a little visit to Connor. What were she and Olivia thinking? Putting their hands down in front of the entire school. Are they quitting on me? If they haven’t got the guts to do what’s necessary, I may need to find somebody else who does.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

By the time I got to Study Hall, Caitlin and Kendall were quietly arguing in the back of the room. Naturally, every girl there was trying to listen in. I didn’t really care anymore.

“I’m sorry, but she’s scary!”

“Scary?! She’s a midget!”

“Hey! She wasn’t in your face Caitlin. You can talk after it happens to you. Honest to God, I thought she was going to …”

“Going to what?”

“I don’t know! But it wasn’t going to be fun!”

Sometimes Caitlin gets sooo hyper. Kendall’s not helping. “Calm down you two” I tell them.

“Shut up Olivia. You weren’t much help either.”

“Face it Caitlin, she beat us. She proved the photos were faked. We didn’t bother looking for mismatched tattoos. Once she showed everyone they weren’t photos of her, we’d lost. I told you that we should wait, give it a day or two for the dirt to spread but no, you had to get up in her face today, had to have your little confrontation. Well, she took that confrontation and made you eat it … in front of the whole school.”

“I didn’t eat anything! It was a stupid idea from the start.”

“You didn’t think so last week. Last week it was brilliant.”

“Well … Stevens screwed it up, she should have taken care of the tattoos.”

“She didn’t have time, you told her to get it done for today. Besides, it’s one thing to find embarrassing pictures of girls who look like Connor or adding her head to a picture. Finding all that and matching or removing tattoos is impossible. The only way it was going to work was if nobody looked too closely at each and every picture. What gets me was that Connor saw the pictures for the first time at lunch and she caught the problems almost instantly.”

“Obviously, she knew they were fake” said Kendall.

“Yeah, but she knew exactly how to prove they were fake. Not only that, but she was all funny and friendly at first, getting everybody on her side before bringing up the fact that they weren’t actually pictures of her.”

“And then she got scary.”

“Give it a rest, Kendall” said Caitlin.

“Well, everyone knows she won today” I say. “And they know she won when we stole her clothes.”

“There’s no proof that we did either …”

“They KNOW Caitlin! All that matters is what people think. We relied on that when we tried the Facebook page and now it’s going to bite us in the ass. You want to try to go to each girl in St. Ann’s and explain why we’re innocent?”

“They’ll believe what I tell them to believe.”

“Maybe earlier, but not anymore. We’ve got two strikes on us already. We can’t afford a third strike.”

“Then we stop messing around and get serious. Kendall, you put the word out. I want every girl who thinks she’s part of my group to be ready to put Connor in her place.”

“Exactly what do you mean?” asks Kendall.

“We’re going to show Connor that there are bad consequences if she doesn’t fall in line. If that means she gets beaten up … so what? I’ve put up with more shit from her than I’ve put up with anybody else.”

“That’s because nobody else ever put up a fight” I said.

“So now everybody else learns what happens when you do that” answered Caitlin.

Just then, Miranda Wright came into the room, looked around saw Kendall and waved her hand towards her, signaling for Kendall to come over.

“I’ll be right back” she says.

We both watch as Kendall goes over and talks to Miranda, who reaches into her book bag and pulls out a bunch of yellow paper, stuffing them in Kendall’s hands. They continue talking for a few seconds then Miranda turns and leaves. Kendall walks back to the table, drops the papers on the top and sits down, looking shaken.

“What’s that all about?” asks Caitlin.

“That’s what Connor did to a Miami phonebook” answered Kendall.

“With what?”

“Her bare hands.”

“Who saw her do it?”

“Miranda and a few others. Tore the whole damn thing right in half. I don’t know how many girls are willing to show up to confront her.”

“Just because of some trick with a phone book? You tell anybody who doesn’t want to help that they can forget about coming back when this is done. I’ll remember who pussied out when there was trouble. They all know what it’s like to be on my bad side.”

I don’t want to say it … but I wonder how many other tricks Conner has in her pocket.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“Patricia! I’m home!”

It’s harder and harder to say that with any cheerfulness each evening. It seems the best part of each day is when I leave in the morning and the worst is when I walk back through the front door after work.

“I’m in the kitchen, Mom.”

At least that room is safe. When I walk into the kitchen, Patricia’s sitting at the kitchen table, a small pile of electronic devices in front of her.

“Are those …”

“Yep. All of ‘em.”

“Are you certain?”

“Absolutely.”

“Why now?”

She shrugged. “I got tired of playing their game. They had enough for their report and they’ll give me a reason to go see Mr. Hobbes. Besides, I knew how they were affecting you. I just couldn’t take seeing you suffer anymore.”

“Honey, I could have kept going. It wasn’t so bad.”

“Yes, it was and no, you couldn’t. McBride made her move at school today and I shot her down. That situation should be coming to a head soon and then we can move onto the real job.”

“I know. Sister Carmela called me at work.”

“Why’d she do that? I got it taken care of … Okay, with her help, but it’s over.”

“Sister Carmela was concerned that you might be more affected by everything than you let on.”

“What? No … no … I’m fine. There’s nothing to be worried about. I’m fine.” Patricia stands up and sweeps the bugs off the table into a box. “Let me set the table. Supper’s in the oven. We can eat and have a restful evening, for once.”

“I can help.”

“Thanks … it’s been a long day.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

She was right. I had almost reached the end of my rope. However, tonight was a brand new day. We didn’t do anything that different from the prior evenings but that weight of observation was gone … and that made all the difference. It was so enjoyable that I didn’t want to go to bed. Eventually, we did, but it was almost 11:00 p.m.

I brushed my teeth, washed my face, changed into my sleepers and climbed into bed. I was almost asleep when there was a quiet knocking at my bedroom door.

“What is it?”

“Are you asleep?”

“No … I’m not. Come on in.”

The door slowly swings open and I turn on the lamp next to my bed. Patricia is standing in my doorway, arms crossed tightly across her chest, dressed in a purple satin babydoll style nightie. She’s been wearing things like that for the last six weeks, claiming they are more comfortable than the T-shirts she had been wearing. I really don’t know what to think about that. The setting on the Balancer hasn’t been on Blue Fifty since our home was bugged, but it was tonight, yet Patricia is wearing the nightie.

“Is there something wrong, honey?”

“No … no … there … aahhh, can we … talk?”

“Sure,” I pat the bed next to me. “Have a seat.”

She slowly walks in a sits down, smoothing the nightie underneath her as she does. I reach out and gently touch her hair.

“You look nice. I see your still wearing the purple one.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“No reason. What do you want to talk about?”

She doesn’t say anything right away, just looks down. I’m not going to push her, just lightly stroke her hair.

“Uhhh … those pictures, the ones on the Facebook page … did you see them?”

“No, I didn’t. Sister Carmela described some of them to me but I didn’t look at them. I didn’t think it was necessary. They weren’t actually pictures of you anyway.”

“Yeah, I know … and they weren’t that bad. I mean, I’ve seen worse, much worse. I’ve paid good money for worse. They were more like some of those ‘girls gone wild’ pictures without the nudity … but when I saw them … I …”

“You what?” I quietly asked.

“I wanted to run home … as fast as I could. I wanted to get out of that school and never come back.”

“Well it’s only natural …”

“No. It’s not. There was no reason at all for me to feel that way. The whole thing was a fake! I knew it! It was just an attempt to embarrass me. There was no logical reason for me to feel anything other than happiness at forcing McBride to do something like this. It gave me a chance to turn the whole thing around and stick it up her … you know. But my first, gut reaction was exactly what she wanted. It almost worked. It took all the control I had to do what I did.”

“But you did it Patricia, you came through in the clutch. The Balancer was set on Blue ten. It’s only natural that some of those feelings you describe would be there but you kept control and did what you needed to do.”

“I guess, but what about now? When I think back to that moment when McBride started flipping through those pictures, those feelings are still there. I’m just as upset now as I was then.”

“We know that you retain knowledge after the Balancer changes settings, maybe it’s the same with emotions, feelings.”

“So what happens when I go back to my old body, am I going to still have the emotions of a teen age girl?”

“We don’t know for sure … maybe you will, at least for awhile. The longer you’re back as Peter Harris full time, the more you’ll feel like the old you. You always knew that there would be a transition period.”

“And how long is this transition period?”

“Honestly, we don’t know. Daniel didn’t have one, but he was gone only a very few days. Don’t worry … Peter … it will all work out in the end.” I pull her towards me and she rests her head on my shoulder as I hug her.

“Thanks … Mom.”

We stay like this for a few moments, me holding her, gently rocking on my bed. Deep in my heart, I feel like Patricia is my daughter. It’s not logical, I know the facts, but I can’t deny the feelings I have for this young girl, no matter how she came to exist. And I’ll miss her horribly when she’s gone.

“Mom?”

“What is it, sweetie?”

“You know those pictures?”

“Yes?”

“I think two of them weren’t fake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think two of them were actual pictures of me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

X-Ray had finished the weekly review of inventory and shipment schedules. Despite the uproar in Mexico, our supply lines had remained mostly unaffected. There were the occasional delays due to increased inspections at the harbors and rail stations, but we either waited them out or added someone new to the bribery list and the problems were solved. Our inventories in America were already large enough that we could stand no shipments for at least a month before supplies would become a problem.

“Enrique, what is the situation in Los Angeles?” he asks. I was hoping the question would not come up.

“Not good. It is a turf war.”

“But we supply both sides with merchandise, do we not?”

“Yes, so it really doesn’t matter who wins as far as we are concerned.”

“But such disputes are disruptive, they poison our markets. Why can they not see that there is plenty of money to be made by all, that there is no reason to be greedy? I want you to send someone to speak with the gangs and impress upon them that I am not happy and strongly suggest that they solve their problems quickly and, more importantly, quietly. If they don’t, I might find new distributors for my products.”

“That may not be wise X-Ray. They may look for other suppliers on their own. The other cartels would like nothing more than increasing their sales in Los Angeles. It is the key to Southern California and could bring competition to the entire market.”

“And continued fighting only brings bad publicity and unwanted attention to my business connections with the gangs. Things only happen when the people demand action. They don’t care if it is the right action, they just want action. The easy thing for the local police to do is round everybody up and crack a few heads. I want it to stop immediately.

“We could just wait for a victor. The stronger gang takes over the weaker’s territory and we end up with a firmer grip on the market.”

“And what happens in the mean time? Buyers avoid areas where there is a threat of violence. They get their drugs from someone who works for Tijuana or Potosi. No, a little competition is good for business now and then … it keeps you on your toes, but it must stop now. We cannot afford the same stupidity that is happening in Mexico to spread to this country. Go yourself, if necessary.”

“As you wish, X-Ray.” I start to stand up to leave.

“One last thing, Enrique.”

“Yes?”

“I read the report about that girl my daughter spoke of. It seems that she is an average, normal girl.”

“Apparently very smart, but otherwise normal.”

“So there is no harm in Gretchen seeing her.”

“That remains to be seen X-Ray. I prefer my women to be … less intelligent, easier to control. I know that you like strong, spirited women but they can cause problems.”

“She is a child, Enrique! You worry too much!”

“That may be, but it is my job to keep you, and Gretchen, safe. It is my recommendation that Gretchen not be allowed to see her.”

“I will consider it.”

“You know where my loyalties lie, X-ray. Have I failed you yet?”

“No … you haven’t, old friend.”

“Then listen to me now.”

“I will consider it.”

“That is all I can ask.”

He will eventually agree with me, he always does. There is likely no harm in letting the girl have a friend or two, but why take the risk. The more control I have, the safer it is for me and my future.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

There are thirteen of us ready to talk to Conner before school this morning. I told both Kendall and Olivia not to take any excuses but we still came up short. It takes a problem to find out who you can count on. I have everyone gather around me before we start.

“I won’t forget who showed up today … and who didn’t. This is going to be quick and to the point. When we get to Conner’s locker, crowd in around her. I don’t want anyone else to see or hear anything. If she doesn’t behave, Kendall will take care of her. I won’t object if a couple of others want to give her a shot or two but we can’t draw too much attention. Everybody ready?”

They all nod yes, though Kendall appears nervous. She’s been acting funny about this almost from the start. It’s too late now to worry about it.

I head down the hallway, the others following close behind. The other girls sense us coming and move out of our way. This is perfect. Everyone will know what happened but Carmela won’t be able to prove anything.

Conner’s standing in front of her open locker, looking in. She’s all alone, Hobbes isn’t in sight. The few girls near her split. I step up behind her as the other girls crowd around, blocking anybody else’s view. Conner just keeps rummaging around in her locker, like we aren’t even there.

“Conner. We want to talk with you” I say.

“We or you, Caitlin?”

“Fine. I want to talk with you.”

“What a coincidence. I want to talk with you too.”

She turns around to face me … holding an aluminum baseball bat in her hands. All the other girls stop breathing for a few seconds. I don’t give a damn, we still outnumber her.

“What’s that for?” I ask.

“This bat? I was thinking about trying out for the softball team. How about you?”

“St Ann’s sucks at sports, it’s a waste of time.”

“That attitude seems to lack the proper school spirit, McBride, but we can save that conversation for another day. Am I right in assuming that this is ultimatum time?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Seems a shame to do it here and now, there’s no audience.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“Then I’ll get to the point. You want to take me on, fine by me. We can do it now and most of you will lose a bunch of teeth or we can do it at lunch today out at the softball field and I won’t be carrying this bat.”

“Why there?”

“I like an audience. There are bleachers so everyone who cares gets a good view.”

“And all the teachers will be there too, along with your pal Carmela.”

“I guarantee there won’t be a single teacher out there.”

“How can you do that?”

“As you said, my pal, Sister Carmela. If you spot one teacher, you can pick another time and place. What do you say? I’m willing to miss a lunch to get this settled once and for all. Or you can have your goon squad try to rough me up now, in which case, I hope you all have dental insurance.”

I glance around. The girls aren’t packed as tightly as before and one or two may have snuck away. Several have their hands discretely raised to protect their mouths. The group is already falling apart. I don’t have a choice.

“We’ll see you at lunch, bitch!”

Conner shakes her head. “Such language. Lunch it is. Looking forward to it. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to return this to Sister Rita.”

Nobody moves right away, not sure what she’s actually going to do. Eventually, we all back away, Conner closes her locker and walks down the hall, twirling the bat in her hand.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

Word spread at supersonic speed. At the end of second period, all eyes were focused on me as I walked to my locker. Gretchen was waiting for me.

“Are you CRAZY?! I heard that there were at least twenty girls coming after you.”

“Not more than ten, by the end, and probably fewer by lunch. Even if it is twenty, I’ll be fine.”

“How can you be fine?! There’s just the two of us!”

“No, there’s just the one of us. You don’t do anything, I’m not taking any chances that you might get hurt if things don’t go as planned.”

“What are you talking about? I’m so much bigger than you, it’s not funny. I should be the one out there.”

“Gretch, size has nothing to do with it, numbers either. I picked the time and place. It’s all cool. Frankly, I’d prefer you not be there at all but I can’t stop you.”

“Damn right you can’t stop me! You can’t beat all those girls at the same time. If I don’t help you …”

“No difference, Gretch. If I can’t win on my own when it’s twenty to one, is it that much easier at twenty against two? Can you beat ten girls at one time?”

“Of course not! And neither can you.”

“You might be surprised at what I can do, but that’s for another day. I don’t plan on fighting anybody.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Great! The more talk, the better. Anybody planning on being out at the softball field?”

“Who isn’t? By now, every teacher in school knows what’s happening. They’ll give you so many demerits; you’ll still be in detention when your kid graduates from St. Ann’s.”

“I told you, don’t worry about it. The fix is in, at least as far as the teachers are concerned. Sister Carmela and I have a deal, but that’s just between you and me … I mean that, you can’t tell anybody else.”

“I won’t. What deal?”

“She’s letting me handle this by myself.”

“What kinda deal is that? The teachers were your best chance not to get killed.”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

“So, you’ve done this before have you?”

“Not exactly … though there was this one time …”

“Shut up! Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am, but I’ve been planning this for days. Trust me … I’ve got it covered. Just do me a favor. Spread the word.”

“Who talks to me? Doesn’t matter, everyone knows already.”

“Then tell them to come out and watch. You can come too, if you promise to behave.”

“You’re crazy, you know that?”

“That’s the only way to be.”

She turns on her heel and stomps off. It really would be better if she didn’t show up. No one would intentionally hit her but accidents do happen. I’d prefer not to give her father another reason to dislike me.

Sister Rita was standing outside of my third period class room when Social Studies ended. Our eyes met and she motioned with her head for me to follow her. I quickly caught up and we walked together down the hall.

“Sister Carmela asked me to speak with you. Do you know what you are doing?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I am. Is she worried about me?”

“She worries about all her students … though more about some than others. What do you mean ‘pretty sure’?”

“I can’t guarantee anything, though the odds are it will all work out fine.”

“And if the odds are wrong?”

“Then you’re my ace in the hole, Sister. Just don’t jump the gun if things start to look ugly. I promise, no one will get hurt.”

“You’re asking her to trust you quite a bit.”

“She’s asking me to give her back her school. Did she think that was going to happen without taking some chances?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Well, I can. There are always risks in whatever you do. This is riskier than most things that happen in a day but it’s not that bad. I’ve taken bigger chances and it’s worked out.”

“Have you taken less risks and it failed?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s pray for the best, Ms. Conner.”

“Amen, Sister Rita.”

She gives me a stern look, not sure if I’m kidding or not. I’m not sure myself. Guess I’ll take what help I can get.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“This is all wrong Caitlin. We don’t do things this way. We’re quiet, subtle, behind the scenes. We don’t do gang fights.”

“This isn’t a gang fight, Olivia. There’s only one of her. We’ve tried everything else and nothing’s worked.”

“What hasn’t worked? How has she hurt us? It’s not like she’s got a bunch of girls following her. It’s just her and Hobbes. What do you want from her?”

“I want her to stop … disrespecting me!”

“Why risk everything to punish one girl? What if she doesn’t roll over? How far are you willing to go? You said it yourself, we’re in charge only because the rest of them can’t get organized enough to stop us. Why give them someone to rally behind? Just let it go.”

“NO! If we let one slide then it’s a sign of weakness. Someone stands up, I knock them down. That’s the way it’s got to be.”

“Does it have to be in front of the whole school? Conner’s worked this to where she wants it. There’s got to be a reason for that, she’s not stupid.”

“And I am?”

“I didn’t say that! You’re not stupid. It’s just that what you’re planning … it’s just …”

“Stupid?”

“Yeah, it kinda is.”

“So, what would you do?”

“Ignore her. The more you concentrate on her, the more attention she gets, the more potential power she has. I mean, that thing with the motorcycle on the first day, there’s already a bunch of girls who admire her. We’ve kept her tamped down but if we screw up today … we could lose it all.”

“Then we better not screw it up, right? Come on. Get everybody together and let’s go. Remember, Conner is mine.”

She can have her.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

There’s already about fifty girls hanging around the field when I get there. It’s more than I thought would be here this soon after school broke for lunch, though I’m happy to see them. I got here pretty quickly so most of the girls had to practically run to beat me. I want to pick my spot before McBride arrives with however many she can round up. My little demonstration with the phonebook seems to have had an effect on some of her less committed supplicants.

Girls continue to appear over the next ten minutes, usually in groups of four to six. They all seem to be confused when they get here. Most gravitate to the bleachers but some hang around the field and the dugouts. No one says anything to me but there’s a lot of talking among themselves. I see Terri Hughes at the fence next to the bleachers, waiving to get my attention. I walk over to her.

“Patricia, are you crazy?”

“You keep asking me that, Terri. What do I have to do to convince you I’m not?”

“Stop doing crazy shit. What is this supposed to be?”

“I’m going to end Caitlin McBride’s reign of terror.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“Stay and watch.”

“How can I help?”

Her offer surprises me. I can understand why Gretchen wants to help but Terri and I aren’t particularly close. We do talk occasionally and she’s a nice person, but I’ve never considered her a close friend. I don’t know what she considers me.

“Uhhhh, no … it’s not necessary. I’ve got it covered.”

“You sure? You’re like doing this for the school; we should at least help you, right?”

“How many others think like that?”

“Lots … way lots.”

“No, I don’t want anyone to get hurt or in trouble. Just stay and watch, that should be enough.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

“Thanks.” I see Gretchen standing by third base. “You could do one thing for me, Terri.”

“What’s that?”

“Make sure Gretchen doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Compared to what? Taking on a bunch of girls by yourself? I know that you can probably kick their asses’ one at a time or in a group, but you apparently don’t plan to do that, not if you don’t want anyone to get hurt. It’s your show but I’ll watch Gretchen for you.”

“Thanks again, Terri.”

“No prob.” She walks over towards Gretchen and stands about ten feet away from her.

Looking around, I’d say that almost two thirds of the school is here … and not a single teacher. I don’t know what Sister Carmela told them, but she’s taking a big risk by letting me do this. If I screw up, she could lose her job, or worse.

Despite the girls talking, there’s a lot of tension in the air. I don’t see any other girls still walking this way from the school and there’s no sign of McBride. She may think that being fashionably late will make me nervous and worried.

She didn’t have to bother. I’m always nervous before springing a trap, I just don’t show it. That was my reputation on the force, always cool under fire.

Suddenly, some of the girls on the upper seats in the bleachers start pointing at the school. Everyone looks that way and it gets quieter. I strain to see. God! I wish I was taller. Eventually, I see the small group headed this way. As they get closer, I can make out McBride in the lead, closely followed by Woodruff, Sinclair and eight other hardcore supporters. Looks like I picked off a few more after the locker confrontation. A good start. I take my position on the pitcher’s mound, it gives me a little more height.

McBride and her group enter the field from the gate next to the visitor’s dugout along the first base line. When she gets halfway to the mound, she stops and the other girls in the group spread out behind her. Once she has them arranged as she wants, she moves a couple of steps closer to me.

“I don’t see any teachers here” she says.

“Told you there wouldn’t be” I answer.

She gets a big smile on her face.

“I know all about your trick with the phone book. Anybody can do that. I found at least six YouTube videos showing how to do it. It’s just a trick!”

“You’re absolutely right McBride, it IS a trick. Not everyone can do it though, you have to have fairly strong hands to manipulate the book, but it’s a trick. Just like walking barefoot on hot coals is a trick, sleeping on a bed of nails is a trick, breaking someone’s knee with a single kick is a trick, crushing someone’s larynx with a simple hand chop is a trick and breaking a person’s nose with one punch, driving the broken bones into their brain, killing them is a trick. What’s interesting is I know all those tricks … and many more.”

I let that settle in for a couple of seconds before continuing.

“Exactly what do you want from me, McBride?”

I think she’s taken aback by the straight forward question. She thinks about it for a moment or two before answering.

“I want you to behave like everybody else. You’re nothing special. You think you’re some hot shit kid from the West Coast. You think you’re better than everybody else here at St. Ann’s. You’re not. You’re no better than we are!”

I’ve got to give her credit; it’s not a bad approach. Trying to make herself and all the other girls the injured parties. I didn’t really expect her to play to the crowd. She’s a bright girl. Let’s see how bright.

“You say I’ve been acting better than anybody else. What have I done?”

“Those damn uniforms you wear, if you want to call them uniforms.”

I lift my skirt a bit with both hands. “What, this little old thing?”

“Yeah, that little old thing. It and every other damn thing you wear. You lord it over all of us like you’re some kind of princess. Well, we’re tired of it and aren’t going to take it anymore!”

Still very good.

“I negotiated with Sister Carmela to give everyone at St. Ann’s the chance to do exactly what I did. I even got the equipment and a room for the girls to work in.”

“Like any of us can do that. We’re so busy with school work, no one’s got the time to do it anyway. And you refuse to help us.”

“Sister Carmela said I could only help one girl, so I did. Sorry it wasn’t you, McBride.”

“Look who you did help, Gretchen Hobbes, the drug dealer’s daughter.”

“Why not, she’s my friend.”

“You don’t have any friends! Not at St. Ann’s!”

“And whose fault is that?”

“No one’s. Everybody hates you!”

“Really? Everybody? Maybe I don’t have any friends because you told every girl in school to ignore me.”

“I never did that.”

A mistake! Sinclair’s trying to get McBride’s attention but she waves her off. Sinclair knows. Time to drive the stake into her heart.

“You’re lying McBride. You tried to freeze me out, tried to get each and every girl in school to act like I was invisible.”

“Prove it!”

Thank you! “I don’t have to prove anything.” I sweep the crowd with my extended right hand. “Every girl here today knows exactly what you did. They know what they were told to do … and not do, like talk to me.”

“I never told anybody anything about you, Conner.” She waves Sinclair away again.

“Another lie! You’ve been after me from day one because I won’t kow tow to you. Who put YOU in charge? I don’t remember an election. Did I miss it? Maybe they held it at the end of last year. Tell me. What was your campaign slogan? Equality for all … but some are more equal than others?”

“Stuff that shit BITCH! Who are you to talk? Coming to my school! Screwing up everything I’ve worked for, everything my entire family’s worked for over the last nine years!”

“So, it’s a hereditary monarchy. How did your family get this mantle of authority?”

“Someone has to be in charge. At St. Ann’s, it’s me.”

“Was you, but not any more.”

She smirks at that. “You think you can replace me, just little old you? I’ve got lots of people who like things just the way they are.”

“Lots? I count ten.”

“And I count one.”

“You’re wrong, it’s closer to one hundred sixty.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?! All these girls don’t support you.”

“And they don’t support you either McBride. You’re such an idiot! You lost as soon as you walked onto this field. I don’t want to replace you, what an awful thought. Every school has a girl who thinks she’s the top dog; you’re just an extreme case. The only way you get away with it is because each individual girl feels powerless to stop you … but they aren’t individual girls now. Everyone you see here today are the new holders of power. Ever see the movie “A Bug’s Life”, McBride?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“You’re a grasshopper, so are your friends. Everyone else here are ants … and there are a lot more ants than grasshoppers. They outnumber you about twenty to one, even worse when you count the girls not here. You didn’t order them to show up, in fact, you’d have preferred that they stay away. They all came here of their own free will and now they’ve come to realize that you’re just a little tin pot dictator from a line of little tin pot dictators who’ve pulled the wool over their eyes all these years. You and your tiny little group have acted like the queens of the hill, but you’re not. They don’t have to do what you say anymore … they’re free!”

“That doesn’t mean they do what you say either. We can still mess you up and they won’t do anything to stop it.”

Now it gets tricky. She’s lost and may be desperate. Desperate people are unpredictable. “You’re right. I don’t want them to follow me. I could eventually become as bad as you. It doesn’t matter what you try to do to me, you’re done, finished, kaput. I think your little group is smart enough not to make things worse for themselves, but, if not … come and get me. I told you I’m not afraid of any of you, as individuals or a group. The first person who touches me, I will put my hands around your throat and squeeze until you’re unconscious. There’s nothing any of you can do to stop me. Beat me, pry at my hands, nothing. And when the first person goes down, I’ll go after the second person who touched me, then the third and so on, until you’re all out. So … who’s first?”

No one says anything, no one moves. The girls opposite me share nervous glances. I don’t think most of them were planning on an honest to God fight. Just some threatening posturing, maybe a shove or two, but not this.

Suddenly, I hear movement behind me. I don’t want to look away from the crowd in front, they might rush me and I’d be forced to hurt them but I can’t afford to be ambushed from behind. I take a quick glance to the rear.

“It’s alright Patty, it’s us,” Gretchen whispers.

“Who’s us?” I whisper back, my eyes returning forward.

“Terri and I.”

“I thought Terri was supposed to keep this from happening. Go back to the sidelines you two.”

“No,” Terri said. “We’re your friends and you don’t have to do this alone.” I risked looking all the way behind me. Gretchen was standing just to my right and Terri was on my left. She was waving her hands at the crowd of girls, who were streaming out of the bleachers and dugouts to gather behind me. In less than two minutes, the field behind me was packed with over one hundred sixty girls.

I know they aren’t my friends, that a day ago they were laughing at that darn Facebook page, that they’re caught up in the emotion of the moment and peer pressure, but still, I find it hard to not cry. I turn back towards McBride.

“Apparently we were both wrong. They seem to have chosen sides. You’re finished at St. Ann’s, McBride. I suggest you leave now before something really bad happens … to you.”

McBride stood her ground. The other girls behind her were straining to leave, but, too their credit, there was enough loyalty there to keep them from just running away but they sure as heck wanted to. The slightest sign from McBride and they were gone. There was no sign.

“This isn’t over Connor” she hissed.

“Yeah … I think it is McBride. These girls are united.” For now. “You mess with one, you mess with them all. No more cutting a few from the herd. No more playing one off another. All your tricks won’t work any more. You can go play your little games amongst yourselves, but the rest of us don’t care. In fact, you’ll be lucky if you all aren’t completely ignored. A couple of months of the silent treatment might be interesting. It’d serve you right.”

She stayed right there. I don’t know if it was shock, anger or surprise. Sinclair slowly moved up next to her and pulled at her arm. She shrugged her off. Sinclair grabbed her arm again, this time more firmly. McBride angrily turned on her and was about to say something when one of the girls behind me shouted “Stop screwing around and kill the bitch, Da’Pee!”

Sinclair’s eyes grew wide and her face went white. “What’d she call you?” she asked.

“Da’Pee. It’s a nickname I picked up at the YWCA,” I answered.

McBride sneered. “Why? No bladder contro …” Sinclair jerked her hard, dragging her back away from us a couple of feet before McBride could regain her balance and fight back.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING OLIVIA?! IF YOU EVER …”

Sinclair was up in her face, whispering something we couldn’t hear. She was there for only about twenty seconds, but when Sinclair moved away, there was fear in McBride’s eyes.

“What’s it gonna be McBride?” I ask, taking two steps towards her.

She quickly backs away. “We’re … we’re … ahhh … not done here … Conner.”

“I think the girls beg to differ. Go on back to St. Ann’s. You can’t afford another demerit for being late for class.” I take another quick step towards her and she’s gone, not exactly running, but walking very quickly back towards school. The other ten girls don’t bother to hide it, they’re running.

I watch them go until they reach the school door, then a high pitched cheer breaks out around me as I’m grabbed, lifted into the air, and surf the crowd, being passed from person to person on outstretched hands.

“Whoa! Watch it! Careful! Watch the hands there! I’m not a beach ball, ya’ know!”

After a couple of minutes of cheering, clapping, laughing and a little crying, I’m carefully dropped back to the ground. Terri and Gretchen are right there almost instantly.

“You did it!” Gretchen shouts above the din. “You really did it!” She bends down and hugs me, my arms trapped at my sides, practically squeezing the air out of me.

“Okay,” I gasp. “Enough Gretch. Okay.”

She lets go and backs off a foot, smiling shyly. I think I’m smiling too between wheezes as I try to re-inflate my lungs. That girl’s got a grip.

Terri grabs my shoulder and pulls me closer.

“Now what?”

“Now … we go back to school.”

“You know what I mean, who’s in charge?”

“No one, not even Sister Carmela.”

“You’re not?”

“No way! You couldn’t pay me enough.”

“I don’t think they pay anybody.”

“Figure of speech, Terri.”

I turn to face the largest portion of the group of girls around me and raise my hands, trying to quiet them down. It takes a few moments but they eventually stop shouting enough for me to be heard.

“Thanks! Thanks everybody! I’d like to stay out here all day but the next period starts in ten minutes. We all better get inside. Remember, today, you’ve taken back your freedom … it’s up to each and every one of you to keep it!”

There’s another round of cheers and shouting but groups of girls start to head back to the building. I reach out and grab Gretchen’s arm by the wrist, gently pulling her down towards me.

“I want to talk with you after school, before you go home. Okay?”

“Sure Patty, whatever you want.”

She’s standing taller and smiling more broadly than I think I’ve ever seen her before. She really is beautiful.

“Good. Off with you then. Your father will be mad at me if you get demerits for being late.”

She salutes. “Yes, Ma’am.” Turns on her heel and strides away, mixing with the steady stream of laughing and giggling girls returning to St. Ann’s. A number of them are actually talking with her. I wait until the last of the girls have left the softball field before I follow them at a slow trot.

The easy job is done. Now to the hard one.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Sister Carmela doesn’t even wait to the end of the period, she has Ms. Jensen come down and pull me out of class, some excuse about a phone call. She doesn’t say anything to me the entire time we’re walking to the office. She may be thinking about the phone book.

When we get there, Sister Carmela’s door is already open. Ms. Jensen leads me in and shuts the door behind me, leaving Sister Carmela and I alone.

“Have a seat, Ms. Conner.”

I take the chair opposite of her.

“Sister Rita reports that your … event … was a success.”

“Where was Sister Rita?”

“In the press box. The curtains were drawn and the door locked.”

I nod my head. “I thought I saw the curtains move a couple of times. Thought it was the girls shaking the stands.”

“You had quite a crowd there. I wish we could get half that many to show up for an actual game. Sister Rita said that there were several close calls.”

“Not that many, one or two certainly, but no more than that. Thank Sister Rita for me for not intervening. It would have spoiled everything.”

“What exactly, by your reckoning, have you accomplished today?”

“Whatever control Caitlin McBride had over the other students at St. Ann’s has be broken.”

“Completely?’

“Vanquished … for now.”

“What does ‘for now’ mean?”

“I expect that, after a short time of licking her wounds, she will attempt to reestablish her power base.”

“What do you plan to do to stop her?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope. This is a one off Sister. I didn’t sign on to be your cop among the students.”

“I assumed that after McBride had been toppled from power that …”

“That I would step up and replace her? Not interested, Sister. Being top dog is way too much work and, frankly, though this isn’t intended as an insult, I’ve got bigger fish to fry, Sister.”

“What fish is that?”

“My business, Sister. It shouldn’t affect the school, if that’s a concern.”

“So, what happens next?”

“After a brief truce … anarchy. It’s just like Yugoslavia and Tito. His dictatorship kept the natural enemies from fighting each other. Once he was deposed, the pressure was released and all the suppressed disputes bloomed like the flowers in May. Instead of one power mad boss, you’ll have several power seeking bosslings, each trying to become the next McBride.”

“So … a normal all girl’s school.”

“Exactly. Sorry I won’t be able to help you with it.”

“I was hoping you would be willing to be a figurehead leader and prevent the petty disputes from developing.”

“Not interested. I just want to keep getting good grades and graduate. Besides, I’d be more likely to fight your attempts to control the students than help you. It’s my basic nature.”

“Well, forewarned is forearmed.”

“One would certainly hope so, Sister.” I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it and we shake. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Sister Carmela.”

“Likewise, Ms. Conner.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It’s like a different universe.

We can’t walk anywhere without a bunch of girls trying to talk with us, follow us, ask questions, offer advice, all sorts of stuff. You go from anonymous to famous in less than an hour. Patty takes it all in stride, accepting congratulations, thanking everyone for their help, trying to keep them all pumped up, but also saying not to take any kind of vengeance against McBride and her group. She says it’s not the St. Ann’s way, which is a lot of shit. It’s always been the St. Ann’s way, at least as long as I’ve been here. “Kick ‘em while they’re down!” That’s our motto. It’s probably what the Latin on the school crest means.

When we stop at her locker after last period, there must be thirty girls waiting there, all wanting to talk with her. She immediately goes into her act, saying all the stuff she said before but added that she had to get home to fix supper before her mom got there. Most of the girls were surprised … so was I. A lot of the girls who go to St. Ann’s have hired help, we certainly do. The idea that one of us has to fix dinner every day is so weird. It never occurred to me that Patty’s life was much different than mine.

She reached back with her right hand, getting a firm grip on mine as she closed her locker with her left.

“Sorry guys, we gotta leave now, but we can talk tomorrow, okay?” she said.

Everyone was all smiles and nodding heads. She hurried away, pulling me with her.

“Where are we going, Patty?”

“Some place quiet, Gretch.”

We end up in the gym, after dodging another couple of groups of girls. It’s just us. My heart is racing just a little. It’s probably from running away just now. She lets go of my hand.

“I thought I told you to not get involved back there at the field.”

Great. She’s gonna bitch about that now? “I wasn’t going to leave you out there by yourself, Patricia. What if there was a fight? You’d need all the help you could get.”

“There wasn’t going to be a fight. Most of those girls didn’t really want to be there. If something bad happened, they’d have run for the hills. McBride had a lot of fair weather friends” she took my hand again, “unlike me.”

“What are you saying?”

“You stuck by me when things looked bad. They weren’t bad, I had everything under control, but to the outside person, they may have looked bad … which they weren’t. Anyway, you thought things were bad, so you stepped up to help me. That’s real friendship, Gretchen.”

I blush. “Terri helped too.”

“I know. I’ll thank her later. I want to thank you right now … though you should have done what I said.”

“Right. Who died and made you Queen?”

“No one. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt.”

“What about you getting hurt? I’m bigger than you are any way. You should have been the one to sit down. I was bigger than anybody out there.”

“You were taller than any one out there. Some of McBride’s girl’s were heavier.”

“What am I, skin and bones?”

“No, you’re beautiful, just about perfect, Gretchen. That’s why I didn’t want you hurt. Besides, I can take care of myself. Did you hear that ‘Da’ Pee’ thing at the end?”

“Yeah, what was that about?”

“It was Terri. She knew that was my nickname at the YWCA. I’d done a little fighting there a few months ago and had some success. Picked up a bit of a reputation.”

“What kind of fighting? Boxing?”

“Mixed martial arts.”

“You mean that punching, kicking stuff?”

“That’s part of it.”

“How many girls did you beat?”

“None.”

“I thought you said you had some success?”

“I did. I fought the boys.”

“NO! How many did you beat?”

She smiled. “All of them.”

Oh. My. God. No wonder McBride backed off. She had no idea who she was facing, at least not until the end. Hell, apparently almost none of us did.

“So you really didn’t need my help, did you?”

“No, but when you and all the other girls came out of the bleachers to support me … I almost cried.”

“So, I’m just one of the girls?”

“No, stupid. You’re my best friend, and I’m your best friend. And I’m tired of seeing you just here at school. I want you to come to my house this weekend. We can hang out, watch movies, eat junk food to fatten you up a little, just in case there is a fight down the road. What do you say?”

What do I say? I say YES! But Father won’t let me.

“Look, Patty. I’d love to … I’d love it more than anything. Nobody has ever asked me over ever before. But, my Father … he won’t let me out of the house, not without body guards.”

“Tell him I’ll protect you! I’m better than a bunch of body guards any way. It’s just for one night for Pete’s sake!”

A sleep over! I’ve never had a sleep over! But … Father …

“It’s a waste of time, Patty. He’s never gonna let me do anything I want!”

“Just ask him. If he still says no, then I’ll talk to him. I can be veeerrryy persuasive.”

“What, with threats and stuff?”

“NO! Logical arguments. I’m pretty smart, remember?”

“What if he refuses to talk to you? He does that to me all the time!”

“Oh, he’ll talk to me. One way or another, he’ll talk to me.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

When I returned to the Convent that evening, there were only two places set for dinner. Rita was just coming into the dinning room.

“Where are Sister Elizabeth and Sister Charity tonight?” I asked.

“Sister Charity has a Book Club meeting and Sister Elizabeth is running St. Mary’s bingo. Do you need something from either of them, Sister Carmela?”

“No, it’s just that we never seem to have a meal all together any more. Always rush, rush, rush.”

“Well, there are only four of us, Sister. Scheduling was much easier before Mary and Beatrice retired. Any word on possible replacements?”

“None yet. It may be awhile.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“While it’s just the two of us, I’d like to discuss what happened with McBride and Conner today.”

“I’d be happy to. I think that you would have been proud to see all the girls, well the large majority of the girls, support Conner. She had everyone of McBride’s group ready to quit, except for McBride. It looked like there might be some kind of fight developing when Hobbes and Terri Hughes joined Conner on the field. As soon as they did that, other girls started to do the same. It was a trickle at first but it soon became a flood of girls, all streaming to the field behind Conner. McBride’s group wanted to leave right then but McBride still remained, standing her ground. I was afraid that should a fight start, the girls might unleash years of pent-up anger and frustration and the situation would get quickly out of hand. Just at that crucial moment, one of the girls behind Conner called out a name that I was not familiar with and urged this girl to ‘kick McBride’s ass’. For some reason, the mention of this name caused McBride to back down. She and her group ran or speed walked back to school. Conner and her group had a brief celebration before returning to school.”

“Celebration?”

“Mostly cheering and chanting, which was a good thing, it let McBride clear the field before Conner’s people came back.”

“They aren’t Conner’s people. She told me that she had no interest in replacing McBride, that she had, I quote ‘bigger fish to fry’ unquote.”

“What would that be, I wonder?”

“I asked but got no answers, beyond that I shouldn’t be worried.”

“Which, in itself, makes you worry.”

“Exactly! She compared our situation to the fall of Tito in Yugoslavia.”

“Who?”

“I had to look it up myself. But from my reading of the story, her description and the comparison seems to be apt.”

“Do you really believe that Conner has no interest in taking advantage of her current … popularity?”

“I don’t know. Why go through all this trouble and not get any obvious benefit?”

“Good question. I have found it very difficult to predict what Ms. Conner might do.”

“Preaching to the choir Sister. What was the name shouted out at the meeting?”

“I’m not quite sure. The door to the press box was shut but I did have a window cracked. It was very short. I’m not even certain it was a normal name. Perhaps Daphne, but condensed.”

“Daphne? Daphne … Do we have a Daphne?”

“I don’t believe so. Could be a middle name … or a nickname.”

“Odd nickname. Daphne.”

Something familiar about it though. I think I heard someone talking about a small girl with a street name similar to Daphne … not Daphne though. It was …

“Da’Pee?”

“Excuse me?”

“Was the name Da’Pee?”

“That sounds more like it. What does it mean?”

“Nothing in particular that I’m aware of, however, if Patricia Conner is Da’Pee, Caitlin McBride was extremely lucky to get back to the school building with all her extremities intact.”

“Who is this Da’Pee, Sister?”

“If the rumors are to be believed, an extraordinarily formidable young woman.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It sounded so easy when Patricia and I talked about it, but now, looking down the table at him, I couldn’t get the words out.

Which is ridiculous. He’s my father, for God’s sake! I should be able to talk with him. He’s just sitting there, reading his paperwork after supper. I’m not asking for the moon. It’s something normal kids get to do all the time. It’s not even a boy! She’s just my best … my only friend. Aren’t I entitled to at least one friend?

“Father?”

He doesn’t look up. “Yes, Gretchen?”

“There’s this girl … she’s a friend of mine, see, and she wants me to … come over to her house, this weekend. Girls don’t ask me over very often, and, like, I’d like to go.”

He puts down his file folder. “Is this the Conner girl? Patricia?”

I can tell from the way he’s saying it, the answer is “No”. Before I even get a chance to say anything, the answer is already “NO”!

“Yes, Patricia Conner. She’s a really good student, really smart … and brave too. She’s pretty and all the teachers like her.”

“Isn’t she the one who sewed the uniforms?”

“Yes, she did. She knows all about that kinda stuff, and a whole lot more. We both want to see each other away from school. It’s no big deal, just an overnight at her house. You can call her Mother.”

“And why is she asking you?”

“Because she’s my friend. Friends hang out with each other. It’s what girls do, Father.”

“I have discussed this with Enrique and we feel that it isn’t safe for you to do anything like this right now. Maybe, in the future, something might be possible, but not right now.”

“When?”

“When what?”

“When will it be safe? A week, a month, a year? I’m seventeen and it’s never been safe. I’ve been locked up in this house or some other house ever since I’ve been born! I don’t know why you let me out to go to school. If life is so dangerous, why don’t I have tutors?”

“Because I promised your mother that I would send you to a Catholic school. She insisted that I promise. I keep my promises.”

I’d always wondered why I was at St. Ann’s. I’m an okay student but nothing great. Now I know.

“Fine. So when will it be safe for me to visit a friend or have a friends visit me? I’m not staying here forever Father. When I get old enough, I’m moving out on my own.”

“And who will pay for this place?”

“I will. I’ll get a job and some roommates. At least then I’ll be able to have friends over.”

“And if I say no?”

“You can’t control me forever Father … and neither can Enrique.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It’s a waste of time but I’ll ask any way.

“What did your Dad say, Gretch?”

She plops down in the seat next to me. “No. It’s not safe. Of course, if he wasn’t a drug dealer, we wouldn’t have to worry about things like being killed or kidnapped.”

“That’s not technically true. A lot of rich people worry about the same stuff, doesn’t matter how they made their money.”

“Are you defending him?”

“Understanding isn’t agreement. He’s wrong but I can see why he thinks he’s right.”

“Doesn’t matter why he thinks he’s right or wrong. Once he’s made a decision, that’s it, game over.”

“Don’t be so sure Gretch. I’ll talk with him.”

“Talk with him? You won’t even get to see him let alone talk with him. The house is like a fortress. Guards, walls, fences, cameras and lots of guns.”

“There’s always a way in, you just hafta know what buttons to push. I’m a heck of a button pusher.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Lou was supposed to relieve me ten minutes ago. He brought the kid home from school today and he promised he’d replace me at the monitor station as soon as he got back. I saw him drive in at least fifteen minutes ago. Give him a couple of minutes to park the car, a couple more to take a leak; he should be here by now.

I got a hot date tonight and he’s taking over until Jackson comes on at eight. I pick up my phone off the desk in front of me and enter his extension. It buzzes several times before he clicks in.

“I know, I know. I’ll be there in a minute. Raul’s just fixing me a snack.”

“More like a three course meal.” I can see what’s going on in the kitchen. Lou must be standing in the doorway out of camera range but I can see Raul packing a grocery sack with stuff. I’m lucky to get a ham sandwich out of the guy. Lou’s got to be paying him off or something. “Hurry up. I gotta be out of here by five.”

“What’s the damn hurry, your dates not till, what, eight?”

“Yeah, but I got shit to get done before then.”

“It’ll take you a hell of a lot more than three hours to try to look good.”

“Fuck you Lou. Just get here.”

The front gate buzzer went off and I snapped my head up to look at the monitor. I was so busy with that son of a bitch that I hadn’t seen anybody drive up. There’s no car in the driveway and I don’t see it right away but I notice what looks like part of a motorcycle on the left. I toggle the camera over a few degrees. There’s a girl dressed in a St. Ann’s uniform straddling a motocross type motorcycle, helmet dangling from her left hand. A rectangular bag and a long bag are strapped to the seat. She pushes the buzzer again. I pick up the microphone and click the talk switch.

“Sorry, no solicitors.”

She leans into the outside microphone.

“I’m not selling anything; I’m here to see Mr. Raymond Hobbes.”

Just like that. Just drive up to the gate and expect to see the boss. I’ll humor her.

“And whom shall I say is calling on Mr. Hobbes?”

“Patricia Conner.”

“Do you have an appointment with Mr. Hobbes, Ms. Conner?”

“No, but he knows me.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Conner. Mr. Hobbes can’t see anyone without an appointment.”

“And how do I get an appointment?”

“Call and schedule one.”

“And what is the phone number?”

“I’m sorry, that’s private.”

“I see. So you’re saying that there’s no way he’ll talk to me.”

“Hey, you’re pretty bright for a little kid. Now get the hell out of here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What you mean by that? I said scram.”

“I heard you, I mean that I’m not going anywhere. This is a public sidewalk, on a public street and I have every legal right to stay here. Let Mr. Hobbes know that I’m going to sit right here until he agrees to see me.”

God, why do I always get the crazies? I stand up, slip my radio into my pocket and head out for the front gate. This is all I need on a Friday evening, just when I’m getting ready to go off duty. By the time I get to the gate, the girl’s already set up camp. She’s got one of those folding cloth recliners with an overhang for sun protection. Her bike is parked in the street and she’s got her open book bag next to the recliner. She’s all stretched out, reading something.

“Kid, what the hell is this all about?”

She doesn’t look up. “I’m Gretchen Hobbes’ friend. We want to see each other over the weekend but her father won’t allow it. I want to talk to him about this. It’s as simple as that.”

Seems simple. Now that she mentions Gretchen, I remember seeing them together, a lot lately, when it’s my turn to pick her up at the end of the school day. They probably hang out at school. Seems like a cute kid there … not so much when she’s causing me trouble.

“Fine, you got a beef with Hobbes. Get in line. Sitting out here’s not gonna change anything.”

“We’ll see.”

“Look, why don’t you just go home to your Mommy and Daddy, make life easy on everybody.”

Particularly me. She looks up from her book. “My Dad died several years ago, so it’s just me and my Mom now.”

Well, I walked into that one. “Yeah, sorry about your old man, kid. This isn’t gonna work. Mr. Hobbes doesn’t react well to this kinda thing.”

“I don’t react well to being ignored.”

Great. A hard head. “Look kid, I don’t know how you react when you’re upset but I do know how Mr. Hobbes reacts. I’d rather be on this side of the fence. I’ve seen you around at St. Ann’s, seem like an okay kid. Believe me, you don’t want to screw with Mr. Hobbes.”

She goes back to reading her book. “I know all about Mr. Hobbes and he thinks he knows all about me. Tell him he can learn a whole lot more if he talks with me and it won’t cost nearly as much as he paid those private investigators to spy on me and my mom.”

“I don’t get paid to relay messages kid, I get paid to keep people like you from bothering Mr. Hobbes.”

“Guess you may not get paid this week.”

Funny, really funny. I start to unlock the gate. “Kid, I don’t want to get physical about this, but I will.”

“I don’t want to get physical either so I’ll just let you know upfront that I’ve set up a webcam with 4G broadband connection. Right now we’re live on the web. You and me mixing it up out here would make a good show. I’m sure Mr. Hobbes would love the publicity.”

I freeze in my tracks and look around. Hobbes would kill me … and I mean kill me, if I did something that brought the press down on him. Smart ass kid bought herself some protection.

“So … where’s this camera at?”

“Hidden, naturally. It’s self-contained so it could be anywhere. In the trees, the bushes across the street, the light pole, darn near any place.”

“What would keep me from going on line, finding the video feed and using it to locate the camera?”

“Nothing … except that would just be one camera. How many more do you think there are?”

“I don’t think you’ve got even one camera out there. You’re bluffing.”

“Fine. Take your shot.”

She’s just sitting there, totally unconcerned. If she’s bluffing, she shouldn’t be wasting her time here, she should be playing poker at one of the Indian casinos. Looking around again, I don’t see anything unusual, but if there is something out there, it’s my ass.

It ain’t worth the chance. Stepping back behind the gate, I lock it and head back to the security office.

When I get there, Lou’s waiting for me.

“Henry, what’s the story about the kid?”

“The kid? The story is that she’s going to be a problem, though it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because she was my problem and now she’s your problem. I’m outta here.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I go through two more guards before 10:30. The second wasn’t here for very long before the third one showed up and replaced him. The third guys name is Jackson, I think. Younger and in better shape than the first two. I’d seen them before, taking turns picking up and dropping Gretchen off at St. Ann’s. They may be her primary bodyguards. They seem a little smarter than Jackson. He keeps coming out and threatening me, that he’s going to kick my ass, toss me out into the street, mess me up bad, the usual macho stuff. At least he’s smart enough not to actually try something. I really don’t want to hurt any of Hobbes’ guys, but I’m not going to sit and take it either. Hopefully, the camera keeps them at bay.

It was pretty easy to build. A dedicated webcam, a router designed to handle a 4G card, and the 4G card which was bought at Walgreens for less than Forty bucks, on sale. The whole thing runs on some cell phone batteries and a solar charger. Add a simple browser on a flash drive and it all works like a charm. Right now it’s in the tree down the street.

I’d finished my reading for Chemistry when the two cops showed up, right on time. I check my watch as the first one gets out of the patrol car. It’s 12:05 am. The second one stays in the car.

“What’s going on here, Miss?”

“I’m waiting here to see Mr. Hobbes, Officer.”

“What’s your name?”

“Patricia Conner. What’s yours, Officer?”

“Officer Rowinski. Apparently Mr. Hobbes doesn’t want to see you.”

“I’ve been told that several times. I’m staying here until he changes his mind.”

“How old are you, Miss Conner?”

“Sixteen, but I’ll be seventeen in a few weeks.”

“I’m afraid that you’re violating Miami’s curfew ordinance. Anyone seventeen or younger must be off the streets by midnight on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“Is that the same ordinance that says it doesn’t apply to someone accompanied by a parent?”

“Yes, but I don’t see a parent with you out here.”

“You see that car parked over there?”

“Yeah.”

I reach into the drink holder in my chair, pull out a little two way radio and press the “talk” switch.

“Flash your lights, Mother.”

The headlights flash several times.

“That’s my mother, she’s with me tonight, so the curfew doesn’t apply. What else ya’ got?”

Officer Rowinski gives me a dirty look and walks back to the patrol car, stopping next to the passenger side so he can talk with his partner. After a few seconds of quiet conversation, Officer Rowinski returns, a cocky smile on his face.

“What else I have is loitering. If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll arrest both you and your mother for loitering.”

“Florida Statute Chapter 856.021 states it is unlawful for any person to loiter or prowl in a place, at a time or in a manner not usual for law-abiding individuals, under circumstances that warrant a justifiable and reasonable alarm or immediate concern for the future safety of persons or property in the vicinity. I’m certainly not prowling, we’ve already established that I’m not violating curfew so that takes care of the time question, and the manner, sitting here in a chair under a street lamp, does not warrant any kind of justifiable and reasonable alarm or concern for safety of persons or property in the vicinity. I’d say that I’m not loitering.”

“Well, I say you are. So it’s my word and my partner’s word against you and your Mom’s.”

“That and the video camera in the car and the recording of our conversation picked up by my radio, the one you saw me use a few minutes ago and can’t say you weren’t aware of. You try anything unlawful and we’ll sue your behind off, along with the department … and Mr. Hobbes. Plus the video goes viral in less than twelve hours. The Mayor and Chief of police will just love you. I suggest that you go back on patrol and let Mr. Hobbes fight his own fights.”

He takes a step towards me but his radio beeps. He stops, looks back at his partner in the patrol car, looks back at me, sneers and walks back to the car, where he has another relatively quiet conversation with his partner. I occasionally hear the words “bitch” and “cunt” repeated. The partner hands him a phone through the side window.

He’s got no reason to talk to anyone on a phone. The car radio connects him to the station so he’s talking to somebody else, probably one of the Hobbes security guys. Again, he’s too quiet for me to hear over the idling engine of the patrol car. Whatever he says, it doesn’t take long. He hands the phone back to his partner, walks back around to the driver’s side, gives me another sneer, opens the door, climbs in, closes the door with a resounding slam and drives off towards Mom’s car.

I need to stay right here. Mom’s got to deal with them on her own. She has to play the role of concerned but supportive mother. The patrol car stops next to hers, drivers’ windows facing each other. I can see them talking, but they’re much too far away for me to hear anything. She didn’t press talk on her radio, so I can’t listen in. The conversation only lasts about a minute, then the patrol car drives off, leaving us alone.

I don’t want to contact her right away, it’s best to show a little confidence. After a few minutes, my radio beeps.

“Yes?”

“My pulse just now dropped back to normal.”

“They left, so you did fine.”

“How do you do this for a living?”

“You get used to it.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure, but it’s our best choice.”

“Hope you’re right.”

Me too.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

I’m having a hard time keeping a grip on the Sunday paper, my coffee, and the bag of donuts while opening the door to the surveillance room. Eventually, I have to put the bag into my mouth to free up my right hand. When I get the door open, Jackson just sits there, watching me struggle.

“Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome, Lou.”

Jackass.

“The girl still there?”

“Yep.”

“Anybody tell Hobbes yet?”

“Nope.”

“Where the hell is Enrique?”

“LA. Some kinda gang dispute fucking with the distribution network.”

“So, we’re all sitting on our hands until he gets back to deal with this?”

“That’s about it.”

“Anybody think to call him and let him know what’s going on?”

“He’s probably got bigger problems to deal with than one little girl on some kinda sit in.”

I sip my coffee. “Probably right. He’ll be pissed though when he finds out how long she’s been here. It’s what, forty hours?”

“And counting.”

“Where’s the mother?”

“She’s left. Just stays here long enough to keep the cops from picking her up for a curfew violation.”

I sip my coffee again. “Gotta give the kids props, she’s thought this out. We find the camera yet?”

“Yeah, I had the tech guy, Tippett, find the web page. Gordon and Manuel tracked it down.”

“So, it’s gone, right?”

“Nope, it’s on old lady Whittman’s property.”

“OH FUCK! She hates Hobbes!”

“No shit. Don’t forget about those dogs.”

“Damn! No way does anybody get by those dogs. How the fuck did the kid get by those dogs?”

“Who knows? Either way, none of us are going to be able to touch that fucking camera. It’s got a built-in solar panel, did you know that?”

“How could I know that?”

“Tippett did some quick calculations. He figures it might be able to stay on for weeks.”

“Great. You know, the longer this goes on, the worse it is.”

“I know.”

“Somebody could tip the press or some idiot blogger could find out, bring all kinds of attention.”

“I know.”

“A cute little girl in a school uniform sitting outside a rich drug lord’s mansion, trying to see her friend. People would eat that shit with a spoon.”

“I know.”

“We should just tell Hobbes and let him deal with it.”

“I know. Go ahead.”

“Why me?”

“It ain’t gonna be me.”

“You’re a chicken shit, Jackson.”

“Then you do it, Lou. You’re the big man.”

Fuck it. Maybe Henry will do it.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“YOU FUCKING IDIOTS! SHE’S STILL HERE?!”

“Screw you Henry! We tried everything we could! We can’t touch her, not without getting caught on camera. The cops wouldn’t touch her either. She’s just one little girl, she’ll give up eventually.”

“And Hobbes will find out … eventually. Hell, he’ll find out today.”

“How?”

“He’s going to Caracas today. The chopper is due to pick him up in an hour. What does he do every time the chopper picks him up?”

“He makes a low pass around the perimeter looking for security holes.”

“And what will he see when he gets to the front gate?”

“Ooooo shit!”

“Yeah … shit.”

“What are we going to do?” asks Jackson.

“How many guys on duty right now?”

“Including us? Eight.”

“All right. You two stay here. I’ll take four other guys to the gate and see if we can intimidate her.”

“Twenty bucks says she doesn’t go, Henry” said Lou.

“I’m not taking that bet.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

It got pretty darn cold last night. It always surprising what happens to the temperature after sunset. People think Miami is always warm. The average temp is warm, but the daily temp swings all over the place. Without a cloud cover, it can get cold once the sun goes down. Not Wisconsin cold, but chilly. Luckily, I brought a packable down blanket.

We take turns at night. I sleep for a couple of hours and Mom watches over me from the car, then she sleeps a couple of hours and I watch over her. That way, nobody can sneak up and mess with us. She goes home at dawn to catch up on her sleep and I stay here.

I know she feels guilty about it but I can’t have her here all the time. This needs to be my move. It’s good that Hobbes knows my Mom supports me, but it’s got to be me versus him. She brought me some cookies from home to ease her guilt. It’s a fair trade as far as I’m concerned.

I’d just opened the Tupperware bowl of cookies when five of Hobbes guys show up at the gate.

“Morning, kid.”

It’s the first guard from Friday.

“My name’s Patricia.”

“Fine. What you got there Patricia?”

“Some cookies. You want one?”

“Sure, I’ll come and get it.”

“No problem. Catch.”

I whip it his way, aiming for his head. The cookie shoots past the thick iron bars of the front gate and through the metal grate of the second gate. He manages to get a hand up in time to catch it.

“Whoa! How’d you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Get that cookie past the gate.”

“It’s no big deal. The grate has three inch openings and the cookies are about two and a half inches around. That’s a half inch margin of error, give or take.”

“No big deal huh? Do it again.”

“Sure, who else wants a cookie?”

“Throw it to me.”

“You’ve already had one; you need to share with your friends. Who else?”

This big black guy raises his hand. I fire it at him with a flick of my wrist. He catches it clean.

“See, easy” I say.

A tall blonde guy steps forward. “I’ll have one, Miss.”

The first guy looks over at him, a scowl on his face. “Who asked you, Riley?”

“What? I missed breakfast. You’ve already got yours, Henry.”

Henry and Riley. Look and remember.

“Here’s yours, Riley.”

They all end up with cookies and I get three more names, Stark, Gomez and Sidney, the black guy.

“Look, ki … Patricia, this really has gone on long enough. Mr. Hobbes will be leaving in just a few minutes by helicopter; he won’t even drive out the gate and see ya’. Nobody’s even told him you’re out here. It’s been a total waste of time. Why don’t ya’ go home and get some sleep before school tomorrow?” said Henry.

Could it be true? Might they have not told him yet? It’s possible. Unfortunately, that just means I’ll be out here longer than I originally planned. Sooner or later, he’ll find out, even if I have to have Gretchen tell him.

“No thanks. I’ll leave Monday morning for class, but I’ll be back every evening and I’m staying here until Mr. Hobbes sees me.”

“We all appreciate your spunk, but we can’t wait forever. It’s just a matter …”

I hear a helicopter start up; it’s a sound you don’t forget if you’ve ever heard it. A high pitched whine that drops to a low vibrating tone which increases in frequency as the blades speed up. If you’re nearby, you can actually feel the sweeping blades. We may be only a few hundred feet away from the helo pad. For some reason, Henry has a concerned look on his face.

“It’s just a matter of time before we have to do something unpleasant to you or your mother. You may have a camera here, but you ain’t got one at home or where your mother works, or when she’s on the way to work. Accident’s happen, if ya’ catch my drift. Why don’t ya’ just beat it right now, save us all some grief?”

This is the first time anyone’s made that kind of threat, going after Mom. If our intel is right, no one but Hobbes would authorize something like that in his own backyard. Henry’s getting desperate.

“I’m guessing that for you to do something like that, you’d have to get Mr. Hobbes’ permission, which means you would have to explain why … which you don’t want to do, for some reason. I’m not folding, I’ll play the cards I got … THANK YOU VERY MUCH!”

The copter gets really loud, I have to shout to be heard. The leaves of the nearby trees begin to flail around and a brisk dusty wind blows small debris all about us. A couple of the guards duck their heads and shield their eyes, protecting them from the flying trash. The helicopter pops up above the tree line, only about a hundred feet in the air, and starts circling the compound, coming right towards us.

Henry shakes his head and says something really profane. I can’t hear it but I can read lips. His mother would not be proud of him. Or maybe she would, hard to say for certain. By now, the copter passes directly overhead, less than two hundred feet in the air. The backwash from the rotors is tremendous. The guards fall back away from the fence, turning and twisting to protect their faces and eyes. I hold my position, not moving a muscle, staring straight at the chopper, not wanting to even blink. It pauses as it hovers right over my head for a few seconds, then continues to circle the perimeter of the house and yard. When it reaches its’ starting point, the wind begins to kick up again around the front gate. As the copter passes overhead a second time, it pauses again briefly, then rapidly gains altitude and heads for the airport. Henry is dusting himself off with his hands, a scowl on his face.

I think Hobbes saw me.

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“What was all that fuss at the front gate, Jacob?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Hobbes. Nobody told me anything about it.”

“Was that one of the girl’s from St. Ann’s with some of my guards?”

“That’s what it looked like, Sir. Do you want me to call back to the house to see what’s happening?”

“No, I’d rather have you concentrate on the flying. I will ask when I return tomorrow evening for the party.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

“Now what, Henry?”

How the hell did this become my problem?

“How the fuck do I know? Anybody heard from Enrique?”

“Nope, he’s still in LA.”

“Fucking great.”

“Just call him.”

“Gomez, he said not to bother him unless it was an emergency.”

“So?”

“So, you want to call him and say, ‘Excuse me Enrique, we know you’re awfully busy trying to stop a gang war and all, but we’ve got this problem. A little school girl has setup camp out front by the main gate and she won’t go home, no matter what we say or do. Eight big, strong gunmen against one little girl. What should we do Enrique?’ You want to make that call, Gomez?” He looks down at his shoes. “Anybody want to make that call?” They all just stand there, looking at me. Idiots.

Suddenly, Lou smiles.

“Hey! She said she was going to leave in the morning for school on Monday.”

“She also said she was coming back. Hobbes has that private party thing set for Monday night. We’ve got to get rid of her before then.”

“What if, when she comes back, we all surround her before she gets off her bike? If she can’t get off the bike, she can’t set up camp. We don’t have to push her around, we just all stand right on top of her, don’t give her any room to move. As soon as she shows up … BANG! Were on her like ugly on an ape.”

“Won’t that look kinda weird?” asked Sidney.

“Sure,” answered Lou, “but not nearly as bad as manhandling her after she’s all comfy in her chair. It’s like passive resistance, we just crowd around her until she gives up and leaves.”

“Not bad, Lou,” I said, “not bad at all. We get the jump on her. We’re the aggressive ones, but we don’t have to hit or push anybody. If maybe she catches an elbow to the eye or mouth, that’s just her bad luck.”

I turn to face the guys. “Here’s the plan, nobody does anything tonight. We’re all just sweetness and light. Assuming she leaves in the morning, we get ready to jump her when she comes back after school.”

“What if she don’t go to school, what if she stays right here?” asks Stark.

“Then we report her to St. Ann’s. I hear their Sister Carmela could give Enrique a run for his money.”

* * * *** * * * *** * * *

We’re gonna be cutting this close. Hobbes is due back around 5:00. The dinner party starts at 8:00. St. Ann’s gets out at 4:15. The kid should be here between 4:35 and 5:00. If we’re lucky, we catch her in the street in front of the house before she can do anything stupid … or one of our guys gets frustrated and does something stupid. Tippett keeps checking the web cam, it’s still on and broadcasting the front gate 24/7. He said there’s nothing he can do to shut it down. Mr. Genius hacker, big fucking help.

One advantage we’ve got is you can hear her coming a mile away. That bike of hers is a loud bastard. One disadvantage is there’s a lot of cars parked along the street today, we won’t get a good look at her … though she won’t get a good look at us either, so I guess that’s a wash.

The guys are just standing around, waiting. Stark and Sidney are leaning against the gate; the other three guys are near the sidewalk. Stark pops off the gate and cocks his head.

“I think I hear her” he says. He’s got young ears. Everybody goes on alert. In a few seconds, we all hear it. The pitch is lower, she’s moving slower than before. I adjust my ear piece and key my radio.

“See anything Lou?” He’s in the surveillance room, watching the cameras.

“Nothing, too many cars … wait … yeah, I got her. On your left. She’s moving slow, hugging the cars. Looks like she’s trying to sneak in. Stupid kid.”

I point left and everybody snaps to attention. I stretch up as high as I can.

There she is. You just catch an occasional glimpse of her helmet between cars, she must be hunched over the handle bars. Lou’s right, the engine is just practically idling, she’s just creeping along. It doesn’t make much sense, it’s still noisy, just not as bad as coming in at full throttle.

“Alright, everybody get ready. We want to keep her in the street and on the bike.” There’s a cargo van parked near the driveway. “Crouch down near the van. When she gets past it, we rush her and slide with her as she comes by. Keep moving. If she doesn’t stop, we don’t stop her, just ride her down the street until she’s past the entrance.”

They all nod their heads, acknowledging they heard me. We take our positions around the front of the van, keeping low. I can’t see anything.

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“Get ready, she’s coming … fifty feet … forty feet … thirty … twenty … even slower … ten … get ready …”

I see the front wheel of the bike roll past the bumper of the van.

“GO!”

We all swarm her as she guns the bike a little, jumping a couple of feet forward. Jackson stumbles a bit but the rest of us are all over her, moving right along, across the front of the driveway.

Except, it’s not her. Same bike, same helmet but the rider’s much bigger, maybe even a guy. Whoever it is, they don’t react, they just keep driving. The guys keep moving with the bike, though a couple of them look confused.

“I don’t think it’s her, Henry.”

No shit, Lou. By now, we all know it. I stop, as does Sidney and Gomez but the rest of the guys keep going.

“Henry! She’s behind you!”

I turn to look but the van pulls away from the curb, heading right at us; we jump out of the way as it accelerates down the street. Whoever’s on the bike hits the gas, pulling away from Jackson and Stark, who also have to dodge the van. When I look back at the gate, the girl is sitting in her original spot, same chair, same book bag, wearing shades and a smile.

“I’ve got brownies today. Anyone hungry?”

I look around. There’s six of us, scattered down the street, all at least thirty feet away from the entrance, some more like sixty feet.

Very nicely done … very impressive.

I walk back towards her.

“Careful, Henry. Remember the camera.”

I key the radio. “I remember. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I did! I was busy watching the motorcycle when all of a sudden, the van door opened and she jumped out! You guys were all running the other way. She was out of that van like a shot!”

By now, I’m standing right next to the chair, towering over her. “Neat trick, Patricia. Got any more up your sleeve?”

She looks up at me. “Lots. I didn’t think you were going to just let me stroll right up here and set up. You had a good idea though.”

“But yours’ was better, right?”

She shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a big brownie wrapped in clear plastic. “Here, have one as a peace offering. I made them this morning. Just remember not to inhale when biting; you’ll choke on the powdered sugar.”

I ignore the brownie. “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t ‘ya?”

“Sometimes … sometimes not so much.”

“And what about this time?”

“Guess we’ll just have to see. Sure you don’t want the brownie? It’s fifty fifty dark chocolate and milk chocolate. Most people don’t care for full dark chocolate, too bitter. I’ve found that if you mix the two, you still get the bite of dark and the sweetness of milk.”

“No thanks. We’re not done yet, you and I. You got that?”

“I do.”

I turn back towards the other guys. “Let’s go.”

We all file back onto the property through the gates and back to the surveillance room. Lou’s waiting for us.

“Where’s mine?”

“Where’s your what?”

“My brownie.”

“What the hell you talking about, Lou?”

“They all got one.”

I look back at the guys. They’ve all got one of the kid’s brownies in their hands, some are half eaten. I can’t believe it.

“Are you idiots out of your minds? You’re just encouraging her!”

“She was just handing them out” said Stark.

“Have you tried one of these?” said Sidney. “This is the best damn brownie I’ve ever eaten. Hell, it’s the best damn sweet I’ve ever eaten.”

“Would you morons put those away, we’ve got to come up with some way to get rid of this kid.”

They all reluctantly put the brownies down. Riley slips one to Lou, who grins and winks at him.

“Well?”

“Well, what Henry?”

“Who’s got an idea on how to get rid of this kid?”

They all look at each other, not an idea between the bunch of ‘em.

“Henry,” said Lou, “this was our best bet. As long as that camera’s watching us, we can’t do shit without raising a stink. If that happens, Hobbes is all over us. We’re screwed.”

“I know.” I pick up one of the brownies, unwrap it and take a bite.

Damn! That is good.