One boy is about to learn that he has already passed such an event, and nothing will ever be quite the same…

Wednesday morning, Brandon awoke somewhat earlier than usual, but not unreasonably so, although he didn’t quite understand why he had. Then he recalled that exactly a week ago, his mother and sister had awakened him even earlier to dress him up for Gender-Bender Day. He’d learned much because of that experience, maybe even a few facts about himself that he never wanted to know.

He glanced at the clock again and put himself into the appropriate frame of mind to get ready for the day—or so he thought. Usually, he began by selecting fresh undergarments and socks for the day and laid them out before going for a shower. But today when he opened the drawer for his underwear, he found a few pairs of girl’s panties next to his briefs. He quickly grabbed a pair of briefs and slammed the drawer closed. Next, he opened another drawer to get a clean undershirt. Yet that drawer he found packed excessively with a few folded brassières and camisoles as well. Brandon guessed that his mother and sister must be planning ahead for his cheerleading efforts. But now was the time to get ready for the day, so he grabbed his bathrobe off a hook behind his closest door and went for the shower.

“Wakey-wakey, Billie!” Patricia Danziger quietly ordered her son, gently shaking him. As Billy, his mother had always awakened him much more vigorously than this, but also much later in the morning. But crossdressing required him to rise earlier to complete the extended protocol that he now had to endure each morning.

“Good morning, Mom!” he replied, although his greeting was muffled by speaking into his pillow. “What day is it?”

“Wednesday, sweetheart,” she answered. “Time to get up and get ready for school!”

“Can I have just ten minutes more to sleep?”

“You can have five.”

Yet Billy couldn’t get back to sleep. So he pondered his punishment more deeply than he had before. When Dr. Lansing had first sentenced him, he thought that her goal was to humiliate him publicly. But now, it seemed more like she had pronounced a veiled sentence of sleep deprivation. His mother was rousing him an hour to ninety minutes earlier than he was accustomed in order to accomplish the necessary ablutions including showering, shampooing, hair and skin conditioning, drying, hair styling, selection of clothing, dressing, and application of cosmetics. He never imagined that being a girl could be so complicated.

Jenny stood looking at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Maybe this would be the last day that her mother would insist that she wear the frumpy jumper (her mother called it a ‘gymslip’) to school. The Changs had invited Brandon to dinner tonight and Jenny was praying that her family would approve of him. Mrs. Chang had been impressed by the boy’s proficiency in mathematics and his overall academic standing. His parents were traditional and successful medical professionals by both American and modern Chinese standards. But there was still the risk that they might reject him as a 死鬼佬 [sei gwei-lo], or “nasty white devil,” not worthy of a daughter of the Middle Kingdom.

“Jennifer, you must remind Brandon about dinner tonight,” said Mrs. Chang to her daughter. “We all must meet this boy.”

“He’ll be here, Mom!” Jenny answered. “He’s the only one who could be more excited about dinner than I am.”

From the look on her daughter’s face, Mrs. Chang knew that Jennifer was very much in love with Brandon. And the mother was thankful that the boy showed so much promise and that he came from a good family. Still, the boy was not Chinese, although that might be forgiven since they had lived in America for so long. Jennifer had even been born a citizen in the United States. Yes, if the boy met with approval of the immediate family, she would encourage her daughter to hold on to him.

When Esperanza Gutierrez began working in the United States, she became aware of one cultural difference between America and her native Mexico almost immediately. While in her culture, nicknames were used only among the family and close friends, Americans addressed even their colleagues and business associates by nickname. However, in English, there was no good short form for Esperanza, but Catherine had suggested that the English translation of her name, Hope, was too affirming not to use. So Esperanza had adopted it as her nickname in English. But no matter how often her Honor insisted that she do so, Esperanza just couldn’t bring herself to address her boss as ‘Cat.’

Ms. Gutierrez was already at work when the Hon. Catherine Riley-Harrigan arrived at her chambers. “Good morning, Hope,” she addressed her secretary and personal assistant. “How’s the family?”

“Good morning, Señora Riley!” Esperanza returned the greeting. “My Ramonito is recovered from the flu and he bounced off to school this morning more energetic than ever.”

“They can be so resilient at times,” observed Catherine, wondering if little Ramón had suffered from the same strain of influenza that had attacked plaintiff, defendant, their counsels, and witnesses alike the previous week. At times, influenza could be viciously impartial. Then just before turning to enter her chambers, she remembered what she needed to do that morning. “Hope, would you try to get Ethan MacAlistair on the line right away?”

“Surely,” replied the secretary, immediately complying by consulting the electronic database integrated into their telephone system. Catherine went into her chambers and, by the time she sat at her desk, the telephone rang.

“Señora, I have Señor MacAlistair on the line for you,” announced her secretary. “To transfer now…”

“Yes, thank you, Hope…” replied Catherine to accept the call. “Are you there, Mister MacAlistair?…”

“I am, your Honor,” answered Ethan. “Did you raise the issue with your husband?…”

“I did, Counselor” she told him. “He’s quite supportive of my possible nomination to the bench for the Ninth Circuit prima facie. “But I do have certain personal issues to consider and two or three questions to ask before I can give you a firm answer…”

“We would expect a few given its importance,” he concurred. “What are they?…”

Already, Catherine had considered which issues would be the most important for her and her family. “Would the vetting process be very different from what I experienced twelve years ago?…”

“I don’t believe so,” said Ethan. “You’ve been through it before, so you know what to expect. Most of the forms are still the same but need mostly to be updated. There is some new paperwork, too. You’ll need a current physical, of course, as well as a new background investigation. But since you have been through it before, it should seem somewhat less intrusive than your previous vetting…”

“Speaking of ‘intrusive,’ would the vetting process now involve my family?” Catherine asked. “Maureen and Connor are adults now. They were still children twelve years ago. Kelly was just a toddler, and the physical required for the vetting process was how I learned that I was pregnant with Caitlin. Also, Brian’s become quite successful in his own legal career and is in considerable demand for his expertise in corporate law…”

“Yes, I’m aware of all that, your Honor,” acknowledged the counselor. “Connor is a freshman violin major at Curtis, while Maureen is right here in Washington for law school, at our mutual alma mater, I might add…”

“Brian is a Georgetown grad, too,” she reminded him. “We met there our first year. Anyway, my next question is, would I need to relocate to sit on the Ninth Circuit bench?…”

“That’s uncertain, your Honor,” admitted Ethan. “Right now, you’re almost midway between the Federal courthouses in Pasadena and San Francisco, which would be convenient in some ways but not in others. As you already know, the Ninth Circuit is geographically the largest of the Federal Judiciary. Because the seat for which you’re to be nominated has been vacant for so long, at first you’ll need to travel far and wide and often to help move cases ahead on the docket. It’s quite a backlog! That being said, the Ninth Circuit includes Hawai’i and our Pacific Islands as well as some of the most scenic landscapes in North America, if you can find the time to take it all in. I believe that you used to enjoy horseback riding…”

“Oh! I haven’t been in the saddle for ages!” Catherine lamented. She thought a moment about the Rocky Mountain states in the Ninth Circuit and the nice vacations her family could take there as well as the deserts of New Mexico and Alaskan cruises. Brian had been to Hawai’i three times on business in recent years, but her caseload hadn’t allowed her an opportunity to go there with him. Perhaps this might change? “Do you know whether I’d be based in Pasadena or San Francisco?…”

“Not at this time.”

“When do you need an answer, Counselor?…”

“As soon as possible would be best, your Honor…”

“Please, remind me why you need to move so quickly and why you’re asking me?…”

“First, the President wants to fill the seat before his term ends,” the counselor recounted. Next, although you’re a Democrat, since you were appointed to your current seat by his Republican predecessor, the Senate would find it rather difficult to oppose you now. Even the Republican majority leader voted to confirm you before. Then, the most important reason is that the President was especially impressed by your legal reasoning. Remember, he was editor of his own law school’s journal and still enjoys reading legal opinions and articles when he can. He was very excited by your prospectus. And the name on it was concealed from him until he had chosen yours as his first choice. He called you ‘one of the best legal minds in the country’…”

“Really?…”

“Really!” Mr. MacAlistair confirmed. Then he thought for just a moment. “I’m going to tell you something that perhaps I shouldn’t right now, but the President also has asked me to put your name on his short list for the Supreme Court…”

“Are you kidding me?…” Catherine asked the Federal counselor incredulously.

“I’m quite serious, your Honor,” he assured her. “I can’t understate just how impressive he found your legal writing…”

Overwhelmed, Catherine paused to consider the importance of what Mr. MacAlistair had just revealed to her. One of the older, more liberal associate justices would like to retire before the end of the current Administration, but couldn’t unless the President could get the nomination of a new one through the Senate. Again, the fact that she had been appointed to the Federal bench by a Republican president was key to that.

“Counselor,” she addressed him, “this really is about the Supreme Court, isn’t it?…”

“Very likely so,” he agreed, “Although the President hasn’t brought it up, it’s a logical tactic. It’s what I’d do. If you’re already in the middle of vetting when another vacancy opens, that would expedite the confirmation process. If a vacancy on the High Court doesn’t come open, you’re still in line for the Ninth Circuit. But please, don’t mention this to anyone, except maybe your husband…”

“Can you wait until after Thanksgiving for my decision?…”

“May I ask why, your Honor?…”

“Any decision that would involve relocation will require a family discussion,” she told him. “Maureen and Connor plan to come home for Thanksgiving…”

“But they’re adults,” Ethan objected. “Why should they be involved the same as the rest of the family?…”

“Your children aren’t adults yet, are they?…”

“No…”

“Although my older children are legal adults, they’re still primarily students and not yet wholly independent,” explained the judge. “They still hold California drivers’ licenses and list our home here as their permanent address for their respective schools. So they still regard themselves as Californians. Relocating would change their home base and could affect their own future plans in ways I don’t know. I need their input. My younger daughters are also at critical stages in their development, especially Kelly. So, I need everyone on board if the decision would require moving my family…”

Ethan swiveled his chair around and leaned back to look out the window at daily life in the District of Columbia. Many of those whom he saw were now going to lunch. He wanted to go as well, but he had to wait until he had some news for the President—but not just any news. The President wanted Catherine Moira Riley-Harrigan but Ethan knew that she would not make this decision without consulting her entire family. He just hoped that she wouldn’t need to ask anyone else.

“I understand, your Honor,” he said. “May I tell the President that you wish to discuss the opportunity for the Ninth Circuit with your family over Thanksgiving?…”

“Yes, you may,” replied the judge. “I will have an answer for you the following Monday…”

“Thank you, your Honor,” offered the counselor. “I’ll inform the President. Have a very good day…”

“And you as well, Mister MacAlistair! And give my best wishes to the President…” Catherine returned his closing, then hung up the telephone and sighed. She thought that the nomination to the Ninth Circuit appellate bench would be a logical step. But the Supreme Court? Even if the President did like her legal reasoning, that seemed too heavy. She’d never imagined it, not even as a fantasy! Catherine decided that she needed a reality check. So the judge got up from her chair, went to the door, and stepped out of her chambers to the anteroom.

“Hope, what I’m about to mention doesn’t leave this room until I say otherwise,” instructed Catherine. “I’ve been asked to consider taking another judgeship. If I need to relocate, would you be willing to transfer? You make so much that I need happen, I don’t know what I’d do without you!”

Esperanza looked up at her boss. “To where, Señora? ”

“Possibly Pasadena or San Francisco,” began the judge. “Although since we’re right in between them here, it might be possible to work out something without moving elsewhere.”

“They want you to fill the Ninth Circuit vacancy, don’t they?”

“Yes, that’s one possibility,” affirmed Catherine. “There’s also a possible vacancy opening up in Dee-Cee. How would you feel about coming to Washington with me?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Esperanza. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Then please think about it as well as moving within the Ninth Circuit,” encouraged her boss. “I haven’t agreed to anything yet until I’ve discussed it with my family. And if I get nominated, the Senate would have to approve. And that’s a lot of politics! So again, don’t mention this to anyone else just yet.”

“Of course not, Señora! I be silent!”

And acknowledging Esperanza’s agreement, the Hon. Catherine Moira Riley-Harrigan, stepped back into her chambers to prepare for the next hearing on her docket.

Kelly and Jenny sat on either side of Brandon in their English class. Their teacher, Miss Mariko Nakamura, MFA, was handing out copies of something.

“Now listen up, everyone!” Miss Nakamura addressed her students. “Today we’re beginning a study of diversity literature. That includes several different kinds of authors.

“What I’m giving out today I’ve downloaded from an L-G-B-T website with the permission, and in more than one case the incredulous blessing, of the authors. I’ve decided to start with this because it was the easiest to obtain. Afterwards, we’ll read some women’s literature as well as some by American minorities, Commonwealth authors, and international writers in English.

The handout was entitled Voices Straining Yet Unbroken: An Anthology of LGBT Literature, compiled, edited & annotated by Mariko Nakamura. The somewhat lengthy document had been printed two-sided and three-hole punched for insertion into a binder.

“Class,” Miss Nakamura addressed her students, “this is a collection of short stories, poetry, essays, and novellas. I may have more works to add to it later, but these are enough to get us started. Please put this into a three-ring binder or a similar cover to protect it and that you can add to. Good! I can see a few of you already looking at the ‘Table of Contents.’”

Kelly’s attention had been drawn immediately to a novella entitled The Tale of Leigh and Jo, by Kelly Blake, thinking that the names Jo and Leigh implied a lesbian couple. As a young Anglophile, Brandon looked at another novella, Goodbye, Master Stokes, by Nicki Benson before any other stories, noting that Master Stokes was an especially British form of address for a boy or a young man. Jenny looked at the Table of Contents of the Anthology. She noticed among the entries “Sometimes…” by Andrea DiMaggio and wondered if she were related to the famous centerfielder for the New York Yankees. She also noticed the word huggles in another title and immediately turned to its page and read it.

“Oh! I love this!” beamed Jenny. “It’s so sweet!”

“What?” Kelly inquired, essentially ignoring Brandon seated between her and Jenny.

“This essay, ‘The Care and Feeding of Huggles’ by Dorothy Colleen,” Jenny answered. Brandon, Kelly, and at least a few of their classmates thumbed through the pages quickly to find the essay.

“Wait a minute!” objected Holly Thompson. “I don’t get the point. What does this have to do with being lesbian? We all like huggles!”

“That is the point, Holly,” rejoined Kelly. This Dorothy Colleen person is exactly that—a person and a woman before all else. And being lesbian or bi or even trans doesn’t change that. And she doesn’t hafta write just for L-G-B-T readers.”

“I’m not lesbian but I still felt all warm and fuzzy reading it,” said Jenny. “I so wanna give her huggles, too!”

“So then, everyone,” Miss Nakamura subtly reasserted control over her class, “what does that tell us right away about diversity literature in general and L-G-B-T literature in particular?”

Rhonda Davies answered hesitantly, “It’s not just for the people in those groups to read?”

The teacher smiled back at her student. “Are you asking or telling, Miss Davies?”

“It’s not just for them,” answered Rhonda, this time with more confidence. “Everyone can read it!”

“That’s right!” Miss Nakamura confirmed. “The author says so in the essay herself, in the very last line: ‘Huggles for everybody!’”

“Yeah, but huggles seems to me more of a feminine concept, a girl thing,” remarked Brandon. “I don’t quite understand ‘huggles.’”

Simultaneously, Kelly and Jenny learn towards him and each embracing him by an arm from opposite sides around either shoulder squeezed him, giggling in one voice, “Oh, you will!”

Even Miss Nakamura giggled along with the girls in the classroom. Meanwhile, the guys just wondered how the ‘nerd’ among them was apparently getting more ‘action’ than they were.

Jeffrey hoped that he could see the vice-principal before lunch, so he took advantage of the layout of the building to dart out of class and down the hallway to his office. Of course, he knew that he could be sent to that same office if he were caught running in the corridor, but he’d chance it.

The vice-principal’s door was open and Jeffrey could see the man seated behind his desk, so he went into the office. The vice-principal’s nameplate read:

Norbert J Cooper EdD

“Can I talk to you, Mister Cooper?” Jeffrey anxiously requested.

“Surely!” Jim Cooper answered. “What’s up?”

“Someone’s told me he’s gonna hurt my friends,” stated Jeffrey. “And he’s gonna hurt me if I stay friends with ’em.”

Dr. Cooper was the kind of guy who tended to get right down to business. “First, young man, what’s your name?”

“Jeffrey Padgett, sir, but everyone just calls me Jeff.”

The vice-principal began writing something. Jeffrey could see that Dr. Cooper was making notes, but not that he was writing on an incident report form. This was a standard form that administrators and faculty in the school district used daily. The boy didn’t know that Dr. Cooper would indeed investigate his story at least as thoroughly as what Jeffrey could tell him. Much of the investigation could be done without the vice-principal leaving his office by searching the student database and thumbing through his own files.

“Who made or implied the threats that you’re alleging?”

“Barry Kingman.”

Dr. Cooper’s attention had already been drawn to Barry Kingman. He didn’t have a file of reported incidents on him, but a few of the other boys that had been in trouble so far this school year hung out with Kingman. So the vice-principal knew the name and kept his eyes and ears open.

“Whom did he threaten?”

“My best friends, Mac and Mark.”

“What are their full names?”

“Brandon MacDonald and Mark Albertson.”

Dr. Cooper thought for a moment. He recalled a memo from Dr. Lansing that the MacDonald boy had agreed to substitute for the cheerleader who had been injured in the Homecoming game. He would be wearing the same uniform as the other cheerleaders and that was likely to attract unwanted attention from bigots and bullies. Brandon would be cross-dressing and technically in violation of the dress code for male students. Even so, he was, according to the memo, doing this for the benefit of the school and to help out the cheer team. The vice-principal wondered if he might be able to treat this, at least temporarily, under the school district’s new policy for LGBT students.

“When did Kingman make these threats?”

“Yesterday, just after lunch.”

“Why did you wait until now to report it?”

Jeffrey felt a little anxious because he had gone the previous day without saying anything, but since he had come today, he might as well be truthful. “I stood outside your office yesterday thinking about what to do. Your door was closed and there was no light on. Besides, I didn’t have any proof of what he said he was gonna do, so it’d just be my word against his. But then I thought more about it over night. Mac—I mean Brandon—and Mark are my friends, and I don’t want them to get hurt.”

The vice-principal understood Mark’s reluctance. He needed to reassure the boy that bringing the matter to him was alright. “Mark, you can always bring anything to me, especially when it concerns the safety or well-being of yourself or another student. And I’m not a judge or a police officer. I’m a vice-principal. I don’t need a warrant or even evidence to check out what’s going on. So, I will be checking out what you tell me, quietly and behind the scenes. Now, please tell me, as accurately as you can remember, what did Kingman say to you?

“He said if I stayed friends with them, I’d know what everybody else was gonna think. And I’d know what was gonna happen to ’em. That was more or less what he said.”

“Were those his exact words?”

“No, not exactly,” answered Jeffrey truthfully. “But he did refer to Brandon and Mark as ‘a couple of queers,’ and he also said that he just didn’t think I’d ‘wanna be hangin’ around ’em anymore.’”

The vice-principal carefully wrote the details of what Jeffrey said down on the report form. “Did he say just what might happen to you or your friends?”

“No, he was careful not to.”

Dr. Cooper knew exactly what Barry Kingman had in mind. “Jeff, an important tactic that a smarter bully uses is to hint at a threat without coming right out and saying it. He then relies on your own worry—your own fear—to complete the threat in your mind. He wants you to anticipate violence against you and your friends.”

“So what can I do about it?”

“What you’re doing right now,” Dr. Cooper assured him. “You’ve raised the alarm. So it’s no longer your problem, anymore. It’s mine—and Kingman’s, although he doesn’t know it yet!”

“How’re you gonna stop him?”

The vice-principal leaned back in his chair, chuckling with a little smirk on his lips. “I have my ways,” he assured Jeffrey. “ Would you like to guess why I wasn’t in my office when you came by yesterday?”

“I didn’t really think about it.”

“I walk around a lot,” he explained to the student. “Between classes, during breaks, lunchtime, and even class periods, I walk the halls and around campus watching and listening to what goes on. So, I know who the popular kids are, the quiet ones, the loud ones, and the smart ones. I also know who the bullies are. I’m not surprised that you’re telling me about Kingman today.”

“You expected this?”

“Well, yes and no,” replied the vice-principal. “Now, let me explain that. I’m not surprised that your friend Brandon would attract a bully’s attention by joining the cheer team. That was likely. I had no reason to expect Kingman to be the one, but I’m still not surprised that he did. Nor am I surprised that his threat was expressed somewhat subtly. By the way, he miscalculated about you.”

“Huh?”

“Bullies often rely on fear to keep their victims silent,” explained Dr. Cooper. “By bringing me this, you’ve already wrecked his plans, although again, he doesn’t know it yet. Anything else?”

“I think that’s everything,” said Jeffrey. “Oh! I think that for some reason he’s trying to break me, Brandon, and Mark up as friends.”

“Bullies like to feel in control,” Dr. Cooper told Jeffrey. “If he can keep friends apart, it gives him more of that sense of control that he’s becoming addicted to. It’s really like a drug for him.”

“So, if me, Brandon, and Mark stay together, it’s like we’re not letting him get his fix?”

That’s one way to think of it,” agreed the vice-principal, smirking a wry grin at the boy. “Mister Padgett, it’s lunchtime and I’m famished. We’ve discussed all we can here for the moment. Let’s go to lunch and I’ll start looking into this when I get back.”

Mariko Nakamura opened a desk drawer and took out the small brown paper bag containing her lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, an even smaller plastic bag of fried cheese curls, an apple, and a can of diet cola. A casual observer might think it a rather meager repast, but Mariko was a small young woman, barely 5 ft (152 cm) tall and 100 lb (45 kg) soaking wet, looking more like a student at West Grove High School than one of the faculty. Her midday meal was filling enough for her and would provide adequate sustenance until suppertime.

The young teacher of English and Japanese continued to float on Cloud Nine. Her third period English class had immediately engaged in a discussion of the essay by Dorothy Colleen without any prompting. Completely unplanned! The euphoria from that session had been so strong as to endow her with greater patience through a more trying fourth period class whose students were much less gifted. Still, Mariko gave her remedial English class the same effort that she did her Freshman English. For her, students’ faces betrayed the same sense of wonder when they broke through to some new understanding, whether they were college-bound or not. And she felt the same vicarious joy as each and every student suddenly grasped a new lesson.

Her thoughts and feelings about the lessons today she decided ought to be recorded, so she took from her purse the special book that she used as her journal. Mariko had kept such a journal, as distinct from her diary, since her days in middle school. The journal, which she carried with her, she kept for literary inspiration and insights as an educator. She always used blank books of unlined pages, nicely bound with sewn-in signatures and various textile covers. And in Mariko’s mind, her journal had not a front and a back cover, but two front covers. She wrote left-to-right in English, then turned the book over to inscribe right-to-left columns of Japanese. This she’d do until the two languages met somewhere inside the book, then Mariko would continue her journal in a new volume.

In her own heart, she was feeling happy with her choice to pursue a teaching career. She would always be a writer, but Mariko’s role as a teacher was no less important to her. Indeed, teaching gave her another subject to write about in her journals. Perhaps it would inspire other writing as well.

Mariko opened her journal to her English pages and wrote for a few minutes while eating the cheese curls, sipping her diet cola now and then. When she finished her notes in English, she turned to her Japanese pages and continued writing. Noting the time, she put away her journal and opened the lesson plan book for her afternoon classes. Mariko bit into her apple, savoring its sweetness along with her anticipation of her coming afternoon.

Vice-Principal Norbert James Cooper, Ed.D., didn’t even wait until after lunch to start investigating Jeffrey’s complaint. While in the lunch line, he glanced around the cafeteria, reading the proxemics of the persons and groups there. He’d been an expert at it since boyhood when it had been for him a basic survival skill.

As a boy, James was short and, well, scrawny and highly intelligent. Unfortunately, his diminutive size and bright intellect combined to make him a tempting target for bullies. Then his parents had given him that name. He’d been known simply as “Jimmy” at home, at school, and in the neighborhood. No one else knew until the fifth grade when his teacher addressed each and every student by his or her given first name without exception. “Norbert,” she’d call him. His friends and friendlier classmates still called him “Jimmy,” but when someone other than the teacher addressed him as “Norbert” he knew that trouble brewed and physical violence was intended.

Being a frequent target of violence encouraged James to develop his alternative athletic gifts of speed and agility. He’d only been beaten up a couple of times, relying on his ability to read social situations and quick response to keep him away from trouble. Still, events other than beatings befell him. The most embarrassing had happened in his sophomore year of high school, when several classmates had stripped him naked and forced him into a bra, panties, a dress, and heels, then left him onstage at a student assembly. It had been at the time the most humiliating moment of his life, yet he’d bounced back from it.

Returning his attention from reminiscing about his life to the din of the cafeteria, Dr. Cooper looked around and noticed who sat with whom and where. Jeffrey Padgett had taken his seat alone at a table in a corner. Barry Kingman and his posse sat at a table against the back wall. The vice-principal noted that another boy sat with Kingman’s circle, who until now hadn’t been on his radar. The boy looked rather lanky with closely clipped white-blond hair. Dr. Cooper would need to watch the growing circle of troublemakers closely.

The vice-principal paid for his lunch and continued his surveillance of the cafeteria on his way over to the table where other administrative personnel were sitting. Sheila MacDonald, whom Dr. Cooper knew from the previous year, sat next to a boy who was likely her brother, although he’d need to ask to be certain. They sat with a large group of friends, mostly girls, including Kelly Harrigan. James knew most of the cheerleaders in his role as the Knights’ assistant football coach.

“Good afternoon, Seph, Xee,” James greeted his colleagues.

“Hi there!” they returned his greeting. “How goes the battle?” Seph continued.

“Intelligence reveals clandestine maneuvers under way,” answered James, keeping with the principal’s military turn of phrase.

“Oh?” Xenia raised an inquiry for more details.

“Yes,” he confirmed for his colleagues. “It concerns the boy who’s agreed to substitute for the injured cheerleader.”

“Already?” Seph pled incredulously. “He only agreed to it yesterday. Troublemakers don’t waste any time getting around to causing problems, do they?”

“From what I heard just before lunch,” continued James, “plans to impose ill will are already in motion. In fact, I could see the battle lines shaping up right here, right now, in the cafeteria as I came to lunch.”

“Brandon MacDonald isn’t in any danger, is he?” Xenia worriedly asked. “He stepped up when the cheer team needed help.”

“That’s right!” Seph added. “We don’t want him hurt doing anything to benefit the cheer team or the school.”

“Look! I know who the ringleader is and I’ll be keeping an eye on him,” James, taking a bite of lasagna, assured his fellow administrators. “He, this Kingman boy, has been on my radar for a while, anyway. He’s the kind of kid who keeps himself clean while getting others to do his dirty work. But he made veiled threats to a friend of the MacDonald boy who then reported it to me. That’s how we know that something’s up. Still, I have more to investigate but don’t know what the time frame is.”

“I just hope Brandon doesn’t run into Mister Kingman before you get it figured out,” the principal expressed her worry. “We have much at stake in this and Brandon even more.”

“I’m even watching them both right now,” said James as he speared more lasagna with a fork. “They’re both in my peripheral vision. The Kingman boy is watching the MacDonald boy’s friend Jeff Padgett. MacDonald has his back to both Kingman and Padgett at this moment.”

“How do you do that?” Xenia asked him, then took a sip of coffee.

“I just do it, Xee,” he replied. “But it was a useful ability when I was a linebacker at Larry and Barry. Besides, it was something I had to learn to survive when I was a kid. I was still the MacDonald boy’s size my senior year of high school before I hit my growth spurt.”

“And look at you now!” Seph proclaimed with an affectionate giggle.

“Well, I was quite a late bloomer,” he admitted somewhat bashfully. “So, I know what it’s like to be the small, scrawny kid in high school.”

“I’d never imagine you as a small, scrawny kid now!” Xenia remarked.

James simply chuckled. “No, I guess you wouldn’t. But that’s why I give bullies no quarter. I suffered enough from them.”

Meanwhile, James had continued surveilling the cafeteria and noticed that the other boy at Brandon and Sheila’s table went over to where Jeff Padgett sat. The vice-principal guessed that it was Jeff and Brandon’s friend Mark Albertson. But their conversation was short and Mark went back to his seat. James noticed that Kingman watched Albertson from his own table.

“Seph, do you think Brenda and I went too far putting Brandon on the cheer team?” Xenia asked.

“Seriously? No, I don’t,” the principal assured her. “Besides, we’ve already discussed this. Actually, I think it will prove a good experience for Brandon as well as a good move for the school. Neither he nor the school should miss out on it because of bullying.”

“Keeping bullies off the MacDonald boy’s back is my job,” Jim reminded them. “Now, as I understand, Coach San-Giacomo had asked the MacDonald boy and he consented?”

“That’s right,” replied Xenia.

“And then you approved him doing it, Seph?” James continued.

“Yes, I did,” the principal affirmed. “However, I did call Brandon into my office and we discussed his joining the cheer team. He was already quite aware that he could face bullying and expressed that as his main concern. But he still chose to do it.”

“When I received your memo, I called up the MacDonald boy’s middle school and talked to Dave van Zandt, the vice-principal there, to check for any information about him being bullied,” recounted James. “As it happened, a kid named Walter Paulson made the MacDonald boy’s life a living hell. Paulson was expelled and a permanent restraining order was issued against him. As far as I can tell, the Paulson boy is not enrolled here.”

“That’s fortunate then,” said Xenia. She and Persephone then noticed that James had finished his lunch already.

“Well, if you ladies would excuse me,” he said standing up, “I need to go meet the MacDonald boy.”

Barry Kingman always sat with his back to a wall or a corner so that he could see everyone in the cafeteria whenever he was there. He also sat with his growing “posse” of of like-minded classmates who had become known less for their academic distinction than creative techniques of misconduct. And today, a prospective new underling sat across the table from him.

“We got a couple o’ real sissy queers here at West Grove that I wanna push out,” Barry told the new guy. The others around the table quietly nodded in agreement.

“Cain’t argue with that,” agreed Chuck. “Nobody needs no fags hangin’ aroun’.”

“They’re sittin’ at that big table right over there,” said Barry pointing out the table where Brandon sat with Jenny, his sister, their friends, and the Swarm. “Billy Danziger is already wearin’ a dress right now.”

“Don’t know ’im,” said Chuck, stuffing a few potato chips into his mouth. “Which one is ’e?” He slurped cola from a can.

“He’s sittin’ to the right o’ the Goth girl.”

“So that’s a guy?” Chuck exclaimed incredulously. “Looks better than my sister!” Kingman's minions joined in a group smirk.

“Still a queer, though!” Barry reminded everyone.

“So, ya wanna knock ’im aroun’ right away or maybe go spook ’im out first?” asked Chuck.

“Hadn’t thought about it, really,” admitted Barry. “Well, I did spook Jeff out yesterday. But then Danziger’s been showin’ up wearin’ dresses, so I want him beat up anyway. The sooner, the better! We can get Mac later.”

“Do it here or somewhere else?”

“Don’t really matter, but on his way home is prob’ly best. That way nobody can help ’im or stop us.”

“D’you know where ’e lives?” Chuck inquired.

“Not exactly,” admitted Barry. “Guess we’ll hafta follow ’im, find out.”

Kingman glanced around the table at his posse. He then pointed to each of his minions in turn, making eye contact. As each nodded, he pointed to the next until all had agreed.

“Well, Chuck, it's unanimous," announced Kingman. “You're in!"

“Sorry, Brandon,” apologized Mark resuming his seat, “but Jeff doesn’t wanna be seen with us right now.”

“And I wonder why that might be!” Billy whinged as he crossed his nylon-clad knees tightly. “Maybe he just doesn’t like a drag show?”

“Both you guys look better than that, Billie,” Holly tried to support him. “It’s only been three days and you’re already fitting in.”

“Thanks—I think?” Billy reservedly accepted the intended compliment.

“I just don’t get Jeff, though!” Sheila exclaimed, returning to the previous topic. “It’s not like he’s joining the cheer team!”

“It’s guilt by association, Sis,” Brandon offered in defense of his friend. “Besides, I think he’s more worried about bullies than Mark and I are. We can take care of ourselves, but I’m not so sure about Jeff, so don’t be too hard on him.”

“But I think he should stand with you,” complained his sister. “Isn’t that, like, what friends are supposed to do?”

“Yes,” agreed Kelly, “but it could also be argued that Brandon shouldn’t do anything that might cause trouble for his friends; therefore, he shouldn’t join the cheer team because it might hurt Jeff and Mark.”

“I’d agree with Kelly’s argument,” declared Alice. “It’s quite valid, assuming that any group of friends should support each other the same.”

“But then nobody in a close group of friends could ever do anything, like, on their own,” argued Melinda. “You’d always hafta ask what each friend thought, or at least consider what everybody’s opinion or reaction might be. Nobody could be themselves anymore.”

“That also follows from what we’ve been saying,” Alice pointed out to her friends.

“Then no one could, like, ever do anything at all—,” Valerie began to say.

“…Unless the group, like, gets together and agrees on it first,” Debbi finished Valerie’s remark. “Or their leader, like, tells them to do it.”

“But that works only if a group trusts their leader enough to follow,” said Jenny, “or if the leader’s strong enough to have their way.”

“That’s another good point,” Alice observed.

“Can we talk about something else?” Holly pled with her friends. “I’m feeling uncomfortable with this subject. Besides, when friends do things that turn out to hurt each other, shouldn’t they, like, forgive each other, anyway?”

“That’s right!” Kelly supported Holly’s quasi-rhetorical question. “We don’t hafta know everything in advance—we can’t!”

Mark then told the group, “I’ve heard my dad say, ‘It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission!’”

“But that doesn’t always mean you’ll get it,” lamented Brandon. His sister just giggled.

“Brandon, are you sure you can’t go shopping with us tonight?” Kelly reprised the issue that he and Jenny thought had already been settled.

“No! He’s having dinner at my house!” Jenny reminded everyone. “Putting him in a dress tomorrow is less important than my boyfriend meeting my family. Besides, he’s already promised to dress up nice.”

“Maybe you two could meet up with us at the mall or downtown after dinner?” Debbi suggested. “I mean, wouldn’t you like to go shopping yourself, Jenny?”

“Won’t be enough time,” replied Jenny. “We all have homework, anyway—unless you can get it all done in study hall.”

“Girls, did Brandon borrow a dress from any of you?” Kelly asked as he chuckled at her inquiry. Heads shook in the negative around the table, a few silent, others verbally denying:

“No!”

“Unh-unh!”

“Not me!”

“Not even you, Debbi?” Kelly pressed the issue. “Your dresses fit him the best. And Val, any shoes?”

“Sorry!” Valerie answered. “He hasn’t asked for any?”

Brandon thought back to the dreams that had so frightened him not quite a week ago. But now, instead of fear, he felt some amusement that all these girls were trying to get him into a dress. And he found himself enjoying the attention.

“Maybe you’ve already been out shopping, Brandon?” Alice asked him.

“Not telling,” he answered with a mischievous grin.

“You did!” Kelly exclaimed. “Well, you did, didn’t you?”

Brandon just continued grinning.

The boy sitting at the corner table felt really awful as he glanced surreptitiously at a table against the back wall where Barry Kingman often sat among his minions. But Jeffrey knew that he had to keep an eye on what the bully did. Else, he could fall victim to Kingman as easily as his friends. He might be a target, anyway. Jeffrey hoped that Vice-Principal Cooper were right about Kingman miscalculating.

He’d had misgivings about telling the vice-principal what Kingman had said, even though Jeffrey knew that it was the right thing to do. Still, he had snitched on Kingman, and somehow, snitching violated the unwritten code of boyhood. In a way, there was no right answer. But in that case, his best move was to protect his friends and himself.

Jeffrey just hoped that Vice-Principal Cooper came through for him.

“Hello there, everyone!” the vice-principal greeted the students seated at Brandon’s table. Then he addressed the sophomores directly, “How are you doing this year, Sheila, Melinda?”

Melinda spoke up first. “I’m doing fine this year, Doctor Cooper. My classes are great and I think I’m getting along with all my teachers. No one’s on my case like for my freshman year.”

“Just remember what that word sophomore means. The root sopho- means ‘wise’ so a sophomore should be ‘more wise’ than a freshman.” The vice-principal just grinned at her. “And how about you, Sheila?”

“Oh, I’m okay, but ya might wanna keep an eye on my little brother Brandon here,” she answered. “And that’s his girlfriend Jenny next to him, and his buddy Mark’s dating Melinda.”

“Are you Mark Albertson, then?” Dr. Cooper asked the boy sitting next to Melinda.

“Yes, I am,” he answered.

“Now, I know Kelly here, but not the rest of you,” said Dr. Cooper. “So Kelly, how about introducing everyone else?”

“Alright, then! The girl to Melinda’s left is Holly Thompson,” began Kelly.” Next is Teri Hamilton, then Valerie Schmidt, Debbi Snyder, and Alice Johanson, who’s beside Jenny Chang.”

“And how is it you know the vice-principal, Kelly?” Alice inquired.

“I know him from the football team,” answered Kelly. “He’s the assistant coach. He knows all the cheerleaders as well as the players.”

“By the way, Kelly,” asked Dr. Cooper, “how’s the wrist?”

“Sore,” she acknowledged, “but I’ll manage.”

The vice-principal smiled at her. “That was a brave action you did to try helping your friend.”

“Maybe, but I didn’t help her and just injured myself.”

“Kelly, don’t be so self-deprecating,” warned Dr. Cooper. “I saw what happened, too, and the entire school is proud of the risk you took for the Abernathy girl.”

“Thank you, Doctor Cooper,” said Kelly, beginning to blush.

“Well, I’ve certainly enjoyed meeting all of you!” Dr. Cooper announced to the company gathered at the table. “Oh! Mister Albertson, Mister MacDonald, we need to talk. Please, come to my office right after lunch!” With that, the vice-principal started towards the exit.

“Uh-oh!” Teri observed. “An invitation to the vice-principal’s office is never a good thing.”

“No, it’s not,” concurred Mark. Then he addressed Brandon, “Any idea why he wants to see us?”

“No,” replied Brandon. “If it were just me, I’d guess it were about cheerleading, but that doesn’t explain why he wants us both.”