Chapter IV

 
 
 

     “Freddie? Are you daft?”

I couldn't believe what I was seeing, even this early on a Monday morning. Freddie Thomas was striding down the hallway outside of the administrative offices, wearing his blazer, a tie, and a long green skirt that was swishing around his ankles like wheat in a prairie wind. He looked like some deranged highlander, who got the kilt thing horribly wrong.

“Chris!” He waved from twenty feet away. “How they hanging? Just the guy I wanted to see.”

At just that moment, Mrs. Pierce stepped out right behind Freddie, calling his name loudly. All I could do was stare at them both, looking from one to the other, and wondering what color the mushroom cloud would be.

“Mr. Thomas.” She began after finally getting his attention. “I'm sure with the caliber of English professors we've provided for your possible edification, that you have been taught “How are they hanging,” is the only acceptable way to phrase such a question. However, you should only do so when the object is both clearly understood, and is a subject that might be raised so loudly in mixed company, such as in the instance of one surgeon speaking to another while discussing a patient, since you seem to need the example.”

“Sorry Mrs. Pierce.” Freddie said, not looking sorry at all. “I did not see you there.”

I wanted to laugh. No one ever saw Mrs. Pierce coming. It was as much a part of the school mythology as the idea that the board of governors who actually ran the place were in fact the least fortunate inmates at a nearby mental hospital.

Mrs. Pierce leaned slightly to one side studying Freddie's skirt, and pursed her lips.

I closed my eyes.

“Not to worry, since in referring mixed company, I was in fact referring to you, Mr. Thomas. Did you ask to borrow the CD from Miss Lynn?”

Now my eyes were wide open.

“Yes, Mrs. Pierce. It's in the theater, and I'll pick it up before lunch.”

“Thank you, Mr. Thomas, and I do like the green skirt better. You were right.”

“Thank you Mrs. Pier…” She was already gone.

Freddie turned to me, and walked over quickly to put his arm around my shoulders.

“So how ya doing, Chris? They thought you were missing this weekend, till you just showed up like Mrs. Pierce this morning.”

I babbled, to be sure, but I'm pretty sure the noises I made for a few heartbeats couldn't be called talk. “What are you doing?” I asked rather bluntly, finally.

“I assume you are referring to my keenly developed fashion sense? Well you see, I found a way to turn this thing to my advantage. Mrs. Pierce asked if I would please wear this to the practice. I mean, Miss Lynn did ask if you'd wear one too, right?”

I nodded, because my eyes were still roving from the top of his head to the bottoms of his skirt.

“Well, it's simple. The going rate for a tutor here is thirty-five bucks an hour. It's meaningless, since for half of the assholes it would only mean shifting the gold from one vault to another in Zurich.” Freddie was a scholarship kid. “Well three of these guys asked me to help them out outside the lessons where no one could see. So I decided why not? It pays to advertise, and I meet my first client in room sixteen right after Greek History.”

“Why didn't you just wear a sign?” I asked as he began to steer us both toward the languages wing.

“Funny you should ask, Chris. I was going to wear a flower in my hair, but if you think a sign would work better.”

“Would you mind, Freddie.” I asked squirming to get out from under his arm.

“Oh sure man. Sorry, I'm still used to leading. So anyway, I ran it by Mrs. Pierce, and Freddie’s school of trip the light fantastic is in full swing.”

He laughed suddenly. “Get it?”

“I get it. And you have three clients?”

“Three now, but it could have been four. One guy wanted to meet me in the dining room after lunch and have coffee so we could discuss it…”

We looked at each other before he gave me an exaggerated nod.

“… I mean, I'm no prude, usually, but since he asked me I've been bugg'en worse than old man Farthing and his third largest collection of cockroaches outside of the Smithsonian.”

I know I made a face, and I admit it was rude, but I didn't mean to.

“Freddie, Are you pulling my chain? Are you sure?”

“Oh, Yeah! I'm sure. I thought he was going to cry when I told him to look you up.”

“Jesus Freddie, Thanks!”

“Don't mention it! Besides, the way I hear it, you already got yourself a date for the prom.”

“What?!!”

“Tom Anders. The way I hear it, you two looked mighty cute together. You mooning over him and giggling, and him telling everyone how lovely you looked in that sequined ball gown…”

“I was wearing my uniform pants, Freddie. Who…”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder I guess. Besides that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. You can charge them if you like. I've already got my client list. I wanted to ask you what you thought about the rumor?”

“What rumor?”

“Chris? You sleep all weekend, man? Some lucky bastard snuck a girl into the school on Friday Where have you been? Oh! sorry, this is my stop, Chris, Greek, which predates your class in Latin by a few years. Ladies lingerie is in room 22, Chris, right over there with Professor Tam…”

He was gone.

Other than the slight headache left in his wake, there was only confusion. I just made it to my seat before Professor Tam began to speak.

“Well, Gentlemen, Good morning! Can anyone tell me why my disappointment at your woeful progress has flourished into a full-blown clinical depression? No one? Well let me just remind you of what I thought I'd taught so ably in your first year of Latin grammar, that all verbs in Latin have tenses. They are either implied, or are taken on by the verb form, but they all have….”

Someone had a girl in the school. Lucky bastard. Dead, but lucky…

 
 

 
 

     Freddie had a flower in his hair that looked like an old paper carnation or something. It was hard not watching it, as he looked at his watch to check the time.

“So?” I asked him.

“So what?”

“Freddie, I think you might want to pull the stem of that thing out a little. It's in too deep.” He grinned and patted the flower he'd Scotch taped behind his ear. Probably, after stealing it from a dead guy.

“What are you talking about, girlfriend?” He said in falsetto. “Oh!” He said, looking at this watch again just to piss me off.

“Forget it, Freddie, I should have known better…”

“All right, All right. You need a softer brand of panty man. Anyway, no one seems to know anything. A couple of the guys said that Miss Lynn found a girl on campus Friday night.”

“Friday night?” I had to ask again, hopeless as it was, because it was still getting more confusing every time he spoke. Then it dawned on me that she must have found her right after dropping me off. “Oh, man! She must have caught them after… practice.”

“That's what I figured. All anyone knows for sure, is that two of the guys in the B wing saw Miss Lynn as she was walking the little vixen out to drive her home or something. We assume the staff knows what is going on, but as usual, they won't talk. You feel'n alright?”

I nodded.

“You're free study, right? You want to come along with me rather than going to the library?”

I shook my head, and he was long gone before I began to move toward my room. I just felt so ill all of a sudden.

Another kid, standing in a group just outside the library, asked me where I was going, so I told him I was headed to my room, because I was feeling ill. I know I was holding my arms around my stomach.

“Maybe you got your period, man. I think Willis got his the day they drafted him…”

“… Yeah, maybe you can get a tampon from him… you know, if you're out.” Another kid suggested, before they fell apart.

I could only look at them as I passed, and I guess I didn't look good.

“Hey Chris. You feeling alright? We were just kidding. You want to see the nurse?”

“I'll be okay. I think I had a bad turkey sausage this morning or something.”

“I'm sorry, man. You sure?”

I nodded. “Funny stuff, though. I'm okay,” I said as I finally got past them.

I sat down gingerly on my bed. What I didn't understand was, why Miss Lynn would not say anything. Surely she'd heard the rumor by now. Teachers always heard everything, and she was almost as bad as Mrs. Pierce. It just didn't make any sense. I hadn't even seen her all day. Assuming that there still was a Miss Lynn ...

I was glad my parents had gotten me a private bathroom. They thought it was easier on me being so small and so new. Just then, I was just glad it was closer.

 
 

 
 

     I missed the only other class I had that morning, but I didn't really care. I'd composed myself better, but I was sure I didn't look very good, so kids mostly just left me to myself. Some of the talk that afternoon had to do with the three of us having to wear skirts that night. Most of the rest had to do with the orgy of cheerleaders from the local college, who had to be removed by the police for trespassing, lewd behavior, and various improbable perverse acts of inhuman sexuality.

Neither discussion helped my stomach. Dinner didn't either, and I turned my tray in untouched. I don't think I breathed until I timidly crept into the theater that evening, and walked toward the stage. I was half way there, when Miss Lynn walked in the door behind me.

“Chris, there you are. I've taken the liberty of picking out… My god, Chris. Are you feeling okay?”

I could only shake my head. I didn't know if I were going to be sick again or cry because I'd been so afraid she wouldn't show.

“I see you've heard.”

I didn't have to nod.

“Come on, We have to talk…” She said taking me by the shoulder, and steering me toward the stage and the dressing room.

We'd only just made it as far as the stage, when Freddie came jogging in.

“Miss Lynn! Hey, Ginger. I'm sorry Ma'am, but Mrs. Pierce said I was going to have the nicest green burial shroud if I didn't have that CD in the player by the time the assembly was to start. I looked for it but I couldn't find it. Did you give it to someone else? That burial shroud thing sounded pretty final.”

Miss Lynn looked at me helplessly.

Wordlessly, I took the bundle of long skirts she had over her arm, and the packaged slip from the mall, and turned toward the dressing rooms while they went off in search for the holy CD of Antioch. I assume on the part of Miss Lynn, it was so that we could then have the privacy to talk as soon as possible.

I changed first into the things that I'd bought with me, before putting on the slip and the skirt. I'd made sure to bring the tights so that I could find the shoes to lift the skirt off the floor, and I did so easily enough. I was ready for her well before they stopped looking, no doubt aided by the practice I'd had all weekend. Thus, I was distracted only by the swirl of the skirts around my lower half as I moved about, while waiting for Miss Lynn and Freddie to find the CD that had been in the player all along.

Unfortunately, by the time he went running up the center aisle, skirt swirling like one Miss Scarlet O'Hara, sure enough, some of the newly enthused members of our group had already begun to arrive.

Miss Lynn was beside me again as we watched them come, and whispering. “That one looks nice, Chris. Are you sure you want to do this?”

I had to think about it only because my stomach hurt, but when I looked at her, I told her that I could.

“I'll be alright, Miss Lynn. I think I got some leftover turkey paddies from Thanksgiving this morning. I wish they'd go back to the devil's own pork.” I shrugged.

“I'll bet.” She muttered. “We'll talk after… Okay, you guys move the table out, and line up. We want to get through a couple of things before we all get together.”

“Hey, Chris. Nice dress.”

“Louie that's a skirt, dude.”

“Yeah, but I was trying to skirt the issue.”

Miss Lynn had a lot of patience “Guys! Just get the table before I tell Mrs. Pierce how badly you need comedy lessons too.”

Three guys lined up around the table that I could easily have moved myself with one finger. “Now, gentlemen," Louie said. "Just like we've practiced. All together now… And a... One, Two, Three. One Two three...”

Poor Miss Lynn. I was still too ill to care. “I hope you guys do better than that at the dance, or the tables there are in real trouble. Now, are there any questions that you need to…”

Later, with the whole group together, we had mostly just to sit and listen. It didn't matter that it was all the stuff we'd already gone over, but Freddie and Mrs. Pierce did demonstrate some greetings, before she called my name asking me to choose a partner to demonstrate a few of the waltz steps.

It was almost a relief, because the greetings they wanted us to use just sounded like a sneaky form of contraception they were trying to trick us into. ‘I beg your pardon miss, but would you allow me to inform you that I’m a terminal virgin, and may I escort you to the middle of the dance floor, so that everyone can see you laugh at me properly… properly laughing at me?' I’d stick with my ‘Ewe you almost as pur’dy as my cus’un Bobby Sue’ line. Lower virginity potential.

I stood up okay, but when I turned around I could only stare at the mass of grinning faces, and I guess I froze.

“Excuse me, Miss Morgan. I know we've not been formally introduced, but if I may impose, that is to say, may I have this dance?”

Tom Anders was somehow already behind me, grinning just like all the rest, but unlike them, he was holding out his hand in a most gentlemanly style. My weak smile and sigh of relief nearly got me the female lead in the Spring play, but only because they thought I was acting. For reasons known only to the fates, I dropped a much more graceful curtsey than Mrs. Pierce had been able to produce, and replied in my best Southern Belle: “Why Captain Anders. I would be so delighted…”

It took a while to get everyone settled after that, but after we demonstrated things a couple of times, Tom and I, I didn't need to listen anymore, except for the announcements at the end. The girls' school was sending over several of their own teachers to view our preparations sometime the next day. They also reminded us that there was an honest to 'God' college scout coming to look at two of our soccer players tomorrow, Tom being the majority interest, he was so good.

Mrs. Pierce and Mrs. Laurie grabbed Miss Lynn right after the class, of course. I saw her mouth that she was sorry, but it only made me want to cry.

I had to get out of there, so I grabbed my pile of skirts and things, and began my close examination of the floor between the gymnasium and my bed.

“Chris?” I felt Tom's hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay? Your face was looking about as green as Freddie's skirt there.”

Looking up at him made me feel worse, so even though it probably did nothing to convince him, I told his feet the breakfast story.

One of the others butted in before I could even finish that. “Aaawww. Go on Chris, You can kiss him goodnight. This is, what… like your third date or something?”

Tom pushed past me, trying to get to him in the crowd, but I don't think he did. He was laughing too hard.

Back in my room, I hung the skirts as best I could on my closet door, and sat down in front of my computer. I was going to write a note to my mother and father, begging them to let me come home. If they would put a call into the headmaster, he could give me my passport in an hour, and I could be on a plane tomorrow morning.

I couldn't do it. Going whining to them was no better than riding it out here, I supposed, but I'd sure rather be with them right now.

I opened the drawer to my desk, and took out the mascara again from where I'd been playing with it over the weekend. I also picked up the toilet water too, which I sprayed on myself. Then looking at my small mirror, began to carefully apply the mascara on my lashes, letting it dry a little, before applying another coat.

They were right in that article, which suggested a girl should always wear mascara, even if she wore nothing else.

I was still sitting there, and on my third coat, when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Chris?”

For an instant, I thought it was my mother.

“Mmm. Mmm…”

“Chris, It's me, Miss Lynn. I'm so sorry Chris. It's a little late now, but I promise you we can talk tomorrow. I have plans to meet someone this evening in town and I can't break them. I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I'm fine”

“You didn't look fine. Can you tell me what's going on?”

“Did you hear the rumor?”

“About the girl I drove home?”

“No, Ma'am, the one about the new regulations for lobster fisherman.”

“Chris!” I heard her gasp.

“I'm sorry, Miss Lynn. I haven't been feeling well.”

“Chris, you are not yourself. What are you doing, perhaps I should call the nurse?”

“I was trying on the mascara again.”

“That explains not getting the makeup remover back. Chris, it really is too late for me to come over to talk, unless you are sick. Tell me honestly, please, are you okay, or do I need to bring the nurse?”

“I'm okay.”

“Well, if you are, then I want you to go to bed, and I'll find you in the morning. It shouldn't be hard.” A soft chuckle came from the phone.

“Ma'am?”

“Chris, weren't you even listening? Are you sure you don't need me to come?”

“No, Ma'am. I'm fine, really.”

“Well, remember that Mrs. Pierce had no idea what time the delegation from Saint Mary's will be here, so she asked if her three ladies could just follow Freddie's lead, and be ready when she calls. She wanted you guys to wear the skirts.”

“I will.”

“Well, don't worry about it. Freddie was running up the hall singing 'Where the Boys Are', tonight. I think he made about two hundred-dollars today. He's making double what I do. We may never get him out of that thing. No one will notice you at all, unless you set your hair on fire.”

“Thank you, Ma'am”

“Good night, Chris.”

“Night, Miss Lynn.”

I stretched out without even taking anything off, except my shoes. The lovely smell of my cologne filled my head the moment I closed my eyes. That night, the dreams were not as pretty as the night's before, because several times I dreamed I was being chased endlessly around the halls of the school by Mrs. Pierce, the Headmaster, Freddie, and even Miss Lynn.

All of them kept shouting the oddest thing at me. “There she is! There she is!”

 
 

 
 

     I woke the next morning, well before my alarm went off.

It was early enough that the grey light of the dawn still had more in common with a cold fog hugging the ground, than with the brighter light that would shine later in the day.

I felt rested, and my mind felt very still and quiet, so I just lay there for several minutes, trying to invent a reason to get up.

The dreams were still fresh in my mind from having been awakened by them several times that night. They had been so odd, with their composition of endless hallways, each odd or strange, and at the same time completely familiar. There were other queer little hallways jumping from one part of the campus to another that looked as if they belonged but which, of course, never could have and which, in the dream, were always just sufficient in number to keep me ahead of the hue and cry.

I snorted softly as I whispered “hutesium et clamor” Professor Tam would be proud, I thought, as I looked at the clock. I now dreamed in Latin.

Half past six.

Sitting up, I pulled my skirt from under my legs, and stood to walk to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror. It was the eyes, of course. I'd done a little damage to the mascara, but all in all, they were remarkably intact; which along with the fact that I felt so wide-awake, meant that I'd actually slept sounder than the dreams would indicate.

Looking more closely, I realized why the eyes looked so familiar to me. I'd seen them looking like this in my dreams more times than I could count. I'd just never seen them this close before. Now they were right in front of me, right there in the mirror.

Perhaps a bath. I love very hot baths. I love to just sit and relax, and let my mind go. Sometimes I don't think about anything at all in steaming water, so it was some time before I reached for the soap, and began to wash by holding my face in the hot cloth…

 
 

I took the pink panties off the shower rod, and slipped them on before pulling on the tights. I only had the three pairs, so I'd had to wash them on Sunday. The long slip was next, which turned out to be very pretty with decorative stitching around the bodice; above the full shiny slip it looked like a dress all by itself, and it was much heavier than the one with the elastic waist.

Moving to my closet door, I chose the long black skirt because it was on top, and tried to slip into it before I realized that I had to drop it over the slip. The waist was a little loose, but tugging down on it proved that it wouldn't slip beyond my hips, so it must have been the silky material that made it feel that way.

I began putting on one of my white uniform oxford shirts, while catching little glimpses of the long mirror that lay mostly hidden under the bundle of skirts. I lifted them out of the way, a little, before I just moved their hanger to the front side of the door so that I could look again.

I looked for a long time, and the more I did, the more my stomach began to feel like it had the night before. It looked like a pile of dirty laundry waiting for the wash.

The eyes were all wrong too.

Some months before, I'd read another in the endless string of articles printed out from ‘Seventeen’ or ‘Cosmo girl.’ I'd seen the same advice before, but this one said that, even if your school dress code didn't allow visible makeup, a girl should always wear a smudge-proof mascara. I remembered it well, because of how the article went on about how cute, and fresh you could look without it's being too obvious why.

The pink blouse and short grey skirt were still hanging right there in the closet in front of me, only inches away.

Pulling off the shirt and hanging it on the knob, I reached for the blouse. I had trouble getting the little button at the top of the blouse. My fingers were not working very well. Although, finally, I was able to take a deep breath and steady them, and the blouse was soon slipping up my arm. I had to look down to fix the buttons because they felt strange somehow.

Stepping back, my eyes rose once more to the long mirror. The sickness was fading, but the butterflies were back. I wasn't sure about the color being so much brighter. They looked nice together, to me, but I just didn't know. I really didn't want to look foolish.

I watched as I tucked the blouse in, but quickly decided that the straight bottom of the blouse looked much better on top of the skirt, but it needed…

Hanging in the closet were several black belts, but being small myself, not to mention being a boy, all of them were too small too. There were dress belts that were just wrong, and several casual belts. My widest was well worn, and a brown color. I remembered also two woven black belts for jeans that had come on some pants that had been bought for me to 'knock around in' and, on impulse, I pulled the black one out and wrapped it around the blouse above my waist.

The blouse looked much better now, but the belt was still too small. Then, inspired, I pulled the second woven belt out even though I realized it was actually a very dark brown. I hooked it into the tail of the first to make one long belt and looped it loosely above the other.

“There.” I said, looking between the belts, and my face in the long mirror. It was only the matter of a moment to pull the buckles closer together, and pull the free tail through to hang down. The contrasting colors actually looked nice, and gave texture.

In another inspiration, I went to the small letterbox I kept in my desk drawer, and pulled out one of my most priceless possessions, the small heart locket that had been my mother's. It had a picture of she and dad when she was very pregnant with me. She'd taken it off her own neck to slip it on me when they first dropped me off here, but I had to push those thoughts away quickly as I padded back to the mirror.

Just so. Even better. Perfect.

The little glint of gold, closely matched the brassy color of the buckles below. Finally, beneath where the blouse had hung, the pink ribbon lay over the waist of the short grey skirt still hanging in the closet. Slipping it free, I moved toward the bathroom mirror, and the brush.

Brushing my hair to look more like it had on Friday turned out to be much easier than I'd imagined with the aid of a little water in the front. Tying the bow was much harder but I'd finally gotten it to look even.

Walking out toward my desk I could see that it was seven fifty and breakfast was being served for any who wanted it but I didn't feel up to going just then. I knew that the cooks were very good to those who missed breakfast, and always had some fruit, or toast, or bagel handy for a starving kid. If need be, I'd swing in there later.

I had Western at nine, so I pulled that book from the stack, to slip out the paper I'd done on Saturday. After looking it over for fifteen minutes, I realized that the only thing that I'd accomplished was to draw a little heart shape just like the locket above the 'i' in Chris. If anyone had found out anything new about William the Conqueror over the weekend, they'd just have to catch me up on it later in the week.

The locket was warm now, in my hand, not at all like the cold metal had felt lying in the box. “I miss you, guys. So much.” I whispered, knowing they couldn't hear.

Try as I might, I just couldn't push the feelings away this time. I did miss them. Had they been on the same continent, I'd have been very tempted to grab my card and head for them, but they had always expected me to be strong. I needed to be strong, especially now, my father had said so to me many times.

What stupid advice to give a kid, I thought as my eyes blurred over completely. Kids don't' need to be strong. They need a family.

The washcloth was there, and fortunately my eyes were only a little red. No one would notice. Even though most of the cosmetics were still in the package they'd come in, the tube of lipstick was sitting there with the clear face powder.

A small voice inside said 'what are you doing?' but I ignored it as I padded over to the desk to get the mascara. By then, my mind was very quiet again as I watched my lashes darken and grow longer in the mirror. The colorless face powder looked very nice too, even though I'd been too unsure to use more than the tiniest bit on my forehead nose and cheeks.

In the package, there was also a pale pink gloss, almost colorless, but I really liked the smell of it, as I covered the dullness, where the powder had gotten on my lips.

I looked for a long time, before I said 'There' to the mirror, and walked out to slip on the shoes that I'd worn on Friday, and to collect my books from the desk.

The knob of the door felt even colder than the locket had, I noticed, but I was only going to hold that for the shortest of times. I picked up the little black wallet, where it hung by its strap, the one that still had all my things, and slipped my calculator and some pens and other things into it as well, before slipping it over my shoulder. I'd almost taken the cell phone too, so that I could try to reach Dad around our noon, or his quitting time there, but again I decided not to without any real reason.

The thunderous bang of the door swinging closed behind me was, I was sure, loud enough to have woken any of the dead who might have been lucky enough to be able to sleep so late on a Tuesday. Although no one slept late on Tuesdays at Saint Andrews, even the dead.

I took very deep breath, and then another, as I steadily built my momentum toward the stairs…

 
 

 
 

     “What, the…”

“Man! There's another one!"

"Do you think it's dangerous?” Smitty asked, at the bottom of the stairs.

“I don't think so, because Mr. Tingsdale said they only attack if they smell money in the water.”

“Are you sure? It doesn't look very safe to me.”

“Well you stay here then. I'm going to ask her if she tutors like Freddie.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Am I? Who would you rather dance with? Freddie?”

“Hey Chris! Wait up a minute!”

 
 
 

Then…

“I think it’s someone's sister… Holy crap! Chris?”

 
 
 

As I came round the corner to into the main hallway, I could see Tom standing outside the Admin area. It looked like he was coming out of the conference room with a tall thin man in a suit, and slightly smaller man with very grey hair, and a collar.

Poor Tom looked like he wanted to make a run for it. These must be the college scouts from down south. It looked bad, but what was really scary was Mrs. Pierce, who had her back turned to them where she stood fussing with a bulletin board. Only, from the look on her face, she was not fussing with the bulletin board at all, and was listening as the man in the suit continued to talk to Tom.

“… We have other advantages too, son. You won't find a better place anywhere for providing the strong moral direction that every young person needs to be successful…”

I thought Mrs. Pierce looked like she'd just swallowed her tongue. I'd seen her mad, but I never saw her look like she'd swallowed her tongue. I instinctively moved toward the far wall, mistakenly thinking I might hide, but despite my slowness, Tom’s eyes flicked towards me.

Mrs. Pierce was smiling when she turned to greet the men, which scared me so bad, I stopped dead in my tracks in preparation of pressing my back to the wall.

“Ah! There you are gentlemen.” She said cheerfully. “I trust you enjoyed meeting Mr. Anders. I hope you all enjoyed a little talk.”

Grey hair started to speak. “Well not so much really. Despite the fact that I've told this fine young man that our student population is better than three-quarters female…” He smiled, but Mrs. Pierce did not, which made him back pedal damned quick. “Aaah. And also that we feel the Southern Baptist Bible College is the finest place for a young man such as Tom to develop the kind of moral fi…”

The man in the suit saw her face too, because he broke in “Aaah, and when Tom here told us he wanted to go on to be an evolutionary biologist, I explained that the lectures on creationism and intelligent design in our biology department have been used to train speakers from all ov…”

Someone screamed inside my head: 'Jesus Christ on a pogo stick!'

My back was not even fully against the wall, before I saw Mrs. Pierce interrupt an adult for the first time… ever. I only wish someone else had been there to see it, but hall had already cleared faster than the main street at noon in Tombstone Arizona.

Mrs. Pierce made the same sound a glacier does, just before it starts popping and cracking to calve… “And how exquisitely compelling that must have been for him too, gentlemen.” The sound of a million metric tonnes of ice falling toward them froze both men's feet solidly in place, leaving them to bob helplessly in the frigid ventilator's downdraft like a pair of errant Macy's Day parade balloons caught on a lamppost.

“I can't tell you how disappointed our board of governors will be to hear that. We've never had an alumnus of Saint Andrews school attend the Southern Baptist Bible College, as we informed you in our letters. Perhaps, we'll be more fortunate next year?”

The Collar began to puff up visibly before I could scream for him to get away, but it was just too late. Mindless suicide.

“We'd hoped you'd help us explain that our university provides a moral footing for all our students…”

“So. I. Heard.” The cracking and popping were thunderous in the surrounding pristine silence.

Mrs. Pierce was no longer smiling, and Tom looked like a man realizing he suddenly wanted to edge closer to the window, but who had also just found his feet were stuck fast to the floor as well. His eyes were bulging, and I wanted to help him, but I was stuck to the wall like one of Professor Farthing's countless cockroaches.

Mrs. Pierce took two deep breaths, before the muscles along her jaw relaxed enough for her to speak.

Too late for them to run for their lives. It looked like it would be quite a splash!

“Perhaps it might be beneficial for you gentlemen if I were to explain to you that the schools to which most of our students graduate are those that they themselves choose to further their life's interests and future careers.

"We have been very successful in this, as counted amongst our various graduating classes over the last hundred and eighteen years, have been several Nobel laureates, literally hundreds of eminently successful doctors and lawyers, and captains of any industry you might care to name. Most of whom were first accepted quite readily at schools whose standards rank amongst the highest in the world. Many of these institutions of advanced learning will not even consider an application without a proven track record of steady academic excellence, and an least two SAT scores of fifteen-hundred and fifty, or better.

"I can also assure you, that each and every one of these schools gives very special consideration to any student benefiting from our preparatory programs.

"Now, if I recall correctly, your standards for admission are six-fifty to seven hundred?”

The Suit sounded a little hoarse. “Well… we feel that the broader mix of all students, irregardless…”

“I. Am. Sure. You. Do. Doctor Embry. However, amongst the hundreds of captains of industry, and countless other notable alumni we have graduated from this institution, there have always been those few who preferred to direct their lives toward less notable careers than say, Secretaries and Ministers of our governments, or Presidents of these United States. Some write Broadway plays, or administer foundations that help the less fortunate. We always encourage students to find their own paths to contribute to this world in the way they feel most useful.”

Her smile was more that of a hungry lioness tasting the air through her teeth now. It wouldn't be long… or take long.

Please make me invisible. Please make me invisible…

“Re-gard-less… of their widely diverse preferences, Doctor Embry and Reverend Watts, the one area that has never given me a moment’s pause, about any of our young men, was the consideration of their moral character.

"Our students have not only been the contributors to improvements in the human condition over the past hundred and eighteen years, without regard to the fields they chose from medicine to food production, but during the more unfortunate years that this country has been at war, we have graduated more students who have gone on to serve with great distinction in our armed services than any other preparatory school our size.

"In fact, during the years of forty to forty-five, I recall, the only other schools in this entire nation that could claim of its graduates to have won more awards for personal valor and heroism were your own Citadel, and the Virginia military institute. I can assure you, however, that our boys lacked nothing in the quality of those awards, and in numbers they were only a handful behind the gallant men from those much larger schools.

"So you see, Gentlemen, you don't need to worry yourselves about the moral development of any student here. Or if you do, I suggest you might find it more than instructive if you were make yourself an appointment with either our current Supreme Court's Chief Justice, or the current President of the United States Senate, as I'm sure that either of those distinguished alumni will have a unique perspective regarding your concerns.”

“… I did not mean to imply…” The Suit, I believe Embry, started the rally, only to be tagged by Watts The Collar:

“Mrs. Pierce. Our organization is affiliated with over seven hundred Baptist ministries from all over this country, representing tens of thousands…”

I could see them turning to salt pillars right there on the barren wind swept shores of the main office. My eyes. Take my eyes. Please… I couldn't look away. They just didn't know that it would be better to try and punch Miss Lynn than to fence mindlessly with Mrs. Pierce. Doctors can sew limbs back on.

“Seven Hundred.” Mrs. Pierce said. “Seven Hundred?" She asked.

The fool actually nodded.

She raised her voice to call down the hall. “Mr. Walton? Are you still there around the corner?”

“Oh,uh, Yes Ma'am. I'm right here, Ma'am.”

“Have you ever told a lie?”

“Aaah. Not to you, Ma'am.”

“I believe you, Mr. Walton.”

She actually smiled at him, but it was like a whole different species of smile. It kind of glowed…

“How many independent business units are there in your family business now, Mr. Walton?”

“Ah Hum. I'm really not sure Ma'am, but I think if you count the ones in China and South and Central America… Europe… Ma'am I'd guess a little over five thousand under the family name, but there's lots more if you count other named stores.”

“Five thousand?” She sought confirmation.

“Yes Ma'am”

“And how many people do they employ, including Christians, Muslims, and Buddhists?”

“Ma'am?”

“How many employees, Mr. Walton?”

“I don't think anyone knows, Ma'am. Millions. That's why I want to be a neurosurgeon Ma'am.”

“Millions?” She asked.

Sam tried to back away now, perhaps feeling a draft at his back that somehow indicated a way out to him. “Yes Ma'am. I'm sorry to have bothered…”

“That's all right, Mr. Walton. I expected to see you today. Your application to Harvard University did come in. I've given it to Doctor Farthing, Sam, because he's an Alumnus, and he'll be writing your recommendation. When he gives it back with his letter we'll go over it together.”

She smiled that kindly smile again, at Sam.

“Thank you, Ma'am” Sam said, now doing the backstroke at a near record pace.

"Thank you, Sam." She replied, the kindness of her smile growing even greater, if that were possible.

A smile which once more morphed itself into something predatory and inhuman in the short time it took for her eyes to flick back to them…

… And in the eyes of the Lord, as he beheld them flopping there helplessly, they were much deflated… so sayeth the Second book of Pierce, Chronicle Three, in The Epistle to the Idiots.

“Chris.” Tom gurgled or choked, I'm not sure which, but I understood him. Of course, it was only because my eyes were already fixed by the horror on his face when his lips moved, and from that I somehow knew he called my name.

Tom cleared his throat, and said it again, the ass. “Chris. I'd like you meet Doctor Embry, the head of athletics at the Baptist Bible College, and their pastor, Reverend Doctor Watts…”

I got it. His Excellency, President for life, Field Marshal, El Hadji, Doctor, Idi Amin Dada. Most impressive.

On the other hand, Tom had saved my bacon only yesterday so, somehow, I found the courage to smile from within the rising tide of terror and discomfort that flowed from his eyes. I wanted to hit him in the face with my book.

My feet were able to slide but wouldn't lift from the floor as I was drawn in closer to hold out my hand which, because of my nearness to unconscious oblivion, was held out palm down due to the lack of muscular strength and coordination that it would have taken to turn it sideways.

“Gentlemen.” Tom said, “Chris Morgan. His family owns Morgan International Limited.”

“How do you do, Miss.” Suit said, taking my hand gently, rubbing my fingers, as in a dish detergent commercial.

“Sir. Reverend.” I said to each in turn, with a small bob of my head and body that just snuck up on me from somewhere.

Collar Watts said, “I was under the impression that this was an all girls' … I mean an all boys’ school.”

“It is.” Mrs. Pierce said but I swear her eyes never even flicked toward me. I did not even think she really knew I was there. “Mr. Morgan has been a student here for two and a half years and we are all quite proud of the record of his achievements thus far.”

They were both looking at me now, as if my hair-ribbon was lighted up and spinning at trans-sonic speeds.

“Yes.” Tom said, clearly still in a mindless panic. “Chris and I were roommates for his first two years.”

Mrs. Pierce’s eyes only narrowed and slid about halfway from The Collar to Tom, but I'd seen it. Even if that wasn't enough to give it away, I definitely saw the muscles along her jaw bunch up again.

You poor dumb bastard, I thought. You poor dumb bastard. All you had to do was to keep your mouth shut, man. Now telling a lie, right in front of her, after that speech… Enjoy the lecture pal. Pierce, forgive him, he knows not what he does.

The last kid who'd done that, they had to bury. Twice! I swear, her eyes never moved again. Never. Even as she spoke of me once more.

“Mr. Morgan has been kind enough to complement our own staff in giving lessons in ballroom dancing and deportment to some of our students. You look perfectly lovely today, Chris.” She said, the timbre of her voice fixed on even.

She wasn’t even blinking!

“Thank you, Ma'am”

I'm not sure who's blush would reach our ears first, but neither I nor the other pair could turn our eyes from looking back and forth at each other, and it was a very close race: Mine, The Suit's, or the good Reverend Field Marshal Doctor Watts. It was anybody’s race.

But then, Mrs. Pierce, in an unexpected stroke of humanity, which she had been known to use from time to time to deny those prey whom she hunted purely for sport any sense of balance, waved the checkered flag early.

“Tom, why don't you take these gentlemen to see Colonel Atkinson. Forgive me, you know him as Coach Atkinson or Doctor Atkinson, the head of our intramural sports programs here. I am sure he is very anxious to see them.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Tom said to her, before he spoke to me again. “Chris, will you save the first dance for me tonight?”

We have a winner! Even with their vast advantage in years and experience, I'm quite sure that neither of those men had ever reached my current level of neon before. Fortunately, and what I did not know, was the face powder was hiding most of it.

“My pleasure, Tom.” I said, as my autonomic nervous system did that stupid curtsey thing again.

“Ma'am…”

Oh God, she was smiling the human smile and looking right at me! She'd seen me... Wait a minute. She loved it. This one she loved?

“…If you'll excuse…” I was inching my way through the ice shards as quickly as I politely could.

“Of course, Chris. If Doctor Thompson has any problems, you may tell him you were helping me.”

“Thank you, Ma'am.” I said turning to go. I realized that the bell must have rung, but at the time I'd thought that ringing sound had been inside my head.

“And Chris…”

“Yes Ma'am?”

“You smell every bit as lovely as you look.”

“Thank You, Ma…” I said turning.

I had turned quickly, for fear of rudely leaving my back to her while I expressed my genuine appreciation, but she was already gone, leaving only a few notices drifting down from the bulletin board, and the startled visitors. Unfortunate for them to have witnessed her powers so closely. Their bobbing and weaving, an almost shell shocked stagger, already bode that Tom was probably going to have to hold their hands to even get them through the doors successfully.

 
 

 
 

     I was almost to Doctor Hammond's door, when I saw Freddie coming down the hall toward me in the same skirt, and the same flower in his hair, but from which was hanging a small pink pennant ribbon that said “Love for Sale.”

Jesus. And people thought I'd freaked.

“Hey, You cutting on my shtick, Sweetheart?” He asked me from well down the hall.

Just then, another kid, accompanied by three friends, came running up and knelt in front of Freddie, holding up some plastic flowers and the pop-top off of a can.

Freddie didn't smile either.

“Mack, I told you already. You pay just like everyone else, but cash only this time. No credit. If you ask me again, I will start charging you a hundred per hour, plus twenty for the room. What kind of a girl do you think I am? I may be easy, but I'm not cheap.

"Now! Chris? Chris?”

 
 

 
 

     I didn't even look back at Freddie as I slipped silently through the door to Doctor Hammond's classroom.

Fortunately he had his back turned while he adjusted a window blind, allowing me to glide quickly but silently toward my chair.

“… and many of you failed to grasp… Good Afternoon, Mister Morgan… the significance of Norman technical innovations …”

He froze as soon as he began to turn. He'd caught me just as I carefully reached back for some of the excess material on my skirt, and delicately began to slip into my seat…

“Mister Morgan.” He said again, as if memorizing my name for the very first time.

I stood quickly, letting my skirt fall free. “Please excuse me, Professor. Good Morning, Sir. My tardiness was rude, and I apologize, but I was unavoidably detained while… entertaining two of the school's guests with Mrs. Pierce.”

I slowly gathered my skirt again, and slipped into my seat as gracefully as possible. Quite a feat for someone who had not breathed since entering the room.

His eyes measured me from my head to my feet, and back again.

“Entertaining? Indeed. It would seem that our entertainments have improved of late. I was not aware.”

The connotation, partially signaled by the semaphore of his brows, had sent my blush into the far infrared, but I only nodded politely. No matter what else happened, I was going back to my room for the small facial powder compact as soon as the bell sounded.

Still without any air in my lungs at all, I groaned “I was very much looking forward to your explanations of the Norman invention of the stirrup, Sir.”

“I see.” He still stared at me.

“… The technologies that the Normans brought with them played a pivotal roll that is only now coming to light, but given the state of the military art at that…”

It was so much more than weird. For the rest of that hour no matter what he said, or read. No matter where he moved in the room, or to whomever else he might have been speaking at any given moment, his black beady eyes never left my face. Even when he turned his back to write on the board, I could see them staring back at me from inside his head. It was like some demented hologram hung in a portrait gallery with the sole purpose to separate out those poor souls most genetically predisposed to hysterical psychoses.

It worked, too. They had to shake me well after the bell had sounded.

 
 

 
 

     There had been a compact in the bag with the box of face powder I'd purchased. I'd found it along with about a dozen complementary gifts that the girls at the mall had shoveled into my bags. Sponges, emery boards, a little chain with some kind of crystal, wrapped around some nail polish of the same color.

But it was the retrieving of the compact, along with the mistake I'd made wandering into the lunchroom, that had almost made me late for Professor Otto's Math class too.

The ladies in the dining room, on seeing my flush, and how close I was to fainting, had insisted I sit and have juice and a whole half bagel before they would let me up. They even brought me an egg, which I had to eat at least part of very quickly while explaining my outfit to the accompaniment of their approving chorus of the 'Ooos' and 'Aaahs.'

I had just made it to math under the bell, and was walking to my seat while trying to return as many stares as possible with the students already there, when Professor Otto startled me badly by saying “Here.” right in my ear.

In his hand was a note card, on which I read. 'Please, ask Mr. Morgan to report to the Headmaster's office immediately. M.P.”

It wasn't that I was the only one in a skirt anymore. It was more that I was the only one not looking at my back as I quietly walked out of the room.

 
 

 
 

My very special thanks to Geoff for his invaluable time and advice.

 
 
 
By

Sarah Lynn Morgan

[email protected]

 
 

If you like this story, please, click in the vote box to the lower left.   Comments are always welcome,
and appreciated!    Including our Guests, who may login as guest reader, password topshelf.