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               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 7
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2009 by either Joel Lawrence or 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.

***


     Tucker heard the panicked electronic squealing of the EW panel, but
couldn't find the right controls or something, and finally the desperate
scream from the incoming made him reach for the rings and pull and-
     And he fell over on a carpeted floor in the dark.  It took him
quite a while before he figured out where he was and what was going on.
     "Shit, shut UP!" he spazzed in a strangled whisper towards the
laptop, which was still beeping.
     When he finally managed to shut it off, he sat there, waiting for
the repercussions or alarms or sirens or detonations or the door
bursting open or... anything.
     There wasn't anything.
     He moved, and remembered how badly his arms hurt in the worst
possible way; once again, though, the pain hurt so much that it choked
him, thus preventing him from rousing the entire house.  *Drugs!  Need
drugs, damnit...*
     He managed to find them in a haze of pain and choked down four
ibuprofen and two Tylenol, squeezing out a wet washcloth to get enough 
moisture to swallow.  The turbulence noise in the plumbing here was
unbelievable, especially at night; and he couldn't risk doing anything
that would sound abnormal, because someone might come to check on him.
     *Shit...*  He didn't feel any better.  
     *Keep moving,* his dad told him.  *Work the pain out.  And drink a
lot of water; you need it to flush your system.*
     *Later, Dad,* Tucker told him, and started to move his arms back 
and forth, a little more each time.
     He did that for ever, it seemed, until the pain had finally faded
down to a continual ache rather than blinding electric arcs of agony.  
*Now what?*
     *Go check the alarm code, make sure it's correct,* he told
himself.  *Do a checkin, trade email.  Maybe put in an exit, if I can
find a good place for one...*
     He replaced the laptop in its case, then stripped off the robe and 
nightgown, leaving him clad in a pair of panties and a bra.  *Least I
don't have fucking curlers on my head this time,* he sighed.  Fifteen
more minutes of careful scrounging in the dark had equipped him with
everything he thought he'd need; his watch said it was 0252.
     He unlocked the door, taking over a minute but unbolting it quietly
enough that he didn't have a heart attack, and listened at the door for
another minute or two before he opened it and slid out. *Righto.  'Ninja
Boyz Rule OK!'*  Envisioning spray-painting that on Jane's torture-
parlor bench made him smile as he made his way down the edge of the
hall.

     "Ohhhh," Jane sighed as her hand fumbled to her alarm and shut it
off.  "Tomorrow is here already..."  *And what are we doing today?*
     *Valerie.*  She winced.

     The noise of someone flushing a toilet startled Tuck into a
mistyping spasm which deleted the line.  *Damnit.  Better hurry and
finish...*  He had to think for far too long to recover what he'd
already typed and erased, then he added the last couple of notes on the
house security that were still stacked in his short-term RAM, saved the
file, flushed it to the Internet, hung up the modem when the transfer
finished, then started shutting down the laptop.  *Quickly,
quickleeeeeeee...*

     "Hmmm," Marie frowned as she looked at the alarm panel.  She
THOUGHT she'd set it the night before, but it was off now.  "I suppose
that the disruption Valerie is causing is making all our heads go to
mush..."

     Tucker was glad to take another shower; he could wash off the
sweat and dust he'd collected overnight, warm himself up because the
house was a lot colder than he would have kept it, and he could drink
out of it, fairly certain that they hadn't poisoned THIS water source.
     Yet.

     Charlie stared at the bathroom door, which he couldn't open
despite the lock being on HIS side of the door.  "What the hell do I do
NOW?" he complained to the air.  He had to get ready himself, and with
Valerie having practically stolen his bathroom...  She'd just knocked,
shortly after Marie had unlocked their doors, and without waiting for an
answer opened Charlie's bedroom door and marched in, carrying a towel
and some other clothing, and locked herself - somehow - into HIS
bathroom, before he was even awake enough to realize what she was doing.
"I guess I steal hers," he frowned.  "But what the hell is she
THINKING?"  

     "Oh ho," Marie smiled to herself as she held up the dainties
Valerie had apparently tried to wash out the night before.  They had
been hanging on the towel rack, on top of the hand towels. "I think I
have an idea what she was doing last night in the dark..."  She replaced
the garments very carefully, and went to tell Jane what she had just
found in Valerie's bathroom.

     *I think maybe some sugars... what's not poisoned?*  Tucker stared
at the food on the table, trying to guess, and suddenly realized he
might not be able to keep ANYTHING down; he was already feeling his
stomach twitch in repugnant promise.  *Oh hell.*
     "Valerie?" Jane said mildly.  "You may begin eating."
     *It's poisoned,* Tucker sighed to himself.  "Thank you Miz
Thompson," he lied back at her.  *Watch Charlene...*  She was loading
up her plate with eggs and sausage patties, and the biscuits Marie had
apparently baked that morning.  *Shit... did they mark them, or what?*
He tried to stare at Charlene's food, to see if there was some kind of
subtle signal, on top of the biscuits for instance, and couldn't see
anything because Charlene had started ripping them apart already.

     Charlie noticed that Valerie was watching him intently.  "Valerie?
Is something wrong?"
     She shook her head silently.
     "Valerie, you will do Charlene the courtesy of an audible reply,"
Jane demanded.  Charlie glared at her, but she stared impassively back
at him.
     "No, Charlene, nothing's wrong," Valerie said dully.  "Thank you
for asking."
     "Then you may begin eating," Jane prompted.  "We do not have all
day to sit at table, you know." 

     *If she baked those biscuits,* Tucker realized, *then the heat
would have cooked whatever it was.  Most chemicals don't survive those
sorts of temperatures very well... unless she added it later.  Or unless
it's arsenic or thallium or something.  But Charlene's eating some, and
so is Jane... and I can't SEE any markings...  Unless they were just
counting on me to eat last?  Pick my food last, I mean,* he corrected
himself.  *But could they count on that?  Or would they just have
skipped the biscuits entirely if I ate the top ones?  But wouldn't that
have made me suspicious?*
     *Round and round...  Is this one the poisoned one or that one?*
     Unbidden, his mind served up, *"Never go against a Sicilian when
death is on the line!"*
     He couldn't help bursting out into non-playback laughter.

     Charlie stared in disbelief as Valerie smirked, then laughed and
laughed, her high-pitched merriment almost rattling the dishes.
     A worried glance at Jane told him that the worst was indeed about
to happen.
     "Would you like to inform us what is so humorous, Valerie?" Jane
'asked' in a horribly flat voice.
     Valerie raised a tremulous finger, pointing behind Jane, and
squeaked out, "What in the world can that be?"  Before anyone could
answer, she erupted in a deafening shriek of laughter and actually fell
off her chair.  "Ooof," she complained mildly before continuing to laugh
hysterically.

     Tucker rolled to the middle of the underside of the table to
finish his laughing fit, and had to put his butt adjacent to Charlene's
feet; as he'd expected, she kicked him several times, but with the
laughter and the other pain, he hardly noticed.
     When his mirth had faded to the point he could control himself
again, he sighed, vague ideas of pulling the chairs over and making a
fortress out of his current location rattling through his mind.
     He looked around, trying to find Ms. Thompson by her shoes, but
the only ones visible were Charlene's morning slippers. 
     Charlene poked her head down and sneered, "Are you done?"
     "I think so, for the moment," Tucker smiled back.  "Guess I'll go
upstairs and change into the four-year old's stuff again..." he sighed,
no longer amused. 
     *Still, the faster I go...*  Which is why he rolled out from under
the table and spun to his feet as quickly as he could manage.  That
turned out not to be a good idea; he tumbled his inner ear and just
managed to keep from falling over by grabbing the edge of the table.
When he'd rebalanced his gyros, he headed towards the stairs at a trot.

     "Five minutes!  It was maybe FIVE MINUTES!" Jane complained to
Marie.
     Marie was nodding.  "And she just started laughing?"
     "And I don't even know at what!" Jane snarled.  "She just..."
     "I couldn't see anything either," Marie confirmed, when Jane
couldn't think of anything to actually say.

     Breakfast SHOULD have been nicer, after Jane had thrown herself out
of the room, but Charlie was finding it wasn't.  Though some of that had
to be the feeling of impending doom... and the just barely audible
complaints Jane was making wherever she was in the house.  And some of
it was the impending outing this morning.  He HATED going out dressed
like a girl.  Which was, no doubt, why Jane made him do it so often.

     "Aw, crap," Tucker commented.  He was actually getting USED to
wearing the preschool crap; and, worse, starting to make aesthetic
choices about it.  He noticed this when he'd deliberately picked out a
blue super-frilly short dress instead of a pink super-frilly short dress
so it would complement his eyes better.  "This CANNOT be good."

     "True," Marie sighed.  "I suppose I should go up and help Valerie
get dressed, then."
     "And remember, as young as is realistic," Jane reminded her, with
her own sigh.
     "And the special panties," Marie nodded.  "And one of the unpadded
training bras.  And not too hard to get into and out of."  She flashed a
smile at Jane and said impishly, "One might suspect I had heard about
how to do this from someone!"

     "And I'm doing what?" Tucker asked.
     Marie said in a be-a-happy-child voice, "Miss Jane has decided that
perhaps a change of scenery would do everyone some good."
     *I'm either going to jail or she's letting me go home-*
     "So you are going dress shopping," she finished.
     "Do what?"  He couldn't have heard that right.
     "And you need to change into something more suitable for your age,"
she finished, for real this time, with a 'fuck-you-jackass' smile on her
face.
     *I should've known... whatever I put on is gonna be the wrong thing
and I'll have to change it.*  Tucker was disgusted at getting caught by
such a stupid and childish ploy, but he didn't have anyone else to
blame.
     *Except, of course, the bitches that are doing this to me,* he
remembered.  That made him feel better.
     Then he remembered he'd have to move his arms, several times, to
change clothes, and he felt much much worse.  *But not as much worse as
it's going to feel actually DOING it.*

     *Whatever I wear, I'm just going to have to take it off again,*
Charlie remembered, *so I need something easy to take off.*  He started
looking through his closet, hoping for inspiration.

     "A thong?" Tucker questioned.
     He examined it closer, and it still looked like a thong.
     Then he went to the door of the bathroom and opened it just enough
to ask, "A thong?"  He stuck his arm out and waved the scrap of spandex
at Marie - which hurt - in case she didn't know what he was talking
about or he was using the wrong word or something.
     "Put that on first, and make sure your, your scrotum, is not caught
under the elastic," she warned, "or it will chafe and hurt later."  She
said some stuff after that, but Tuck missed it.
     He shut the door, and then just stared at the thong or whatever it
was.
     *How the hell did she know enough to WARN me about that?*
     The conclusion was inescapable, and yet impossible; and he knew
he'd get in orders of magnitude more trouble if he went out there and
grabbed Marie's crotch to check; but he couldn't get the conflicting
ideas out of his mind.
     *But-*

     "What is taking her so long?" Marie wondered, and went to the
bathroom door and knocked on it.

     Tuck startled, and started to scream, but his arms spasmed, and
THAT hurt so much his lungs locked.
     "Don't waste time," Marie called through the door.  "Or Miss
Thompson will be very angry with you."
     "I'm going," Tuck lied, loudly, and scrambled into the thong.  He'd
been brain-locked; but he wasn't going to admit that.
     "And remember, you are to wear the tap pants over-  I mean, put the
garter belt and stockings on, and then the tap pants."
     *How'm I supposed to remember what nobody told me?*  Except he HAD
missed some of what she was saying... while trying to figure out if-
     *GET DRESSED!* he yelled at himself.  *Don't have time for this.*
     AS he turned, he saw the shower curtain, which reminded him of the
school ID and the ATM card taped between the curtain and liner.  Which
made him think it might be a good idea to take both of them.

     "Wheeeeee," Charlie told himself in the mirror.  He did not like
going to the Style Shoppe, and worse was the lingerie shop that sort of
shared the space or whatever - Charlie hadn't figured out how that
worked, since they had separate cash registers and walls between the
two, but plenty of doorways IN those walls and the staff switched
around.
     *At least I know how to dress for it now, though.*  Some women's
clothes were harder to get in and out of than others.  The blouse he had
on, though, had no buttons or zippers and was loose enough to slip over
his head without wiping half his makeup off his face or screwing up his
hair; and the skirt had a back zipper but those were easy to deal with,
on skirts.
     *And I GET to pick what I'm wearing for this.*  Valerie wouldn't
get to, and Charlie hadn't gotten to for a long time.  He'd had to bring
up how hard it was to change into and out of some outfits, and he'd
thought that real women should know better; but apparently they hadn't,
because when he'd complained and suggested an alternative, Marie had
looked a little startled and then let him change into something saner.
     He looked himself over in the large mirror, and remembered that
Jane would probably insist that he wear a sweater or something.  *As if
some guy is gonna stare at my cleavage or something.*  He had a little
cleavage, courtesy of the padding in all of his bras, but it was only
barely detectable with anything else on, even a sheer satin nightgown.
     As he turned to the door, he wobbled, which made him stop and try
and figure out what he'd done wrong, but he couldn't think of anything.
*Okay, stupid, you've been wearing these stupid things for months; don't
screw up now.*

     Tucker was not especially amused to see what Marie had picked out
for him, undoubtedly on Jane's orders.  Nor was he amused to be wearing
it.  While not being especially 'sexy', nor the disturbingly infantile
things he had been wearing - the underwear had had no lace or frills at
ALL, excpt for the bra, and even that was the apparent legal minimum -
it seemed as though they'd gone as far as they could to make him look
YOUNG.  And, without boobs, and almost no makeup, and the dress and
shoes, and the extra hair Marie had clamped to his head...  Well, he
would have laughed if someone had suggested that the girl in the mirror
was in junior high, much less old enough to drive legally.
     He took another look, and decided, *Okay, MAYBE junior high.  But
not allowed to dress myself, 'cause nobody would wear this voluntarily.*
     He had almost nothing for makeup, which made him appreciate just
what some makeup did to make him look older.  Which sort of made him
queasy, thinking about the double-load he'd been forced to put on every
half hour for the last few days, on top of all the four-year-old
dresses.  All Marie had allowed him today was mascara and a touch of
liner on his top eyelid, along with lip gloss.  The hair Marie had
added, which was on a really nasty-looking clip that thankfully hadn't
hurt much to attach, tolerably mimicked a young girl's ponytail,
especially with the white ribbon wrapped around it that matched the
dress he was wearing.
     It was an attractive - for a twelve-year old - dress, he had to
admit; instead of mirroring his blue eyes, it contrasted, and he hadn't
known he looked that good in a darker pink or rose or whatever color it
was.  It had white contrasty bits, and so he was wearing low-heeled
white sandals to match that; and light to neutral stockings too, sort-of
under the ivory or cream - he couldn't tell the difference - silky
satin, or satiny silk, chemise and tap pants; though why he needed a
half-slip as well was just one of those questions it was pointless to
ask here.  At least it was all smooth, rather than embellished with a
square meter or more of lace and/or ruffles and/or ribbons.  The extra
underwear had made him sad, because they reminded him of the blue silk
birthday present Debbie had given him, which had reminded him of what
they had done with the present afterwards, which had reminded him that
he was here and she was not and what he was missing by being apart.
     "And don't you look the beautiful young lady?" Marie said,
apparently catching him looking at himself in the mirror.  "Just a
necklace," she added as she handed him a hair-thin gold chain with a
little gold wire heart on it, "and you will look completely enchanting."
     "Yes ma'am," Tucker sighed.  Whenever he saw something in what he
was doing that didn't completely suck, Jane or Marie would somehow
manage to ruin it for him.
     *Is she-  DON'T LOOK!*

     Marie shut the door behind Valerie, but then noticed that the girl
had forgotten her purse.  "Your purse?"
     "My wh-  Oh, right," she sighed, and stopped, turned back around,
and trudged into the room she'd just left, shutting the door behind her.

     *Compass is taped under the first drawer left side-*  And there it
was, and there was the purse, and the one went right into the other in
barely five seconds.  *Kid's got it!*
     Then he saw himself in the mirror again.  *Aw, shit.*  He was a
twelve-year old.

     "Well," Jane said, "don't you look just the darling young miss
today."  She was heartened to see Valerie slump a little bit further.
"Stand up straight, dear."

     On the one hand, Jane was altogether too pleased to see what Tucker
was wearing, which completed the change from 'like' to 'hate' for him.
     On the other hand, from the lecture Jane was delivering, it seemed
as though he was going to be taken out in public; which increased his
options by about a thousand times.  Not to mention getting another free
tour of the area via car, unless they were going to walk.  *And the
chances of that are about zero.  Can't bear to think about actually
moving ourselves enough to sweat, darling...*
     On the gripping hand, he had to stay awake, and that was getting
harder and harder.  Well, the awake part wasn't; what was hard was
telling what was real and what was an apparition of denied REM sleep.
     *On the other hand, at least I don't need a safety pin to keep me
up...*  The pain in his arms, and the rest of his body, would do that.
     *Wait, I think I got down to feet.  Hand, other hand, gripping
hand...*

     Valerie seemed much more alert as they waited for Jane to bring the
car around, and Charlie knew it was fear that was doing it.  *Well,
shithead,* he wanted to say, *if you hadn't been so intent on fighting
Jane, if you'd just shut up and taken it a few times, then maybe you
could've stayed here at the house for a week or two before this
happened.  I tried,* he told himself.  *She just wasn't listening.*

     "Oh jeez," Valerie said, sounding disgusted, and Jane knew without
looking that she'd just discovered the tampons in her purse.
     Curiously, she didn't say anything else.

     *About thirty degrees magnetic,* Tucker estimated; it was hard to
tell with the tiny button compass jouncing around so much, and of course
he couldn't pull it out and look at it, and that didn't even account for
what the metal of the car was doing to distort the magnetic field.  But
it was better than no nav tools at all.  And, when Jane had stopped at a
stop sign, he'd managed to roughly orient it with the sun.
     A series of houses whipped by, and Tucker was shocked to realize
just how far away from civilization Jane was NOT.
     His arms hurt every time he moved one, but he tried not to think
about it, and most of the time didn't.  Except when he moved one.
     *I wish I knew about how long the sun was gonna remain accurate...
Where's a major astronomical event when you need one?  Wait, I don't
need to know what time it is, I need to know the sun-path at this lat
and date.  An eclipse wouldn't help with that... neither would a
solstice.  Maybe...*
     *Gas station?* he noticed with surprise.  *Jeez, I thought just New
York was this dense.  Downtown to forest in twenty minutes, I guess.
And what road is this?* he asked himself, trying to see any signs while
not looking like he was looking.
     *Jane, you fool, you fool...*  Everyone knew you should only
transport a ninja in a sealed packing crate.  At least, his friends knew
that.

     Charlie sighed and wondered what was going to happen.  He thought
that taking Valerie to the Style Shoppe was a bad idea, but he wasn't
sure just why.  Certainly, most of the stuff Jane had used on her
already hadn't worked...  And he could understand Jane's thinking; that
perhaps the threat of being exposed in front of other people, would do
what the time at Jane's house had not.
     He just had a feeling...

     They pulled into a mall parking lot, and Tucker sighed.  *I should
have known... what is it about women and malls?*  Not that he hadn't
spent his share of time in malls with Mike and George and Dan, but that
was either in the arcade, or in one of the seating areas staring at the
people, or trying to figure out how best to break into the place.
     *Practice makes perfect,* he thought as he grinned to himself,
thinking of the key he'd made, and how easily the house and the rest of
the 'security' was slowly dissolving as he analyzed it.  The only thing
that really sucked was the distance from Jane's camp de femme to
civilization, and the lack of transportation.  Still, that just meant a
hike; and while any given hike was twice as long as the same route by
any other means, it was still doable.
     *No sweat,* he told himself.

     "Well, here we are," Jane announced to the unhappy children in the
car.  "Come on," she ordered, and Charlene got out.  Valerie was moving
slower, but eventually got out as well, just barely putting enough force
into shutting the door to get it to latch.
     "Now, girls, come along," Jane said after she had locked the car,
and she set off at a slow pace, trusting Charlene to keep Valerie moving
behind her.

     *One before, one behind...  Rear escape is way easier - I think I
could run over Charlene if I had to - but it's away from the crowds and
the mall, into the parking lot... and I am not wearing clothes designed
for movement.  Not like I'm wearing clothes designed to blend into a
mallscape, either,* he reminded himself.  On the other hand, they hadn't
checked his underwear this morning either; his ATM card was a very
welcome though occasionally painful presence in a place very few people
would put their hands.
     They'd walked halfway through the parking lot as he thought and
thought, and so the BLAAT! at point blank almost scared the liver out of
him; he was ducking and evading and behind a car before he'd really
identified the sound.  It was a car horn, from the car that was slowly
cruising past, and it had some guys in it, Tucker noticed when he
stopped, and when they started whistling and hooting and honking some
more, he figured out what was going on.  When he caught back up with his
heart, he screamed, "Go blow your DOGS you cocksuckers!"
     They honked some more and yelled back, and if there had been a rock
handy he would have thrown it, but they drove off.  That left only Jane,
who reached for him - but there was no way she could catch him when he
was this revved up - and instead hissed, "If I EVER hear that kind of
language out of you again you will be in juvenile so fast your head will
spin!"
     "Yes ma'am," he agreed unsteadily, staring back at her.  She looked
angry as hell, and he wondered why.  There had to be some trick behind
it, or he'd screwed something up that she'd planned...  *Probably
planned that with those guys, and then... what?  Am I supposed to be
scared or something?*  Which he was - getting noticed had too often led
to getting chased - but he doubted that was what Jane had plotted, and
he'd dealt with that whole routine enough times to do it in his sleep.
     *Which I do, come to think of it.*

     Charlie didn't know what he was doing wrong, but this was the
second time he'd wobbled, for no reason at all that he could tell, and
so he was being especially careful now.  *At least Jane's in front.*  He
knew that if she saw him fumble, she'd bitch about it and him and how he
should know better after all this time and on and on and on, and
probably make him practice for a few more hours.

     "Aw, jeez, NOOooo," Valerie whined in an almost male fashion as it
became apparent just which store they were heading towards.
     Jane smiled at the disgust in her student's voice, but managed to
erase the expression before she said, "Valerie, you had better be on
your best feminine behaviour in here, or it might become apparent that
you are not all you appear to be.  I'd suggest you find some girlish
enthusiasm as well, since every girl loves to go dress shopping."
     Jane stopped at the door and knocked, since they weren't open to
normal customers yet at this hour.

     *Oh, God, this is gonna be like shopping with Debbie for dance
dresses, except WORSE!  And no nookie, either,* Tucker realized with a
sigh.  The endless routine of trying on ten times as much as you could
buy, and twenty times as much as you DID buy, was a lot easier when you
could sneak kisses and gropes with your girlfriend.
     *'Course, Thompson might be able to buy more than Debbie... though
with all the clothes she's got stuffed away in that house, I don't see
why we need to come here.*  He shook his head as they stood in front of
the shop.  *And I REALLY don't see why we need to be here before it
opens.*
     When the door finally unlocked and opened, the sales droid chirped,
"Oh, Miz Thompson!  I'll go get Mrs. Franson," she said, though she
waited at the door.  Jane just nodded as she walked in and kept walking
towards the back, with the two of them following her.
     At least until something in a rich blue caught Tucker's eye, and he
peeled off to go see what it was.  And when he pulled it off the rack,
it was quite nice indeed, a long dress in an incredibly rich blue silk
that looked Asian in design- *Cheongsam,* Tucker remembered, with a high
collar and buttons all the way up, no sleeves, and a walking slit in the
front.  "Now this is class," he said to himself, and smiled as an image
of Debbie wearing it flashed through his mind.
     "It's beautiful, isn't it?"  Tucker looked sideways to find another
sales drone had homed on him, this one with dark skin (though not as
dark as his Lanier cousins) and a conservative hairdo and a saleswoman's
smile.  Her nametag claimed 'Shana'; Da Boyz had discussed nametags and
come to the conclusion that nothing real should ever be placed on a tag
like that, where everyone could read it.
     "Yeah, it is," he said, and started to put it back on the rack.
     "Would you like to try it on?" she suggested, smile still radiating
business goodwill, and he got homesick.
     "You think I'm big enough?" he asked, and waved a hand at his
not-currently-enhanced chest.
     "Well, you could try it on, anyway," she said, the smile fading
like she was actually thinking about it.  "What size are you?"
     *Well, what else are we be here for?  Not the food, that's for
sure.  And 'girlish enthusiasm',*  he remembered.  "Sure," he agreed,
and deliberately smiled.  "Oh, size ten," he remembered.
     "Oh no, you're not that big," she disputed.
     *Everybody's a fucking critic!*

     "And where's Valerie?" Mrs. Franson asked, causing all three of
them to look around the semi-private showing room.
     No Valerie.
     "She was just behind us," Charlie uttered when he noticed that the
two women were glaring at him.
     "Did you see where she went?" Jane demanded.
     "No, Miss Thompson, I didn't," Charlie admitted.  He'd been
concentrating on walking.
     "Did she come in the store?" Mrs. Franson asked as they all sort of
wandered out front looking for Valerie.
     "Yes, I opened the door and they both went in ahead of me," Jane
said distractedly.

     Tucker realized that he was not going to get his current dress off
without help.  "Shana?  Could you come in here a minute?"  He might've
gotten the back zipper if his arms didn't hurt so bad, but raising them
above his head had made him dizzy with the pain.

     Jane glared carefully around the parking lot, but the dress Valerie
had been wearing SHOULD stand out - that was one reason she'd had Marie
put it on Valerie - and there was nothing that color anywhere within
view.

     "This actually doesn't look too bad," Tucker said to Shana as she
buttoned it up the front for him.
     "No, it looks good," she agreed.  Or argued.  "Definitely the right
color." She moved aside so he could see it in the mirror, and she was
Completely Right.
     About the color, anyway.  "A little mature for me, though."  He
knew he looked a lot younger than sixteen without breasts, at least in a
real dress.  And the view proved it; the top part of the dress was
flapping in the breeze, so to speak.  Luckily, he didn't have many
bruises on his arms.
     "Well..."  As she thought about it, Tucker turned slowly in front
of the mirrors so he could get a better look at the side angles.
*Actually, I do have lots of bruises on my arms.*
     "Man, Debbie would look great in this," he sighed to himself.
     "Is she a friend of yours?"
     "Yeah," Tucker admitted with a smile, "but she's out of state, and
I'm not buying today, so I don't think I could pick it up and mail it or
something.  Da-darnit.  Unless we can convince the boss that I can wear
it," he suggested.
     Shana opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything, raised an
index finger up, then pointed it at him.  "I'll be right back," she
said.  "Go in the changing room and take your bra off," Tucker had not
put the chemise thing back on; he'd wondered why he was wearing it at
all, since he was already wearing a dress, but stupidity like wearing
two sets of clothing at the same time while going to try on more
clothing seemed SNAFU for Jane. "I've got one for you to try with that
dress," Shana said as she started moving away.
     Tucker shrugged and went to go strip and pull his current bra.
     *If I CAN.  Oh shit.  This is gonna hurt...*

     "But she was JUST here!" Jane complained again, as she kept looking
around the parking lot, and Charlie tried to disappear himself, just in
case Jane wanted to blame him for it again.
     "Maybe Evelyn saw something, when she saw you come in," Mrs.
Franson suggested, and she marched back into the shop, with Jane
following.  Charlie was sort of inclined to stay where he was, but a
sharp and nasty glare from Jane told him that he'd better follow.
*Please don't let me stumble...*

     *A bra with built in falsies,* Tucker mused as he shrugged into it.
*The miracles of modern technology.  Better living through plastics, or
something.*  The gel was cold, but not too bad, and it started to warm
up as Shana hooked it in back.  *Better dating through plastics?* he
snickered.
     "How is it?" Shana asked as she sort of pointed his arms at the arm
holes in the dress so she could pull it up from behind him.
     He started on the many many buttons.  "Cold, b-"
     "They'll warm up in a minute," she assured him.
     "Yah, I know."  Tucker looked at himself in the mirror, still
fumbling with the buttons.  "Lots better, I think," he said.
     "Come out and look in the big mirrors," she said as she opened the
door.  "And button 'em all up-"
     "I know, there's just lots."  And, his fingers weren't working so
well either.  "Finally," Tucker said when he got the two at the neck,
and so he stepped out of the changing room so he could see it too.
     The view in the three-way mirror mounted on the wall was gorgeous.
     Shana said, "Nice," as Tucker said, "Excellent!" and they grinned
at each other.
     A spluttering attracted their attention, and they both looked to
see Jane, Charlene, and another woman with a name badge all coming their
way.  And Jane did not look happy.
     "The redhead," Tucker said quickly and discreetly, "is the boss.
You work on commission?"
     "Partly, thanks," she replied in a near whisper through her smile,
then launched into her sales pitch.  "Mrs. Franson, look at this!" she
enthused, "Doesn't this just match her eyes perfectly?"
     Tucker opened his eyes a bit wider, just to make the point, and
smiled enthusiastically at Jane.  Charlene looked like she'd just
swallowed a hair or something, but he ignored her.

     *Oh, God,* Charlie sighed to himself.  *You are really overdoing
the enthusiasm thing here.*  But he didn't even try to hint to Valerie
that she should stop, because it was nice to see Jane Thompson looking a
little confused and off balance, something he'd never managed to do.

     Tucker sighed deeply.  They'd made him take the cheongsam off, and
it was a little more expensive - like, triple - what he was willing to
pay, even to see it on Debbie, though she wouldn't have needed the gel
boosters.  Which they'd also confiscated.  He felt bad about that,
because he felt safer with them on; that made him feel somewhat worse,
when he realized it.
     And now they were leading him to the back, watching carefully to
make sure he didn't touch anything else or have any more fun.
     At least he'd managed to shut Jane up; when she started in on him
about wandering off and - after Shana had left - what that could mean if
he got caught, he'd waited until the nearest thing to a pause and said,
"'Girlish Enthusiasm?'"  That had shut all of them up until Shana got
back with the red one, that Charlene hadn't even been allowed to try on.
     *This sucks,* Tucker thought dejectedly as they went into a
semi-private room that was hidden in the back.  It had all kinds of
recessed and track lighting, and lots of drapery, and racks of clothing
already-
     "Oh no," Tucker moaned as he caught sight of some of the things on
the portable racks.  "Oh god."

     *Finally,* Jane thought with a tinge of sadistic glee.  "Eugene,"
she said quietly, "you will go into the changing room, remove your
dress, and wait for someone to help you don the first selection."
Thankfully, she had finally gotten Valerie under control.

     Charlie shook his head at his memories that little speech of Jane's
had brought back, of the first time in here, and the first time trying
on the super-feminine dresses, and-
     And his left foot collapsed, which threw him sideways into a
clothing rack.  He just barely managed to NOT grab at the flimsy and
hideously expensive dresses he was falling through, but the bars at the
bottom of the portable rack caught him in the ribs and the pain knocked
the breath out of him.
     There was a rush of women towards him, and then he was being
manhandled out of the dresses and put upright, and he almost fell again
when they let go.  "Her shoe broke!" someone called from behind him, and
then they were grabbing him by the arms again and pulling him forwards.

     When he could tell that Charlene was okay, Tucker turned and went
into the closet Jane had indicated, and shut the door and turned on the
light before he realized he was in an electrical closet and not a normal
changing room.  "Uh..."  *Was I supposed to go in here?*
     Well, there was enough room in here to change, barely, and it
looked as though it had a stereo in it, for some reason he wasn't going
to question.  "Groovy!" he grinned, and looked closer at it.
     Mostly it was a CD player, but he didn't have his own disks with
him, and when he looked at the selection of boxes that were there, he
realized he wanted nothing to do with them, because they all looked 
like either Muzak or light classical, with one labeled simply 'Wedding
Tunes'.  "Ah, no."  *If she doesn't have any bridal gowns out there
already, I don't think she needs the hint.  Plus I hate that crap.*
     It DID have a tuner hooked up, as well as a pair of walkman-style
headphones, so he spent several moments setting the tuner as source and
switching all the speakers off and plugging in the headphones and tuning
it quietly, until he found some station announcing, "Flashback Friday,
with two from Bananarama," before launching into the stringy intro to
'Venus'.
     "Yessss!" Tucker hissed.

     "This one has been a trial," Jane said in a low voice to Brenda, as
the latter woman pointed Evelyn to Valerie's changing room.  Lynne was
already fetching a replacement pair of simple moderate-heeled satin
pumps for Charlene.  "She's fighting me, she's fighting with Charlene...
She even managed to anger Marie last night."
     "Good Lord," Brenda replied, amazed.  "Marie?  How?"
     "There was something at dinner," Jane explained, "and she-"
     "Miz Franson," the assistant said as she came back out of the
changing room, looking very puzzled, "there's no one in there."
     "What?!" Brenda and Jane said at the same time.  Then they went to
look, but the room, although large, had no place for a young girl, or
boy, to hide, and it was patently obvious Valerie was not there.

     Getting the dress off by himself had been far too exciting, in the
painful sense.  But he'd finally managed, though he was kind of hot and
rather damp.  *As if sweating's gonna help.  Stupid meat.*
     But Jane had said someone would bring a dress in, and no one had
come in yet.
     "Okay, so-"  The doorknob wouldn't turn.  Tucker toggled the
locking knob, and it still didn't turn.  "Come on, you lump of-"
Rattling it didn't work; it was well fitted, and didn't rattle at all.
He tried pulling or pushing in every combination he could think of to
open the stupid thing, and nothing even moved.  He even thought about
kicking it open, to surprise whoever was holding it shut, but the damned
thing opened inwards, towards him.  "Well, crap."  There were screws
visible around the knob, which would've done him some good if he had any
real tools with him, which he didn't.  *Maybe there's a screwdriver in
here?*

     "Did anyone come out of the show area just now?" Jane asked.
     "Um, you, and-"
     "A dark-haired girl, about your height," Brenda interrupted.
     "No ma'am," the salesgirl said.  "Just you, and, uh, staff, and the
blonde girl over-"
     "Charlene!" Jane called as she whirled around, and the older
student flinched.  "Go back in there immediately, and STAY there!"
     "Yes ma'am," she said, and quickly disappeared back into the rear
of the shop.

     "Why do _I_ always get in trouble for this stuff?!" Charlie
complained to himself as he limped back into the torture chamber.  "I
didn't DO anything!"
     "Try these shoes on, and did you want to try something on?" Lynne
asked him as he came into the room.  "Some of the dresses?"
     "Oh..."  He looked back, but couldn't see either of the older
women, and wondered what to do.  *Well, it's obvious she doesn't want me
to help look or anything...  I guess she'd want me to keep trying stuff
on.*  He sighed, and unenthusiastically answered, "I guess."

     There was all kinds of catering crap, as well as a breaker box,
Christmas decorations and the like, and some panties Tucker was afraid
to touch on principle, but nothing resembling anything practical.
Including the panties.
     Especially the panties.
     Tucker, wishing he could wash his hands even though he hadn't
touched them, looked up at the high unfinished concrete ceiling, and
noticed that the walls didn't go nearly all the way up.  *That means,
that the rest of it is panels... and therefore, if I can get up
there...*
     Shortly, he found he could, by standing on the table and climbing
up the poorly-made wooden shelves on top, but there was no way he could
make it out with the half-slip on.  *Well, it's sort of private,
anyway,* he decided, and stripped down to the absolute minimum necessary
for feminine modesty before wrapping the chemise he'd been carrying, the
rest of the clothing he'd been wearing, and the shoes up in a bundle as
tight as he could manage, and trying again.
     This time, he lost energy and had to abort to a jump before he got
halfway up.  And his arms HURT.
     "Shit."  *Need some tuneage, dude!*  He looked back at the stereo,
panting to hyperoxygenate and alkalize his blood, and found the speaker
switches.
     They weren't labeled, of course; apparently his father was one of
maybe a dozen people in the world who understood the reason to mark
which switches went to which speakers where on a patch panel.
     So he just activated them all.  He cranked the stereo volume back
up to a comfortable level, and the last bit of 'Venus' gave him enough
oomph to get to the top of the wall by the shelves, where he could
frantically pull out a ceiling tile, drop the dress bundle through the
hole, and then adjust himself so he could fall through onto clear
ground, leaving the tile to flap shut like a trap door above him and
leave no trace he'd ever been there. "Yeah baby, she's got it!" he
agreed.

     The harsh electric guitars had given way to something that sounded
almost like a metallophone, mixed in with an overly-heavy drum beating
and other things, and Jane yanked at the doorknob several times before
giving up.
     *That child is going back into little frillies as soon as-*
     "Hot summer streets and the pavements are burning, I sit around," a
contralto voice belted lustily from the dressing room, in tempo and in
tune with what was blaring out of the showing room speakers.  Though
noticeably louder.
     "Trying to smile but the air is so heavy and dry-y..."
     As they burst into the empty dressing room, they found it obviously
un-empty, with Valerie shrieking at them as she yanked a dress up over
her chest and complained bitterly about the lack of privacy and
propriety.
     There were no other doors leading into the changing room, and she
had not gone past them.

     Charlie's face had unconsciously wrinkled as he tried to remember
who sang this song, and how old it was, but he wasn't getting it.  As he
and Lynne came out of his changing room, he heard an argument from the
next one, and realized that they had found Valerie.

     "I was in here all the time!" Tucker lied again.  "How many times
do I have to tell you?!"  It wasn't like they couldn't tell he was
lying, and he knew that; he just wished they would take the unspoken
'hint' that he was sticking to his story and wasn't going to change it.
He tried changing the subject with, "And I thought we were here to try
on clothes?"

     "We can't shut it off without getting into that room," Brenda
explained, sounding greatly irritated.  "That door was open this
morning, and left open, because something about the knob is broken and
it took maintenance half an hour yesterday to open it.  There's no way
to shut off the music..."
     Jane's head was throbbing painfully in time with the noise pounding
from the speakers, but she managed to say, "Just as there was no way
into that dressing room except past us.  HOW did she do it?"

     "What is this stuff?" Charlie asked Valerie as both of them stood
around by the changing rooms and waited for Jane and Mrs. Franson to
figure things out.  He already knew he couldn't find out what Valerie
had done to disappear.
     Valerie shifted a little in the dress she'd just put back on and
answered, "Looks like a bridal shop or someth-"
     "No, the music," Charlie sighed.  "I know what the clothes are."
     "Eighties stuff.  I think this station's having a retro hour or
something like that."
     "Oh."
     The station ID'd itself, mentioned 'Flashback Friday', and then
said something about a 'Billy Ocean' before a sort of electronic organ
came through, and Charlie tried to tell if he'd ever heard THIS one.  At
least it wasn't very loud.

     "Yes ma'am," Tucker agreed, about as enthusiastically as this place
deserved, and managed to get to his feet again.  He got to the dressing
room and found a provisional goddess.  Goddess, because she was holding
a non-diet Coke; provisional, because she hadn't yet answered his
prayers and given it to him.  "Excuse me," he said, hoping he wasn't
drooling yet, "can I get one of those?  Or maybe two?" he pushed.
     "What?"
     "Coke?"  *Please oh goddess, grant me my need...*
     "Uh, yea-  It's not diet, though," she informed him.
     "Fuck diet," Tucker stated, which made her laugh.  "Please?"
     "Sure," she said, and handed it to him.  "You wanted two?"
     Tucker couldn't answer right away, because he was opening it and
pouring it into his body.  After about half, he managed to stop himself
and answer, "Yes please."
     "Wow, okay.  Um-"
     "I'll, uh, what did she- or they, want me to try on first?"
     "Well, this one," she said, and pulled a dress off the rack.
     "Oh jeezus murphy hubbard christ," Tucker complained, because it
was a white frothy mess that looked like a wedding gown.  *Maybe it was
TWO wedding gowns-*
     The girl burst out laughing.  Tucker couldn't figure out if there
was some nasty in her laugh or not; she was dressed and made up in goth-
type high fashion, of which Tucker approved, which suggested some
commonality of mind; and Tucker would've laughed at any girl forced to
wear the dress she was holding.  If he wasn't going to have to wear it
himself, of course.
     *I need a drink,* Tucker thought; then he realized he had one, and
ingested the rest of it.  *No alcohol, but everything else a body
needs.*  He put the empty can down on one of the boxes the room had
instead of normal furniture, which made him wince.
     He then realized he still couldn't get the back zipper on the dress
he was wearing without pain.  Then he remembered he'd just put the
fucking thing back ON.  "Aw shit.  Why did she make me WEAR this?"
     "Come on, I'll help... what's wrong?"
     "I, um, overstressed my arm muscles yester-"  The stomach interrupt
happened too fast for him to block.
     The girl stated, "Wow, that was attractive."
     Tucker tried for a second belch, and got it.
     "Are you always this delicate?" she asked, which made Tucker laugh.
"C'mon, let's get you started," she said as she put a hand on his
shoulder and turned him around.  As she unzipped him - which hurt a lot
less than when he'd done it - she asked, "What's your name anyway?  I'm
Evelyn."
     "Valerie.  Hey, what's a nice goth like you doing in a place like
this?"
     "Heh," she said appreciatively.  "Summer job," she said, and she
didn't sound too happy about it.
     "Could be worse," Tucker mentioned.  "You could be over next door
in the lingerie shop."
     "It's the same shop.  Step out of the dress," she ordered, which
made Tucker laugh.  "What?"
     Doing his best to imitate a cop using a PA system, Tucker put a
hand over his mouth and barked, "You!  Step out of the dress!  Keep your
hands on top of your head!"
     They both laughed, as Tucker failed a dex roll and fell on the
floor.  He knew this wasn't especially funny to a sane person, but he
began laughing harder anyway.  Then he belched a third time.

     Charlene stopped turning around when the laughter blurred Betty's
instructions.
     "What is going ON in there?" Jane wanted to know.  She tried the
door to Valerie's changing room, but it was apparently locked.
     *How can she be having so much fun in a dressing room?* Jane fumed.
*HE!*  Boys were NOT supposed to be LAUGHING on their first outing.
     When she thought she could control her voice enough to sound merely
irritated, rather than enraged, she knocked on the door and called
loudly, "Hurry UP!"

     "Oh cr-  Come on, we gotta get you changed," Evelyn said, and
offered a hand to help Tucker off the floor.  He wrapped his hand around
her thumb and that part of her wrist, and she braced and pulled him up
easily; she not only outmassed him by quite a bit but also had some
muscle.
     "Hey thanks," he smiled at her, and then frowned at the dress.  It
was still a butt-ugly dress; even his sister would've rejected it.
     She started bending him into it.  "Step in...  So is this for the
junior cotillion thing or what?"
     "Do what?"
     "Junior cotillion?"
     "Whazzat?"
     "You're not in junior cotillion?"
     Tucker politely inquired, "What the hell are you talking about?"
     "Lemme stuff this slip back in, hold still..."  She ran her hand
down his leg, inside the dress's skirt, several times.  "Cotillion, like
those big fancy-dress balls and dances and things?  I thought all the
girls around here, not the college ones but the ones that live here,
were into that."
     "Um..."  Tucker sighed.  "Probably.  I'm sort of stuck here to
learn manners and feminine grace and crap like that."
     Evelyn snorted.  "Yep, that's it, cotill-"
     Someone knocked on the door.
     "WE'RE WORKING ON IT!" Evelyn yelled in the direction of the door.
"JUST A MINUTE!  Lemme zip this up-"
     "It zips up the back," Tucker noticed.  "What is with that?"
     "So you can't get dressed by yourself, duh," Evelyn said like
everyone knew that.  Tucker had suspected as much, but it was a bit
jarring to hear someone just ADMIT it like she'd just done.  "Same
reason girls' buttons go the other side of mens'."
     "What?"
     "Tell you later," she said, as she unlocked and opened the door and
motioned Tucker out.  "Mrs. Franson, I think this one is too frilly for
her."

     Valerie looked at herself in the mirrors outside the dressing room,
and actually shrieked and pointed at her reflection.
     Charlie felt a little sorry for Valerie; it was only the first
dress.

     *CRAP that hurt!* Tucker realized too late.
     After his vision cleared out, he realized that the older, bitchy
women were saying something to him.  "What?"
     "Walk up on the dais there," Jane commanded.  "Walk slowly."
     "Oh, yeah, sure, no problem," Tuck lied.  He peered ahead
carefully, and was glad to see that it had two steps up on either side,
though the front looked disturbingly like a stage.  There were doors
near the stairs, too.  *Probably used for dinky little fashion shows.*
There wasn't enough room for seats to have a large one.  *Or, fuckhead,
maybe it's for what you're doing now.*
     The lights were very very bright and painful up on the stage.

     "With her hair down like that, and with so little makeup, she looks
rather washed out, in that one," Brenda commented to Jane.
     "Some of that is because she had some allergy issues yesterday."
     "Is that why she's squinting?"
     "Valerie," Jane commanded, "turn sideways."
     The girl turned to face the wall.

     "The OTHER way," Jane snarled.
     "Whatever," Tucker sighed, and did a slow turn, so they could see
every stupid detail.  Of which this dress had orders of magnitude too
many.  "God I hope they don't make me wear this outside," he prayed.
Plus it was hot.

     Jane smiled to herself; she hadn't heard the entire comment, the
blasted music had drowned parts of it out, but she was gratified to get
the gist of Valerie's displeasure.  *Finally...*

     Charlie sighed and went to go change into something else.  *At
least the music helps,* he had to admit.  *Wonder why they're all so
upset about it?*  He knew why they were upset with Valerie.  Besides the
fact that the music had come on and it had to be her doing, and she was
lying about that; she was some sort of Grand Master at Pissing People
Off, and now she had both Mrs. Franson AND Jane to work her evil magic
on.  He wished there was some way he could subtly remind Jane that it
wasn't HIS fault, that he'd been opposed to the idea of bringing her
here in the first place, but he was afraid that if he drew any attention
to himself that some of Jane's frustration would explode out at him.

     "Are you okay?" Evelyn asked Valerie; she was sweating profusely.
     "Arms hurt," she breathed.  "Gotta towel?"
     "Yeah, just a minute...  Let me unzip you..."  She wrinkled her
nose at the dress as it came off, because Valerie HAD been sweating, and
she wasn't sure if they could sell the dress now, or if they would have
to have it dry-cleaned or something.  "Sit down over there, cool off,
and I'll see what I can find, okay?"
     "'Kay."
     *She really did need that Coke,* Evelyn realized.  *Wonder if she's
got an eating disorder?*  Plenty of the girls that came in did, it
seemed, but they were usually managing it better than Valerie seemed to
be.  She was almost thin enough, and the bruises... *Isn't unusual
sweating a symptom?  Or maybe she's sick.*  "Mrs. Franson," she called,
"Valerie's overheating, so I'm going to get one of the box fans from the
back.  She's in the changing room cooling off."
     She didn't wait for a reply; she got more done without waiting for
Mrs. Franson's approval.  The woman COULD be sharp and decisive, Evelyn
had seen it happen; but apparently she'd rather dither and hem and haw
until the very last second.  If she was allowed to.  So, whenever
possible, Eveyln didn't allow her to.

     Tucker, when he could think about it, decided that the half slip
was just extra insulation he didn't need at the moment.  *The bra I
understand, and the stockings, but why the-*
     "Valer-"
     "Aaiii!" Tucker announced as he threw the half-slip towards and
himself away from the danger.  "WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THAT?!" he
shrieked at Jane, who was standing there with Mrs. Franson.
     "Why are you sweating so much?" Mrs. Franson asked.
     "Maybe it's because I'm nervous?  Because people keep busting into
changing rooms and bathrooms and everywhere else I could expect maybe a
LITTLE privacy?"
     "Eugene," Jane hissed, "you need to keep your voice down, or the
other girls here will begin to think you're not actually a girl under
your pretty panties."
     Tucker opened his mouth to tell Jane just what he thought of THAT,
but he was just too tired and hot, so he just panted.
     Mrs. Franson said, in the sweet kind of quiet boy-are-you-butt-
fucked voice, "Now, dear, I'm sure if you act in a demure and ladylike
fashion, that no one will have to know that under that delicate lingerie
is a little boy."
     Tucker looked at her, and superimposed a target lock icon on her
face, right between her eyebrows, got tone, and dropped a heavy missile
from under a wing before blowing chaff and flares in a huge cloud and
rolling in a lumpy scissors to get the Gatling online with Jane's face
and saw her head in half.

     The girl didn't say anything in response, but her right and left
fingers twitched repeatedly, then her left foot and right hand jerked at
the same time.  *What is she doing?* Jane wondered.

     Tucker didn't think it would work, but Mrs. Franson's face whited
out for a second like she was vaporizing.  He closed his eyes and
squinted really hard, and when he opened them again, she was back.
     *Damnit.*
     "Fan!" Evelyn announced from behind the bitches, and they moved
enough to let her and the box fan in.  She handed him a dishtowel, which
he smelled first - clean - and then used to pat his face and then wipe
his neck and upper body.  Evelyn said something to the older women about
the first dress as she knelt down on the floor and plugged the fan into
a hidden outlet.
     "Ahhhhh," Tucker sighed in relief as the breeze washed over him.
     "And then, what I was thinking is, try a couple of the spaghetti
strapped dresses for the next couple," Evelyn said, "and let her cool
off, and then we could try the- the more covering items in a little
bit?  Is that okay with you?" she asked Tucker directly.
     "Huh?Wh- Yeah, sure, that'd be great," Tucker agreed.  "Could I
wait a minute or two, though?  Maybe Charlene has something else on you
could look at," he mentioned, trying for subtlety since the missiles and
cannon hadn't worked.

     Valerie's bruises were really obvious now, especially on her legs.
*Is she being abused?*  As Mrs. Franson and Ms. Thompson left, she shut
and locked the door, and then quietly asked, "Are you okay?"
     Valerie sighed, and nodded.  "Thanks for the coke, though; that
really saved my life," she said as she lifted her head and smiled.
     *Jeez, I sort of hope not,* she thought; she didn't like the idea
of anyone being that desperate for a mere soda.  And she really didn't
like all the bruises she could see on the girl's body.  But she said,
"Sure, no problem."  She couldn't quite bring herself to ask Valerie if
she was being beaten.  "Did you want the second one now," which she'd
forgotten when she went to get the fan, "or-"
     Valerie managed to burp again, which made her smile, and said, "Um,
not yet; 'm still digesting this one.  Thanks."  She panted and mopped
at herself, but it seemed like she was cooling off in the artificial
breeze.  Then her face developed a weary grin, and she said, "Any chance
you could get me what you're wearing?"
     "What, the..." Evelyn asked as she looked down at herself.

     "The whole thing, the whole outfit," Tucker said.  He thought that
the dark red top she had, with the sort of double-curved neckline, would
look good enough on him no matter what size bust he was sporting; and of
course the black corset-style skirt would look good on damn near anyone.
     "I really don't think you want to be wearing a corset," she said.
     "That's a real corset?  I thought it was part of the skirt," Tucker
said.
     "No, it's a real corset," she replied in an I've-answered-this-
fifty-times-today tone of voice.
     "For re-  Sorry, you gotta be tired of hearing that too," Tucker
realized, and got a thank-you smile.  "My girlfriend, though, she likes
corsets.  Got me to wear one for Halloween.  Hurt like hell, too."
     "Was it steel boned?"
     "I think so... it felt like steel anyway.  Might've been aluminum
or something I guess," Tucker admitted, and shrugged.
     "How long did you have it on?"
     "Allllll fucking day.  And night, I think... I might've gone to
sleep wearing it."  He wasn't sure now.  *I know I had the wig on...*
But that was something he didn't think he really wanted to mention.
     "And so now you never want to wear one again," Evelyn stated.
     "Welllll...  Not that long, for damn sure," Tucker said.  "And not
that tight either."  He'd been in some tight ones over the last week,
and he did NOT like the restriction on his breathing.
     "Doesn't Ms. Thompson wear one?  I thought she'd bought a few here
before."
     Tucker shrugged.  "She might."  And thought, "It'd explain why
she's so constipated all the time."
     Evelyn gave him a look, then said, "Speaking of, think you can try
on something?  And make her happy?"
     "I don't think anything will make her happy," Tucker mentioned, but
got himself up and ready for the next one.  "Seriously, though, do you
have something in like other than white or past-"  She did, and she
draped it across her arms for him to marvel at.  "Oooooh," Tucker
marvelled.  It was far darker than most of the pastels he'd seen in the
back room, which all by itself jumped it up a couple stars, and
spaghetti strapped like she'd said - which he knew would normally
require a special bra, but he didn't think anyone was going to bother
just to try it on - and went from medium blue at the top to black, with
glitter, at the hem.
     And then the radio station, dimly heard in the background, shifted
from blather to a familiar vocal meandering, that he hadn't heard in
ages.
     "Oh my god..."
     "What?"
     "You don't recognize this?"  Maybe she wasn't old enough.  "Give't
to me one more time na'howwww..."

     "Valerie, we do NOT have all day," Jane announced loudly to the two
behind the changing room door.

     "Yeah, like what the fuck else are 'we' going to fit into 'our'
busy schedules," Tucker muttered.  Evelyn sniggered.  "The door's
locked, right?"
     She nodded.  "At least you didn't go into hysterics when they came
in.  I've had..."  She shook her head.
     "'Ohmigod ohmigod the same person that used to change my diapers
and bathe me might've seen me with half my clothes off!'"  Susan had
screamed loud enough for Tucker to hear CLEARLY while he was outside the
changing room.  Though she hadn't used exactly that phrasing; that was
more like what Mom had mentioned later.
     "Or 'the entire world has nothing better to do than stand around
and TRY to see you in your underwear.  So you'd better fend 'em off.'
By screaming," she sighed.
     "Christ, my sister was like that," Tucker agreed.  *Of course, we
did try an awful lot...  But that wasn't like we WANTED to see her; it
was just to piss her off.*  "But we still got pict- no, we got VIDEO, of
her naked anyway," Tucker grinned.
     "You what?"
     "She thought that being on the second story meant she didn't have
to worry about shutting her drapes."
     The look on Evelyn's face told Tucker he'd best shut up right now.

     Charlie twirled around, his arms out a little to allow the skirt to
flare.  *Stupid dress.  Like I don't have enough- too many, of them
already?*
     "And do smile, Charlene, you look so lovely when you smile," Jane
said, but she didn't seem quite like her heart was in it.
     Charlie smiled anyway.

     "Yeah, why not...  Get this one over with.  It's a nice dress,
which means she'll hate it and not get it," Tucker predicted.
     "Maybe if you look all hateful about this one, she'll like it,"
Evelyn suggested, which made Tucker chuckle.
     "Nah," he finally sighed, as he stood up and dropped the dish towel
on the cube.  "Too easy.  Besides, I think she likes the explosion-of-
lace look.  Too much isn't quite enough, or something."  He hissed as he
grabbed the strings and lifted the dress over his head.  "Why didn't I
get some ibus before I left?  Because I'm stupid," he decided.  "Howzit
look?"
     Evelyn pulled here and there, and finally nodded.  "You'd need
different shoes, of course."
     "Yeah, I know..."

     Valerie finally came out, and Charlie sighed in relief; at least
now he wouldn't be the only one Jane and Mrs. Franson would be staring
at.  And commenting on.
     Annoyingly, her dress looked much better on her than the ones he'd
been wearing, even with her flat chest.  "Looks good," he said to her,
and deliberately smiled at her.
     "Yeah thanks.  Hey... you might look good in it," she mentioned.
     "Valerie, come and stand on the dais so we can see you," Jane
called.  She rolled her eyes but left immediately.

     *Why can't they air condition these places better?  It's like
ninety degrees in here!  Or thirty-two,* Tucker's mind supplied.  *Are
they gonna play 'Two Tribes'?  It's better than 'Relax' but not as
popular... probably because it's better.*
     Obeying a directive to turn, he did, and then wondered if the skirt
would flare if he really twisted.  Not really, he found out; the skirt
was too narrow.  *Too bad.  Debbie would've liked it...  Damnit!*  She
was there which wasn't HERE, and it was this stupid bitch's fault.  He
glared at Mrs' Thompson and Franson and stomped back to the changing
room, so pissed he almost didn't notice when he stumbled off the stage
and ran into a wall.  "Ow sh- d- f-"  He just gave up and held it in.
     "Are you all right?"
     "Fine!"
     "Gracefully!" the other one called after him.
     He was going to scream 'Piss OFF!' but choked on his own rage, and
so instead he kicked the changing room door shut.  "Goddamn bitches," he
remarked, then made sure the door was locked.  "What's the next piece?"
he asked Evelyn.
     "What's your problem alluva sudden?"
     "Fucking ran into a fucking wall, and why is it so fucking HOT in
here?  Or out there," he corrected, because the fan was helping,
even though it should theoretically have been hotter in the changing
room with the door shut. "Jesus.  She's got a fucking pool; why the fuck
aren't we out there sipping mint juleps or some kind of thing, champagne
maybe, instead of fucking around in here?  You know how many clothes she
has in that house?  The basement is fucking FULL of them."  He shook his
head, which was not a good idea while he was removing a dress.  "Um..."
*Which way is out?*
     She helped him without needing to be asked.  "You're a goddess, you
know that?" Tucker said to her when he was free of the treacherous dress
once again.  "You should be worshipped.  Okay, maybe a saint, but they
do churches for saints, right?"
     "Did you just drop some ecstasy or something?" Evelyn asked,
looking bemused.
     "No.  I think enough pain makes me excited or something.  Or my
endorphins kicked in."  He spotted the first, white, disgusting parody
of a dress.  "Or maybe I just got really pissed off."  He flexed his
arms out, and they hurt, but not as much as they had.  "Nope, it's
endorphins."  He was also panting, and sweating again.  "Do you guys
sell bikinis?  Think I could model those for a while?"
     "Jeez, something...  Try..."  Evelyn paged through hangers, then
unlocked the door and went out.  Tucker checked to make sure he was
wearing enough to be street-legal - he was - and followed her.
     "Somewhere," Evelyn mumbled to herself as she paged through another
rack.
     To avoid looking at all the horrors he might have to try on, Tucker
looked at the stage, and caught Charlene in a strappy number, kind of
like he'd been wearing a minute ago, except this one was light pink
shading to dark pink.  "Hey, that looks better on you than the other one
did on me," Tucker mentioned.
     Heads turned towards him, and he thought, *Aw, shit.*
     He'd forgotten the women.
     *The harpies.*

     Evelyn caught Lynne and said, "It's kind of warm in here.  Did you
turn on the air conditioner?"  The shop had an extra one, or something,
which they were SUPPOSED to turn on to cool the showing room area down.
     The look on Lynne's face at that instant was all the answer Evelyn
needed.  *Idiot!  SHE can't find her ass with both hands...*  She turned
and went to the very discrete box mounted by the light switches on the
wall, and flicked the 'On' and 'Cool' switches.

     Charlie watched as the two older women got up from their chairs and
chased after Valerie, who started to complain and back up but then froze
as her attention, and head, snapped up towards the ceiling.
     *What the-*

     Tucker wasn't sure what the machinery noises were, but he was
watching the ceiling in case it started moving - that seemed like the
worst possibility he could think of - when an icy blast of air hit him
in the side.  "Oh my god," he sighed, caught in convective bliss for the
moment.
     "Blah blah blah in their UNDERWEAR," Tucker caught before Jane
grabbed him by the arm - Tucker ALMOST hit her, but the traction told
him she was just pulling him along like his mom and sister and everyone
had done in the past - and pulled him back towards the changing room.
     "But it's hottt," Tucker whined as he uncocked his fist.
     "Now that we've got the AIR CONDITIONER on," Evelyn emphasized,
"it'll be cooler in here, and the changing room too.  Big vents in
there."
     Tucker had sort of noticed that when he was up in the ceiling.
"Oh."
     "Now BEHAVE yourself, young LADY," Jane snarled at him as she cast
him off into the changing room.
     Tucker sighed and went in, followed by Evelyn and another colorful
dress.  And it WAS cooler, perceptibly.  *Even better with the fan.*

     Charlie was still standing on the dais when the two women came
back, partially because he didn't know what else to do, and partially to
catch the new breeze, and partially to watch.  Jane was looking more and
more irritated, and Valerie didn't seem to be behaving any better here
than she had been at home.
     A faint sound like an air-raid siren caught his attention, and
seemed to catch the attention of the two women as well.  It was followed
by some piano-and-choral work that suggested it was part of the music
from the radio.  *Weird,* he thought, shaking his head.  *They did weird
music back in the 80s, I guess.*

     The music was doing Tucker good; he could feel it filling him up
with the mana energy it had collected over the years, from when people
danced to it or made love to it or whatever.
     He thought that he was probably hallucinating again, but he needed
the boost, even if it was hallucinatory.
     Plus there was all that sugar and caffeine he was digesting.
     The only real problem he was having at the moment, besides Jane and
this shop having gathered the most bizarre collection of young-womens'
clothing he'd ever seen, was that the music was starting to pull at his
body, and it was hard to change clothes when you had The Beat running
through you.

     Valerie was looking a little tranced out, which Evelyn thought was
because of the cooler air, until she blurted out a musical, "Working for
the black hats!" and followed it with a single rich note, matching the
male vocalist from the speakers but much louder.  When he went down a
note or two, though, she went up, which harmonized nicely.  As the two
voices rippled and faded out, Valerie slowly turned her head and looked
calmly, or dazedly, at Evelyn.
     "Are you alright?" she felt compelled to ask.
     After a few moments, she nodded slowly, and smiled.
     "Can I get some of what you're tripping on?"
     Valerie just laughed and pointed up.  "Music's there, girl; feel
it!"
     "No, seriously."
     "Seriously!"

     "Was that your girl or mine?" Jane asked Brenda, who started to
shrug as her eyebrows went up.  "Mine," she sighed as she sat back in
her seat and massaged her aching forehead with her fingers.

     "I guess.  I've never worn gloves or anything," Tucker admitted as
she slid him into the dress, which was pink but not made entirely of
flounces and lace and not quite pastel either.
     "You should really wear gloves with a dress like this," Evelyn
assured him, pointing to the middle of his upper arm.  LONG gloves,
apparently.
     "Yeah but, like, how do you deal?  I mean, I think I remember my
sister having a tantrum about gloves and velcro once."  *So hard to sort
out the tantrums,* Tucker thought.  "And if they're that long, you can't
just take 'em off for a minute to deal with something."
     "You do have to plan a little ahead," Evelyn admitted, as she tied
the crucial string around the back of his neck.  "But they look SO
good."
     "You wear gloves like that?"
     "Well, black ones," she sort of backpedaled.  "Sometimes."
     Or 'sidepedaled'.  "Oh, with the whole formal goth thing," Tucker
nodded.
     "Yeah.  Ready?"
     Tucker sighed.  "Yeah, I guess..."
     "Courage," she intoned.
     "Love and light, love and light," Tucker quoted from the song, and
opened the door.  "This one's not too bad," he announced to the harpies,
mostly to see what they would do.  "Except I need long gloves with it."
     They craned to look, as Tucker walked towards the stage.  "I think
that's a little old for you," the other one said.
     "Oh, yeah, right, I look almost THIRTEEN in this one," Tucker
complained.
     "Valerie!" Jane barked.
     "What?!"  He stomped up on stage and twirled around.  "What is
wrong with this?!"
     "You really need more of a bust to wear that style," the other one,
whose name momentarily escaped him, told him.
     "I had one earlier," Tucker reminded her.
     "You can't wear that one with a bra, dear; not a bra with straps,"
she said firmly.
     Tucker almost yelled at her that he was in fact at that very moment
wearing a bra with straps, but then he remembered how dumb it had looked
in the mirror, with the pink dress and its straps and the stark white of
the itty-bitty-bra and its straps.  So he was reluctantly forced to
agree with her, but argued, "Don't they have bras with, like- that go
like this?" as he traced the string that went around his neck with a
finger.
     "Trust me, you need-  Evelyn, find something with an empire waist,"
she said off to the side.
     "She's got one," Evelyn said.  "What'sher- Charlene," she
remembered.  Tucker couldn't see her for the glare from the lights for a
while, but eventually Charlene got into the spotlights with him.
     "Oh, that's an empire waist?" Tucker thought.  "Yeah, okay."
     "'Yeah' is not proper English," Jane started, and Tucker sighed as
she went on.
     Charlene's dress was a pastel pink, again, but with her blonde hair
it looked alright.  "Looks good," he smiled at her.  And while Charlene
didn't have much in the bust department - especially compared to, say,
the last few dozen women he'd seen in formals - it did make what she had
look a little more impressive.
     Jane was still going on, but she did that.

     "She's kind of right, though," Evelyn said when Valerie had finally
been allowed to change again, after the grammar lecture.  "See?"  She
pointed the girl at the mirror inside the changing room.  "Shows you
have like almost NO breasts whatsoever."
     "Yeah, okay, I get it," she complained.  "What about that empire
waist thing?"
     "What, you want to try one, or-"
     "Why is it called an empire waist?"
     "You really want to know?" Evelyn asked as she reached behind
Valerie's neck and untied the halter.
     "If you KNOW," Valerie emphasized.

     Charlie handed Lynne the dress he'd just worn, and said, "Why don't
you see if Valerie would like to try this one?"
     "Well, but don't you need some help getting into the next one?"
     What Charlie needed was to scratch underneath the bra he had on,
and he didn't think she ought to see that.  "I can manage for a minute,"
he said, smiling deliberately at her.  "Go on," he encouraged, as gently
as he could, and went and got the first dress he hadn't worn yet and
started removing it from the hanger.
     The door finally closed, and Charlie dropped the dress and stuck
his hand inside his bra and relieved himself.  "Oh, god," he moaned
ecstatically.  "Uhhhhhhh!"  The itch was moving.

     "Wait a minute."  The long-short synth chord - a C, or a little
lower, he thought - repeated.  Then again.  Then a fourth time, and then
there was a bunch of short high notes, and a chime like a very small
bell.  "Got it," Tucker nodded.

     *Got WHAT?* Jane wondered, as far as she was able to think through
her headache.
     "Valerie, if you could turn," Brenda ordered.
     She did, and then the latest in abominable music started - Jane was
actually looking forward to the commercials, as insipid as they were -
and as Valerie finished the circle, she clapped her hands, and began to
dance off the stage.

     Tucker wasn't sure of the lyrics at the beginning, but he
remembered, "Somethin' has changed and I don't know how."  Evelyn was
right there, so he grabbed her hand and pulled her into a slow circle
with the music, and around, and let go and sailed - slowly and
gracefully, as opposed to stumbling at high velocity until he ran into a
wall  - into the changing room.

     "Jeez, I wish music did that for me," Evelyn sighed as she came
into the changing room herself, and shut and locked the door.
     "You're not listening to the right music, if it's not," Valerie
replied.
     "I like my music," she defended.
     "Nine Inch Nails?"
     "Them, some-  Hold still a second.  How're your arms?" she asked,
as Valerie seemed to be moving a lot easier than she had earlier.
     "Oh, it hurts so bad I can't even feel it any more," she said
casually.
     "What?!"
     "Plus my endorphins kicked in," she added.  "Finally."
     "What did you do anyway?"
     "Overused my arm muscles yesterday.  I didn't pull anything, like a
tendon or a sprain or anything; it's just muscle complaining.  You know,
overexercise."
     That was sort of a relief; Evelyn didn't want Valerie crippled with
a soft tissue injury because she hadn't gotten it treated.  "Did you
want some ibuprofen or something?  I might have-"
     "Naw, s'okay," she said.  "But thanks though."
     She remembered, "What about that second coke?"  Valerie hadn't
belched in a while, so she could probably handle another one.
     "Um, m-  Hey, in like half an hour or so, how about you get me
three ibuprofen, six hundred milligrams, and a coke to wash it down
with?  And be SURE to put it on the bill, right?"
     "Right," Evelyn smiled back, though they didn't actually bill for
things like that; it was one reason the dresses and accessories cost so
much.  "But, like, but what did you DO to your arms?"

     "Howard Jones," Tucker said, remembering many years of listening to
him and his synths; it was one of the artists he and his mom could agree
on.
     The dresses were starting to blur together; he couldn't remember
which one he had on unless he was looking at it.  Most of them sucked,
of course.
     "I've been waitin' for so long,
      to come here now and sing this song.
      Oooooh, don't be fooled by what you seeeeeeee,
      Don't be fooled by what you heeeeeaaar."
     Normally he wouldn't be singing in public, since it tended to get
him abused; he'd pretty much only sung with his mom, back when.  But it
seemed to be annoying Jane, and that was the least he could do for, or
TO, her.  And with the way his endorphins were pumping, she's have to
hit him a lot for him to feel it, and then he'd have an excuse to snap
her neck.

     "Come ON, Ellen," Kate Bishop pushed.  She didn't know why her
daughter was so reluctant to get fitted with new bras today, and at this
point she didn't much care; she just wanted Ellen to quit her whining
and take it like a woman.  She tried, "The faster we get in there, the
faster we can get it done and get OUT of there."
     Ellen huffed in a grossly offended manner and turned her head,
keeping her arms crossed across her chest.  Kate would've laughed a year
ago, but she'd seen it too often lately and was tired of it, and all the
rest of her histrionics.

     "I need an everlasting love,
      I need a friend and a lover divine,
      An ever-lasting precious love
      Wait for it, wait for it, give it some tiiiime," Tucker sang.
     *This almost makes the dress shit worth it,* he thought.  Jane was
near her detonation point, but Mrs. Franson had complimented him on his
voice once or twice, probably until Jane had told her to shut the fuck
up, or whatever Jane would say instead of 'shut the fuck up'.
     "Back in the world of disposable emotion..."

     Kate's ears, metaphorically, perked up.  "Who is that?"
     "Oh, that's one of the girls that came in this morning," Shana
explained.  "I don't know how she got the radio on, the door's jammed
shut or something, but she's been singing along with it for a while."
     "Mommmmm!" Ellen complained.

     Jane's stomach was roiling, now, along with the headache, and she
was tempted to cut the expedition short and go home; but if she did, she
didn't have anything else at home to convince Valerie to submit.  Jane
had made reservations for lunch, since Valerie HAD shown SOME restraint
around others; and she'd begged Sandy to come in for an afternoon
session at Marisha, but Jane was no longer sure those would work; the
girl did not seem to be cow-able today.  *First, that dress from up
front,* she reviewed, *then she disappeared and turned THAT MUSIC on-*
Said music was now blissfully, but only temporarily, replaced by an
advertisement she could ignore.  *And then she RE-appeared out of thin
air, and then she's been SINGING...*  None of her other students had
been singing during THEIR first trip to Brenda Franson's.  Or, as far as
she could remember, ANY of their trips to Brenda Franson's.
     The child was acting as if she was on some sort of stimulant, but
there was no way she could've found such a thing; Brenda wouldn't
tolerate dealing in illegal drugs on her premises.
     *Or she doesn't know...*  Jane turned around and looked at the girl
who was dressing Valerie.  *But how could they have connected so
quickly?*  Illegal drug deals couldn't be completed so quickly between
strangers.  *Could they?  And without money?*

     "Oh come ON!  Don't you ever DANCE?  A fox like you?"  Tucker
couldn't believe Evelyn didn't know who THIS was.  "'Come on girls!  Do
you believe in love?'"  He yanked open the door and continued, "'Cause I
got somethin' to say about it, and it goes something like this.'"
     Madonna just turned his crank.
     And he was cranking Jane all out of shape too, which made him feel
better.

     Kate heard the girl belting out vintage Madonna, IN TUNE, and could
no longer restrain herself.  "I'll be right back," she said, and took
off.
     "MOMMMMM!!"
     "Oh, bite me," Kate said under her breath.  "You didn't want to be
here anyway."

     Ellen couldn't believe her mom was just ABANDONING her here like
that.
     "So, now you can get what you want without her complaining," Shana
said, and when Ellen looked she was grinning.  "Or at least try it on.
Like the fuchsia set?"
     "Oh yeah," Ellen agreed, and smiled back.  She hated her mom, and
hated having to try on clothes in front of her, but Shana was cool.  At
least when Mom wasn't around.

     Charlie was so stunned he forgot to walk.  Valerie was SINGING, and
DANCING, like this was a video or something, to some classic rock that
he barely remembered, and she was ENJOYING it - he could see her grin
that kept popping out when she wasn't jamming the music out of her body.
And 'jamming' was the word because she was making an effort Charlie
could see to push the lyrics out.
     *And damn- oh-*  But it still sounded remarkably like a
professional singer, if not actually Madonna.

     "... MAKE HIM express how he feels, and then you'll know your love
is reeeaaaal."  As Tucker danced himself off the stage, he thought Jane
was possibly about to constipate herself to death.  *Beauty!*
     "Long stem roses are the way to your heart, but, he needs to start
with your head," he sang at Charlene.  "Satin sheets are very romantic;
what happens when you're not in beeeeddd?"

     Jane had stared, unable to stop watching Valerie as she danced and
sang her way ON the dais, put herself through a little dance routine
that showed off the dress she was wearing, then danced and sang her way
OFF the dais, around the periphery of the room and back to her changing
room.  *There has to be a way to turn this- this- this SONG AND DANCE
of hers, into a tune that _I_ am calling!*
     "Second best is NEVER enough!  You'll do much BETTER BABY on your
own!" Valerie squalled, then slammed the door to the changing room shut.
     "What is she ON?" Brenda demanded.
     Jane's mouth opened and nothing coherent came out, as Jane
discovered that she was also standing up.  Which she did NOT remember
doing.

     "-On your own!" Tucker belted out, then slammed the door, hiked up
his skirt, and - making sure he wasn't going to nail Evelyn in the
throat - did a snap side kick and used the momentum from the recoil to
do a 180 and snap his feet together, facing her.  She looked rather
amazed, to put it mildly.  Tucker snapped another 180 and held his arms
out so she could unzip this one.

     "Excuse me," Kate said to the pair of adult women in the show area,
"do you know who that girl is, the one that's been singing?"
     They both turned to look at her.
     "She's superb," Kate continued - a little lie; the voice had a fair
amount of talent and volume but needed some training to get the most out
of her abilities.  "Has she ever sung in a group?"
     "Don't you do the Kingston Girls' Choir?"
     "Yes I do!" Kate smiled, amazed that she'd actually been recognized
by someone when she wasn't in front of some sort of musical group.  "I'm
the director."

     *Oh, thank GOD, thank God...*  Jane just barely managed to keep her
babbling from reaching her lips, as she mentally grabbed hold of herself
before she could shriek in relief.  Or begin to cry.
     Because Jane could recognize the beginning of a recruiting pitch
when she heard one.

     Tucker was NOT going to stop singing, not if it pissed Jane off
this bad, and not for the 'fun' of trying on stupid clothing; so when
Evelyn got the previous piece-of-lace-shit off him, he strutted over to
the 'chair' box, turned around, and held his arms up again.
     Thankfully - *Synchronicity,* he realized, and he would've nodded
if he could've - Evelyn caught it, and went behind him with the N+1
dress and stood up on the box, like he wanted, and slid it down his arms
and body.
     She tugged at it a few times, then came off the box and did the
same thing in front, and then went to the changing room door and
flourished it open.

     Kate looked over, as the door opened and the girl's volume
increased.  "And when you're gone he might regret it," she sang to Kate.
     She was a bit tall for a junior high student, though definitely not
overweight, and she was wearing hardly any makeup.  Her hair, long and
brown, was done in a cute ponytail wrapped up with a ribbon, that
unfortunately matched the ugly pale blue semiformal A-line tent dress
with white lace accents that she was wearing at the moment.
     Kate's imagination stuffed the girl into a black cocktail dress,
with over-the-elbow gloves, her hair done up into a 1940s pompadour, and
the stark simplistic makeup of the period.  *Ohhhh, YES.  Torch singer!*

     "Valerie!" Jane barked, and Tucker almost grinned.  "Come here."
     *Guess the volume isn't loud enough,* he thought, and almost
grinned again.

     Charlie watched as Valerie sang and danced her way to the group of
adult women.  *I don't think that's a good idea...*  He didn't know who
the new woman was, but...  It looked suspicious to him.  Though he
couldn't think who the woman could be; he'd already met Jane's dress shop
accomplice, Mrs. Franson, and the hair styling accomplices Caroline and
Sandy, and - he shuddered - Edith White, and Darla, and-

     *Oh goddamn it.*  Tucker broke off singing to ask, "What?"
     Jane didn't have a chance; the new woman blurted, "I'm Kate Bishop
and I direct the Kingston Girls' Choir over the summer have you ever
sung with a choir?"  She was also holding her hand out, which Tucker
belatedly shook, while trying to parse her statement.

     *Shakes like a man,* Kate noticed.
     "Um, I-"
     "Valerie, 'um' is n-"
     "ExCUSEme?!" the girl blurted towards the tall redhead.  "I'm
trying to answer her question?!"  She turned back to Kate. "Like
professionally or something?" she asked, in a much more reasonable tone
of voice.
     "Well, we don't get paid," Kate informed her.  "It's purely
volunteer."
     "Yeah but-"  She waved her arms as she shook her head.  "Never
mind.  No I haven't.  Just lucky, I guess," she smiled.
     "Could I interest you in joining?  It's a wonderful opportunity to
meet some other girls and get some training for that BEAUTIFUL voice of
yours," she stuck in.

     Ms. Bishop enthused, "And we do various events over the summer,
including parades.  I heard you singing..."
     *Oh crap,* Tucker sighed as he started to blush.  He'd stopped
singing except to annoy his siblings because he'd been mistaken for a
girl singing once, near school, and then he'd had a lovely couple-mile
steeplechase trying to keep ahead of the fag-bashers who'd taken offense
to their own misidentification.  *Oh crap.*  While it was unlikely in
the extreme that this woman would try to beat him, he had totally
dropped the fact that he was still, in some sense, in public.
     *You jackass.  'YOUUU _E_E_E_E_DIOT!'*

     Jane had managed to get control of herself - at least outwardly -
but was having a hard time restraining some word or gesture of triumph.
And, honestly, one or more of relief as well, because she had been at
her wits' end as to what to do next, and the headache, combined with her
stomachache from missing breakfast, had made it almost impossible to
think.
     And now, Valerie was actually BLUSHING.  *I had no idea she would
react like THIS...*  The embarrassment that Valerie was so obviously
feeling about her singing demanded Jane put it to good use, and
immediately.  She waited until Mrs. Bishop paused in her sales spiel,
then inserted, "And I think it would be a wonderful thing for you to do,
Valerie!  Just think of all the other lovely girls you could meet, girls
who are as interested in the art of music as you are."

     *Oh dear,* Kate thought, but managed to keep her dismay off her
face.  Her daughter, for one, treated the entire thing as if it was
physical torture.  *Well, what she doesn't know, I guess...*

     *Do what?*  This wasn't what Tucker had been thinking Jane would
say.  "You WANT me to do this?"

     "Well, you do SO enjoy singing," Jane smiled at Valerie, feeling
better than she had for quite some time.

     "Please," Kate pressed, "you have a wonderful contralto - that's
the lower end of the female vocal range," she explained in case Valerie
didn't know what the term meant.  "And we really need another contralto
or two in the choir to balance it out.  And it's only three days a week
for practices, so it wouldn't take up that much of your time, really."
     "Yeahright," the girl grimaced.  "How LONG are those three days a
week practices."
     *Oh hell, she caught that.*  "Well, it's a little less than three
hours at a-"
     "I think we could arrange to do that," the redhead said.  "What
times?"

     Tucker sighed.  Obviously, Jane or the other one had gotten tired
of his singing and retaliated this way, by signing him up for this choir
thing.
     And it wasn't like he was going to be given a choice to refuse,
just like he hadn't been able to refuse coming to this stupid place in
the first place, or-  *Come to think of it, I didn't want to come out to
this camp at all either.*  He'd been thinking of the dress shop.

     "Um, Jane?" Charlie dared to ask, when Jane had finished setting up
times with the choir woman and Valerie had wandered away to the changing
room.
     "Yes?"
     "Do you think it's... wise, having her sing at a choir?" Charlie
asked carefully.  "I mean, she's... she's not..."
     "She's not actually a girl, you mean?" Jane stated out loud, and
Charlie looked around in shock to make sure no one else could have heard
the damning statement.  "That is correct; however, I have been listening
to her for the past half hour..."
     Valerie had stopped singing during the previous conversation,
although the music hadn't; and she hadn't started again.  *Maybe she
didn't feel like singing any more,* Charlie guessed.  *Or she doesn't
know this one.*
     Jane continued, "And frankly, I cannot tell any difference between
her voice and the voice of any other untrained contralto."
     "What's a contralto?"
     Jane sighed and pushed at her temples with the thumbs of both
hands.  *It was just a question!* Charlie protested as he flinched.

     "Jeezus," Tucker sighed as Evelyn pulled the latest frippery off
him.  He was too tired to help, this time.
     "Are you okay?" she asked, touching him on the shoulder.  "Did you
want that other coke now?  And the Motrin?" she remembered.
     "No time, Jane said she has lunch reservations."  He wasn't looking
forward to THAT, either.  He sighed, and lied, "Yeah, I'll be okay...
It's just, I did NOT want to do anything this summer, and this, this,
Jane's..."
     "Cotillion school?" Evelyn suggested.
     "Yeah," Tucker guessed.  *Whatever a cotillion is.*  Though it
sounded familiar.  "Anyway, now I've got that, AND this choir thing to
go to at nine in the morning. Isn't summer the time of year you sleep
IN, in the mornings?" he complained.  "Like, vacation?  Like they CALL
it 'summer vacation'?"  *And Saturday MORNINGS!  NINE in the morning!*
     "Sounds rough," Evelyn agreed sympathetically.
     "I mean, it's not like I could just get up at eight and go to
practice in scruffies or something; this is JANE we're talking about, so
it's full shower and hair-washing beforehand, then a breakfast, then
full makeup and...  Oh, shit, what if she makes me wear THIS stuff?" he
realized.  "They'd die laughing!"
     "I don't think she'd do that," Evelyn assured him with a chuckle.
"That's a little excessive."
     Tucker almost told her a few choice tidbits of what Jane had
already done, but then realized that A, no one would believe him without
evidence, of a sort he didn't want to provide, and B, he really didn't
have any proof she wasn't playing Good Cop for Jane.
     *Oh crap.*  Which he hadn't thought of until JUST FUCKING NOW.
     *You don't have any proof that she IS,* Mike reminded him.
     *Yeah, but in enemy territory, you assume the worst, because you
don't get second chances.*  Then he thought, *Shit,* and tried to
remember what personal details he'd told her, and how they could be used
to damage him later.


***


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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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