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The Gunner's Dream -*- Copyright 2005 by Ellen Hayes.
Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when used for satirical purposes.
This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and possibly sex. If you are legally not allowed to read materials containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading this. I am not responsible. Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish, state, and country.
All rights reserved. See the bottom for distribution rights.
The Gunner's Dream
"Hello, D&E Personal Services this is Debbie."
"Debbie? This is Sarah Tucker." Debbie's mouth went dry. "I need to speak with you, tonight."
"Uh, gosh, Miz Tucker, I'm really-"
"You're really not getting out of this," she interrupted in a calm voice, "so you might as well make it easier on both of us. Because if I have to come find you, it'll annoy me."
Holy fucking sh-
Ms. Tucker continued, relentlessly, "Are you available at eight?"
"Um... Well, um, I guess I can resched-"
"Then why don't you come here around eight P.M. tonight," she ordered. "Is that acceptable?"
"Uh, yes, that's fine," Debbie said, feeling way more trapped than she was used to feeling just on the phone.
"I'll see you around eight," Ms. Tucker said, and hung up.
"Oh, fuck," Debbie whispered as her phone hand dropped away from her face.
"Hey Dad," Brian started.
"No," Dad replied. Wh- "I don't have any money."
"Liar. No, what I wanted to know was, if Mike's gonna be here with Tuck tomorrow, can I go to soccer practice?" Dad's eyebrows went up. "Dad, he's gross right now," Brian complained, "and there's nothing I can do for him. An' you ain't payin' me enough to be a nurse for the two of 'em."
"Did you ask your mother?"
"Why do you always ask that?!"
"Because you know who's in charge around here, and it's not me," Dad said patiently.
Brian sighed, and went to go ask Mom instead of prolonging the agony here. At least I got out without a proverb...
Julia switched the phone handset to her other ear, then asked Pam, "Do you think Tuck would like a card?"
"Kim got her-er uh him- DAMNIT!" Pam cursed, as Julia laughed. It IS hard... but it's funny too. Nobody gets that...
"Uh, um, um, maybe we could get one for each?" Amanda gasped out between giggles.
Pam objected, "Don't you think his parents would, like, explode if we did that? I mean, cards for Valerie."
"Man," Amanda sighed. "His dad... he creeps me the hell OUT."
"What?" Julia asked. "How?"
"Man, you heard what he was doing?" Pam asked.
"'Cause Mike can call you or Dad or EMS as well as I can if anything goes wrong," Brian explained. "And with him wired up like he is, Mike can tell if anything's going wrong at least as fast as I can." Since he was having asthma problems again, Brian knew that Tuck was going to be effectively tied into either his room or the basement, living in the hammock chair that kept him upright, plugged into the oxygen tanks and the EKG that Dad had made (somehow) and the O2 saturation monitor they'd bought to keep track of his lung function.
Mom frowned. "I don't like it," she said, but she said it in that way that told Brian she was probably going to say 'yes' in a minute or two. He made an effort to keep from grinning.
"Stupid damn phone," Dan muttered under his breath as he turned away from his computer. "Hello?"
"Dan? This is Debbie." Uh oh. "I need to, uh, change the time; I can't make it at seven. Something came up. Is nine okay?"
"Uh, what?"
"I need to see you later than I thought," she said impatiently. "Is nine o'clock tonight okay?"
"Uh..."
"Parents?"
"Yeah," he admitted, surprised she'd guessed what was bothering him about the later hour.
"Tell 'em you're working on a government project with me, okay? Will that work?"
"Uh... yeah, that'll work," Dan agreed, surprised a second time.
"Okay, I need to go. At nine, then?"
"Uh, yeah, oka-"
"Alright. Bye," she said and hung up.
"Jeez." Must be in a hurry... Wait, did she- He reviewed what she said, and realized that it sounded like she wanted him to tell his parents that they were doing government work, as in federal employment. He chuckled at the thought. Man, they'd never go for THAT one...
The phone beeped at Bill once, and he looked up, but the speaker beeped out D-A-U before he could switch screens. "Hello?" It bothered Susan when he answered the phone as if he knew who it was.
"Daddy, Suze. I was, ah, I wanted to know if you needed me to come home this weekend."
"Hmmm. No," he decided quickly, "we don't need you to. If you want to, it would be nice. Especially if you could be nice to Tucker."
"Daddy!" she complained. "I've BEEN nice to him."
"I know, I know," Bill agreed wearily. "Just-"
"Are YOU okay?" she interrupted.
"Hmmm."
"It's just a question, Daddy; it doesn't take a lot of thought."
"'It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool, than to open it and remove all doubt.'"
"Thank you for those STERLING words of wisdom," she sighed at him, which made him chuckle in surprise. "Now can you answer the question?"
"We're just tired," he admitted. "Tuck's home today, but Mike's-
"He's HOME! GREAT!"
Did I forget to mention that?
TOALL UPDATE X EUGENE HOME TODAY X HIGH SECURITY IN EFFECT X CHECK
ID OF VISITORS X NOT WELL YET BUT PROGNOSIS EXCELLENT X MIKE ALSO
SICK AND STAYING HERE X NOT SAME PROBLEM X TSIXT END
"Mister Tucker?"
"Ah, good evening Sabrina," Mr. Tucker said politely as he opened the door. "How're you?"
"I'm alright..." She took a breath, then recited, "How is Tuck?" I got it out right! She wasn't at all sure how he would react if she messed up and called Tuck 'she' or 'Valerie'; she'd seen Mr. Tucker talk to her own parents - as much as she could stand - and not blow up, but-
"He's home from the hospital, but-"
"He is! That's great!"
"BUT!" he announced, which stopped her in her tracks. "He needs to rest tonight. He's really tired, and ill."
"Oh. But, he, he's, like, going to be okay, right?"
He nodded. "We would rather no one see him at the moment, though. He really does need to rest, better than he was at the hospital." He thought for a moment, then said, "You can see him and Mike tomorrow, Thursday."
"Mike?" she frowned. "What happened to him?!" He looked okay when I saw-
"He picked up an infection, a sore throat or some such," Mr. Tucker explained.
"Oh! I thought, maybe..." He shook his head. "Oh good." He WAS looking kind of tired at lunch, but I thought... Well, it doesn't matter now. He'll get over being sick in a couple of days. I'd better tell Kim, too... "Oh! I got him, I mean- ah, I got, uh, Tuck a card, and some flowers," she remembered. "Can I- I mean, can you give them to him? Or I could..."
"I mean, how much do you really have to worry about her?" Lisa asked Debbie.
"I don't know..." Debbie fretted. "If I KNEW it was dangerous, I wouldn't be going... but... If I'm wrong..." Lisa nodded, but Debbie was slowing down and pulling to the other side of the road; Lisa looked around and thought she recognized Valerie's house. And Sabrina's car? Lisa puzzled.
When Debbie stopped the car, she uncharacteristically just sat in her seat, not doing anything, until movement on the porch caught their attention. "It's okay, Deb; I'm here," Lisa assured her quietly. "Is your cellphone off?" she reminded, as she checked her own. Lisa had thought it was best not to let a call interrupt them, and turning one on would be quick enough... Debbie nodded as she stuffed hers back into her purse. "Let's get out?" she suggested, and Debbie released her seat belt. Lisa did the same thing and got out, shutting her door but just standing by the car looking around.
The house looked lit, like people were home, and the light on the pole next to the sidewalk was on too, but it made her shiver for a moment, as she noticed how dark the rest of it was. Even the trees looked ominous, looming over the street at them as if they COULD reach down at any moment and grab-
I think I need another Valium, she thought, but there was movement on the porch, and Lisa recognized Tucker's mother as she passed by a porch light for a moment. Lisa shivered again; she hadn't even seen the woman until she moved.
"Be cool, Deb," Lisa said reassuringly, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt, and smiled at Ms. Tucker as she got closer.
"Debbie, Lisa," Ms. Tucker said as she got close enough to hear easily.
She remembers me?
"Miz Tucker," Debbie said, sounding a teeny bit more confident; at least things were starting politely enough.
The older woman thought for a moment, then looked Debbie straight in the eye. "I know you're planning something in particular; what you've done with Dan, and rumors at school, isn't random, and you're not just going for chaos and anarchy. You're going to tell me what you're planning to achieve."
"Miz Tucker, I'm not plann-"
"Deborah, if you lie to me, I'm going to know," Ms. Tucker said with calm assurance. "And I'm not in the mood for lies tonight. Tell me the truth, or Bad Things are going to happen." She put a peculiar emphasis on the words 'Bad Things'; one which felt very ominous.
"I'm not going to hurt Tucker-"
"If I thought you were going to hurt my son," Ms. Tucker interrupted impatiently, "you'd already be dead." Lisa felt her mouth start to move, to protest, and Ms. Tucker's head snapped to glare at her instead. "You wanna say something?" she shot at Lisa. When Lisa, astonished into muteness, shook her head, she turned back to glare straight into Debbie's eyes. "You WILL tell me what you are planning. Now."
"Yeah, I'm working on graphics," Dan said, glancing back at his computer screen, "but I keep getting calls. Like you, asshole."
"You got a good one yet?" George asked.
"I've got a few different ones," Dan said, "but Debbie told me to hold off for a while."
"What? Why?"
"I dunno, she just said something came up and she wanted to see me at nine."
"Man... Oh, hey, man, something else. Mike said that since he's out, that we ought-"
"Mike's out? Since when?"
"Since he admitted he got sick."
"Shit." For one thing, Mike was about the best tactical genius Dan had ever heard of. Certainly the best he'd ever met, or worked with.
For another, if Mike had it now, it was a better than even chance that they'd all have the same thing over the weekend.
"That asshole," Dan complained.
"Yeah but we ain't got it yet," George reminded him. "And he had an idea; that we bring Jill in on this, if she can get out tonight."
"Fuck."
"Yeah well, you got a better idea? She did okay earlier, like last year, with Nickerson, remember?"
"Yeah..."
"And we need to get Kelly tomorrow morning too."
"What?"
"Mike's out, remember? An' he's been taking Kelly to school."
"Aw, MAN," Dan complained. "Mom's already getting two of 'em! AND you, you asswipe!"
"Well, you can get a third. Fourth. Whatever."
Jill was just going out the door when she saw George coming up. "Oh man," she sighed. "What?" she asked when he got closer.
"We need you for something tonight," George said as he waved her away from the door.
"Who's we?" she asked, suspicious. George rolled his eyes and pointed back towards Dan's car. "Kim's supposed to be here in-"
"It'll just take a minute." He looked at her, then said quietly, "It's for Tuck."
"What?"
"Just come HERE for a fucking minute, wouldya?" he bitched.
"Alright," she gave in. "Just for a minute."
Lisa stared in amazement. The two women had looked earlier like they might come to blows, and Lisa wasn't at all sure she could have helped Debbie, other than screaming for help and calling the police on her cellphone. Tucker's mother was SCARY tonight, seeming to vibrate with barely-suppressed rage almost continuously. Lisa had never suspected that she could be that aggressive.
But Debbie had caved in almost immediately, and after about five tense minutes she'd explained the basics of what she was planning - some of which had shocked Lisa - and then, Ms. Tucker had started the questions. After about ten minutes of THAT, the two of them had begun discussing what to do next and how to do it, and now the two of them were standing around Debbie's Subaru and using the hood as a table as they scribbled notes in a notebook Debbie had produced. And Ms. Tucker was coming up with ideas and enhancements that Lisa and Debbie had never even considered.
I thought this might work... and if it didn't, it couldn't be traced to her... but now, I think it's gonna work for sure.
"What about Paul Dobson, the principal?" Ms. Tucker asked.
"I talked to him last night; he agreed to leave me alone as long as I don't get him implicated. See, that way-"
"You want to keep him in?"
"He's been a lot better than Nickerson, the previous one," Debbie replied instantly. "I mean, he hasn't fixed much of anything yet, but he's been trying since he got in. So, yah, if-"
"If you can give him a political boost," Ms. Tucker interrupted while she nodded, "then he looks good 'cause he solved part of the problem, right?" Debbie nodded back. "How much credit is he going to get?"
"We need to have the students do it," Debbie started.
"Yes..."
Debbie continued, "But if he's," she air-quoted, "'able to recognize a real and innovative solution to the problem, and,' uh, something like, 'facilitate its implementation' or something like that..."
"So instead of looking like dog doo to the school district, he looks like he helped clean up the dog doo someone- his predecessor left."
"Yah," Debbie agreed, nodding again.
"And the parents," Lisa reminded them.
"Oh yeah. Parents can get him canned faster than the school board," Ms. Tucker asserted. "Have you talked to any of them?"
Debbie shook her head. "Not yet... This weekend would be good for that," she said.
"Earlier, I think," Ms. Tucker asserted. "Especially if I'm going to talk to them; doing it before the weekend would give more of them time to call each other, so it's not single-source."
"What?" Lisa asked. "'Single sourced'?"
Ms. Tucker smiled. "It's a business thing, when you-"
"Only have a single source," Debbie said in chorus with Mrs. Tucker. "For any particular product," Debbie finished as they each nodded knowingly at each other. Lisa had to make an effort to stop herself from nodding along with them.
Jody stared in shock as Ashlee yanked on her arm and pulled her out of the closet. "Ashlee it's ME!" she tried to scream, but she couldn't get the words out before her head bounced into a locker.
"You disgusting little faggot!" Ashlee hissed, and Jody managed to turn and start shouting a denial when Ashlee's fist hit her in the face.
"Ahhh!" Jody grunted as she yanked violently away, and then stopped in confusion as all the lights went out in the locker room. "What?" As she looked around, she recognized her bedroom. "Oh, damn," she groaned as she bent over in pain.
"He's been wanting to stay home..." Sarah sighed. Eugene hadn't told them WHY, he'd just said it like it was humorous. "I guess he had a reason to want to stay home... I guess we look into home schooling." If he'd just told us... The rationalization didn't help alleviate the horrible feeling that she'd failed her child.
"Yeah, this'll really work," Debbie said, nodding.
Sarah felt her entire body tense up. "What did you say?"
"I mean," Debbie inserted quickly, "it's not like I don't want him to get WELL, you know. I just..."
"I don't want this to happen again," Sarah stated. "To anyone."
"Neither do I," Debbie agreed, sounding relieved. Sarah concealed her amusement.
Rachel sighed. Valerie isn't answering her voicemail, and now Debbie isn't picking up her cellphone. Maybe I NEED to go over there... Is that right, though? She wasn't sure she was 'friends' enough with Valerie to just drop by her house, unannounced. Maybe...
Talk to Terry, she realized as she snapped her fingers. "She can think like that," she said to herself as she got up from her desk. "No, wait, she's not home yet," she sighed as she sat back down. "Darnit."
"She asked me if I could help with their project," Tucker's mother smiled at Dan's mother.
"She majored in political science in college," Debbie lied, "so I think she'll be a BIG help." She'd already made a note to get Dan some help for government soon; it would look pretty odd if he got a 'D' with all the help he was supposedly getting tonight.
"Deborah," Sarah said quietly as they walked down the hall to Dan's room, "how did you know I was a poli-sci major?"
"You- Oh, Tuck mentioned it once," she claimed, but Sarah had caught her exclamation at the beginning, and knew that Deborah had either guessed, or completely lied.
"Oh, sweet!" Debbie exclaimed as she pulled the test print out of the tray.
"Groovy," Mrs. Tucker agreed with a grin.
"Yeah?" Dan asked.
They both assured him, "Oh yeah." "Definitely," added Mrs. Tucker.
Crap. They're working TOGETHER. Dan was glad they were on his- No, that's not it. I happen to be on their side. I think I'd better stay on their side too. The two of them together were like exponentially evil.
"So what was that all about?" Bill asked, as Sarah shut the kitchen door behind herself.
"Remember that poster Sunday?"
"Yeah?"
"Remember it was Debbie's idea originally, and I hijacked it from her as she was talking to Dan about it?"
Bill frowned. "No."
"Let's go upstairs, so I can change, and I'll tell you about it. How's Eu- the boys?" she corrected, remembering that Mike was also here.
"Mike's masked up and not complaining about it," Bill reported. "And last I saw, the two of them had taken their meds and gone to bed. It sounds kind of bad in there, but not really bad. Uh, their breathing," he clarified, as the two of them climbed the stairs.
Sarah motioned him to silence so she could hear for herself. It did sound uncomfortable, with the two of them alternating sick noises, but she had to agree that it wasn't too bad; she couldn't hear any whistling or wheezing yet, for instance.
It was the thought, If I don't do SOMETHING I am going to go CRAZY! that made Jody get up and turn on the light in her room. She stuffed some dirty clothes next to the door to keep anyone in the hallway from seeing the light, got some paper and a pen, and sat down at her little desk.
What do I say? she wondered, and then just decided to write, and edit it later. It wasn't like she had to worry about falling asleep, she thought bitterly.
"Dear Tucker..."
No, that's not right. She crumpled that one up, tossed it into the can, and started another one.
"Dear Eugene..."
He HATES that name, she remembered too late, remembering Shannon laughing at him asking the first day in the cosmetology class to use something different. Shit! 'Mr. Tucker'? No, that is STUPID, she snarled, scratching out 'Eugene' as she noticed it again. What does he... I guess I go by what he uses...
She wrote, "Dear Tuck," on a fresh page.
Debbie almost moaned out loud as she finally got her front door unlocked and stumbled inside. Today had been hard... and tomorrow was going to be harder. At least she's helping me now... And I don't have to worry quite so much about her going crazy and blaming ME for what happened to him.
Her own mom had gone to work already, leaving a little Post-It on Debbie's door, she noticed as she flipped the light on. "Love you too, Mom," she smiled at the note, before noticing her answering machine. "Oh God." It was blinking and it looked like the message counter was in the teens somewhere. "Call Mom first..." she told herself, "and then a shower after that." A cold shower would do wonders for her awareness without keeping her from going to sleep an hour or two later.
Jody had had to re-do the letter six times, and she'd wondered whether she should turn on her Dell and do it there. A vague sense that a handwritten letter would be more believable had kept her from doing that. And it HAD to be believable, more than anything else.
She re-read the seventh version, several times, until the words were blurring, and she couldn't think how she could make it any better. "I guess that'll have..." She couldn't even finish saying the phrase, before her mind forced an image of what would happen if it wasn't good enough.
"I have to get some sleep!" she half-whined to herself.
A memory of childhood made her get up and rummage through her closet in desperate silence until she found Abigail, the Cabbage Patch doll Mom had given her during the first divorce, when she was six. Jody pulled a quilt down from the top shelf, then nestled herself and Abby in the back, where it was darkest, and squeezed the doll tightly against her chest.
"I didn't want him to get beat up," she whispered to Abby; unlike everyone else in the world, Abby listened without arguing. "He scared me, and then... I wish it'd never happened..."
Sixteen... "This is, um, Rachel... I was calling, um, to find out, um, if Val- uh, I mean..."
Oh Christ, get to the point, Debbie snarled.
"Valerie," Rachel's voice continued, "if she's okay? I mean, she hasn't been here in a while, I think; or at least-"
"Fuck this," Debbie snarled, making a mental note to call her and tell her something, as she wiped the message and went to the next one. Seventeen...
"Debbie, it's Pam. You told me you wanted to hear about anything like violence... Well, Mike's Little, the dorky one?"
Debbie thought, They're all dorky.
Pam's voice continued, "He got his glasses broken in one of the halls today, maybe deliberately."
"What?!" Debbie exclaimed out loud, before reaching for the answering machine and rewinding it.
"-Got his glasses broken in one of the halls today, maybe deliberately. Nobody said anything, of course - no witnesses, but when does anyone see anything? - but Cory, Kathy's little, was with him, and she helped him get to the office where his mom picked him up. I don't know any more than that..." Pam sighed then, and said, "Well, it's not GOOD news, but you said you wanted to know. See you tomorrow? Bye."
"Just clean, in and out," George said, trying to sound calm. "It'll take a while, but just, don't worry about it, okay? We're not going to get much sleep tonight, but it shouldn't be that hard, right?"
Everybody nodded. Including him, he noticed.
"So, like roughly how long?" Jill asked.
"Three hours, maybe," Brian sighed. "It's tough, but doable. Just don't fall- Actually, I was thinking," he said to all of them. "You all know where the posters ought to go, and I don't; I'm used to night guard duty on camping trips. Why don't I guard and you all put the posters up?"
George was opening his mouth to tell Brian to shut up, when he remembered what Mike would have done; stopped and thought about it for a bit. He tried, then spent some more time doing it because he was still pissed off and wanted to tell Brian to shut the hell up.
"Kid's got a point," Dan said, which made Brian glare.
"I think it makes sense," Jill agreed. "I mean, I worked after school. I think I need to keep moving, if I don't want to go to sleep."
George gave in. "Alright, we'll do it that way." He forced himself to say, "Good idea, Brian." Brian just nodded.
"Hurts!" Tucker gasped.
"I know, mano," Mike said sorrowfully. "We gotta do it, though, or you'll ch-" Tuck cut him off with another spasm of coughing, doubling up at the waist and clenching his fists. Things flew out of his mouth, splattering on the porcelain. Mike tried not to look, but his throat itched suddenly like he'd just inhaled a feather and he dropped to his knees and just managed to avoid slamming his body into the bathtub as he yanked the surgical mask off his own face.
When he was finished, he waved away the oxy mask Tucker was offering. He wanted to tell Tuck he was okay, but he couldn't quite manage to get enough breath to talk at the moment.
"The fuck?" Jill felt around the radio until she remembered which switch was the microphone one. "Has anyone seen the other posters?" She remembered to let go.
The poster she was staring at had a version of the school logo on top - or so it seemed in the red light George had handed her before they got out of the van. She bent down and examined it, and the picture looked like a team of girls of some kind, and it said, "Together we can win!" at the bottom. Cheerleaders, she sneered as she recognized Shannon.
"What posters?" George asked over the radio.
Isn't he supposed to say 'over' if he's done? Jill wondered. Oops!
The sounds in the bathroom had woken Sarah and Bill up. They hadn't called for help, and Eugene hated it when he woke up the entire house, so they kept quiet and didn't do anything. Before the boys were done, Bill had gone back to sleep. Sarah couldn't.
He's home, she told herself. He's home, he's healing, he'll get better - especially since he's out of that hospital...
I've got to make sure that this doesn't happen again. She'd been through enough of this, over the years; it had been a strain on all of them, but especially her. Bill was good with the kids, especially Eugene, when they were sick - and she WAS grateful for that fact; some of the other kids had fathers who seemed to resent illness, as if the child had done it on purpose, to annoy them or interfere with prior plans. But, he was SO focused on whatever he was doing at that particular instant, that he wouldn't think about anything else. So she had to coordinate everything from groceries - she made a mental note to see what she could get tomorrow during her lunch - to laundry - Sabrina really helped tonight with that, she remembered - to paying the bills and scheduling appointments. She'd managed to train Bill to follow a list, and he'd come up with software that would allow her to adjust his list from wherever she was, but it still wasn't easy.
And that was just the 'normal' times, when Eugene was only sick. With what happened... and what she's planning... Sarah wasn't at all confident that Debbie could pull it off like she'd talked about... But if she can... This could provide a solution, of sorts, not just for Eugene but for Brian too, and maybe some of the other children she'd met, like that boy James.
Did his parents really name him after the Star Trek captain? she wondered, and found herself smiling.
They'd all gathered at Brian's lookout post to examine the single poster Jill had found, on the first floor near the east entrance, but when Dan saw it, he almost shouted out loud. "Oh shit," he whispered instead. "I can do one just li- ALMOST like this," he corrected.
"And put it up?" George asked.
"Before anyone gets here?" Jill asked.
He nodded. "I know what... and if I can get this- see, it was printed on a color printer too," he pointed with the flashlight. "If I can get the file they started with..."
"If it's a cheerleader poster, it'd be in the cheerleader's office, right?" Jill whispered. "Can you get in there?"
"We can get in anywhere," George claimed. "Dan, do you need to get the files here first, or-"
"I need the one here, but then I can do the rest..."
"Guys, wait," Brian said over his shoulder, still staring out the door towards the parking lot. "How, I mean, do you need to do this tonight? This makes tonight a lot more complicated."
George, Book, and Jill all looked at Dan. "Yes," he said firmly. "This is fucking PERFECT! I couldn't have done better if I'd been telling them what to do!"
"Shutup!" George hissed. "Okay..."
"Dan, go home," Brian suggested, "George and the rest, get into the office, modem him the files from the coach's office, then have him do a print run - and don't forget fingerprints - then come-"
"We can print it here, I think," George said.
"Do you know where the printer is, on the network, in relation to where that coach's office is? Or what computer she used?"
"Fuck!"
Brian had managed to convince them to help get him on the roof; at least now, the cooler air - it felt damned close to freezing, but that was mostly wind - would keep him more awake, and he could see and hear a lot better from up here than he could inside the building. If he'd had an extension cord, he could have plugged the radio in too, to save the batteries; on the other hand, he didn't have to worry about picking the cord up, either. 'Take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints', the urban version, he grinned to himself.
"Yes!" Dan hissed. They had found the original file - why a coach needed a computer, he had no idea, but she had one, and it was hooked up to the school net - and it had been waiting for him when he got home. The rest of the new poster had gone almost as fast as he'd thought it would. He only had time for about fifty copies, he guessed, but that ought to be en-
"No!" A second idea had appeared in his head. Twenty-five each... no, thirty...
Brian spotted the minivan as the lights went out, and he called on the radio, "Wake up wake up, looks like your pizza's here guys. East wing. Over." East meant west, just in case there were cops listening in tonight; he carefully moved to where he could watch the west side of the building for any activity.
"Wh-" Jill almost yelled and punched the black guy who had just woken her up, but she realized she wasn't at home, which led her to remember where she was, who she was with, and therefore who was waking her up.
Book whispered, "He's done, we can put them up now."
"'N go home an' nap," George rasped. "Ohg-" he choked, and fumbled in a pouch frantically before he found a bottle and swigged something out of it. "Fuckin' cough," he groaned. "Is he here?"
"West side, Brian said," Book said. "Probably the fire exit over there, by-"
"Less'go," George interrupted. Jill looked over at him, because he didn't sound right. "Come on," he said as he rolled over onto his hands and knees, then stood up.
"Oh, lordy lordy lordy," George sighed. They'd put up the second round of posters, and all of them were good, but he was too tired to feel good about it. And now I have to go RIGHT back there... Wonder if I could get Dobson to give me a sick note? The thought made him laugh out loud.
"Jill?" Kim asked as the other girl slowly got into the car. It almost looked like SHE'd been beaten up since the last time Kim saw her. "What happened to YOU?"
"I had a long night," was all she said. "You know we've got that cosmetology test tomorrow... how do you think-"
"Don't change the subject," Kim snapped.
"Fuck off, Kim," Jill said casually. "Come-"
"DAMNIT! What the hell is going ON?!"
Jill had turned in her seat when Kim exploded, and was just watching her; she felt stupid, and managed to get herself under control again. "Kim, nothing's going on... Oh, by the way; Tuck's home from the hospital, but Mike's sick."
"Where did you hear THAT?"
"I had to talk to Dan about something last night," she sighed as she turned back towards the window. "C'mon, we gotta go."
"Fuck," Kim snarled, but she started the car moving. Nobody fucking tells me ANYTHING!
"Mom, do I have to go today?" James asked, trying to sound adult about it. Which meant, he shouldn't sound as panicked as he felt.
"Oh, hey," Jill mentioned as they came into class. "I got Tuck a card last night? Could you give it to him?"
"No," Kim grumbled. "Give it to Mike, he'll-"
"He's not here today; he's out sick, remember?"
"Fuck!" She glared at Jill. "Give it to George and them at lunch, okay?"
"You know, I'm starting to wonder if maybe it's safer to stay home," Debbie said, sounding nervous. She'd gotten to school nearly half an hour early today, partially to do the homework she hadn't done the night before, and partially to talk to some people she'd had trouble finding at other times, Diane Ehrhart being one. "I mean-"
"Hey, is that another poster?" Diane mentioned, pointing at the crowd gathered around an otherwise indistinguishable part of an interior wall. "Oh man, those things are SICK!" This didn't seem to slow her down any, Debbie noticed, as Diane sped up towards the wall.
Debbie didn't, more interested in keeping her facial expression appropriate; so she still had a clear view of Naomi Levitz, normally one of the more friendly of the varsity cheerleaders, screaming in rage and punching one of the guys standing around the posters.
"Whoa whoa WHOA!" Debbie started yelling; it was too early for the violence to really start. Naomi was acting like she'd had enough, though; she looked like she was really attempting to do damage to everyone around her, not just her original victim.
Kelly had been standing at the edge of her apartment's parking lot in the cool fall weather - cooler than she liked, for what she was wearing - for what seemed like an hour before she saw a familiar face. But it wasn't Mike's junker of a car, and it wasn't Mike either. "Man, what is going ON?" she complained to herself as the minivan that Dan was sitting in, pulled over to the curb next to her.
James took a deep breath, and got on the bus. As he'd expected, there was a lot of jeering, but he sat up front next to the bus driver this time - Retard's Row - and while the insults hurt, they didn't hurt nearly as much as being punched, kicked, or tripped.
Matt stared at the printed-out poster. This one was mild, compared to the others he'd heard about (but not seen; they'd been covered up or removed before he could see them), but maybe worse for all that.
It showed something he remembered out of the school handbook, which he'd read a few times around the beginning of school, when he was bored out of his mind - the section on pep rallies. The parts about 'show support for your athletics teams' and 'attendance is mandatory and will be enforced by the usual penalties for skipping a class' had been subtly highlighted, or made bold, or something; they stood out just a little bit. The background image was faint, bleached out so you could read the words easily, but after staring at it for a minute, he realized it was a railroad station, with what looked like naked people - not that you could tell they were naked, really; it was just that they didn't have any light-or-dark variations like clothed people would - being herded through gates like cows, off the railroad cars.
Several more seconds of intense scrutiny found the identifier he was looking for - a Nazi flag hanging obliquely from the station's flagpole.
Schindler's List! Fuck!
He let out a low whistle when he saw that. The inference was obvious, now, but still subtle, very subtle, unless you stared at it like he'd been doing.
"What the..." Debbie mumbled. Dan had showed her a couple of posters the night before, but it looked like the cheerleaders were retaliating with posters of their own. Damnit, this is going to fuck things up if th-
"Is that- Wait, that's not the one I saw," Diane said, puzzled.
"What? There's MORE? Where?" Debbie demanded.
"They don't have Shabina in this one either," Diane added. "What the hell?"
Debbie turned around and looked closely, matching faces until she found the coach in the middle of the group. "Shabina's a cheerleader," Debbie said to Diane, feeling uncertain.
Kathy stared over other kids' heads at the poster.
It almost looked like a nicey-nice one, with all the cheerleaders gathered together in a clump, grinning... and below that it said, "Together we can win!"
But the only black cheerleader, Shabina, was missing, and in her apparent place in the group photo stood a grinning Nazi officer.
And in front of them was a bloody corpse... and a pair of shattered glasses.
"Kathy!" Debbie called from behind her. "Is..."
She turned, slowly, trying to shake it off. "Debbie..."
"What is it?"
Kathy shook herself a bit, and looked AT Debbie. Debbie looked half-angry and half-concerned, and there was no hint of her usual smug look when she was watching a plot of hers unfold. "Did... did you see this poster?" Kathy asked.
"No!" she snapped, with a glare at the crowd surrounding this one. "And I probably WON'T see it until lunchtime... what is it?"
Paul Dobson sat at his desk and idly noted that his hands were shaking. He'd thought the posters had stopped... hoped, really, but on Wednesday nothing had appeared, and... he'd hoped.
Today, there were several, including one apparently from the cheerleaders themselves... and that one was making people angry. Or so it seemed.
Why is she doing this?
"What?" Mike moaned. He wanted to die, or at least sleep.
Tuck hit the bedframe several times with something heavy and solid, scaring Mike most of the way into wakefulness. He pulled himself over the edge of the bed and watched Tuck sign,
"Or else what?" Mike croaked through the thick and crunchy morning goo in his mouth and throat and lungs and brain.
"GQ?"
"You're shitting me!"
The relatively steady bloodshot glare from the hammock said that Tuck thought Mike was being an idiot.
"Ohhhhh shiiiiitttttttt..." Even as he complained, however, he was trying to remember the easiest way to get out of the upper bunk.
It had been the other posters that had done it. Miranda had gotten in a bit early, and her day had been going well so far, until she got pulled into Dobson's office and he'd actually yelled at her - she hadn't thought him capable of yelling - about the posters that had appeared. When she'd protested that they were inoffensive, he'd pulled out the one that they'd done yesterday, and two that she KNEW they hadn't done. One of them had somehow erased Shabina, one of the best and most enthusiastic girls on her squad, from the group picture, and inserted a Nazi.
The other one was almost worse; Miranda herself had replaced Shabina in that one, and the kid on the ground was black, looking a lot like Shabina herself.
Shabina had been sent to the infirmary, too hysterical to stay at school, and her mother had been let into Dobson's office as soon as she arrived; now she was yelling at ALL of them.
Maybe I could go home, Miranda thought wildly. Shabina got permission to go home, and she isn't any worse than I am...
"James?" Kelly wasn't sure at first; he wasn't wearing a Star Trek ANYTHING that she could see, and his glasses were different. And they were way uglier, too.
"Yeah?" he asked nervously.
"I just..." She shook her head instead of finishing. "Come on, we gotta get to class." She couldn't contain herself very long, though, and blurted out, "What's with the glasses?"
As his face crumpled up, like he might cry or something, Kelly realized that she probably shouldn't have asked that. Or at least, not that WAY.
"One down, one to go," Sarah sighed as she hung up the phone. She'd had to look up the school's phone number, and she didn't appreciate being told her word wasn't any good and they'd have to fax something from the doctor's office (or get a written note hand- delivered) before Michael would be considered 'excused'.
Calling Dana's office line was something she could almost do in her sleep, though, and she continued to make notes as she waited for the voicemail to pick up. Another box of surgical masks, and two of gloves; with Michael here, we'll be running through them, unless Dana says he's safe unmasked around Eugene... or not; I don't need whatever he's got either.
"Hello, you've reached the-"
Sarah tapped in the override code to get into the appointment voicemail box. "This is Sarah Tucker calling for an appointment; Eugene Tucker is supposed to come in at ten o'clock this morning; Michael Johansson also needs to come in; he's got some kind of respiratory or throat thing too. Bill should be around his phone most of the day, and he'll be bringing them in, so if there's a problem, call him." She recited his number and hung up.
Pharmacy next... Eugene was going to need to renew almost all of his medications, including his inhalers, and she wanted to make sure they had them in their computer before Bill went over there. "One down, one to- Wait, I already did two."
"I mean," Debbie said to Monica Kutch as they moved towards class, "those posters are getting creepy."
"Jeez, tell me about it," Monica agreed. "You have any idea whose doing 'em?"
"If I knew, I'd tell the principal," Debbie lied. "I mean, this isn't just 'MCALLEN SUCKS' or something like that; someone's working on them. And WHY they're working on 'em..." She trailed off there, to encourage Monica to fill in the rest of the sentence herself.
Mike sighed as Tuck's dad put some Judas Priest on the car stereo and cranked it up. Vaguely cooler than my dad... but still annoying.
Tuck seemed to respond to the music, though; he was pulling himself up a bit and tracking the outside world better. <OK?> Mike flashed.
<F-U-C-K-E-M,> Tuck signed back, but he bared his teeth.
"Yah!" Mr. Tucker agreed as he pulled out.
Great... Middle-Class Metalheads... in a stationwagon...
"Why someone is making these posters?" Sally asked Pam as they all tried to make it to class before the bell rang. Pam wasn't sure, but it looked like they were all nervous, as was the rest of the school.
"I don't know," Pam said.
"It like... many student make the poster, in Korea," Sally said. "Before demonstration. To make angry people."
Sally was not very easy to understand, but her English was a LOT better than Pam's Korean. Or French, for that matter; but she still didn't understand what Sally was talking about. "Demonstration?" Pam asked. "Like..."
"Many student in street, angry. Police make line... keep student from going capitol building. Throw- student throw rocks, thing, police, um, police throw water at student-"
"A riot? Do you think someone's trying to start a riot? Here?!" Pam asked, but Sally just shrugged, looking discomfited. Valerie Faciszewski looked worse, as if she was trying to hide inside her jacket. "Well..." She had no idea what to do in a real riot, like the LA ones several years ago.
"Maybe, um, maybe Tuck would know?" Valerie suggested. "Or his friends?"
"Mike might..." Pam nodded. "If anyone would, he would. We can ask him at lunch, okay?" Both other girls nodded at her, looking a little relieved.
"Clear on the left! Clear on the right! Clear down the middle! Go!" Mike flinched but Tuck didn't fire. In fact, he hadn't even moved.
Mr. Tucker's "Shoot!" and the explosion from Tuck's pistol were almost simultaneous.
Mike didn't need to hear Tuck's father droning, "Do not shoot until you have a valid target," so he made himself not hear it. I got it, I got it, he sighed to himself.
Kelly waved at James, who was looking really paranoid, not that she could blame him. They met halfway in the hall, and turned towards their next class.
"Hey, uh, did you tell Mike an' them about what happened?" Kelly asked.
"Huh?"
"'Cause, like, they're trying to keep us safe, right? Maybe they know something you could do, or... Anyway..." She trailed off because she couldn't think of anything they could possibly do for James at this point. "You should tell 'em."
"It's not that big a deal, I mean-"
"It IS that big a deal!" Kelly insisted. "Look, Tuck told me at the beginning of the year, she said that if they start doing this stuff now, they'll do worse later. An' look what happened to him."
"Shoot!" Mike had been imagining the cheerleaders with his eyes closed, and when he opened it he could almost see them slightly on the paper. One-two three-four five-six seven-eight- the slide locked back like he'd known it would, so he ducked down and moved as he ejected the empty and slammed in a full clip, before standing up in a different stall, leaning against the wood. One-two three- Three was a jam; he cleared that as he moved again, and put three into that bitch's head, to keep the count regular. "Seven-eight-clip!"
A quick double-slap on his shoulder made him spin away and down, just before Tucker opened up with the shotgun and took out the other three targets in quick loud succession.
"Cease fire cease fire!" Mr. Tucker intoned over the radio. "Good work, the both of you... except, Eugene, we're not supposed to be using the shotgun on the pistol range; it eats the cardboard up." Mike looked at Tuck in time to watch Tuck make a gesture indicating something to do with his rear end. "Better idea; you're going to replace the cardboard when we're done today," he ordered calmly.
Tuck signed at Mike, <D-R-Y-W-A-L-L at home query?>
"He wants to know if WE have to replace the drywall at the house if we have to shoot something," Mike translated.
"Firearms practice with live ammo in the house is forbidden, kids," Mr. Tucker replied. "If it's hot... don't worry about it. We'll replace everything after the forensics get through."
"Hey Kim?" Kim looked around and it was Julia, Tuck's friend from drama. She was waving something. "Hey, I heard you got a card for Va- er, well... Anyway, I was wondering if you could-"
"Give it to her? NO! Give it to the geeks, they can get it to him," she pointed. "I haven't seen h-him yet."
"Is- Is he-"
"I don't know! I don't fucking know ANYTHING!" Kim snapped.
"So what's wrong with you?" Dana asked Michael, smiling. The fact that he grimaced and didn't say anything told her almost as much as Bill's recitation of symptoms and signs.
"Hey Janet," Cory said, feeling relieved.
"Had to go," Janet thumbed towards the bathrooms. "Did you see those posters this morning?"
"Yeah, I-"
"I almost was late to homeroom, trying to read all of them. Man-"
"'All of them'? How many are there? I only saw one."
"There's five or six different ones," Janet said, with a grimace. "Nasty, too. Worse than that one on Monday."
"Oh no..." Monday's poster had been the one with the rape victim on it. "Worse?"
Mike gagged but she had the swab out of his mouth before he could choke more than once. "That really looks like strep in there, but we might as well be sure," she said as she dipped the swab into a test tube. "Meanwhile, antibiotics for you and Eugene, masks, wash everything you touch, wash your hands every chance you get, keep your eating utensils separate from everyone else's."
"Standard infectious isolation stuff?" Mr. Tucker asked as he typed into his laptop.
Doc Treble nodded. "That's it. Make sure they do it, or you'll get it too; I'm betting it's one of those resistant strains at that damned hospital, too. Are you two staying together?" Mike nodded, still feeling feathery in his throat. "Okay," she sighed, and looked at Eugene. "You next," she said, and Tucker started to whine through his mask.
Jody felt increasingly ill, and the thought of eating lunch was so disgusting she didn't even go to the cafeteria; she just got her books for her afternoon classes out of her locker, then went to the restroom nearest her next class, and sat in one of the stalls.
And wondered what to do with the letter she'd written last night.
Kelly rehearsed it in her mind until she was sure she had it, so when class was over, she made sure to get close to Ashlee as they made their way out of the computer room, and stared at her until she turned around to look. "Be seein' ya," she smiled, and did that Prisoner salute at her before walking off towards Sabrina and Amanda.
During the change between the 'A' and 'B' lunch crowds, Jody had spotted Kim Chassell, whom she knew from when Kim's sister Linda had been a cheerleader the year before. They didn't get along, but she wasn't that bad... And Shannon said Kim had that class with him in the mornings.
"Um, hey, Kim," Jody said hesitantly, and Kim and the other girl she was with turned around. Kim's face immediately lost all expression, and Jody's stomach lurched, but she managed to grab the envelope and pull it out. "Um, I wanted, um, to know, if you could give this to, uh, to Tucker?"
Kim stared in shock at the envelope for a second, then snarled, "I am NOT her goddamned POSTMAN!" and stomped away rapidly.
"Be seein' ya," her dyke friend smiled at her, putting her hand up to her forehead in some kind of weird salute.
"Kim, you really-"
"I know, I fucked it up," she snapped at Jill. "I'm fucking SORRY. Maybe YOU can tell Tuck an' them that."
"What got up your ass?" Jill snapped back.
"Nothing I can tell you about!" Kim shot off, and turned to get away from her. Goddamnit!
"Aw, hell," George said, looking at the ceiling, and James felt stupid again. "Why didn't you tell us?" he complained when he looked back down.
"What? What were you gonna do?" James challenged.
"I don't know, but there's almost nothing we can do now about it. And you need- ALL of you," he told the gamers, "need to tell us about stuff like this, if anyone attacks you. We can only survive here if we stick together, mutually support each other. That means not hiding information like that, okay James?" he glared.
"George?" They all looked around, and it was the skinny older girl Pam, waving her hand gently towards George as she walked over, bringing two other girls with her. James was sort of glad for the interruption. "Som- Sally thinks that the posters might be someone leading up to a riot or something? And-"
"A riot?" Dan asked.
Pam looked at the Asian girl, Sally. What a weird name for an asian, he thought, like he had before. It ought to be something exotic like Ling Soo or something.
"In Korea," Sally said carefully, and a little quietly, "some times is student demonstration. Riot. All times, these student make poster first, put on wall. Before riot."
Pam said, "We wanted to know what to do if there was a riot here, and we figured Tuck would know... or Mike..."
"Ah," George said, looking at the other older guys. "Ummm... Mike's better at this than we are," he admitted. "I think... just get out of it. Right angles to it."
"What?"
Dan stood up and explained, "Like, if there's a line of rioters," as he demonstrated with a couple of books and the pebbles they used instead of figures for gaming, "and a line of cops or whatever, get away from the lines in a right angle." He fingered the pebbles off sideways. George looked at the girls, and it looked like they'd gotten the idea.
"Stay down, watch both sides, DON'T argue with cops, protect your heads..." George recited. "Man, lemme get back to you, okay? I don't know either, really."
"Where's Mike?" Pam asked.
Dan answered, "He's out sick."
"Like Tuck?" Kelly gasped, and James felt his stomach twist.
"If they had the entire police department in here," Debbie replied scornfully, "they'd still miss things. You can't just pack cops in and make the shit stop." Plus, that was exactly what she was trying to forestall.
"Well what else?" Courtney complained. "I mean, those posters are starting to get REALLY weird. I don't..." She didn't finish, but looked around the lunchroom, like she was trying to find the threat she knew was in the room somewhere.
"I don't know," Debbie said sorrowfully. "I mean, we HAVE to go, to come here; it's legally required. But..."
"Well why do I have to come here if I'm going to get..." Again she stopped speaking before she finished, and looked nervously around.
"Maybe you could talk to your parents about transferring you to another school; I heard they can do that sometimes," Debbie suggested.
"They can do that?" Courtney asked as she turned back to Debbie. Debbie guessed that she was trying not to look like she'd gotten a pardon or early parole.
"Sometimes, I think," Debbie said, trying to sound just a little hopeful. Courtney really needed to mention the idea of switching schools to her parents soon.
"How are they getting in here to put those posters up?" Arlene Raleigh complained. She'd come back with him, after his very unwelcome lunch meeting with parts of the school board. Parents had begun calling.
"I have no idea," Paul answered truthfully. "I'd like to call and request police patrols of the grounds at night from now on..." However the posters were appearing - and he had a fair idea of Who, if not quite How - this would probably interfere with them, but he had to appear to be doing something to stop them, or he would be removed immediately, a situation which would do no one any good at all.
"You know, I mean," Debbie said, "I don't know what makes THEM so special. I mean, I don't play athletics, you don't either... and when was the last time you heard about the cheerleaders doing anything for one of the girls' teams anyway? So how come we all have to go to these pep rally things for something we don't even like? Having to come here is bad enough," she said, knowing that Christine would agree with her.
James came out of biology and saw Cory making her way quickly towards him. "Oh," she said when she caught up with him, and she just stopped. "Oh shit," she sighed.
"It's not your fault," he mumbled at her as he started walking.
"Hey, wait," she said, and he stopped, but he didn't look at her. He wished that none of this had ever happened. Bad enough my glasses got broke... And they had actually been GOOD glasses, for once... But now I got this good looking girl and she feels sorry for me, 'cause I'm a pathetic wimp an' can't even take care of myself.
"Look," Cory sighed, still feeling bad about yesterday. "I'm really sorry about what happened..."
"It's okay," he lied, not looking at her.
"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"What?" Well, at least he's looking at me now... "You don't have to do anything, I mean, it wasn't you that did it." That apparently exhausted his energy, because his eyes dropped back to the floor.
Jody just made it into the gym by eighth period, just in time for the non-practice they were having lately. If this is all we're going to do... I wish I could just go home... Except home hadn't been any better than school lately.
The arguments were getting worse, too. Everybody was upset and nervous, getting frantic, about the police stuff they had to go through; Jody had by some miracle missed the shit that happened at Ashlee's house, but she was one of only three on the squad. And they had ALL been arrested for what happened to Tucker...
"Hey, you're actually going to practice today?" John Gilliam (Brian had tried to get him nicknamed 'Terry' but it hadn't caught on) asked as Brian hoisted his soccer bag to his shoulder.
"Yeah... the dork's in the house, and plugged into the life support modules, so Dad and Mom can monitor him that way," Brian answered.
"What the hell happened to him?"
"Man I dunno," Brian said, thinking about what he'd decided he'd say if someone asked him something like this. "There's some weird shit going on at McAllen; a lot of people are getting attacked and stuff. He's just the worst. Dad thinks it might be a coverup, though, 'cause they, the guys who did it, they stole the laptop he got."
"I heard," interjected Keith Tessier, "from my sister that he was like wearing one of their cheerleader uniforms when they-"
"Oh yeah," Brian interrupted rapidly. "They put him in it after they beat him an' robbed him. The perps confessed," he stressed, "that they'd done that, after they got arrested." Brian wasn't actually sure about that, though he thought he'd heard something like that.
John gaped, "Fer real?"
"Fuck, I'd like die before I let someone shove me in a locker room in my sister's clothes," Keith asserted.
"You probably look better in 'em than she does," Brian sneered, which got him a set of return insults that had nothing to do with his problematic brother.
Cory was late, and Kathy was fuming, but when she finally showed up it was even worse, because she was dragging one of Tuck's junior crew with her, the Star Trek geek. "Kathy," Cory asked.
Shit. "Look," Kathy told them, "I want to help, I'm willing to help, but I have to be at work at four, in a uniform. I have to get MYSELF home, showered, and changed, and I need to hurry-"
"You can drop him off at the same place you do me," Cory snapped. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"
"Because I have- Oh, hell with it," she sighed. "Let's go," she said as she turned to her car and started unlocking doors. Damnit, Debbie would've figured out a way to get paid for this... Why can't I? But it seemed like such a small favor - to begin with anyway - and she didn't feel right demanding cash for just a short ride.
I guess the difference is, I have ethics and she doesn't. That wasn't true either, and she knew it, but even just thinking it made her feel a little better.
"Kathy's taking James home," George said as he climbed into the minivan behind Dan's mother, who ignored them as she chatted into a cellphone. "So he's okay."
"Cool," Dan said, looking in the mirrors. "Hey, think we could charge money for taxi service?"
"Yeah, you talk to their parents about it," George commented, then coughed. It wasn't his usual coughing either. "Ohhh, man, now I've got it," he groaned.
"So, I mean," Debbie said to Honor, "a lot of people have been saying stuff like 'Why do we even have to go to these things?' It's not like it's OUR school spirit or anything. It's just for the jocks to get to show off, and mostly football at that. And you know, I was kind of thinking about it, and I thought, what about band?" she asked. "Don't you guys compete in marching and stuff? Why not show that on a Friday sometime?" Honor was nodding a lot. "I mean, you guys work hard, but it's like nobody cares about BAND, you know, it's all just 'band geeks' and stuff. If it isn't football or basketball or baseball, forget it, you know?" Honor kept nodding enthusiastically. "So like if almost NONE of us get to play, and most of us aren't even interested, why do we have to go? What about something like a band concert or something on a Friday instead of one of these stupid pep rallies?"
Cory was saying to James, "Hey, so, uh, see you-" when she noticed some guys coming up the street. Large, and she thought at least one of them was wearing a letter jacket from McAllen.
Fuck.
"Where's your house?" she asked instead.
"Huh?" She looked at him, and he was looking at the guys too.
"I don't want to start my homework yet," she said, which was vaguely true. "Where's your house?"
"Look, I can take care of myself," he said angrily as he started to walk off, but his legs stuttered as he apparently saw the same guys she had.
"I bet that's what Tucker said," she told him, which made him stop. That was kind of mean... On the other hand, he was still in the hospital, she thought, because he'd been caught alone. "Want to show me your place?" she asked, instead of saying what they were both thinking out loud.
He turned to look at her, and he really looked upset.
"Look," she said quietly, "I can just go into my house and lock the door. You... you're not anywhere around your house."
"Well how about letting me come in yours?" he countered.
"'Cause I'm not supposed- I PROMISED I wouldn't let boys come in with me after school when no one was home," she admitted. Half-smiling, she added, "And you definitely qualify."
He almost smiled at that for a few seconds. "Well..."
She glanced at the cluster of guys; they weren't moving at all.
"Um. Come inside," she decided, "and I can call my mom and ask. This isn't the usual sort of thing... maybe she'll let you stay. When do your parents get home?" she asked as she turned towards her front door.
Debbie had just been about to start her car when her cellphone started ringing. Damnit, I just turned it back on thirty seconds ago! "D&E Personal Services this is Debbie?"
"Deborah..." Uh oh. "This is Principal Dobson. I've just got a moment, but I wanted to tell you, I had to take some action to prevent those posters from going up-"
"You-"
"-Or the school board was going to do something," he overrode her. "So I thought I'd let you know, as soon as possible, since you've been so concerned about them."
She idly noticed that he actually sounded completely sincere about it, but her mind was mostly racing elsewhere. "Uh, okay, thanks..."
"I have to go; the school board- Mrs. Raleigh, I believe I mentioned her before? She's here, and we're dicussing what to do."
Oh shit. That bitch... "Alright, well, remember what we talked about," she dared.
"Oh I will," he said solemnly. "I think it's helping. We're asking the police to make regular patrols and check the doors, to make sure that they're locked. Probably hourly or so. That's about the best we can do at the moment, but we," he stressed 'we' a bit, "think it should be enough. Anyway, I do have to go, but I thought I'd call. Goodbye," he said, sounding slightly rushed at the end.
It's helping?
Oh shit, she remembered, now I gotta warn Mike and them. Can they even do anything if there's regular patrols? She dialed Dan's bedroom line, and waited impatiently until the fourth ring; his answering machine picked up, and she hung up without leaving a message. "Damnit!" She had a consult in twenty minutes, too. "DAMNIT!"
It had taken nearly twenty minutes to get Tucker coughed out and then installed and rewired into the basement hammock chair, just like the setup in his bedroom. The only problems were first, it was a pain in the ass when he had to go to the bathroom, and second, he looked like he was pupating.
"Hey, kids?" Mr. Tucker interrupted. "I've got to go run a couple of errands. Are you going to be okay if I leave you here?"
"Arghk," Mike said accidentally, then cleared his throat; that hurt. A lot. He nodded instead, like Tuck had done already.
"You sure?" Mr. Tucker confirmed.
Tucker raised a finger, then signed, <Sleep.> Mike found himself nodding; that seemed like a very good idea.
"Coach?" Jody asked after everyone had left. 'Practice' had been even worse than the day before, with the arguments and everything, so she'd waited until the end before saying anything.
"What is it, Jody?" Coach Walls replied with a small smile. She looked nearly half as bad as Jody had been feeling.
"Um..." She still felt sick, and wondered idly if she could catch bulemia. "I need some help with something." She took a deep breath, then started to explain.
George took a breath, then said, "James got hit yesterday, some-"
"What?" Mike choked before choking for a while.
George plugged his ears as quick as he could, but didn't manage to avoid coughing in synch with Mike. "Jeezus you guys are gross!" Dan complained, his fingers in his ears too.
George stopped first, though, which was a bad sign. "Mike?" He was making little animal noises of pain. Tuck stirred in his cocoon; he was wired up six ways to Sunday and hanging in the basement hammock, like he usually was when he was sick, but apparently the drugs were keeping him asleep or something, because he didn't wake up.
"They said he had strep throat," Dan reminded George. "Sore throat from hell, you know?"
Mike nodded, then looked up and started signing slowly,
"Tell about- Oh." George shook his head. "He got hit in a hallway between classes; I don't know what happened, but he said Cory was with him most of the time, she just stopped to talk with someone, the stupid bitch..." He thought she was a hot chick, but like most hot chicks she didn't have much of a brain. "And he got hit, and lost his glasses. They fell off, and before he could recover 'em someone stepped on them. He can't tell if it was deliberate or not. James said his parents are PISSED, and they want to talk to Tuck's parents," he mentioned. "I dunno why. I gave 'em the house number, not Tuck's."
After panting for a while, Mike rasped, "Are they gonna call?"
"I told James they'd better call first; I didn't say why." He'd called from Dan's house before they came over; anyone who didn't would be treated badly. He hadn't missed the paper silhouette target that was taped to Tucker's door either; it had three larger holes in the head and a whole lot of smaller holes centered around the chest.
They were all crowded around and Tuck couldn't see anyone, except he was getting bumped and jostled like he was in a Tokyo subway. "Hey!" he complained, and started pushing back, and just at the point that he realized he was actually being pushed in a direction, the crowd in front of him opened up, and it was some jocks and the cheerleaders smiling nastily at him as they worked his friends over. Ashlee and Shannon and a couple of others smiled at him and Ashlee said, "We've been waiting for you, you little freak," and hands grabbed him as Mike screamed in terror - Tuck couldn't make a sound - but they caught his arms and hoisted him off the floor dangling him in the air and Ashlee's knife cut deep into his chest and as he looked down in unbelieving terror, her hand rooted around, sounding like she was playing with stuffing a whole chicken except it felt WEIRD, and when he looked back up at her she looked frustrated before she slashed at his chest with the knife again, and he could feel it cutting his flesh apart and chipping into a rib but it didn't hurt and she dropped the knife and complained, "I can't find it! The little faggot's HIDDEN it!"
He looked down, into his own body through the gaping hole Ashlee had cut into him, and noticed his lungs were still there, but his heart was gone.
"Wha-"
He glanced up in confusion, and Mike, almost obscured by Ashlee and the others, lifted his head up just long enough to grin at him.
You sly DOG! Tucker smiled, then laughed happily before kicking to his left and then moving right, getting a bloody mouthful of whoever had been holding him on that side and as they dropped him he dropped too, but he grabbed the knife Ashlee had discarded and came up and the look on her face was so funny he was laughing HARD as he reached out for her hair with one hand and slit her throat with the other. Which gave him enough room to really dance.
"Night after night going round and round my brain his dream is driving me insane. In the corner of some foreign field the gunner sleeps tonight. What's done is done. We cannot just write off his final scene. Take heed of his dream. Take heed." - The Gunner's Dream, Pink Floyd "The Final Cut"
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- @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig +
-=[1990]=- / virus 12.2 + http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +
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