The Saga of Tuck

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Free Four -*- Copyright 2006 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.

Free Four

"I thought she'd be up," Jill said to herself as she waited to see if anyone would answer Kelly's door. She HAD asked yesterday, and Kelly had said yes...

The door finally opened, and a bleary-eyed Kelly stared at her.

After a time in which nothing happened, Jill mentioned, "Breakfast?"

"Uhuh," she said dully, and came out, carrying her backpack.

"You look like Kim," Jill mentioned as Kelly turned and locked the door. Kim had actually been more awake, which was good since she was driving.

"Uhuh."

Sounds like her too... maybe this was a mistake... She's usually more awake than this. "Was everything okay last night?"

"Huh?" She looked up, finally.

"Like with your dad and his girlfriend?"

"Uh." Kelly ran her fingers through her hair. "Yeah. Just had trouble sleeping..."

When she didn't say anything else, Jill said gently, "Well, come on, we'll get some coffee and breakfast into ya."

"More calls, more calls... damnit," Debbie sighed. NEXT weekend, she assured herself, I am taking it off. Except she might do some makeup sales; those were almost goofing off.

Damn Jody anyway... She'd spent too much of yesterday talking Jody down, into a state where she might survive the week. She didn't exactly regret doing it, but she would have preferred spending the time doing what she'd planned.

AND I need to call Mrs. Tucker. Againnnnn, she groaned. She stuck her face toward the shower head and rubbed the hot water in.

"Yeah, I mean, I miss them..." Kelly looked around the restaurant, uselessly, because she knew that Mike and Tuck, or Valerie, weren't going to show up today.

"I dunno," Kathy sighed. She was glad she hadn't gone to the game the night before; she'd actually gone to bed early, and felt awake and decent today. She wasn't eager to wear herself out again, though.

"I know," Debbie agreed. "I'm really tired too. It's just this weekend, though, I mean next weekend I'm gonna take a vacation."

Yeah sure, Kathy thought.

"So, I mean, I really need your help today," Debbie pleaded.

"Alright... I have to help with newspapers tomorrow morning, though, so I've gotta get home in time to sleep." This was the real bitch of taking that class; you had to help set them up whenever the paper came out, to put them by all the doors.

"Yeah, I've been making calls," Sarah told Deborah. She also had to get dressed to do some showings today, and she wasn't looking forward to that either. "Ready for a list?"

"Um, yeah, go ahead," Deborah agreed.

<Are we doing G-A-M-I-N-G today?> Tucker asked Mike, out of the blue.

"Uh. I dunno..." He hadn't thought about it. "You're not cooking today, right?" Tuck nodded. "You are?" Mike confirmed, surprised

He was disappointed when Tuck unambiguously signed, <No.>

"Bummer." Tucker flicked a finger at him, which Mike ignored.

Sarah looked into Eugene's room and asked, "Eugene? Michael? I'm going to do a few showings, as soon as I get ready; can I do anything, get you anything?"

"Think I wanna go home," Michael sighed. "It's too hot in here, and if I don't need to be in here, I can be home." It was rather warm and wet in Eugene's room; it helped his breathing, and so they kept a warming humidifier going constantly when he was sick. "Can I shower?"

"If you do it now," Sarah said. She'd already showered, and she didn't think that Bill would be needing one soon.

"Yeahthanks," he sighed as he hauled himself upright.

<Mom,> Eugene signed, which caught her attention. <Stay with me?>

"Oh, sure, baby," she smiled. "I do have to go to those showings in an hour, though," she added regretfully. He just nodded tiredly as he started to disentangle himself from the hammock.

"You doing anything later today?" Kim asked Kelly, after the server had cleared their long-empty plates away.

"I dunno..." Kelly looked around again. She'd been doing that a lot this morning. "I think my dad wants me to stay close to home. And I'm, I mean, I'm still getting phone calls... I'm supposed to trade answering machine cassettes with Tuck sometime today. His, uh, Rachel?" Kim nodded, and kept nodding as Kelly started to explain, "She's calling... Oh, okay. So, I think... I don't know," she sighed.

"Is ev- I mean, are you having any problems at home?" Kim asked.

"Giving you shit?" Jill interjected.

She shook her head. "Naw... just... It's kind of tense, I mean, I don't know what to say to them, they don't know what to say to me... We're getting all those calls, too; they haven't stopped, so that's kind of adding to it."

"How many prank calls?"

"Not that many, I think... I mean, I didn't think of it until it was too late, but after I thought of it I thought I'd be getting them like all the time, you know?" Kim nodded; she'd called one girl a few hundred times, one night.

<Sleepy,> Eugene signed to Sarah.

"Well, I won't keep you up any more," she said as she tried to make herself pull herself away from her son. "I need to get going anyway."

<Thanks,> he smiled vaguely at her, and she couldn't help smiling back. He was growing up, so fast it seemed, and yet every once in a while he would 'revert' to the sweet, needy yet loving child he'd been.

"Hi, Mims? It's Debbie," Debbie said. She'd been horribly worried that losing so much of yesterday would have cost her all the momentum she'd built up, but the band seemed to be agitating along the lines she'd wanted but wasn't sure they'd actually do. So she hadn't lost much, if anything. "Did you talk to your parents? I wondered how that was going..."

Dad said, "Tuck, you're excused from chores until Doc Treble says it's okay. She said she'd come by and check you out Monday night."

He nodded as he thought, Shit. While he didn't relish the thought of doing chores, he needed money to pay Brian off, plus some of the things Dad had gotten at the cop shop, and the new laptop case...

I can do babysitting tomorrow, though, he realized. If Ricky's okay... He'll be okay, he told himself.

George dialed Tuck's number and tapped his way through the voicemail system, to try and get Mike. "Elvis has left the building," said the message.

Huh, he went home finally, George thought as he hung up. Guess he's better too. George was almost feeling humanoid this morning. But probably at church... damn. Call Dan, he decided, and picked up the phone again.

Wonder what George wanted? Tucker wondered, after changing the monitor switch to Arrakis. Well, if he wanted something, he'd have left a message, and he didn't. He shrugged mentally to himself and went back to his calculus homework. There was a lot, though it wasn't that hard.

"Kelly? It's Debbie, please call me back..." As she recited her cellphone number, she wondered how many calls Kelly had gotten in the last 48 hours. At least a dozen, I bet...

"Yeah, I know, I was, I mean, I was just too sick," Jody claimed. They still had to go to games, even though they weren't allowed to cheer until the suspension was lifted; she hadn't been able to bear the thought, even after she'd talked with Debbie Carstairs.

"You've been acting weird all week," Jordan accused her, and Carol nodded, scowling.

Jody had known this was going to happen just like this, but Debbie had warned her yesterday. Actually, she hadn't wanted to believe it; but Debbie had reminded her. "Well, Jordan, everything ELSE has been weird this week, what with jail and everything." Jody managed to keep the smirk off her face as Jordan got all pissy and defensive, but it was hard.

"Hello?"

"Debbie? It's, uh, Kelly? Mike said I should call you back..."

"Yeah, I thought I could talk with you about what to do at school tomorrow... I've got some experience being a subject of gossip and attention," Debbie explained.

"Yeah," Dan said, "she took something else... uh, insecure line."

"We need to go over there again," George sighed. "And Mike's gone home."

"His house?"

"Yeah, probably."

"Probably?"

"Kim? It's Mike," he said, glad he'd spent a full minute clearing his throat before he even picked up the phone.

"Oh, Mike, uh, hey..." She sounded sort of odd.

"Oh, you did? That's a good idea," Debbie explained.

"Well, she sort of volunteered," Sabrina said.

"That's cool... How's Kelly doing? Have you-"

"Yeah, we all ended up outside her dad's apartment yesterday..."

"Really?" Bridgette could barely believe it.

"Yeah," Pam said, sounding sort of sad about it. "I mean, it's not definite; I want to see how things are, because, you know, it's such a big step, but-"

"I mean, like, you'd just drop out?"

"Home schooling isn't dropping out," Pam argued. "It's NOT the same thing at all. I can still get into college and stuff..."

Bridgette could only manage to utter, "God..." after quite a bit of silence; she couldn't think of anything else. The idea of just DROPPING OUT...

"And it's a lot better than, you know, being attacked or something," Pam added firmly. "And look what happened to the band hall, I mean, that could happen to something else, you know?"

"Oh God," Bridgette moaned.

"That's sort of what my parents said, you know? I mean, they got worried when they heard about what'd happened..."

MY parents would go INSANE, she realized.

"Okay, and here's her home number, if you want to give it to someone," Pam added, and rattled off Bridgette's number. She didn't want to know anything about what was going to happen after this; besides, she had two more people to call. "They've only got the one; Bridgette doesn't have a separate line or anything."

"Okay, thanks a zillion," Debbie said gratefully. "This is really helping, Pam."

"Well, uh, good..." Pam wasn't sure how she felt about what she was doing, but it wasn't unreservedly good. But this stuff at school has gone on long enough, it really has, she reminded herself.

"Yeah, sure..." Mike agreed, thinking. I ought to call Debbie too, damnit; she's doing half of this, or more. He shook his head; this wasn't going to be fun. And, he realized, he'd better tell the guys about it ahead of time.

"No, Mister Dobson," Debbie sighed. It was so simple, she didn't understand why he wasn't getting it. "You've got extra phone lines going into the school; I know you do. All you need to do is put an answering machine on one line, and then give out the number, so-"

He objected again, but it was sort of weak; Debbie estimated that she'd only have to do it a few more times before he submitted, and then she could raise the next issue.

"Tuck? You alive?" Brian asked, opening the door and looking in his room.

His brother was asleep on the bed, oddly enough, though he was propped upright with his old foam wedge and wired in.

"Cool," Brian said to himself as he quietly shut the door, then went to go tell Dad that he was alive and beeping and in the bed instead of the hammock. He wouldn't do that if he wasn't feeling better. "Maybe we can get back to frickin' normal around here," he said to himself as he went back down the stairs. "Except the money." Tuck and Mike owed him a chunk of money, and he was cleaning up on cleaning up today too. "Heheheheh."

"Yeah, I mean, they got us each one, me and Tuck and Brian," Mike said. "Don't fuck with it, okay?" he complained as he snatched it back.

"What's the number?"

Mike sighed. "You know it costs me money just to get the number dialed? And you know what an asshole they can be about money..." He wasn't sure if the first were true, but the second was, and he didn't want George or anyone calling him every time they got bored.

"Dork!" Brian gasped as he recoiled and tried a riposte.

"But how did it do?" Bill pressed as he backed off.

His son showed him a finger which displayed his annoyance, and he ignored it. "S'okay, it just surprised me," Brian breathed, and as he stood up he outlined with a finger where it had hurt. "Here, in a circle kinda."

Bill looked at the reprints of the X-rays of his son's ribs, and counted around. "I think that's avoided the area, see?" he said to Brian as he pointed with his own finger on the reprint. Brian nodded as he recovered.

"So, you're going to be there tomorrow, right?" Debbie confirmed as the rest of them started leaving.

Mike nodded, then slipped her a small piece of index card. She didn't look at it, but stuck it in her purse for later. Probably has his cellphone number on it, she guessed; it would really come in handy for what she expected in the next couple days. He already had hers, of course. "Oh, hey," she remembered. "Do you have any, uh, books by Roger Heinlein?"

"Rog- Robert Heinlein?"

"Yeah, that's it," she nodded.

"Why?" he asked, obviously confused.

"Tuck, Debbie needs to rent another computer; something that can record voicemail AND Caller ID numbers; can you do it?" Mike said.

Tucker pressed one on a keypad somewhere.

"One, yes. I'll come over and get it... do you need help building it or anything?"

Tucker pressed zero.

"Zero, no. You've already got it assembled?"

There was a pause, then Tucker pressed one.

"One, yes. So all we need to do is unplug it, take a few extra pieces, and that's it?" Tucker and his dad had built Caller ID reader modules, a few summers ago... Mike shook his head as Tucker pressed one.

"One, yes. Have you started on your homework yet? There's a lot..."

"Well, Tucker's parents got her a cellphone, I mean, just for- just in case. And she can call 911 too, if it's not at school or something," Kelly said. "And they're setting up a support number at school, in case anyone has problems."

"I hadn't heard anything about this," Dad said warily.

"Dad, it's new," Kelly sighed. Mike had assured her that if Debbie said she was going to set it up, she would. "It's part of what they're doing to try and deal with what's going on at school."

"I don't know why you had to do it now," he groused, "with all the confusion going on there now..."

Kelly didn't know why she'd done it right then either, but she'd already said that, and it hadn't stopped Dad from complaining yet. But, sometimes he had to say things a few times before he could accept them, or something.

Mike looked over and made sure the door was shut. "Debbie's. She needs this for messages, and we need someone to screen 'em tomorrow or the next day. Tuesday," he recalculated. "Can you do that?"

<Computer tomorrow. Screen later. What's she doing?> Tucker asked.

"Conspiracy," Mike said, and ignored Tucker's anger. "Look, I don't know myself; you'll find out tomorrow anyway; she just needs to hide it a day or so longer."

<Are you sure this is a good idea?>

Mike sighed. "I think she knows what she's doing, and your mom is helping her."

"Yeah, Tuck," Mike said, ignoring the rest of the signing, "but if she's doing it and Debbie's doing it, then do you think that A, you'll have a chance to stop it, and B, that it's entirely Debbie doing shit just to mess with people's heads? There's a plan going on, I know it. I just don't know what the plan IS. This is just a little piece, to make it easier. She said she needed to take a bunch of calls, record the numbers, match 'em to kids at school, and then go through and listen to the messages of the ones that didn't show on the school phone list, to get THEIR names and numbers." Actually that was more what Mike had talked her into, since he knew more about what was possible and easy than she did. She had a definite tendency to think like a human rather than a machine. "And this ISN'T for Kelly. Can you do that?"

<Simple,> Tuck sneered.

"I don't KNOW, fishface! She just said that's what she needed, she needed it ASAP, preferably tomorrow, and I said that if you could do it you could probably do it tonight and it'd be ready tomorrow. If you have the box, I can take it over there, she can put it on her modem line and then we're done with that. Oh, and I can pull the hard drive and bring it here when she needs the data analyzed." Adding hard drive caddies to most of the hard drives in Tuck's room had been hideously expensive, even though Tuck got them at wholesale rates, but it was times like this that it was worth it.

<This one,> Tucker pointed, and then pointed to a smaller box. <That's a C-A-L-L-E-R-I-D box and cable.>

Mike looked at the cable attached to the box, and it was a DB-9. "Serial?" Tuck nodded. "Any configuring?"

Tuck turned to his keyboard and typed, "Plus in and boot only. Already configured. Plus in sound cables. Slash S slash plus plug."

"Plug in sound cables?" Mike guessed, and Tuck nodded.

"Have her sign rental agreement. She is responsible for loss or damage. Then you are."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Mike waved.

Tuck shook his head, then made shooing motions. <Need shower, back to homework.>

"Sheeeee-it," Mike sighed. He'd wondered if he could claim that the immensity of homework had given him a relapse, but then realized there's just be MORE of it if he took more time off from school.

"I don't know," Anne-Marie admitted. "I mean, if- Some people, like Jill, think it's going to get better soon, but-"

"Soon?"

"Mom, it's got to! Or I WILL get out!" She didn't want to, but even Jill had said it would be better than what had happened to some of the people in band. "And I mean, like, this week."

"Jesus!" Brian exclaimed as Tucker tried to get back to his room and under the quilts and insulation before he froze to death. "You look worse..."

<I feel worse,> Tucker signed as he walked past. He had an idea what he looked like, and it wasn't good. His facial bruises were fading, and the swelling was almost gone, but his head still hurt where they'd broken his skull, and the rest of him hurt like he hadn't moved for a week. Which was basically the case.

Brian shook his head as Tucker disappeared into his room. Man... Somehow he looked worse when he was walking around than he had for the last couple of days in the hammock. Maybe it's just the way he's moving, Brian thought. A memory surfaced, and he thought, He's even worse than he was last Halloween. Though he was wearing a bathrobe this time, not just a towel around his waist, what was visible was definitely worse. Brian winced at even the thought of the stitches and scars that would have been visible if he HADN'T been wearing a robe. Tucker was moving like an old man, slow and hesitant, like he did when he'd had an asthma attack recently.

"Yeah, it's been... it's been weird this week," Sabrina said to Mr. Tucker.

"Yes it has," he agreed, nodding slowly. "It has."

"God, you almost look worse," Sabrina let out when she saw Tucker.

He turned to his computer and typed - she was almost used to it - "Yes. It does not hurt as bad as it looks thought."

"'Thought'? Oh, nevermind, got it." She was glad it didn't, because the bruises were really starting to 'ripen', and turn colors, and he wasn't swaddled in blankets like he had been before so now it was obvious. "When do you think you'll be coming back to school?" He shrugged. "Want me to get your homework tomorrow?" He nodded, and smiled at her, until she said, "You're welcome."

He turned away and the computer said, "Kelly query," before Tuck turned around to face her again.

"Kel- Oh, I think she's doing okay. We went to see her Saturday, you know, when she was telling her par- I mean her dad and his girlfriend..." He nodded slowly at her.

"Yeah, I'm really going to sleep now," Debbie promised. "Well, as soon as I change and shower and take off my makeup-"

Lisa interrupted, "And call just TWO more people and do your tax information for the week and your payroll and write down three more ideas and-"

"Fuck off Lisa!" Debbie giggled. "That is IT! I mean, get ready for bed and I am turning the phones OFF and I am going to BED!"

"Swear?" She still sounded skeptical.

"I swear, Lisa," Debbie said solemnly. Ooops, have to read that thing for Mrs. Tuck-

"You're thinking of something else to do!" Lisa accused.

Tucker saved everything, one last time, and unblocked cron which started the night's overdue backup mirroring. I feel like shit, he realized. He put the laptop carefully onto the bed, added a pillow to protect it, and wriggled back into the foam wedge trying to get comfortable enough to sleep.

"Oh man, this is weird shit..." Debbie said as she put down the book, her mind whirling.

"Hmm, Shannon looks kind of sick today, don'cha think?" Jill said to Kim.

"Probably festering gonorrhea," Kim grumbled, which made Jill chuckle. Shannon did look ill, though.

"Oh, right, armor." Mike had entirely forgotten about it, which was why he'd placed it on top of his school books last night. "Damn..."

As he pulled his shirt off again, he wondered how Tuck was going to cope. "Slows us down, and doesn't do MUCH... but Sub-Boss-Man Tucker," since he consistently blamed Tuck's mom for everything he didn't get the title of Boss, "said he was working on some hardshell for Tuck's ribs." The armor was surprisingly light, though rather stiff, and he suspected it was going to be warm as hell, too. Which was why he slid on one of the camping-type T shirts that would wick sweat out, as a first layer, before putting his head through the hole and draping it over him. "Gotta remember to do this tomorrow, too..."

"What the hell is this?" There was an insert in the middle of the newspaper. Kathy pulled it out, and it said:

First they came for the Jews

and I did not speak out

because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for the Communists

and I did not speak out

because I was not a Communist.

Then they came for the trade unionists

and I did not speak out

because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for me

and there was no one left

to speak out for me.

Pastor Martin Niemoller

And it was superimposed on a barely-visible monochrome silhouette of someone who'd been hanged on a tree.

"Oh shit." She stuffed the flyer back into the newspaper, hoping no one had seen her. Or it, yet. She stuffed the rest of the newspapers into the wooden distribution box and started back to the classroom to pick up another load.

My hands are shaking, she noticed dimly. Oh my God.

"Well, come on, lazy-ass white boy," Mike complained as George took his time about getting to the car. "We got other people to pick up this morning."

"Did you gain weight while you were sick?" he asked when he got close.

"Wh- Oh, no. Body armor."

"Man," George said, sounding utterly disgusted in his envy. "I hate you." Then he tried a punch, as Mike knew he would; he parried to to the side and countered lightly against George's chest.

"Didn't hurt my fist any," George said as he pulled back. "Shoulda gone with hardshell, like plate or ceramic."

"Can't afford the weight. See..." Mike leaned backwards into a handstand on George's driveway, and then backwards again to land in a crouch on his feet. Then he collapsed forward onto hands and knees with a coughing fit. Damnit! Mike cursed as George laughed like a lunatic.

When both of them had caught their breath Mike interrupted whatever stupid thing George was going to say with, "Try that in full plate."

"You can-"

"Not with my muscles," Mike countered; he'd read the DMG and the Equipment Guide at least as often as George had. "Thassa problem. If I had eighteen-double-zero, I'd be wearing hardshell. This's supposed to give an extra hit or two. Stop thinking D&D and start thinking GURPS, okay? Flexible armor still gives some DR against crushing."

"Bye!" Kelly called and shut the door; she was running later than she wanted to, and Mike was going to pick her up again this morning.

She trotted out to the parking lot, and Mike called, "Kelly!" and waved to her from the driver's seat.

Kelly waved back, glad to see him again, and walked towards his car. "Hey," she called back.

"Didja score yet?" George yelled from the other side of the car, and she didn't know what to do. Mike turned inside the car and did something, and George yelped. Then he got out and said, "Excuse George, he's a congenital asshole, birth defect, he can't help it."

"So if anything happens to her, you need to stop it immediately," Paul informed those of Kelly's teachers he'd been able to catch before they went to their homerooms.

"That was in Wisconsin, not here," Angela Applewhite pointed out.

He was glad he'd caught that Friday. "True, but I don't think the school board will assume that it wouldn't apply here as well. You know how the board is..." Subvocal grumbles told him they did indeed.

"Dude dude hurry!"

"The tape's sticking-"

"It's fucking TAPE!"

"Shutup shutup!"

Debbie was still distracted after talking to Diane Erhardt again, and she hadn't been able to catch Mike this morning before he left home. "Just, I mean, did y-"

"Yeah, I got 'em, all three," Mike nodded. "Ready whenever."

"Good."

"Gotta go," he said, tossing his head towards Kelly, who was looking apprehensive and closed up. Debbie smiled at her and turned away; she wasn't done with the morning chats yet.

Kelly really had not been looking forward to school today. She just hadn't allowed herself to think about it. The stares, whispers and giggles that followed her reminded her why, as if she needed a reminder.

"Just hit the beeper if there's a problem," Mike said again.

"I got that," she said.

"We'll be there," he claimed.

"How?"

He grinned at her and tapped something in his pocket. "We've got your schedule, and there's only one beeper out; we'll know it's you and where you're supposed to be. We'll rescue you."

"Okay..." She wasn't at all sure it would work. Even if the equipment worked - and it looked home-built - she wasn't sure if they could get to her in time. If anything happened at all, which she was REALLY hoping it wouldn't. Mike had said that it was a lot less likely she'd be bullied if she acted confident.

"Yes, I've got a bunch of homework to turn in, for a sick student," Sabrina explained to the moronic woman behind the desk. "For Eugene Tucker?"

"You're Eugene-"

"No!" She made herself sound calmer as she re-explained it.

"Be seein' you!" some kid said, and Jody smiled and gave him the salute back. He stopped, and in the just-before-homeroom flood, he disappeared.

Debbie was right, Jody mused as she walked along. She was starting to feel like she was floating and almost ghostlike again, but that was a lot better than she had been feeling, last week for instance.

"Dude!" Dan complained. When Mike turned around, he was holding up a paper with a-

"Hey, I recognize that," Mike mentioned, frowning. Then he looked at Dan, who nodded just slightly while staring into his eyes. Oh, hell.

"Oh yeah," Matt nodded; he vaguely remembered the quote from somewhere. "Man... Now the school's getting into it."

"You think this is like a message or something?" Pinkie Pounds asked.

"It was in the paper," Matt said. "So it had to be official... unless the newspaper is independent of the school, somehow..." He didn't think that was likely.

Mike almost went the wrong direction, towards English lit, before remembering - through some trivial but useful miracle - that he'd been switched into a morning gym class. "Aerobics... with Kathy! Yes!" he also remembered.

"I have to..." Deal with this armor, he continued silently. Oh shit. Gotta take it with me into class...

"I don't have any idea where this came from!" Greg Kazunas said, desperate to be believed. "The paper went in Saturday night and there wasn't anything like this in it!"

"Well, it had to come from SOMEWHERE," Dobson said disbelievingly. "The police arrested two separate groups of students for attempting to vandalize the school with posters over the weekend, but... are you claiming that someone snuck in and did this?"

"Maybe at the printer or something," Greg guessed wildly. "I don't see how they could have done them after they were delivered, even though they were here overnight-"

"Someone's gotten into the school several times over the last week," Dobson reminded him.

"But it would have taken hours to put those in every paper! And I-"

"Are they in EVERY paper? Or just some of them?"

"Every one I looked at..." But he hadn't looked at many; just three, himself, after Terrell had shown him one.

"Yeah, Mister Dobson said I could change in your office?" Mike said to the coach. He really didn't want to don or doff body armor in front of witnesses, like in the locker room; they might decide to hit him when he had the armor off, or steal it.

"Good morning," an unexpected voice startled Kathy. She looked around, and it was Mike.

"What're-"

"Dobson switched me to this class, out of my regular gym class, after Tucker got hit," he explained before she could finish the question.

That explained why he was dressed in gym clothes. "Oh. I didn't think they did that after school started."

"Except for big problems, like me in that gym class," Mike nodded.

"Oh."

"More coffee?" he asked her after a pause she hadn't realized was happening until he spoke.

"You have coffee?" she demanded, turning to face him.

"Uh, no?" he claimed as he backed up a step.

"Damn," she said as her brain went back to dozing. After the earlier panic, her body had decided it wanted to go home and nap for a few hours.

"Please," Sarah said into the phone. "I wrenched my back this weekend, and it really hurts. Down my legs too, sometimes," she admitted, allowing herself to think of it for a few moments.

The receptionist asked, "Any numbness or loss of motor control, like-"

"No." Pain spasms didn't count. Well... "Just when it spasms, the pain can make it hard to move."

"Okay, we can fit you in about, hmm, one-thirty today? Is that alright?"

"That's fine," Sarah sighed in relief. "Do I need to do anything before then?"

"No, Miz Tucker; just make sure you keep a record of any drugs you take between now and then."

She did that anyway, as a matter of course, but she nodded and agreed. Why do people nod when they're using the phone?

Kathy felt immensely more awake and cheerful than she had; Mike looked wasted. "Hey, maybe you should go back into that other class," she suggested.

"Nah," he said, sweat streaming down his face. "This is good... I think..." He grinned tiredly at her. "Besides, I get to watch you."

"Don't be a jerk, Mike," she snarled, surprised and then disappointed at him for-

"Hey, you're an inspiration," he said, still grinning. "I mean, if a six-three avatar of Nordic athletic goddesses can do it, why can't I, a mere mortal?" he gasped out desperately before he bent over and started coughing. She watched him to make sure he was okay, and after several seconds he stopped, then slowly stood back up. "Uh. Anyway. Watching you makes me want to do more. In class."

"Really?" Now she was confused. "Uh, look, we gotta hurry to make it to class after this..."

"No, I can't make it today; I hurt my back over the weekend and I have an appointment today to have that looked at, so I can't make this one," Sarah explained.

"Well, when can you come in, you and your daughter?" the receptionist asked, which made Sarah feel a bit queasy; she suspected they wouldn't want her to come in unless they'd found something bad.

"Hey Gina," Paul Grant said as he waved at her.

She waved back with a smile, and as he got closer she started walking in the direction of their classes and asked, "Did you see that poster in the paper this morning?"

"What? No?" He didn't read the paper-

She handed him a sheet, and he looked at it casually then had to stop and really READ it.

"Oh man," he breathed as he handed it back. "And this was in the paper?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's... I don't know," Gina admitted, staring away as she started to walk. "It's so WEIRD, you know?"

"Yeah... And this was in the newspaper?"

"Yeah, I picked it up at the door when I came in this morning; they might have some left, but I dunno," she said.

What? Oh, SCHOOL paper. He didn't read that either.

I hate English, Tucker sighed as he started digging into the reading list. He shouldn't have left it for last, but he couldn't face the thought of doing it yesterday... and he'd only intended to look at his physics and see what it was, but he'd ended up doing all of it.

"Why not attempted murder?" Bill asked Groton.

"Because, attempted murder is a second degree felony; aggravated robbery is a first degree felony."

"B-"

"Also," Groton continued, "the fact that ONE of them stole his laptop - and they have that pretty well traced, because of that college kid that bought it-"

Bill made a note to do something for the kid.

"- so, since ONE of them stole it, that puts them ALL into it, via the legal point of 'complicity'; they all helped assault him."

"So even the girl-"

"Who didn't touch him, her too."

"First degree felony?"

"Yes. Now, Mister Tucker, I'll be honest; it's not likely the DA will actually prosecute based on that charge. B-"

"Then why-"

"It'll be plea-bargained down to something, oh, I'd guess for a first time offender, either a first-degree misdemeanor or a fifth-degree felony."

"Damnit," slipped out of Bill's mouth accidentally.

"Hrm." Debbie was pretty sure that Mike and them hadn't put this poster up; they'd said they were going to stop doing that with the increased police patrols and everyone sick over the weekend. That was fine with her, because they'd done their job, and some other people had picked up the idea.

Which of course brought up the question of who'd put this one into the women's room, and whether it had been taken out of the paper - she wondered how Mrs. Tucker had done it, but Debbie already knew that asking her wouldn't work - or done independently. It LOOKED like the one in the paper.

Bill looked at the logged information for a while, and decided yes. "Sure thing. You need help getting it all off?" Tucker shook his head slowly as he unclipped the pa02 sensor. "Head hurt?" He nodded, just as slowly, and pointed at the side of his skull. "Yeah, simple fracture; you'll probably need to get another X-ray or something soon, but they said that was the least of your problems. Well, of your serious problems. How's the rest of it?" he asked, preparing to take notes for Dana.

"Like a strike or something," Monica Riggins said emphatically, and Debbie had to restrain a mild urge to whoop and kiss her, because this was what she'd been trying to get someone to think of all week.

"A strike?" she said instead. "Oh, wow, that is a GREAT idea!"

"It's just so disgusting-"

"Look," Jody interrupted, "why are you making such a big deal out of it? So what if she is?" Shannon stared at her. ALL of them were staring at her as she continued like they weren't, "Are you worried she'll talk you into it or something? I think we have enough problems without worrying over what some freshman is doing in bed, or who they're in bed with."

She'd had to promise Debbie several things, but she realized that she felt better doing this, not worse. "Doing the right thing for once," Debbie had said, "just because it's right."

"I mean, I've got to deal with a lawyer again this week," she added. "I don't have the energy to worry about HER."

"It's a SIN!" Jennifer proclaimed righteously

"So's your ham sandwich," Shannon insisted to Jennifer. "Shut up with your fucking fundie bullshit, I'm not in the mood today." Jennifer argued, Shannon argued back, and Jody had a couple of bites of her lunch, though she wasn't very hungry.

Kelly had felt unusually uncomfortable in class, and she hadn't figured out why until she realized Ashlee was looking at her a lot. She kept her head down, watching out of the side of her eye until she was sure; and then, the next time Ashlee did it, she looked up and wiggled her eyebrows like George would and smiled briefly. The slight gasp told her that she'd had SOME effect, and she had to twist her finger to keep from smiling. George knew what he was talking about. Or, rather, Mike had, when he'd said that anything George ever did to girls would seem creepy.

"Yeah, Monica had a really good idea this morning," Debbie reported. "A strike, like what workers do when conditions are intolerable." She hoped that no one remembered what a 'strike breaker' was, or had gotten to that point recently in history class.

"Oh my God," Julia breathed, smiling.

Kelly felt worse going into the cafeteria, even with Mike there. He still didn't look entirely well, for one thing; and there were so MANY people in the cafeteria.

And they pointed and laughed when she came through the doorway.

"Now, don't you-"

She turned, and Kathy was standing right there, along with Cory and Anne-Marie and Sabrina, and they were all smiling. At her.

"-go kissing me, Kelly; I don't want any lesbian cooties or anything!" Kathy said with a grin.

Kelly didn't know what to do.

A flicker caught her attention; Anne-Marie twitched her head at Kathy and wiggled her finger like 'come here'. Kelly stared, and Anne- Marie pointed her finger at Kathy, then at Kelly and wiggled it again.

She's telling me...

"'Cause, you know, I've got a date this Friday," Kathy announced, and Kelly realized Kathy wasn't talking to her, exactly; she was-

Oh! Kelly smiled as she got it, and wiggled her finger 'come here' at Kathy.

"What?" Kathy asked, frowning, as she stepped closer and bent down.

Before Kelly could do anything, Kathy snapped back and up and shrieked, "Ahh! I've got lesbian cooties! My God," she said without pausing but in a different voice, "I've gotta wash all this makeup off!"

Kelly snorted, getting the joke. Anne-Marie laughed.

"Are you done?" Mike complained, but he was smiling too.

"Hey, can I work on your car?" Kathy asked Mike.

"Fuck OFF!" Mike laughed at her, taking Kelly's arm.

"AN-NEE-WAY!" George yelled. "Are we doing anything today or not?"

"Not while Kathy has lesbian cooties!" Mike said, trying to look shocked, and they all laughed. Mike was glad to see Kelly was laughing too.

"Doesn't SHE have lesbian cooties?" Paul asked as he tilted his head towards Kelly, but sort of lightly, like he was playing with the joke instead of trying to hurt her.

Mike grabbed Kelly's hand and pulled it up. "Kiss your fingers," he demanded. After a second, she did, and then he grabbed her hand as everyone abandoned the table.

Hmm, that's not what I wanted... He pushed her two fingers against his forehead. "Now," he announced, "I have lesbian cooties. And I feel a immense desire to DATE WOMEN!" Jill hit him in the head with her copy of Clanbook Toreador. "Ow! Bitch! Lose experience points for that!"

"Date women?" Kim asked, half skeptical.

"It's the latest thing, lesbian chic," he grinned at her, and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

She started chuckling, but unexpectedly got up and came over and turned around and sat down on his lap. She's not that heavy, he told himself, forcing himself to smile unconcernedly.

"You do look strangely attractive," Jill said like she was just noticing it.

"Jill?" Kim said frostily. "KELLY's the lesbian, remember?"

"Doh!" Jill quoted as she slapped her forehead. "I date guys!"

Several of the freshmen, plus George, all said something at the same time; Mike could guess what it was.

"Kelly!" Mike yelled, which shut them all up. He growled like a mobster, "Give'r the cooties." Jill lost it first.

"It was a JOKE," Kathy tried again. She didn't think Mr. Dobson was believing her, though.

"Even if it was a joke," he intoned solemnly, "and even if it was all in fun, someone else might get the wrong idea from watching it."

She sighed.

Tucker had cleared his lungs, which always seemed harder and more painful when he was alone, as the last thing after taking a kneeling shower bath while it was still hot and foggy in the bathroom. So he could talk, at least for a few minutes.

He dialed Debbie's cell number, waited through the message, then carefully enunciated, "Tucker. I am babysitting today. Tell Kim not to go. Out, Tuck clear," and he hung up. Hell, that almost didn't hurt. He dialed Mike's new cellphone number and left the same message on Mike's voicemail.

"Kim, hold on a sec," Debbie said as she tapped Kim on the shoulder. She continued as Kim turned around, "Val left me a message, she says she's sitting today, so-"

"She's sitting? I didn't think she was that much better? Did she say when she was coming back to school?"

Debbie shook her head. "It was a pretty short message. I think she's an idiot, but anyway-"

"Right, got it, no sitting at the Parkers today," Kim nodded.

"On the other hand, I could use some help today," Debbie said.

"Sure, no problem." She wanted to get involved again, and if she was helping Debbie, she could pump Debbie for information. "Oh, wait, did you tell Jill yet?"

"Jill? N-"

"Okay, don't. Otherwise I'll have to take her to work around three-thirty. I'll tell her tonight, okay?"

"Okay, great," Debbie smiled before she took off.

Now I get to know what the fuck has been going ON! Kim smiled as she headed to her class.

"Quod erat demonstrandem. F of X squared dee-X is two X. Print-f hello world. Groovy shit." Tucker gave a little test cough, and there wasn't anything there. He knew he had a tendency to stay mute for longer than was absolutely necessary, but if he was at home he'd always figured he might as well not talk for as long as he could. Everyone had always said that talking made a sore throat last longer anyway. On the other hand, it would be advantageous if Miz Parker and Ricky and other people didn't think he was that sick, or they might start asking upsetting questions like, "Maybe you ought to go home?" or "Should we call you an ambulance?" He took an experimental sniff, or tried. Dimetapp, right.

"Tuck?"

"Yes?" his son asked tiredly. He had his dolly loaded with an O2 bottle and some other things, and he had his laptop case and his school pack bungeed to it.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Eugene stated, tiredly, "Yes, Dad; you read the email."

"If you're that tired then-"

"I'm good enough to go there and work, like I CONTRACTED to do," he snarled, somehow sounding far too much like Susan for Bill's comfort. "Now, are you going to have a spazz about this? Or let me do my d- bloody job?"

Bill mentally twitched at that, then followed the thought. It IS his job... he was even willing to do it - somewhat - when Sarah and I were watching him do it, and taking him. He certainly didn't want to quit...

Bill asked, "Are you wearing the body armor?"

"No, Dad; this isn't hostile territory here."

Another datum. "Do you have your meds-"

"They're here if I need them," he said, patting a small zippered pouch. And right now I'm off O2," he stated, sounding less belligerent.

"Tuck, do you really think this is a good idea?"

"YES!" he almost shouted; Bill noticed he didn't cough afterwards as he continued, "Dad, I said I'd work it already. I know I can do this; it's only Ricky and Stella. It's not DANGEROUS over there, not like it is at school, so-"

"Armor?"

Tucker sighed and turned red. "Dad, I can't wear that under or over the clothes I need to wear there."

What- Bill realized he'd totally forgotten what his son had been doing. "You're going over there like THAT?"

"No, Dad, I'm changing first, like I always do," he ground out slowly.

"But..."

"What?" Tucker challenged. "I can handle it and I HAVE A CONTRACTUAL OBLIGATION." His voice changed to pleading, again sounding uncomfortably like his sister, "Dad, if I can do- I mean, if I CAN'T handle sitting, there's no way I can go back to school in a couple days. And I SAID I'd work it. And they miss me."

"They?"

"Miz Parker does, and so does Ricky. Ricky sent me a get-well card, even."

"So, I mean, if you want to, just call this number, okay?" Debbie handed out one of the index cards she'd been making every spare moment at school. "Just if you are, I mean; and leave a message."

"You have a phone number for this?" Geneva asked dubiously.

"No, it's the one for my computer, but when I get out of school I'm gonna go home and unplug it and plug in an answering machine," Debbie lied. She hoped Tuck had arranged the computer right; it was all plugged in like Mike had told her to do, but she had no idea how a computer could work as an answering machine. If it can be done, he'd do it, though, him or his dad. "Anyway, this is so we can like know who's in on it, who we can count on, stuff like that. God I can't believe nobody thought of this before!" Debbie enthused, trying to catch Geneva up in it.

Sitting in his car took a lot of effort, but Tuck finally managed. Might have to take another shower, at this rate, he thought as he panted. Pain made him sweat a lot, and it smelled like pain when he did. Finally he cranked the engine, which thankfully started, and shifted into reverse to pull out.

Sarah explained, "Just- I was reaching over to get something in my car, and someone outside honked, and I hit my head AND slipped at the same time, and then I was stuck in the footwell and in a lot of pain. I don't know what I actually DID..."

"You've been wearing that corset-"

"Since then, yeah. Ah, a friend of mine had one," Sarah fudged a bit, "and I thought it might help for a while."

"Does it?"

"A lot more than I thought, but it still hurts sometimes when I move," Sarah admitted, wincing.

Tucker hissed as he tried to touch his face with the makeup sponge he normally didn't use. I don't think this hurts less than my fingers, he thought dully. Come on, stupid, get moving! It's only pain, and pushing on the bruises won't make them worse. He tried again, locking his facial muscles as much as he could, and it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. No pain, no gain, as they told the guy who got electrocuted working with amplifiers. That was lame, he sighed.

I hate X-rays, Sarah sighed, but she knew they had to look. The neurological testing they'd done hadn't been fun either, but the personnel had been mildly reassuring. She wasn't sure whether to believe them or not, of course, but since they hadn't strapped her to a stretcher or anything like that, she thought she could be hopeful.

"I've been sick, but the doctor says I'm not contagious any more," Tucker explained to Miz Pike, and smiled at her. He'd looked almost normal in the mirror with makeup on and long sleeves, he'd thought, but the way she was looking at him he was beginning to doubt his judgement. But she smiled at him after a moment and led him inside.

"English, right," Mike remembered. All I gotta do to remember the schedule change, is remember how much my body hurts now compared to before. I thought regular gym was bad... Though it didn't have Kathy, he grinned. She'd worn a tank top and shorts, like most everyone else, and she wasn't trying to look 'good' in them like some of the girls; but she was like a machine, moving to the beat of the music and not slowing down for anything. She IS a Nordic athletics-goddess avatar.

"What're you thinking about?" Dan asked, and Mike started to wipe the previously-unnoticed grin off his face.

"Did I mention I got switched to a morning aerobics gym class? That has Kathy in it?"

"No! You ASS!" Dan complained bitterly.

"Jealousy will poison you, old man," Mike grinned some more.

"So we're actually practicing today?" Jody confirmed.

"Yeah." Shannon looked amazingly relieved. "Coach said that Dobson removed the suspension this morning."

"Wow..." She actually felt better about it; anything was better than sitting around staring at each other and feeling hurt. Or angry.

"Though it's like half the squad is out sick," she complained.

"What?" She hadn't quite noticed; she'd been pretty stoned all day. And there had been plenty of them at lunch.

"There's something going around, it got the football team too," she sighed as she started trudging towards the gym building. "I keep thinking I'm getting it and then I'm not sure..."

Ricky looked around for Kim or her car before remembering that Kim wouldn't get there until late, but-

What?!

He looked again, and Valerie's fresh-painted green car was in the driveway. "VALERIEEEEEE!" he shrieked as he ran towards it. She waved at him as he ran up.

Tucker didn't think seeing Ricky would make him feel THAT good, but it did; he found himself smiling at the kid as he yanked open the door and threw his backpack in, yelling happily at him. "Hey- WHOA! No hugs!" Tuck yelled as Ricky made a grab for him. "I had surgery," Tuck explained as Ricky drew back with a hurt look and Stella started to scream. Tuck motioned him closer, and tried to talk over Stella, "I had surgery," he repeated into Ricky's ear because he wasn't sure Ricky had heard him. "I've got stitches and stuff, and I need to be careful."

"Can I see? Can I see?" he begged excitedly.

"As soon as we get home," Tucker promised, grinning. I KNEW he was going to ask that... He would have, and Mike would have... heck, he still would. And he'd thought of it as he got dressed, so he was prepared to 'show it all', almost.

"I'm glad to see you!" Ricky yelled happily at him.

"I'm glad to see YOU!" Tucker yelled back as he started the car. Stella just yelled.

"Front seat," Mike pointed.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," Jill claimed as she bounced into Mike's car.

Mike thought she did, but had to remind her, "Hey, uh, we have to drop everyone else off first, though-"

"That's cool," she nodded like she'd expected it. "I just gotta be there by four, and, uh, if I can get to my house about three thirty, I can change and take a shower and get there a little early. Takes about twenty minutes?"

It took Mike a few moments to realize she was obliquely asking him if this was acceptable. "Ah, yes, fine," he nodded.

"Can I watch?" George leered.

"You try it I'll kill you," Jill said with just the right sort of bored tone.

Mike nodded to himself, then announced, "Starting engine! Everyone pray!" and sent a little positive energy toward the front of the car himself before he crossed the fingers on one hand as he turned the key with the other.

"Janette Coats, you don't know her," Cory chattered, and Kathy didn't know if she was talking to her or- she glanced in the rearview and James was looking back at her and shrugging.

"She said like someone came up with the idea of a STRIKE," Cory emphasized. "Like workers do when they need better working conditions," she pronounced triumphantly.

"A strike?" Kathy repeated.

"Oh man!" James said from the back seat, sounding enthusiastic.

This is Debbie's work, Kathy realized.

Kathy realized she was frowning when Cory asked, "You don't think it's a good idea?"

"Uh, I don't know," Kathy said to stall her.

"I think it's great!" James claimed.

Debbie smiled as lights flickered on the computer Mike had loaned her; she thought it was a call coming in.

"That's new, isn't it?" Kim asked, pointing at it.

"Wow," Ricky said, amazed. "Can I touch it?"

"No," Valerie said firmly as she pulled her shirt back down. "It hurts still." She pulled her sweater back down over her shirt.

"So what hap-"

"Long story, but basically I was bleeding in my lung- Hey, want a snack when I tell you this?" she asked him. "I'm kinda hungry."

"Yeah, can you do a T shirt with this on it?" Dennis Michalenko asked the clerk. "With the background picture and everything? Just like this."

The clerk took the handout she'd gotten from the paper, and looked at it for a minute, then nodded. "I think so... like with this part," she outlined the tree and body with her finger, "really light like this?"

"Yeah, but all one color, I mean like it is now. Really light gray, for the graphic."

"Yeah, I think so. How many?"

"Fifty to start." He could buy fifty now; with the profits from those, he could buy more.

She looked half skeptical and half amazed. "Fundraiser for what?"

Dennis told her everything before he could stop himself.

"Tuck you JACKASS!" Mike shrieked at his cellphone. He'd remembered he had one as he waited for Jill to get done showering and changing and decided to play with it. And found he had a message from about noon and one a bit later. "What the fuck do you think you're DOING?!"

Fuckin' IDIOT... He looked around for a pay phone for several seconds before he realized he had a portable phone in his hand already.

"And if I'M that dumb at the moment..."

"Why're you so upset?" Jill asked as she got back into the car. She could tell Mike was; it wasn't hard.

"'Cause that fuckhead Tuck went babysitting this afternoon," Mike cursed.

"So? Wait, how did-" He waved a cellphone at her. "So, okay-"

"The fuckwit can barely move!"

"Tuck is babysitting?" Jill asked, hardly able to believe it herself.

"And I gotta go help him!"

"So anyway," Valerie explained as she changed Stella slowly, "I'm still not feeling good, but, um, I got your get well card..." And she smiled at him, which made him feel weird, but he tried to hold it in because she was still kind of weird today and he didn't want to upset her or make her sick again. "Anyway, I thought I was well enough to come over here, even if I wasn't well enough to go back to school yet."

"Oh, wow," Ricky said, thinking about it. I'd only do that with something I liked... "You came over here to sit me when you could've stayed home?"

"Well, yeah," she smiled at him with one side of her mouth. "What, you think I'm weird or something? I LIKE being here with you and Stella, Ricky! Oh, hey," she said as she started to bend over. "Hand me my backpack, would you?" she asked as she grimaced and straightened.

"Does it hurt to bend over?" he guessed, and she nodded. "Sure!" he said as he jumped for it. He didn't want her to hurt, because she might change her mind and not come back tomorrow.

"Yeah, forty-five minutes a side is about as long as you want the tape to be; any longer means it's thinner and more likely to break," Mike went on, "and the tape mechanisms, like the rollers and stuff, are not gonna be good- high quality, I mean."

"Oh, right," Kelly agreed after a moment's thought; an answering machine wasn't like a stereo deck. "Are you doing the calls?"

"No, Rachel is... Debbie's talked or will talk her into doing it some more," Mike grimaced. "Listen, I gotta get going."

"Hey," Sarah said tiredly, but with a smile; she was glad to see Bill, and even more glad to have him open her car door. She'd honked once and he'd come outside without any further prompting, though it had taken him a couple of minutes. That was a lot better than she'd expected; she'd thought she'd have to call him on her cell, which had slipped on the seat and might require bending to retrieve.

"So?" Bill asked as he stood next to Sarah's car door and stood ready to act like a handle.

"So," Sarah said as she concentrated on wanting to get out of her car, "I got some pain pills and some muscle relaxants," which she'd taken already, "and they're thinking about it. Might need surgery, but they aren't sure yet. How's Eugene?"

Bill sighed, which made Sarah's eyes narrow. "What's he done?"

"I swear to fucking God," Monica Kutch swore, "if I catch the motherfuckers who did this, I am going to KILL them! Slowly!"

Debbie was glad she'd taken all the precautions she had; Monica might just be able to do it, if she found out who was responsible; she had a massive temper. "I know!" she agreed.

Brian was about to open the door, when he heard a faint noise. He told the other guys to shut up and listened hard. Aw damn, what's he done now? "No," he said, "I think this would be a really bad time, actually. Sounds like they're having a fight. Can we go to your house instead?" he asked as he turned around.

"Sarah, I know," Bill said, trying to calm her down, which she hated.

"So why the hell is he doing this?"

"He said he's missing the income and that-"

"How much money does he NEED?"

"Sarah," he sighed.

"Damnit!" She turned away from him and tried to calm herself down, at least enough to allow him to finish.

"Mike's going over there immediately, he said," Bill added.

"That's NOT the damned POINT!" she yelled.

"Hello, Mike," Tucker said with a tired smile as he opened the door.

"You're talking!" Tucker shrugged; Mike should've gotten used to him being quiet when he had respiratory problems. Besides, Mike sounded worse, and Tuck was sure it was due to him talking as much as he had when he'd had strep throat. Mike stared at him suspiciously for several seconds, then ordered, "Take a deep breath."

Tucker knew it was because he wasn't wearing any O2 gear; he'd left it in the car. He'd decided not to wear it because it would upset Ricky and make it harder to deal with Stella. Using oxygen always made him feel more tired and sick anyway, though probably that was psychological from long association rather than anything real. He cautiously inhaled, then exhaled, to demonstrate respiratory proficiency.

"That wasn't very deep."

"I'm not Chinese," Tucker shot back, having thought of this one earlier. Mike's face twitched a bit. "Look, if I can hand- I mean, if I CAN'T handle sitting here for a few hours, I sure as SH-h-"

"Not in front of the baby," Mike got out before Tucker could stop his mouth and insert another word.

"Bite my oxy bottle!" Tucker complained, having prepared that one earlier too. "Are you here to kidnap me back, or help?"

Mike shook his head in that way that said, 'I really think this is a bad idea but not enough to stop you,' and said, "If I can't talk you into going home, then-"

"You can't."

"-Then," Mike repeated, "I'm here to help, and to convince Miz Parker that you need to go home early today."

"Why??"

"So your mom doesn't have a sh- fit over you not being home, d- dimwit," Mike pointed out.

"Not in front of the baby," Tuck smirked.

If he's doing that, then he's feeling better, Mike had to admit. "I didn't actually SAY anything," Mike countersmirked.

"Yeah, well, come on in, it's cold out there," Tuck said as he got out of the way, leaving the door open.

"It's not that cold," Mike said as he came in, shutting the door behind him and turning to lock it.

"You're wearing a jacket... and I'm not completely recovered," Tuck admitted. "Still chill too easy."

Mike was going to say something about going home as he turned around, but forgot it entirely as he saw Tuck's legs, or rather didn't. "Are you wearing a PETTICOAT?!" he gasped in mock shock and horror.

"What?" Tuck complained as he turned around. "No! It's a trick, um, someone showed me. Regular skirt," he flipped the denim at Mike, "plus a summerweight skirt or two underneath," as he lifted the denim to show the sheer white that had caught Mike's eye and another light blue one, "are about as good as pants plus thermals. And nicer when I sit down; they act like a blanket over my legs."

"Jeez. Don't scare me like that," Mike complained as he grasped at his chest.

"I thought you liked old-fashioned girls," Tuck challenged in a too-feminine voice.

Mike was saved from having to come up with a witty reply using his somewhat oatmeal-ish brain by the appearance of Ricky. "Is that Travis?" he yelled as he dashed around the corner.

"Trav- Oh-"

Mike lept forward and grabbed Tuck by the back of the neck of his clothing. "Nuh!" he warned as he yanked backwards then caught Tuck as he recoiled, off balance. "NOT tonight. If it waited this long it can wait another twenty-four hours."

"But MIKE!" Tuck protested as he rebalanced himself and turned around again.

"Doc Treble's going to see you when you get home, and you CAN'T miss that, or everything'll fall on top of you again," Mike warned. "And you can CALL him or something tonight. Look, have you heard from him? No," he answered his own question, "you haven't even checked your voicemail, have you?" Tuck shook his head, looking sicker than he had at the door. "You can't handle the strain, I can't handle the strain, and it'll wait until you sleep another night and then do it tomorrow. Look," he offered, "I'll come with you, if you want. IF you do it tomorrow night."

Tuck sagged, and nodded without saying anything.

"Uh, hey Ricky," Mike remembered to say.

Apparently the muscle relaxant Sarah had taken did more than just relax muscles, for which Bill was VERY grateful. She was almost reasonable at the moment, compared to her usual. "But how can he explain his injuries?" Sarah demanded.

"Probably a combination of illness and hospitalization," Bill guessed. His son could lie tolerably well to someone outside the immediate family, especially when it was important to him.

"Oh, like they'll believe THAT," she snarled, half-heartedly.

"Probably, especially without evidence to the contrary. And he's been doing this Big Lie for a long time; it's doubtful they'll suspect anything now."

"So we just let him go off and do this, AGAIN," she snapped.

"We didn't demand that he stop, Sarah," he reminded her. "And his note said he was doing it as a test run for school, to see-"

"What about the body armor?"

"He probably doesn't need it there; you saw how the boy liked-"

"Ricky," Sarah remembered.

"Ricky likes him a lot, and so if he told Ricky to be careful of his ribs, he probably would; it's not like school there, with just one third-grader and a toddler."

"So, like, everyone has more meetings with lawyers this week, I think," Jody said to Debbie. "I know I do." She had to be careful what she said; her phone line was still broken from when she'd ripped it out, so she was calling from her parents' line. "And Shannon and Holly do, I know that."

"What about the rest of them? Do you know about any others?"

Jesus, I wish I was home, Mike thought as James explained the concept of a strike to them. He hated normal conference calling, and he hated not having his headset during these long conversations.

When James ran down, Mike said, "Dude, the plot begins to sicken," because things had clarified and he could see the Path that Debbie had been leading them all down. But, he couldn't really say anything until it went overt. "Remind me never to vote for her again."

"In what?"

"Anything. ESPECIALLY President."

"You think the student council does anyth-"

"U.S. President," Mike clarified. "And don't tell me she wouldn't try for it."

"Not enough money in it," Sabrina stated, so simply and easily that she must think it was completely obvious. That made his hair stand up.

"A strike?" Sarah said, trying to sound like the idea had never occurred to her; it was easier to fake over the phone. "Really?"

Mrs. Cooper went on to explain where her son had heard the idea, and Sarah made the appropriate noises of approval in the appropriate places.

"Valerie!" Tucker turned around and Miz Parker was smiling at him as she came in. "You're back!"

"I think so," he smiled at her. "Ricky seems to like it anyway." He was glad she'd missed the last lung clearing he'd done; some of the stuff he'd coughed up would have scared a mundane or a parent. He'd had to hide it from Ricky, too, but Mike had distracted the kid long enough to get it done.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, predictably.

"Better," Tuck sighed. He wasn't feeling great, and he knew he was still lagging because of the pain meds, but it wasn't that bad at the moment. At least Mike hadn't insisted he wear the oxy gear, once he'd gone outside and confirmed it was in Tuck's car. "Not great yet, but better. And I am NOT contagious," he told her firmly. "The mask is just a precaution." He didn't want to cough anything into the Parkers' supper, even aerosol.

"Well, what hap-"

"Go upstairs and change, it'll take a while," Tucker interrupted.

"Don't you have to pay for each of the calls you make on the cell?" Kim asked during a short moment when nothing was happening.

"Don't remind me," Debbie sighed. She was spending a LOT of money for this week and last week; she didn't want to think how much, or what it would do to her clothing budget for the winter and spring. "But I've only got two phone lines, and Mom said when I got these that I shouldn't use hers except in an emergency, which this isn't, really. Besides, I don't want people having her- people at school, having her number. What if they started pranking it, you know?" Kim nodded as the computer lit up again, doing something. "Back to work," she sighed.

Lisa had managed to get three hundred dollars out of her parentals by showing them Saturday's newspaper article about the vandalism at McAllen; she was going to take a hundred out of that to give to Debbie, and give the rest to her band coach tomorrow to give to McAllen's band. No, she changed her mind, direct is better. Have to call Debbie and see who to give it to... Red Bluff's band had been talking all day about doing something for McAllen, but it was better not to give anyone the temptation of actual cash if it could be avoided.

"Deb," Kim said as she hung up. "I think you've got a problem. Someone else was calling to tell YOU about the strike."

But Debbie just nodded, like she knew that was going to happen. "Yeah, I didn't want me to come up- I mean, I didn't want everyone thinking I came up with the idea; I had to wait until someone mentioned it, and Monica Riggins did today, FINALLY!" she groaned.

Beth had been worried about Valerie, because of the mask and because she looked so thin and pale, but even though she was moving slowly - No wonder, with surgery for a collapsed lung, she'd thought - she was cheerful and somewhat talkative as she fixed a delicious- smelling meal from bits and pieces. I wish I knew how she did that, Beth envied. "Are you SURE you don't want to stay and eat, the two of you?" Beth tried one last time.

"Miz Parker," Valerie's friend Mike said, "we've got to get her home earlier than usual tonight; she's got a doctor's appointment this evening."

"Oh. It just seems so unfair..."

Valerie waved her hand to indicate it was nothing, and said, "Besides, I've been tasting it as I cooked."

"AND we've been washing the spoon each time," Mike added.

"We?" Valerie protested. "'WE' haven't been cooking either!"

"Sheeeeeeit," Mike sighed. The nervous anticipation of waiting for a trap fuse to initiate was wearing him down. "But it's not going to happen TONIGHT," he told himself. Deal with it tomorrow, if it happens tomorrow.

Tucker had to take extra care to park because he was extremely tired; babysitting had taken a lot more out of him than he'd thought it would. Maybe I DON'T go back to school yet, he contemplated as he sat in the driver's seat.

They need me, he realized. Damnit.

Finally, he managed to get the door open, and the chill air motivated him to get up, which took some work, and then make the walk to Rachel's place so he could change, go home, and sleep some more. At least they didn't make me have dinner there, he thought thankfully. And none of them had picked up on the bruises except Ricky, who had believed that the body ones were from surgery. Or they didn't say anything, he reminded himself.

"Jeez, another one?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah," Debbie said, sounding apologetic. "But, I mean, I know this is work, so I can pay you back for it." Before Rachel could ask how - she'd been scammed a few too many times in high school and freshman year - Debbie said, "I was thinking six-fifty an hour?"

"Wh- Oh." That wasn't too bad, even for a real job. "And I'd just keep doing like I was doing?" A knock at the door made her wonder what was going on. "Uh, hold- Oh, it's probably Val. At the door," she remembered to add.

"Yeah I asked her to bring the tape by," Debbie repeated as Rachel nodded.

"Yeah, um, can I call you back?" Rachel asked.

"I'm okay, Mom," Mike sighed. "Really. Tuck's sitting again, and I went to help him. He did okay, though, and Doc Treble's checking him out tonight." Doc Treble had already cleared him to go back to school if he wasn't showing any symptoms; he'd checked the list and he wasn't, which is why he'd gone to school today. His mom had checked the list too, but that didn't mean she really believed it.

"Wow," Valerie mentioned as she looked at the list Rachel had kept, of all the people she'd called. She looked a lot better, though Rachel was betting it was the clothing - all long, and hiding the multiplicity of bruises - and makeup that did it. She looked almost like a short model tonight, with the thinned face, for some reason. "So..."

She still wasn't able to talk much either, so Rachel thought about what to say, to explain it all.

"Oh, hey, I got the next tape for you too," Valerie mentioned.

"Well hello," Sarah said as the back door opened and Eugene came in, towing the dolly with all his 'sick stuff' on it. She was determined to be pleasant, after the earlier argument with Bill; it wasn't any use yelling at Eugene if Bill wouldn't back her up, and this time he'd refused to do so. Plus, if Eugene got too upset he risked an asthma attack, which she didn't want, especially not now. Later, she told herself again.

Plus she was seriously stoned, and utterly legally. That ALWAYS helped.

"Hiyurgh," Eugene started to return her greeting but couldn't make it. She forced herself not to run over and help him, because it sounded like normal-when-sick congestion and he hated it when she fussed over him. Besides, if she'd gotten upset every time he did this in his life, she'd have been utterly insane by now from the stress. He finally coughed it out, apparently swallowed it - which made her wince - and smiled and said, "Hi yourself."

"How're you feeling?" He looked better than he had Sunday.

"Better," he admitted, nodding to himself. "Just need to clear the lungs every so often. And things still hurt, but the pain pills sort of take care of that."

"Are you taking them as scheduled?"

"No, 'm down to about half the dose. Pill cutter," he specified. "Can't think too well with the full dose."

"You've got 'em if you need 'em, though, right?" He nodded agreement, and she felt better; at least he was saying he would take more of them if the pain got bad. Plus, he was talking again; he only did that when he was feeling close to fully recovered. "How was sitting?"

"Uh. Not bad. Ricky was glad to see me, and Mike came over and helped for a while," he elaborated. "Got tired of being stuck here." She unwillingly understood that. "When's Doc Treble showing up?"

"Um," she checked her watch.

"She WHAT?!"

"I swear, I saw her..."

"See?" Bill said.

Tucker tapped himself in the ribs, over the hard plates. "Steel?"

"Couldn't get aluminum that was strong enough," Bill explained. Curving the plates had been a bitch, too. Luckily, it was a problem suitable to the use of excessive force; he'd taken a sledgehammer and a rounded fencepost and beaten the plate into shape in about twenty minutes.

"How many layers do I have to wear?"

"Undershirt, armor, shirt over that; three, I guess. One or two around the armpits." He'd known about the heat load problem, but he'd tried to accomodate as much cooling as possible. "Use a tank top under."

"Does that count the carrier?"

"Carrier counts as part of the armor package. It's also how I connected everything, and it's got the velcro and such, so you have to wear it."

"I'm gonna melt in this."

"You won't melt. Besides, the way you're walking now, you're not going to be moving fast enough to build up heat most of the time. In a problem, you won't notice." It was amazing what you didn't notice when the adrenaline was really flowing.

"What I was thinking," Tucker said quietly to Doc Treble as she checked the records from the various bits of equipment, "was sitting tomorrow, and see if I can do it the whole time, and then back to school on Wednesday. Sound okay?"

She frowned. "I s'pose so. What's up with your mom?"

"Jeez, I dunno. But DON'T ASK," he ordered as he glanced over to make sure Mom wasn't listening at the door or something. The house had that feel like Mom and Dad had been arguing, however that worked; and Tucker was afraid that his mom would have a shitfit over the babysitting, which he didn't need this week. Month, year... Think I've filled my quota on Facist Parental Bullshit for this quarter.

"Jeezus," Kim sighed as the computer's lights started flashing again. "Are they ever gonna stop?"

"I hope not," Debbie grinned.

Kim just sighed again; Debbie's enthusiasm could be infectious, but it wasn't always, and she'd been calling people back for hours. So had Debbie, but Debbie was thriving on it.

Tucker recoiled at the smell of this week's used clothes. Oh gods; I hope I didn't smell like that all day... Naw, couldn't have; Ricky would've asked why I was carrying roadkill, or something. And I just showered...

Checking around, he found he was entirely out of things to wear to bed. Damnit! I don't wanna wait on a load of laundry, that'd be two hours. Can't sleep in the good T shirts... That would wear off the designs quicker than anything else except sanding and chem lab, and they'd die. When's Sabrina coming? That won't help, she just folds, he told himself. Well, maybe...

"Hey," Sabrina said instead when Tuck's little brother opened the door instead of Mr. Tucker.

"Oh, yeah," he said as he opened the door for her. "Hey," he added. He turned his head away and yelled, "Dad! Tutor victim's here!"

"Yeah," Monica Riggins explained, "I mean, I was just talking with someone about it, and it was like, you know, auto workers str- and steel workers, and miners, and stuff, they strike for better working conditions, you know, when it's unsafe to work there? And I thought, man, that's us, what's going on here, and then it was just like, 'Why don't WE have a strike?' So I was talking with someone about it, and they were like, yeah it's a great idea, but we have to do it all at once, and if we get the media there, like a television news reporter or something, then it'll look- I mean, it won't look like we're all just skipping class or something like that. Like, we've got a real problem and this is really a strike, not just skip day or something."

"Oh man!" Denita exclaimed. "You think you can get the news there?"

Denita wasn't the brightest girl, but she was amazingly trustworthy and able to keep a secret, which is why Monica was calling her. "Well, it's like an event, and it's a lot more interesting than the dog show y'know?"

"Oh!" Sabrina said as she noticed the pile of papers in her pack and remembered Tuck's homework. "Can I see, um, Tuck?"

Mr. Tucker frowned a bit, but said, "Go up and see if his light's on; if it's off, he's sleeping."

"Oh I wouldn't want to wake him up," Sabrina agreed as she got up.

Brian and his cat ignored her as she went through the kitchen to the stairs; he was feeding it a bit of something. Can't be garlic, she told herself, though that was what the kitchen smelled like.

His light was on, so Sabrina tapped on the door. "It's Sabrina," she called.

After several seconds, Tucker said, "Come in," or something like that, so she opened the door.

There were piles of laundry on the floor, and the room smelled somewhat, but Valerie was sitting up in bed and looking a lot better. She'd also changed the sheets, apparently, because she was surrounded with clean bright white that matched the nightgown just peeking out where she hadn't pulled the covers quite high enough. With whatever it was behind her that was propping her up, she looked like a Victorian sickbed scene, all arranged to look nice and feminine. "Close the door!" she urged. "You're letting all the moisture out."

"Wh- oh, sorry," Sabrina said as she hustled in and shut the door. "Moisture?"

"Hunidifier, keeps my lungs open. Dry air bad. 'Sup?" she asked.

"Well, I got your home-" No, I got- Wait-

"Oh great," Tucker said ironically. "Well, I got most of it done today sitting, at least, so-"

"Are you wearing a nightgown?" she burst out.

"What?" Tucker looked down at himself. "No! This's a tank top. Why'd you think it was a nightgown?" Tucker frowned at her. "Are you okay? You seem a little..."

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," she said, shaking her head to try and clear it out. "Anyway, I got your homework for today..."

"Man, what a..." Tucker didn't know what to call it, what was going on at school. "Damn," he said finally.

"I don't understand why you're going back there," Sabrina complained. "I mean, you're still recovering, and-"

"Mike needs me. Kelly REALLY needs me," Tucker reminded her.

"But you could really get hurt if something happened."

Tucker shook his head. "Yeah, I mean, I could, but Mike and them need me. Besides, I'm gonna be more careful this time."

"How can you say that?" she demanded. "You almost DIED, Mike s-"

"No I didn't," he scoffed at her. "I can't die like that."

"What?!"

"Mike has a piece of my soul," Tucker said. "I thought I told you that?" She looked confused. "One of us did. I can't die unless he lets go of that piece," he explained. "If he won't let me die, I can't die."

Tucker noticed that Sabrina had goosebumps on her arms and all her hair was standing up. Huh, weird.

"No Shannon," Jill mentioned.

"Maybe she WAS sick yesterday."

"Or maybe she's in jail again," Jill grinned nastily. That made Kim laugh; it was an attractive thought.

This one said, "IF YOU WEREN'T GUILTY YOU WOULDN'T BE IN TROUBLE" over a picture of something he'd sort of identified as Rodney King, since it was a bad picture of one black guy being beaten by a number of white cops.

"Man," Matt sighed. "I got the idea already." Things were bad enough already; he didn't think they needed to keep pushing.

Paul Dobson sighed quietly as he waited for the squalling to die down. "Gluing posters to the walls is vandalism, and as such is covered in your school handbook." He was glad Arlene Raleigh wasn't here this week; she'd probably have insisted on criminal charges being filed, which, he'd come to admit, wouldn't really solve the problem.

Any of them.

"T-shirts?" Debbie asked, disgusted that she hadn't thought of it herself.

"Yeah," Monica Kutch nodded. "You saw the thing in the paper yesterday," she stated with assurance, and Debbie nodded. "We thought it would work. Mr. Michalenko had 'em in band this morning, and some of us bought one."

"It's really impressive," Debbie said honestly. "How much are they and when can I buy one?"

"So, you in pain yet?" Kathy asked Mike, feeling a little nasty. She'd been up too late last night, making phone calls, and she'd really rather have slept in this morning.

"Pain," Mike said calmly, "is merely the body's way of saying 'Oh God PLEASE make it STOP!'" ending with a tormented wail. She had to laugh.

Tucker felt, when he could again feel anything besides pain after expelling the crap that was in his airway, that homework could wait for another couple of hours while he went back to bed. While he was only sleeping about four hours at a time at the moment, he felt he could do two or three of those cycles today. Maybe four... no, I said I'd sit today again. Damnit. The mere thought made his bones ache. Maybe it WAS too early to think about going back...

He found himself groaning out loud as he remembered that Dad had made him promise to wear the armor today when he woke up, to test it.

Fuck it. I'm just tired, and it's like any exercise, I gotta stretch to be able to do it. But a nap first still seemed like an excellent idea. Set the alarm... Sleep in the armor? Oh damn, laundry... Armor up, load the washer, set alarm, go back to bed. Life was getting complicated again.

Mike had been torn between conserving his energy, since his reserves were way down after the illness, and blowing off some of the nervous tension via exercise. Until they started; he was right behind Kathy again, and he felt a strange sense of machismo pushing him on to at least keep up with her.

Which explained, when they finally stopped, why he felt like Jello. Warm Jello. Though some of the hurt had burned off, he knew that was due to exercise-endorphins, and it would come back worse later.

"Kathy," he gasped when he thought he could talk intelligibly.

"Yeah?" She turned around, and she, disgusting bitch that she was showing herself to be, looked more awake and alert than she had at the beginning of class. "Need some help up?"

Bitch, I hate you. He was not, however, too proud to take her hand and let her pull him up.

"A strike?"

"Yeah... I heard they even got the TV stations to come cover it, when it happens."

"What're they waiting for?"

"Some kind of thing to set it off... which I don't think is gonna take long."

Jody was really enjoying the fact that she wasn't crying all the time and the distance she had between herself and all her problems. And that she could sleep at night without having nightmares all the time. It also gave her some distance on everyone else's problems too. Ten left, she said that'd get me through the week-

"I mean," Kathleen said, "I just don't know when I can find the TIME! I've got-"

The rumblings penetrated Jody's consciousness about the time they erupted into yelling, as the same guy Brad Duran had gotten in a fight with, yelled, "You SON OF A BITCH!"

"Oh no," Jody mumbled, but she got up and ran the few steps over there to try and stop things before they went too far. "Stop it, STOP IT!" she yelled.

But it was already too late; Charlie France kidney-punched the band guy and he went down on one knee, but then someone knocked Charlie sideways.

Jody yelled again, "STOP IT-" but the band guy ran into her as he got up and pushed her off balance and towards Charlie who grabbed her and flung her back at the band guy so hard that both of them fell over.

"You asshole!" Jennifer screamed, and Jody turned her head around in time to see her and Kathleen trying to hold everyone apart, but Brad punched Kathleen in the face and then things really went to hell.

As the noise didn't die down, and Mrs. Shelley trotted to see what was going on, Mike looked over at Sabrina. "Sounds like a riot," she said, sounding unusually nervous.

Tripped, firing-firing-SHOT! he thought as he pulled out his cellphone and dialed.

Kelly looked up as the speakers activated, but instead of some boring announcement - or even an interesting one - it started with something she couldn't even tell what it was at first.

"STEEEEEEEERIKE!" yelled some umpire from some baseball game, and Anne-Marie laughed out loud. Well, if no one had a clue before now, they can't have missed that! And a few of the people in her class were starting to get up, ignoring the substitute's dithering.

"Strike's on," Debbie said as she shut her phone and she started packing her books.

The intercom was still playing the introduction, but she didn't need to wait.

"When you hear the sound a-comin'

Hear the drummer drummin'

Won't you jooooiiiin together with the band,"

Paul Dobson put his head in his hands, and just breathed for a while. She's really doing it... I didn't think she could get all the students to do ANYTHING... He had some things to do, right away, but at the moment all he could do was sit there and breathe.

"Can I speak to Miz Arnett please? I have information on a breaking story," Debbie said into her cellphone. She had to cup her hands around it because of the noise everyone was making, but she was a little surprised to see just how calm everyone was. Except the teachers, of course; they were apoplectic.

Kelly looked back and saluted Ashlee. "Be seein' ya!" she said, feeling happier than she had in days.

Jared Scott didn't know what the hell was going on, but the word "Strike" had made him think.

"There's a million ways to laugh

and ev'ry one's a path.

Won't you jooooiiiin together with the band."

And people were getting up and Mrs. Clay was yelling at them and they were just ignoring her and quietly leaving. And the ones leaving were the decent ones, the ones that didn't call him names or throw things at him or kick him or push him...

I don't want to be here any more either, he realized, and stood up.

"Are you with us or against us?" growled the geek.

"I- We're striking for human rights and against violence," Jody said carefully. Kathleen didn't say anything, but nodded slowly in agreement, which looked pretty dumb as she was still holding a wad of napkins to her bloody nose; her elbow, stuck out in front, went up and down with her head.

The geek - she didn't know his name, but he was one of the geek cliques - nodded, then said, "What happened?"

"There was a fight in the cafeteria, and it just grew," Jody said. "Somebody in band versus some of the varsity football team. We tried to stop it, and they just hit us too. So we left." That wasn't quite how it had happened, but it was close enough; she gave Kathleen a squeeze on her arm to suggest she go along.

"Coming?" he asked.

Jody said, "Yeah," and led Kathleen out of the building.

"Maybe we can fucking-" Anne-Marie felt shocked that she'd actually SAID that, and OUT LOUD. "-DO something, instead of just sitting around helplessly waiting for our turn to get beaten up or killed or something!"

Kelly pulled her sleeve back and shouted, "We can DO IT!" as she made a fist and held it up.

"We can do it!" Anne-Marie shouted back as she copied the gesture.

Right in time for the lunch news, she thought again, but suppressed the grin. "This is Patricia Arnett with Channel Nine News. We're here at McAllen High School where something rather unusual is going on. It's not violence, it's not a riot; the students have declared a strike."

"... And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor."

Distribution: No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. And no fee may be charged. Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access.

All rights reserved.

• @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig +

-=[1990]=- / virus 12.2 + http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +

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