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               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 18
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2011 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.

***


     "BEE-" "-is Allison Jarvis, Jarvis Dance Studio.  Two of your girls
signed up for a swing dancing cla-"
     "Swing dancing?"
     "Shh!"
     "-eets Monday Wednesday and Friday, and starts tomorrow night at
eight o'clock.  Oh, PM.  If this is okay, come with them or send them
with a check or something, as usual.  I wasn't sure, since you weren't
with them like you usually are.  Charlene said you were ill; I hope
you're feeling better by now!  Ciao!"
     "They signed up for a dance class?"
     "Swing dancing," Jane mused.
     Kenneth asked, "Don't you usually sign them up for ballet or
something?"
     "Usually, or ballroom," Darla answered.  "But she doesn't do the
ballroom until later in the summer... which is when a student is
NORMALLY ready to go, if they get here around the time Valerie did.
Momma-Jane, what IS 'swing' dancing?"
     "Rather old," Jane said.  "I learned it back when _I_ was a young
girl... before I was in my teens."
     "Back when you had to shoo the dinosaurs off the dance floor to get
enough room to dance?" Kenneth suggested.
     "Oh, you.  Hush.  I hate to be paranoid, but this sounds like
Valerie's doing..." Jane suggested, and no one contradicted her.
     "Doesn't sound like she's running off to Tahiti, does it?" Kenneth
smirked.

     Charlie did not like The Style Shoppe or Milady's Closet, but a
real mall was worse.  There were a LOT of girls in them, REAL girls, and
he wasn't at all sure about his ability to be around real girls,
especially ones his age, without being detected.
     Valerie, of course, seemed to be having no problems at all.
     "Look, just a couple of things," Evelyn insisted.  "There are
better places to go than HERE."
     "Yeah, but I need at least one-  Here," Valerie said as she dove
into a store.
     *Sporting goods?*

     "Knee and elbow pads," Tucker explained.  "And I was kind of
thinking about a helmet, for-"
     "That's insane!" Charlene told him.  "Just-  I mean, how can ANYONE
have that kind of problems with one flight of stairs?"
     "They hate me," Tucker said.
     She closed her eyes and sighed.  "Valerie..."

     "You don't wear cotton?" Evelyn questioned, and Charlie got
nervous; this sounded like one of those things that Every Girl Knew,
except he didn't because Jane was actually kind of limited in what she'd
told him.
     "Maybe she just hasn't had the stinkies yet," Valerie commented.
     "Val!" Charlie protested the same time Evelyn did.
     "Well!  _I_ didn't used to have 'em until I was kind of far along
in puberty!" Valerie complained.  "It had to START sometime, that's all
I was saying!"  Then her eyebrows went up.  "Or maybe nobody told her."
     Evelyn rolled her eyes and huffed at Valerie and then took
Charlie's arm and pulled him closer.  "Look," she said into his ear, and
he knew he didn't want to know about what she was going to tell him.
And that he couldn't avoid it.
     She said in a low voice right into his ear, "Cotton is bleachable,
unlike nylon, and it breathes.  You can clean it better with the bleach-
and I DON'T mean color-safe, I mean Clorox.  And a cotton crotch is
breathable, which means it'll keep the humidity down, down there, which
means you're less likely to get yeast infections, UTI's, everything.
Okay?"
     "Okay," Charlie nodded.  He'd been right; he didn't want to know
any of it.
     "Oh, and you can microwave 'em," Valerie mentioned without looking
up.
     "WHAT?!"
     Now she looked up.  "No, seriously.  Wet the crotch and nuke 'em
for about thirty seconds, a-"
     "That is the most DISGUSTING thing-"
     "-DISINFECTS them," Valerie emphasized as she leaned forward at
Evelyn.  "Seriously, they did a study," she said normally as she leaned
back.  "It's like steam disinfection."
     "Are you kidding?" Evelyn accused her.
     Valerie stared back at Evelyn stonily.  "Would I kid about urinary
tract infections?"
     *Oh, that's what 'UTI' meant.  Something else I'd be happier not
knowing...*

     Tucker was pretty sure he was going to enjoy - relatively - his new
lightweight breathable bleachable nuke-able unadorned Hanes-for-girls
panties.  Even the pastel ones.  He was, in fact, debating a detour to
the restrooms and a quick change when an overly familiar ugly noise
caught his attention.
     *Someone's in the shit...*  He looked over the railing, and it was
one bald kid versus several junior-high brigands.
     *No,* he thought when he saw the skirt, *that's a chick.*
     Her wailed, "Just leave me alone!" was followed by the usual nasty
laughter and some other comments that Tucker didn't want to hear.
     "What the hell," Evelyn commented as she detoured to the railing
and looked over herself.  "What the FUCK?" she snarled before she hit
her go pedal, heading for the stairs and her boots clacking sternly.
     "Charlene, c'mon!" Tucker said urgently as he moved after Evelyn.
     As the two of them went down the stairs, Tucker was unstrapping his
laptop and purse.  "Look, Shar, can you hold these?  Things might get a
little tense."  *FUCK I wish I wasn't wearing a skirt!*

     Charlie could've followed Evelyn by the noise she was making,
because the closer she got to the scene, the louder she got, and the
angrier she seemed to get.
     Valerie, though, was going off to the side somewhere, like she was
trying to go around the knot of teens.  *What is she DOING?*
     "Fun's over, you little shits," Evelyn announced loudly.  "Go
home!"

     Tucker was preheating (involuntary) and prebreathing (voluntary)
as he moved to Evelyn's left so he could catch the brats in a cross if
he needed to.  He had no idea whether they would think that one goth
girl, kind of thick-bodied, was Too Much, and go away; or The More The
Merrier, and start on her.
     If the latter, he was in perfect position to start taking them out
from behind, one at a time.
     Which was exactly why he was where he was.  *Didn't go to school
for nothing...*  Army FM's and Marine manuals didn't talk about the kind
of tactics necessary in school, but they'd learned the hard way.
     One of the flock finally looked around and saw Tucker, so Tucker
tilted his head down, bared his teeth and pulled his lips in and back,
which had offended his sister lots of times but looked kind of creepy in
the mirror and according to the guys.  And it was nothing like a smile.
     Evidently, either Evelyn, Tucker, Charlene, or the combination
proved too much for their morale, and they walked off, though not
neglecting their parting insults.  Tucker was sort of glad that his
spoken language comprehension sort of went away in these situations;
they were pissing him off enough as it was.
     When they moved past him, he shifted to blocking between them and
the girl, and watched and waited until he couldn't see them any more.

     As Charlie approached, the girl was crying and crying until she
almost screamed before dashing to a trash can and vomiting.  "Val?" he
called, looking for her.  She was standing, facing the other direction,
where the kids had gone.  "Do you have something in here, like a towel
or-"
     She turned and came over, saying, "Dishtowel, almost n-  Lemme
have it-"  Charlie handed her her bag back, and she rummaged through it
until she came up with a white cloth.  "Yeah..."  Then she stopped and
looked back at Charlie.  "Hey, thanks for getting the stuff, okay?  It
made it easier for me to respond, not having to worry about it."
     "Oh...  Okay," he said hesitantly.
     "No, you did the right things," she said, like she knew what she
was talking about.

     Lindsey Foss was staring into the garbage, at the wreckage of her
day out, and wondering if she could kill herself.  Preferably without
having to look at-
     "Here," said one of the girls, who put a cloth in her hands.  "If
you need to wipe your face..."
     "I have napkins," the oldest said, and a few moments later she had
those in her other hand.
     "Thanks," Lindsey sighed.  She wasn't thankful, but they were being
nice.
     A hand touched her, trying to be comforting, and she wished she
could stand up and scream at them to take their fucking hands off her,
because they wouldn't have touched her like that if she hadn't been so
obviously sick which she wouldn't have been if she didn't have the
fucking cancer-

     Crying and barfing at the same time, Tucker knew, was REALLY hard
on the body, so he wasn't too surprised when the girl sagged when she
stopped barfing; he wasn't quite ready, but he managed to get an arm
around her waist and pull her up, without - he hoped - leaving bruises
worse than his all over her torso.  "C'mon, over here to the seat," he
said as he half-carried her.
     She sounded like she was angry, too; probably at herself, Tucker
guessed, and that was interacting with her nausea and her upset to make
her totally incoherent.
     He got her arranged on the seat, Evelyn next to her, and she just
sat, elbows on her knees and dripping as she tried to choke her tears
into submission.
     He stood up and looked around for Charlene, planning to ask her if
she could get some sodas, when he remembered that it wasn't a good idea
to send a party member off alone.  *Though the chances she'll be killed
by a doppelganger are pretty small,* he thought.  They tended to lurk in
darker places than the middle of malls, and switching appearances would
be a real bitch because of all the witnesses.  *Still, why take a
chance?*

     "I just-  I mean," Lindsey said, almost not crying, "I just wanted
to get the hell AWAY from them, you know?  I'm tired of being treated
like I'm a baby, like I can't even go OUTSIDE by myself without someone
to babysit me-  I'm not retarded!"
     "No, of course not," the really Goth girl - they were all kind of
Goth-looking, but she was the Gothiest - said, like she knew.

     When the girl said, "... won't buy me a wig, they said I don't need
it," Tucker felt the other two looking at him.
     "Hey," he interrupted the girl.  "I think we got a solution to that
problem, at least."
     She looked up at him, and looked really awful; she had no hair, not
even eyebrows, and she had dark circles under her eyes, and since her
makeup had run under the flood of tears, the concealer she'd had on just
looked pathetic and much worse than nothing.
     "What are you talking about?" she asked him.
     "Oh, no," Charlene said when she figured it out.  "Not here!"
     "Yeah," Tucker agreed.  "Can you-  Do you know where the bathrooms
are?"

     "So?" Lindsey asked.  She was glad these girls had driven off the
assholes, and they were a lot nicer, but she had wanted to be ALONE, not
to pick up another set of babysitters.
     "So," the medium-Goth one said, and pulled her blonde hair off.
     Then she handed the wig to the least-Goth one, who looked like she
was in pain, and started pulling pins out of the netting that was on her
head.
     The most-Goth of the three choked, and staggered around towards the
stalls.  "I can't watch," she gasped, and then started to laugh.
     "Fuck you Evelyn," the medium-Goth one called.  "You're just
jealous!"
     The least-Goth one moaned, "Jane is gonna...  Oh god, Val, why are
you...  Never mind."
     "Let's see," the medium-Goth said to Lindsey, "how you look as a
blonde."

     "We were just complaining about that, at the goth shop," Tucker
told her as Charlene fussed at the wig and Tucker looked through his
bag to collect his makeup.  "Unless you have some."  If she didn't, she
was either going without makeup entirely, or they had recruited another
half-Goth.
     "I think so," she sighed, and started to look in her purse.
     "Don't move!" Charlene bitched, sounding a lot like Darla.

     "You know," Evelyn said through her fingers, which she was keeping
around her mouth to remind her not to laugh so much, "you really do
match my car."
     "So that means I can drive it, ri-"
     "NO!"
     Charlene huffed at both of them, and complained, "How does SHE
look?"
     "Looks good," Evelyn said as she looked again.
     "With the, the light brown," Valerie added, pointing at her own
eyebrows, which were no longer light brown since she'd put mascara into
them.  The BLACK mascara; Charlene had talked her out of using the red
mascara she'd gotten.  "I dunno how the hell you do those freehand," she
added.
     "Practice," Lindsey sighed.  "This wig itches," she mentioned.
     Valerie protested, "It's clean."
     "I think it's the, the elastic and stuff?  Inside."
     "I think that happens," Evelyn said, remembering what some of her
friends had complained about wigs.  "Maybe if you had a cap, like Val
has..."
     Valerie was pulling it out of her purse as she said, "Yeah, but I
don't think this one'd work; it's too open.  You'd want something...
Actually, you might want something like a swim cap, or something.  Kinda
thick."
     "Oh, like as padding," Evelyn said.  "Around, like, the edges
maybe?"
     "Yeah.  Where does it itch?" Valerie asked Lindsey.

     Lindsey wasn't too sure about being blonde; she was, or had been, a
natural redhead (kind of, anyway) and had never dyed or bleached her
hair.
     But, as she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror again, it sure
looked a lot better than no hair at all.
     "You know, my parents, they said I should like be PROUD of not
having hair?  As like a cancer statement?  Like I should enjoy it or
something?"
     "Parents," Valerie said, "usually mean well, but they're retarded."
Which made the other two girls laugh.
     "Seriously!" Lindsey complained, "They are!"
     "Tell me about it," Valerie groused.  "My parents sent me to this
fucking wasteland of a state, for freaking COTILLION school."
     "Co-  What's that?"
     "Don't worry, they didn't bother telling me either," Valerie
assured her.

     Lindsey, Tucker had discovered, had scouted the mall already, and
so he was using her as a 'native' guide to find the casual girly stuff
he was lacking.
     He wasn't sure what he was going to do about the wig, except he was
pretty sure he wasn't going to demand it back from Lindsey.  She did
look a lot better with hair; and it actually looked pretty good on her.
Tucker thought it didn't look as good on him as the red-and-black, but
he wasn't sure, and he wasn't going to ask either Evelyn or Charlene
while Lindsey was with them.
     "So, like, do you go swimming?" she asked.  Tucker looked over at
her and noticed the bathing suit racks.
     "I already got a suit," Tucker said.
     "Well, they have this one on sale, and it's like your eye color,"
she said.  "But it's kind of small."
     Tucker had discovered that he was kind of small, as far as Misses
and even Juniors were concerned.  "I dunno, lemme see..."  She pulled it
off the sale rack and waved it at him.
     "Oh no, you can't wear that!" Charlene gasped.
     It was pretty small, being three triangles, one strip, and a lot of
cord.  But it was about the blue Debbie said matched his eyes, usually
right before she kissed him or goosed him or otherwise indicated she
liked that shade of blue on him.  He held it up next to his face and
looked in the mirror.  *Yep, Debbie-will-kiss-me blue.*

     Charlie wished he could be elsewhere as Lindsey called, "So does it
fit?" to Valerie as the changing stall door opened.
     But Valerie didn't have the swimsuit on, when she came out of the
changing room.  "Too many bruises.  Yeah, it fit," she replied.
     "You're getting it?" Charlie asked in surprise.  "Isn't it kind
of..."  He couldn't think of which word to use; there were a lot that
applied.
     "Duct tape," Valerie told Charlie quietly.
     "Oh-  I don't want to know that!" he complained.  He couldn't help
but think about just where she would, or had, put it, and then he
couldn't help thinking of having it on HIM, and how much it would hurt
taking it off-
     "But it's only sixteen bucks," Valerie said.
     "Sixteen?  GET it," Lindsey demanded.

     "Found 'em!  What do you think of these?" Lindsey asked Tucker,
holding up a pair of earrings.  "I thought they'd go with your hair,
sort of."  'They' were large rounded squares connected by silver links,
the top one black and the bottom red.
     How she could remember things like what accessories would go well
with the (not normal) hair of someone she hadn't even MET yet, was
beyond him, although his sister and Debbie's friends all seemed to have
the knack.  "I don't have pierced ears."
     "You don't have your EARS PIERCED?!"

     Evelyn had been getting a little dry, so she'd taken Charlie and
money from the two girls and gotten drinks.  Then, all they had to do
was find Valerie again.  Charlie thought they could just stand in the
middle of the mall and wait for Valerie to start screaming eventually;
but Evelyn demanded they look in the shops, and she found Valerie with
Lindsey in an earring shop.
     Valerie had apparently gotten her ears pierced.
     "Why did you do that?" Charlie complained.
     "It didn't hurt like I thought it would," she said with some relief
as she sucked on the straw of her coke.  "Anyway, Miz Thompson would've
made me do it sooner or later.  Probably by that salon b-"
     "No she wouldn't!" Charlie protested.  When she looked at him, he
reached up and pulled off one of his earrings, showing his pristine and
un-pierced earlobe.
     "Well DAMNIT," Valerie cursed, and the disgusted expression on her
face made Charlie laugh.
     "You don't have your ears pierced EITHER?!" Lindsey complained,
sounding scandalized.
     "You only got ONE?" Evelyn asked, sounding very skeptical.
     Valerie complained, "I got two, one per side."
     Evelyn huffed at Valerie and pulled her hair up, showing - Charlie
had to count - six things in one ear, some of them through the upper
part.  She had a chain connecting two of them, and things dangling off
the chain, as well.
     "Oh WOW," Lindsey breathed.
     "Well, at least I have more than CHARLENE," Valerie sneered.
"Loser!"

     "If it's just in your ear, not in the cartilage," Evelyn was
telling Tucker, before they were interrupted by a surprised-sounding,
"Ow!" from Charlene.
     "If it's just in your ear," Evelyn resumed, "just squeeze the ick
out and leave the stud in.  If you can remove the back part, that's
okay, but it's a lot easier if you leave the stud in, with the pin
part."
     "Ow!"
     "So the girl said two weeks," Valerie said.  "Is that right?"
     "About.  The longer you can leave it in, the better," Evelyn said.
     "So, I shouldn't worry about changing them, for like an outfit,
until-"
     "At least two weeks," Evelyn confirmed.
     "It's not a big deal," Lindsey confirmed without looking away
from the racks of earrings she was examining.  "I mean, just tell anyone
you just got 'em pierced."
     "Your turn," Charlene told Tucker as she came up.
     Tucker inspected her dual sets of studs, greatly aided when she
pulled her hair up.  He was glad to see they looked symmetrically placed
relative to her face.  "Lookin' good!" he smiled at her, and she smiled
back.
     "You're gonna get 'em right?" Lindsey asked, turning around this
time.  "Like mine?"
     "Well, yeah, we agreed," Tucker told her.  Her birthstone -
according to a propaganda chart the shop had posted - was emerald, and
Tucker's was supposedly diamond, but there was absolutely no way he was
'obeying' that, and it wasn't like the piercing studs were actually
precious stones anyway.  Instead, he'd suggested each of them get one
red and one green.  And Lindsey's new set of holes now sported a red
on the left and a green on the right.  Which is what he was going to get
for his second set.
     Nobody else seemed to get the port and starboard clue, which was
vaguely disappointing.
     He went back and sat, and the girl carefully marked the location of
his third and fourth piercings.  Tucker made sure everyone agreed on the
placement before he would even let the girl load the 'gun'.
     It had hurt a lot less than he'd thought it would, the first time.
It hurt a little more this time, but the anticipation was a lot less;
he'd caused himself a lot more pain, in his life.

     Lindsey was about to ask Valerie where she'd gotten that big green
purse - it was sort of growing on her - when Lindsey's pager went off.
"Oh, man," she sighed, because it could only be her parents telling her
to come to the parking lot.  All the tiredness and sickness and sheer
misery fell back on top of her like a wall collapsing, like she hadn't
even been out today at all.

     Tucker thought that Lindsey's parents looked kind of appalled
whenever they looked at him.  He didn't know why; he thought he was a
lot nicer than, say, cancer.  Or a cluster of junior-high assholes
looking for someone to abuse.
     Also they wanted Lindsey to give the wig back, which had made her
start crying again.
     "Look-  Hey, it's MY stuff," Tucker told them.  "You can't take it
away from me, legally; so you can't make me take it back legally
either."
     That had made more sense in his head than out in the air, so to
speak, and the parents didn't look like they got it at all.  "Why not
just let her-"
     "She doesn't need to hide her cancer," the mother said.  "It's
nothing to be ASHAMED of!"
     "I didn't say it was!" Tucker protested.
     "So hiding it-"
     "Shave your own heads," Mike said through Tucker's mouth.
     "What?"
     *Yeah.*  "If it's nothing to be ashamed of, shave your own heads.
Put something on the side, like 'we love our daughter who has cancer'
and go around like that."  *Thanks Mike!*
     "No," the dad said, "I can't-  I mean, my job-"
     "Your job enforces standards of appearance, of NORMAL appearance?"
Tucker bit hard, argumentatively speaking.  "Junior high is a LOT
worse."
     "That's when the suicide rates go up about ten times, for girls,"
Evelyn commented.
     Tucker looked to see if Lindsey had reacted to that, but she was
crying away on Charlene's shoulder and didn't seem to have gotten any
worse.
     Charlene looked tiredly back at Tucker, and he smiled hopefully at
her.

     Charlie smiled back at Valerie, and continued to hug Lindsey.
*This is so weird...  I don't think I've been EVER closer to a girl than
I have been today.*  Though, crying girls in chemotherapy weren't really
what he'd hoped for, when he'd thought of 'girls'.
     *I'd rather they were kissing me, or something-* he thought before
he remembered Valerie kissing him.

     Lindsey waved at the girls until she couldn't twist her body
towards them any more.  *I hope they call, like they said they would...*
     "Well, I guess you had fun," Mom said sourly.
     "I did!  And I feel better," she said, hopefully pointing out to
Mom that maybe she didn't have to stay in the stupid hospital ALL the
time if it made her feel better to get out once in a while.  "A LOT
better."
     "Lindsey, that's great," her dad said, and she could hear his
smile.
     "Where did you meet those girls?" Mom wanted to know.
     "They were just there shopping...  Oh, remember how I said I wanted
a wig, and you said no?  You said nobody wears one?  Especially not
anyone my age?"  Lindsey was going to beat her mom with the wig thing
every chance she got, or until Mom admitted that her being bald was
worse than the cost of a decent wig.

     Charlie was about ready to kill Valerie himself when she finally
announced, "Ladies, I think we are DONE!"
     "Halle-fucking-luyah," Evelyn sighed.
     "Did you still want supper, though?" Valerie asked her.
     "Fuck yeah!" she said back, like Valerie was an idiot for even
thinking otherwise.  "Oh, and I had an idea..."
     Charlie groaned; her ideas were expensive.

     Tucker was carefully not thinking about how much he'd spent; he
did, however, think that he was mostly done for the summer.  *Possibly
for several summers to come,* he admitted.  The mall had indeed yielded
the necessaries, from cotton panties and a variety of white socks to
several simple tops, two pairs of jeans and four of shorts, three
miniskirts, four pairs of cheap and casual shoes from Payless, two
women's pants suits which had made Charlene twitch and moan - and
hopefully would make Jane do the same thing, since they were definitely
feminine but definitely NOT skirts - several more pairs of junior miss
pants in varying grades of niceness, a sweatshirt and a hoodie, and a
few things like belts and scarves that Tucker either didn't think Jane
would have or that just looked too good to pass up.  And Ray-Ban
Wayfarers for him and Charlene.
     Plus earrings.  And holes.  He wasn't sure if he could bill those
to Jane or not, though he was going to try.
     He'd also got Charlene a fair amount of similar level clothing,
since he'd never seen her in anything as 'unformal' as what she'd been
wearing since the ice cream place.  *And, hey, doesn't every girl need a
hot pink string-strapped top somewhere in their wardrobe?  Of course
they do,* he answered himself.  He'd gotten one blue and one lime green,
since he'd already gotten his own pink one at Wal-Mart.
     "Wear the parrot dress," Evelyn told Charlene.  One of the vintage
dresses was red, with very large parrots printed in the fabric.
     "What about this one for me?" Tucker asked as he pulled out and
held up one of the black cocktail dresses.  Apparently what they were
wearing wasn't high-toned enough for where they were going for dinner.
*Or she's being remotely mind-controlled by Jane...  Nah, she hasn't
corrected my manners or grammar yet.*
     Evelyn glared at the dress Tucker was holding, then ordered, "With
the gray belt, those gray pumps, and...  Which hat was it?"  She threw
herself into the trailer after the errant hat.
     "What about gloves?"
     "Well DUH!" she yelled.  "White!"
     "Oh, right, of course," Tucker complained to himself.  "Makes
perfect sense.  Black, with gray gray gray and WHITE.  Sure.  Glad all
this is so organized and simple."
     "You bought it," Charlene felt the need to remind him.
     "Red shoes for you," he threatened her.
     "And white gloves," Evelyn called.  "Val, can I borrow a pair of
the black ones?"

     "Too bad someone doesn't have a camera," Valerie mentioned as they
stood around outside the restaurant, waiting for Evelyn's boyfriend
Arthur to arrive.  They had a waiting area that wasn't quite in the
parking lot; and a podium for the hostess.  And a LOT of people standing
around.
     "Miz Thompson has one," Charlie said, "if you want pictures."
     She didn't seem like she liked the thought, which was fine with
him.  He really didn't want any MORE photos of himself dressed up like a
girl to be hanging around.  Jane and Marie had plenty of those already.
     *And I wish I'd said 'no' when they told me to put this dress on,*
he fumed.  They were attracting a LOT of attention, since all three were
wearing hats (or 'fascinators', which were like women's vintage fashion
hats except even smaller and weirder - his had plastic netting
diagonally across half of his face) and longer white gloves with their
dresses.  *And it's Tuesday night,* which wasn't really the night of the
week you'd expect to see women really dressed up.
     They had looked good, for women, he had to admit, though rather
old-fashioned.  Not really old, although the extra makeup plus all the
rest made even Charlie look older, more mature and sophisticated.
Valerie looked spectacular in hers.  Evelyn looked less vintage and a
lot more Gothic and sexual than either Valerie or him; but that was
okay, since Charlie didn't really want any male attention.  *Any MORE
attention.*
     And they were attracting a LOT of attention.  And a few bugs that
hadn't yet flown into the several large blue bug-zapper lights.
     "Arthur!" Evelyn called as she waved, and Charlie turned to get his
first glimpse of Evelyn's boyfriend.

     *Caucasian, male, six feet tall, about... one-fifty?* Tucker
guessed.  *Thin but not gaunt.  Black kinda-curly hair, possibly dyed,
shoulder length, I think...*  He was wearing what looked like a top hat.
*Eyes dark, not as dark as Debbie's, can't tell from here but almost
certainly brown. Clean-shaven.  Eye makeup,* he decided, because the
guy's eyes were way too dramatic.  *DEFINITELY lipstick, in a dark
red...*  He was wearing a white shirt with ruffles under a very long
dark coat, and as he got closer Tucker could see the white gloves.
     *Seems to have the hots for Evelyn,* Tucker grinned, as the
apparent Arthur grabbed Evelyn and kissed her enthusiastically.
     For quite a while.
     "Ahem," Tucker finally said, though he was smiling.  Arthur pulled
Evelyn back up and let go of her, and she had little sparkles and hearts
radiating from her head.  "Don't WE get kissed hello?"

     Charlie was about to protest when the guy pounced - that was the
only word for it - on Valerie and pulled her close with one arm around
her waist, tapped his hat down with the other hand and then grabbed her
head with the now-free hand and kissed the hell out of her.
     "That one's Valerie," Evelyn said, still kind of breathless, "and
the other one is Charlene."
     Arthur stopped kissing Valerie, hauled her upright and let go of
her, and drawled at Charlie, "Enchant-ay, madmoiselle," in a Southern
accent that shouldn't have gone so well with the French words.  He took
Charlie's hand in one of his and pulled it up and bent over it as if to
kiss it.
     "White gloves," Evelyn warned.  Charlie felt a pressure on the back
of his hand, but when the guy let go there was no trace of lipstick on
the glove.
     Valerie finally breathed, "Nice to meet you," at him, her eyes
wide and unfocused.
     Evelyn locked eyes with Valerie and stated very firmly, "MY
boyfriend."
     "I don't think I'm woman enough for him," Valerie said with a
delirious-looking smile.  That made everyone else laugh.
     "You got the boots," he said to Evelyn with a smile.
     "Valerie," Evelyn said and nodded at Valerie, "needed some clothes,
some local expertise, and some fashion advice.  And she paid well."
     He looked at Valerie again, and she posed for him.  "Delightful,"
he said, smiling again.
     "You have fangs," she breathed, smiling even more.
     *What?*  But he did, as he smiled wider and then laughed.

     Valerie had gotten the information about the fangs, and the fang-
maker, from Arthur because apparently he got enough questions that he
carried the guy's card and info in his wallet; Tucker was trying to
decide if he could possibly justify paying for a set with Darla's money.
     *Probably not,* he was forced to admit.  *I hate them.*

     Charlie was about to scream, or cry, at the twenty minute wait the
hostess claimed - he'd been going since eleven-thirty in the morning,
and it was nearly nine now - when Arthur pulled out a pack of Marlboro
Light 100's.  "Can I have one?" Charlie begged.
     Arthur gave him a skeptical look.
     Charlie tried a Valerie trick.  "Give me one or I'll kill you."
     "With what, little girl?" he asked in a deep voice, and bared his
fangs at Charlie.
     "I'll sic Valerie on you."
     He laughed, and proffered the pack to Charlie.

     "Aw MAN!" Tucker complained when he saw Charlene holding a
cigarette and Arthur lighting it for her.  "You know Jane's gonna kick
your ass if sh-"
     "FUCK OFF!" Charlene shrieked, loud enough to silence half the
crowd.  "You dragged me around the entire fucking STATE all fucking DAY,
we're STILL not home, I gotta wait half an hour or more for dinner, and
I am FUCKING well going to have a fucking CIGARETTE!"
     "You go girl," Arthur said.
     "You shut up," Tucker shot lamely at Arthur.  He was still a little
shocked at the profanity that had come out of Charlene's mouth.
     "You'll need this," Evelyn told Charlene as she took the cigarette
out of Charlene's hand and did something with it.  "Don't want to get
lipstick on your gloves, and believe me you will if you don't use it."
'It' was a white cigarette holder.  Charlene took it, put it to her
lips, sucked, and looked remarkably content as she blew a cloud of
poison upwards.
     "I didn't think you smoked," Tucker told Evelyn.
     "I don't usually, but I have friends," and she pointed at Arthur,
"who do, and I figured I could resell it.  Which, by the way..."  She
glared at Tucker.
     "Pay her, or I'll call Jane and tell her you were buying sex toys
at the gothic place," Charlene said.
     Tucker was aghast.  "That tobacco shit's evil; you weren't like
this earlier."
     "I've been watching YOU all day," Charlene said nastily.  Evelyn
and Arthur laughed.

     Charlie knew that it was bad for him, and a bad idea, and all that,
but he just could not resist.  And, naturally, Valerie was giving him
shit for it, but she was the only one.
     He held the holder with two fingers and his thumb, far away from
the mouthpiece end, where the lipstick was definitely building up - but
not on his white gloves! - and hoped he looked feminine enough.  Though
Arthur wasn't complaining.  And Evelyn had been shooting him hints on
how to use the holder.
     "We really should quit," Arthur said.
     *He's not complaining about the WAY I'm doing it,* Charlie thought,
and took another hit.
     This was just so anti-Jane he could almost FEEL her shriveling
someplace.
     Plus, the buzz was becoming very nice.
     "I did," Charlie answered, finally.  "I guess.  More like I was
forced to," he said.
     Arthur beckoned him close, and Charlie hesitantly leaned over.
"But you ARE eighteen," Arthur said quietly into his ear, his deep voice
making Charlie shiver a little.  "'Cause it's illegal here, et cetera et
cetera."
     He could take a hint.  "Oh, well, yeah, of course," he said as he
leaned back, and smiled at Arthur.
     "So what's your major?" Arthur challenged.
     "Communications," Charlie smiled.  He had no idea what that was,
beyond a college degree major, but that was enough.  "So are you in
college too?"  That sounded lame.  "I thought Evelyn was," he added.

     "He just does it outside," Evelyn said.  "I have a balcony, so..."
     "Eyugh," Tucker commented.
     "So don't date him!" Evelyn said sharply.
     "Well, okay, but ONLY because you said not to," Tucker said.  He
couldn't help looking at Charlene, repeatedly, and while she did look
even more vintage with the cigarette, he didn't like it.  Nobody else
really seemed to mind, though; and he wasn't asshole enough to do
anything like ship her to the cops for underaged smoking.  "Oh, hell,
can we get nonsmoking at dinner?"
     "Yeah," Evelyn nodded.  "If he wants one, he can go outside."
     "And probably take Charlene with him," Tucker grumbled.
     "She HAS put up with you all day," Evelyn said.
     "Oh, like that's so hard!" Tucker complained, which made her laugh,
which was sort of what he'd intended.  But only sort of.

     Charlie felt like the cigarette, and the defiance too, really, had
done him a world of good.  Arthur had had to show him how to deal with
the butt when he was done, since he couldn't just crush it out in an
ashtray with the holder.  He smiled at Valerie, who made a nasty face at
him.  *Well, fuck you too,* he thought, and smiled some more, which
seemed to annoy her.
     "Oh, they're such nice girls," Evelyn said in a very syrupy voice.
     Valerie said in a brassy voice, "Are you guys TRYING to piss me
off?  I can get nuclear first strike capability, you know."

     Captain Ronald Soames, USN, couldn't help momentarily ignoring his
wife and listening for the rest of THAT conversation; but he decided it
was ignorable when another girl said, "Yeah, right," and the first one
said, "It's the first thing we did when we got to junior high.  Kept the
bitches from getting too uppity."
     *Thank god they can't do that,* he thought; his daughter would
probably have cheerfully dropped megatons on HER junior high, possibly
once a month.
     He turned his attention back to his wife.  "I'm sorry, dear; you
were saying?"
     His wife sighed and glared at him.  "Why don't you pay attention?"
     "Long day," he claimed.
     "Well, you're off duty now..."
     "Bad habit."

     "You still have that sundae in the cooler," Evelyn felt it
necessary to point out to Tucker.
     "Saving that for tomorrow," he said, still looking at the specials
board on the wall.
     "Arthur Black, table for four!" the hostess called.
     "That's us," Arthur said.
     "Is 'Black' your last name or an epithet?" Tucker asked up at him
as they moved towards the hostess' podium.
     He gave her a surprised look.  "Epithet, I guess.  Where'd you
learn-"
     "We had to learn this stuff in grade school!"  *You think they'd
get tired of asking-  Oh, he wasn't here for that.  Never mind.*
     The hostess asked, "Smoking or non-"
     "NON!" Tucker emphasized.
     "Chill!" Evelyn instructed as she put a hand on Valerie's shoulder.

     Tucker almost missed getting a drink; he was watching Arthur take
his fangs out and put them in a contact lens case.
     "Miss?"
     "Oh, excuse me?  Oh, by the way," Tucker said to the waitress. "We
need separate checks, boys and girls, please?  This is a business
dinner," he apologized, as he opened the menu.  "Oh god."
     "What?"
     "I think I just came," he said.  "You have TABOULI?" he asked the
waitress.
     "Yes we do," she smiled.
     "You like tabouli?" Evelyn asked, and the three of them all smiled
at each other.
     "Never mind the split checks."  It wasn't that expensive here, and
he was going to be trading food.  Charlene could just have a learning
experience.
     "Excellent!" the waitress said.
     "What are you getting?" Charlene sighed.
     "It's'a GOOD for you," Tucker said in an Italian accent.  "REAL
food, like Momma SHOULDA made."
     "And what would you like to drink?" the waitress asked.
     "This really deserves a couple of bottles of wine," Tucker said
longingly, "but two of us are underaged.  Damnit.  How about Coke?"

     Charlie had no idea what the hell the other three were talking
about, but they'd decided on FIVE appetizers, and he didn't know what
ANY of them were when he heard them.  And even after reading the menu,
he wasn't sure what 'calamari' was.
     Valerie was getting a salad again, which seemed like a horrible
waste, but she was adding grilled asparagus AND grilled mushrooms, which
almost doubled the cost.
     "Lobster Mac and Cheese?" Charlie questioned.
     "That's really good," the waitress said.
     "Welllll," he said.  It seemed like it was one of those lame things
they kept on the menu so unadventurous people would have something to
eat, and the lobster just seemed like a way to increase the cost.  Jane
would have given him one of those long looks, and then lectured him, and
then made him have something else.
     Evelyn suggested, "Let us order while you keep looking."
     "Okay."
     He didn't hear what they ordered, but when she came back to him he
was ready with, "The French Burger?"  It was basically a fancy bacon
cheeseburger, but sounded good.
     "Good one," Arthur assured her.
     "Oh, CharLENE," Valerie groaned.  Then her face brightened.  "Oh,
wait, I'm paying for it.  No burgers!" she ordered with a finger shake.
"Besides, I bet even Jane couldn't eat a burger with ladylike manners."

     "You use a fork and knife," Evelyn said absently; she was
concentrating more on where Arthur was putting his foot.  And not
moaning.  When she noticed the two girls staring at her, she complained,
"What?"

     Tucker was nearly comatose when the bill finally came, which was
good; he didn't have heart failure when he saw it.  "Oh god," he sighed,
and gave one of Darla's credit cards to the waitress.  *I hope the
stupid thing doesn't catch fire...*  Still, he'd been rotating between
her three gold cards all day, and so there should be enough left.  *And
if this one barfs, I'll just pay cash.  I think I still have some of
that left...*
     "What're you taking notes for?" Arthur asked.
     Tucker replied, "Menu notes.  Interesting things to cook."
     "What?  You're not going to fix this at home?" Charlene whined.
     "Oh yeah," Tucker assured her with a grin.  "Besides, you liked
it," he reminded her.
     "Not the OCTOPUS!"
     "It wasn't octopus it was calamari," he told her, again.
"BESIDES," he said loudly over her, "I was thinking some of the other
stuff, like the tabouli, or the salads.  And didn't they get salmon from
the store yesterday?"
     "I don't know!"
     "So, you'll be inviting us to dinner next week, right?" Arthur
suggested, and grinned.  It didn't look nearly as good with his fangs
out, Tucker noticed.
     "Let me get back to you on that," Tucker smiled.  "Oh, hey, can I
get your phone numbers?  And possibly email addresses?" he hoped.
     Charlene gave him a look, but didn't say anything, which suggested
to Tucker that she was thinking exactly what he was thinking; Jane would
LOVE to have these folks show up for a formal supper or high tea.  And
hopefully they would bring some of their less conservative friends with
them.  Well, Tucker could hope.
     Then Charlene made a face and moaned.  "Val, we have to get into
Evelyn's CAR!"
     "Wh-"  His belly informed him what was going to be the problem with
that.  And he didn't want to take the new corset off in the bathroom
here.  "Oh... dear."

     "I think she's asleep," Charlie said quietly as he looked back at
Valerie.  She'd insisted that they put the third seat away, and now it
looked like a bench seat again, with Valerie nestled in the seat behind
Evelyn and leaning back against the headrest, her eyes closed.
     "Sheeeeee...  And I have to go to work tomorrow," Evelyn said.
     "We really appreciate your help today," Charlie told her, since
Valerie couldn't and someone should say it.
     "You're welcome."  She gave Charlie a sideways look for a few
moments.  "How much trouble are you going to get into for today?"
     "I... don't know," Charlie admitted.  "Some, I think.  But maybe
not too much," he hoped.  "We WERE supposed to get some clothes for
choir, and the stuff at the Style Shoppe and Milady's Closet."
     "Which is about a fifth of what she got," Evelyn reminded her.
     "Yeah, but...  What do you think?  I mean, you've seen what Miz
Thompson gets, haven't you?"
     "Well, I never see her get casual stuff," she pointed out.  "So I
don't know about that.  But the rest of it...  Like the vintage?  I
think it's prime stuff, and maybe a little less frilly than what Miz
Thompson gets, but it's really nice.  You could wear most of it too,
though," she reminded him.
     "I am," he reminded her.  He still had on the parrot dress.  And
the red shoes, and the white gloves, and the fascinator pinned to his
hair.
     "Well, if she wants you all to look elegant, there you go.  If
she's trying to make you look like a birthday cake with all the icing,
she won't like it."  She made a face.  "Still, though, I think it looks
better than half the stuff we sell."
     "I do too," Charlie said, truthfully.  He'd be happy if he never
wore a lace ruffle again in his life.  "Simple, and kind of... elegant,
like you said," he said.
     "But watch it with the gloves," Evelyn warned.  "They are holy hell
to keep clean and white.  And if she lets you wear any of that stuff,
she'll probably demand the gloves, and they HAVE to stay white."

     "Valerie?"
     Tucker did not want to wake up.
     "C'mon, Val, you're home," said another woman's voice, and he woke
up enough to identify the inside of Evelyn's car.  "And you need to
unload all this crap."
     "Oh...  It's not crap!" he protested, and she laughed.

     The doorbell started ringing, startling Darla and Kenneth.  "Who is
that?"
     "Bets?" Kenneth asked.
     The doorbell continued ringing; someone had their finger on the
button.
     "No," Darla said as she put down her glass and clopped rapidly out
of the kitchen.  Kenneth followed her, interested in seeing just what
Valerie was going to say at this point, nearly ten hours after she'd
disappeared.  With Darla's purse.
     "SHUT UP!" Darla screeched towards the front door, which
predictably didn't help at all.
     When she finally opened the door, the doorbell finally - and
thankfully - stopped.
     "Konnichi-waaaaa!" Valerie shrieked at them from the porch.
     "Where have you BEEN?!" Darla demanded.
     "We went shopp-  How's Miz Philips?"
     "She's-  It wasn't a heart attack; they said it was angina, an-"
     "That's good, right?" Valerie interrupted, as Kenneth finally got
to the door.  "I mean, compared to..."
     She was wearing a classic little black dress, in silk or a very
good facsimile, with a square neck, rhinestone buttons, and an A-line
skirt.  She'd accessorized with a leather belt, perhaps two inches wide,
in gray, matching conservative gray pumps, white eight-button-length
gloves, a gray cocktail hat with red and black feathers sticking out -
Kenneth had never seen one 'in the field' before - and her red and black
hair.
     "It's better than a heart attack," Kenneth said.
     "What did you do to your HAIR?!" Darla gasped, and Kenneth
belatedly remembered she had been wearing something different when she'd
left with Diana for choir.
     "I-"
     "Did you PIERCE your EARS?!"
     Kenneth looked, and it seemed she had; the two studs, one gold and
one red, were too small to be clips.
     "Twice!" Valerie smiled at Darla.
     "Where's Charlene?" Kenneth asked as he put a hand on Darla's
shoulder to remind her to calm down.
     "Getting some of the stuff-  Hey, could you two help?  We got a
lot."

     'A lot' was a gross understatement of what Valerie had gotten,
Darryl fumed as he looked at the contents of the opened trailer.
     "I saved the receipts, in case you really desperately need to take
stuff back," she said casually.
     "WHAT-"
     "Easy," Kenneth said as he grabbed Darryl's shoulders.  "What DID
you get?"
     "Oh man," Valerie sighed as she started grabbing bags.  "Okay,
first we got a few things like you said at Milady's Closet or the Style
Shoppe or whatever it is..."

     Kenneth had been on the receiving end of just a little of Jane's
shopping treatments, but he'd heard about the more extensive - and
expensive - variety from Darla.
     Valerie, it seemed, had decided to abuse herself in a similar
fashion.
     *Herself AND Charlene,* he amended when he got a good look at the
other student.  Charlene was wearing a 60s dress, somewhat short, that
was mostly red and featured large parrots as a print.  She'd also had
white gloves, the authentic not-quite-to-the-elbow as Valerie had worn,
now stuffed in her purse so she could carry things, and red heels.  And
a red satin 'thing' in her hair, that had a fake flower on the side and
netting across her eyes in front.
     Valerie had also gotten her nails done, with extensions.  She'd
pulled off her gloves to show them to Darla.
     Both of them had gotten makeovers, of the 'bright and bold' sort;
Valerie's nails nearly matched her lipstick, while Charlene's were still
the delicate pink they'd been that morning.
     Kenneth frowned when he realized he was thinking of the jewelry the
two of them OUGHT to be wearing.

     "Escape ladders," Tucker told her.  "If there's a fire in the
hallway, no one can get out.  _I_ can get down from a second story
window, even in this house," which had rather tall ceilings and so a
much higher second floor windowsill, "but I don't think anyone else
could.  And aren't there three floors?  Where's Miz Thompson and Miz
Philips, and Miss Marie?" he wondered, because he didn't think there was
quite room, for the suite Jane would have to have, on the second floor.
     Darla confirmed, "They have bedrooms on the third floor."
     "So I got enough that they could piece together two each, to get
out of the third floor windows," he explained.  "And five more, for the
second-story bedrooms."
     "Piece togeth-"
     "It's just chain and bars," he said as he looked at the box to
remind himself.  "You don't want to use rope, like nylon or anything,"
he remembered, "because it might melt from heat.  This'll get hot, but
it probably won't melt."  *Though if it's aluminum-*

     "Books?" Darryl questioned.  "You went to a BOOKSTORE?"
     Valerie gave him a very disgusted look.  "I AM literate."
     He looked in the first sack; there were more books than just the
large and heavy St. James Fashion Encyclopedia.  "'Tex Johnson: Jet Age
Pilot'," he read off the spine of one.
     "That's mine," Valerie declaimed.  "Check the other bag.  I saw Miz
Philips reading a mystery in the car..."  She went out to get more of
her loot, but yelled over her shoulder, "Don't get the two sets mixed
up!"
     Kenneth came in with another load of his own.  "What's in that
one?"
     "Books..."  Darryl looked in the other sack, which had more books
in it.  "Magic's Pawn?"  He pulled it out to read the back cover blurb.

     Tucker was getting tired of toting bags, and wishing that Jane Et
Al had a loading dock instead of a front porch.  *Elevator would be nice
too...  Actually, several different ways-*
     "'Plagues and Peoples'?" Kenneth demanded as Tucker dropped the
latest set of bags.
     "Do wh-  Oh, yeah, that one.  I didn't know if Miz Philips had read
it or not.  It's really good."  Mike had made him read it, as often
happened.  And Mike was right about it being good, as usually happened.
     Darla asked, "You got it for Diana?"
     "Yeah," Tucker said, and stopped.  "I got that bag for Miz
Philips."  He shrugged.  "I dunno if she's gonna be in the hospital for
a while or not, but I DID see her book from waiting in the car..."
Which had been stupid; like he was going to take off from choir?  Or, on
the other hand, like she could've stopped him by sitting there?
     He continued, "And ANYTHING is better than daytime television.  So
I got her some stuff she might like."  He shrugged again.  "I don't
know, really, but she might like it.  I mean, any of the stuff in there.
Lessee..."
     He walked over and took the bag out of Darla's hands.  "Um, Magic's
Pawn, that's fantasy, first of a series- NOT in the middle," he told
them.  He hated, and Mike hated worse, getting the middle book in a
series and then having to find the earlier ones.  For some reason, the
first one was almost ALWAYS the hardest to find.  "It's pretty good.  If
she likes it, they had like two or three sets of the other two in the
series."
     The next one in the random draw was, "The Crown Jewels-  Oh, god,"
he said as he pulled it out.  "DON'T let her read this one if she can't
laugh without pain; it'll kill her.  This is FUNNY.  This will make you
blow Jello out your nose."  It had been lime in Tucker's case, and his
sister had screamed and screamed which had made Tucker and Mike laugh so
hard that MIKE had nearly had an asthma attack, and Tucker had
definitely had one, and had been right on the verge of going to the ER.
Which would've been more amusing than usual, with lime Jello coming out
his nose.
     "This one...  Oh, he's pretty good, and- it's weird, I don't know
why some of his stuff makes me laugh, but it does," he said, waving one
of the William Marshalls before dropping it back in the bag and
rummaging.  "And-"
     "Can we discuss this in the morning?" Darla pleaded.
     "Wh-  Sure.  In fact," he said, because she looked like she was,
for no apparent reason, about to cry, "if it's okay with you, we could
just leave the stuff in the hall, here, off to the sides, until tomorrow
morning."
     "I think that would work," Kenneth agreed, and took Darla's
shoulders in his hands.  "Let's all go to bed, shall we?"
     Darla nodded mutely and allowed Kenneth to take her to the stairs.
     "What did you say to her?" Charlene asked.
     "I've no idea," he said honestly.

     "Hey," Valerie said from the doorway, and Evelyn turned to look at
her.  "Thanks, SO much, for everything today.  You've been... just...
totally fucking awesome," she said plainly.
     Surprised at the wording, Evelyn chuckled, "Uh, thanks.  Such
accolades!"
     Valerie frowned and said, "Such what?"
     "Praises."
     "Ah, right.  Any way...  No offense but HOPEFULLY we won't see you
at work for a while," she smiled.
     "No, I bet not," Evelyn agreed.  "A suggestion?"
     "Hmm?"
     "See if Miz Thompson will take you to that vintage shop."
     Valerie sort of grinned on one side and said, "You don't mind her
cleaning the place out?"
     "I don't think she's anywhere around my size either," Evelyn
stated, not very pleased with it.
     "Yeah, poor ol' skinny b-  Sucks to be her, anyway," Valerie said.
"You look WAY better.  Besides," she smiled, "I like my girls with a
little muscle and padding on 'em."
     "Oh, right, and you've had so many," Evelyn teased.
     Valerie shrugged and claimed, "Well, I had so many, I had to go to
a different state to find new'uns."
     "Bullshit."
     "But it sounds good," she grinned, showing her teeth.  "And,
really, you do look good, Evelyn.  And I DO think you look way more
attractive than the usual anorexic model in the ads," she said
seriously.
     "Um, thanks," Evelyn said, a little off balance.  "Except I think
they stopped using anorexics..."
     "Yeah?" Valerie prompted, already starting to smile.
     "And started using teenaged boys."
     "Ahhhh!" she shrieked.  "That is too true!"

     "I don't know," Darla told Kenneth, her voice ragged, as she sat
up, away from him, and groped for tissues.  "I'm just...  Tired, worn
out, overstressed..."
     Kenneth almost made a teasing reference to 'her time of the month'
but realized it would NOT be appreciated.  Instead, he handed her the
tissue box, which she DID appreciate.  "I think you had the right idea,"
he said, then waited until she blew her nose.  Several times.  "Let's go
to bed, get some sleep..."
     "'After all, tomorrow is another day,'" Darla quoted, and smiled
soggily at him.

     "Hooo," Tucker said as he shut the front door and threw the locks.
"What a day, what a day...  'My baby brother ran away.  And now my tuba
will not play.  What a day, what a day.'"
     There was a LOT of stuff in the hallway.  And no Charlene.

[quote from a Shel Silverstein poem.  Go buy a book of 'em. - Ellen]

     Charlie had put all the leftovers away - Valerie had claimed them
since she was paying for the meal, which had seemed fair enough to
everyone else.  *I really hope she doesn't try to fix squid here,
though.  Jane'd make me eat it.*
     "Charlene?" Valerie called from the hallway.
     "I'm in the kitchen," he called back as loudly as he dared.
     They came close to running into each other but didn't.  "I was
going to ask," Valerie started, "if you could help me take the stupid
corset OFF."
     "Sure," Charlie agreed.  "I mean-  I'm just saying, you'll have to
learn how to do it yourself eventually.  But not tonight."
     "-Not tonight," she said at the same time.  "Thanks a lot."
     She was wearing her leather jacket - which she hadn't been wearing
on the way home, or while unloading the trailer - and carrying several
of the shopping bags, though.  "What's in the bags?"
     "Oh, what I wanted to wear tomorrow to breakfast, my books, my
makeup, and a nightgown for tonight.  Nylon is kind of hot."
     "Yeah..."  She'd said that in the shop, and she hadn't meant
'sexy'.  "Maybe I-"
     Valerie dropped the bags in one hand, pulled out a nightgown - one
of the long cotton ones - and held it out to Charlie, and said with a
grin, "Maybe you ought to get one to sleep in?"

     Darryl still found it hard to believe that Valerie had gotten Diana
some books to read while she was in the hospital.
     Admittedly, they were weird.
     But, so was she.
     And it was utterly obvious that she could've run, could've...  *I
can't even IMAGINE what she could've done with my cards,* he realized.
     But, she'd spent most of the day shopping for girls' clothing, and
then spent some extra time picking out books for Diana, whom she'd only
known for a few days.
     And they hadn't been just random books; she knew SOMETHING about
the ones she'd chosen.  She had, actually, PICKED them.  For Diana.

     "Oh, MAN, that feels better," Tucker sighed, before he rubbed the
soft cotton of the Cotton Spott nightgown around his body.  And over his
corset stripes and bruises.
     Which, for some stupid fleshy reason, activated his large
intestine.  "Oh no.  You fucking idiot..."  But it was serious.

     Evelyn had sort of lied to Charlene; she only smoked cloves, and
only after sex.  She blew out a plume and watched the light breeze rip
the cloud apart before dissipating it.
     "I think I like those boots," Arthur said, sounding weak and
drained, but very very pleased with himself.
     "I think I do too," Evelyn agreed.  She was pretty damned pleased
with everything herself at the moment.  Even if she'd had to crawl,
mostly naked, around her room and then out to the balcony, because she
wasn't sure she could walk without falling over.
     "Do you have to work tomorrow?"
     Evelyn blew out a stream of smoke.  "Oh, shit."

     *Oh, well, another three hours of sleep,* Tucker thought.  *So glad
I'm all relaxed and shit.*
     After panting for a while, he decided that he could risk taking a
shower.  *Especially since it won't be in prison,* which is where he'd
been after Jane had her unpleasant shitfit over the credit cards, to
find Nickerson greeting him with a smile and all his unfavorite school
'chums'.  And him in orange lingerie, matching long gloves and platform
stiletto-heeled sandals, and hand and ankle cuffs chained together.
     *Oh, and do my checkin, which I forgot...  Whups.*  Well, that was
why he'd given Mike a 48 hour expiration time.
     *Oh, and that bloody choir homework...  I REALLY don't want to sing
love songs to trees and crap.  What if they start following me?*
     *Why do I think of these horrible things?*

     Darryl had slept, not terribly well, and had woken up and dressed
for running and was about to go downstairs when he remembered Valerie
and the last two mornings.  *So macho, with that stupid little
flashlight-  Who carries a flashlight in their purse anyway?*
     Then he thought, *Maybe I can turn the tables on HER, this
morning.*

     Tucker had had to resort to putting a dishtowel, from his bag, in
his mouth, because the new fingernails were totally fucking up his
typing, and he was pissed about it.  So pissed, in fact, that he was
cursing almost continually, and he didn't want anyone to hear him.
     But, since he was quiet, he could hear someone - almost certainly
Darla, since she'd done it the last two mornings, and exercisers tended
to be rather ritualistic about their scheduling - come downstairs while
he was doing email.  But no one came through the door into the kitchen.
     And Tucker knew what HE would have been doing, assuming he'd been
only nine or ten years old and stupid enough to turn on a light in his
room to get dressed.
     But, he wasn't nine or ten, which was about Darla's developmental
age in Sibling Rivalry.  Or Household Commando Tactics.  He'd had an
evil sibling for at least sixteen years.  Which is why, thirty seconds
later, TUCKER was standing in the dark next to the light switches, his
cheap non-Wayfarer sunglasses on, breathing with his mouth open, and
slowly doing isometrics to keep his muscles from stiffening.
     *In fact, I'm sixteen, not twelve, no matter what they say...*
Which is why he was not going to just assume Darla would give up waiting
in a mere five minutes.  It wasn't like he had to do anything for a
while anyway.

     When Darryl could see fairly clearly in the dark again, he slowly
and silently pushed against the door to the kitchen.  It was dark, of
course, but then, it had been dark the previous two days.
     *Surprise,* he thought with a grin, and reached for the light
switches.
     And found a hand.

     Tucker had seriously wanted to grab Darla and throw her when she
reached for the light switches - he knew she was either going to do
that, or bust in like a SWAT team - but he'd slowly come to accept that
that would probably end in a knife fight or something else unladylike.
Darla DID seem to have a temper that rivaled his sister's, at least in
trigger pull; he doubted that she'd be able to reach his sister's
extremes, nor was she able to limit herself to family-acceptable methods
of sibling combat, like mere beatings with fists and feet.
     Not like Jane would believe THAT was 'ladylike', even though his
sister did it.  *Of course, my sister's no lady...*
     And, of course, Darla would be unpleasant in anything like a real
fight.  So, he was going to avoid that.
     So when Darla's hand came towards the light switch, he grabbed it;
and when she shrieked and flailed, he struggled but managed not to take
advantage of her loss of initiative due to complete surprise.  He only
waited until she shut up momentarily, then said, "Confirmed, Darla
Thompson-Philips.  You may pass."
     "You-  You-"
     He flicked the lights on, which got her to squeak again, this time
probably in retinal pain.  She was breathing so fast Tucker wondered if
he was going to have to call EMS for a second possible heart attack.
"Darla," he said gently, "we used to do this every day.  For money."
     "What?!"
     "We got ten bucks if we could get my dad," Tucker volunteered.
"But he got five bucks if he got US.  And we got him often enough to
have him pay out five hundred bucks one year, which is when he stopped
the program.  Or competition or whatever."  He'd announced he would stop
paying and start punching, which had basically ended the fun and games,
since there wasn't any money in it any more.  It wasn't like he hadn't
BEEN punching, before...
     "Oh come ON," she scolded.  "You expect me to believe that?"
     Tucker shrugged.  No one did, and then they got all surprised when
he was really good at skills like sneaking around in a dark house at
night, attacking other people who were trying to hit him.  Or startle
him.  Or blind him.

     Darryl was calming down, sort of; he wasn't nearly as scared as
he'd been in that instant, but he was getting irritated that Valerie was
telling him such unbelievable lies.
     Then his eyes adjusted enough that he could see what she was
wearing.  "Were you planning to go running?" he asked, because she was
wearing almost what he was; a tank top instead of Darryl's T-shirt and
sweatshirt, but similar lycra leggings, socks, and sneakers with pink
emblems.  Except where Darryl's clothes were colored, Valerie's were all
black.
     "If that'd be okay," she said casually.  "I could stand to get in
shape."
     He sighed.  "Look, I-"
     "No, I mean, if you don't want me to come, that's cool," she said.
     Perversely - he could feel it being perverse - Darryl said, "No,
that's okay.  Do you run?  At home I mean?"
     She sniggered, "Only 'away'," which surprised him.  "I don't do
sports or anything like that, no.  No track or anything."
     "Well, I run cross-country," he said.
     "What?"
     "What, you've never heard of it?" he teased her.
     "Enlighten me, Darla-sensei," she said as she put her hands
together in a prayer-like attitude as she bowed her head at him.

     It sounded like almost a useful thing to Tucker, which surprised
him; most athletics were stupid, with any real-world applicability
diluted to near nothingness at best by idiotic rules and insane required
equipment.  At worst - like golf, or tennis - they were purely market-
driven ways to suck money and time out of the gullible.
     And, of course, having DARLA say she did it, was a double surprise.
Darla was nearly the most impractical person he'd met in the last few
years; he'd figured her 'running' was something like relatively sedate
laps under the lights.  Or, possibly, local boyhunks carrying her around
in a sedan chair; he hadn't actually SEEN her running before.
     "Sure..." he agreed.  "I don't think I can go the whole distance,
though; I'll tell you when I have to stop.  I'll yell or something, so
you don't have to stop or come back or anything," he clarified.
     "Oh," she said.  "No, that's okay.  Besides, you might get lost."
     Tucker chuckled.  "In the dark, with the house lit up like it is?
I don't think so."
     "Well, okay," she said skeptically.

     "Oh, fuck them," Valerie said to Charlie as she pulled him through
the halls of his old school.  "They all suck anyway."  She turned and
glared at him.  "Besides, who would you rather be with?  Them?  Or me?"
     *Well,* he thought, *she did kiss me...*
     She smiled at him again, that special smile he'd never gotten from
another girl, and put her arms around him and kissed him again.
     And again.
     When she pulled back, she said huskily, "Did I show you what else I
got?"
     "No?"
     She pulled him through the door of her bedroom and started
unbuttoning her dress right in front of him.  "Shut the door, I don't
want everyone to see," she said as she kept going, past the intriguing
black-lace-over-red-satin bra bits he could see.
     Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

     Darryl was amazed Valerie had lasted as long as she had; she'd
actually made it about three kilometers before she called, "Falling
out!" and began to retch.  He'd stopped and was going back to help her -
he'd inadvertently developed quite a lead on her - when she snarled,
"Don't stop!  Keep going!" in between retches.
     He debated what to do, because while he would normally have ignored
what she said in favor of helping her, she was EXTREMELY irritable, and
she'd ordered him not to stop if she called out like that; and Darryl
wasn't so desperate to help her that he'd let himself get punched or
insulted.
     When she didn't say anything else after a couple of minutes, and
the retching had stopped, he figured, *Well, if she can't handle it,
I'll find her on the next lap,* and he started to run again.  *She
wasn't screaming or anything, and it wasn't like she twisted her ankle
or anything like that...*

     Tucker was extremely annoyed that he hadn't made it back to the
house, walking Darla's route in reverse, by the time she passed him
going the 'right' way.  *Damnit.*  "I'm going back to the house," he
called to her before she got to him.  "I'm okay.  Don't stop!"  She gave
him a look but ran past him.
     *God I hate her...*
     *Note to self: do NOT get involved in a pure chase with her.*  Not
that he liked pure chases; if he didn't escape in the first hundred
meters or so, it was time to set up an ambush.

     Charlie was not looking forward to removing his panties.  *Maybe if
I take a shower first, sort of soak 'em off?*
     It would look stupid, but Jane didn't have any cameras in the
bathroom - or so she'd always claimed - and Charlie really did not want
to yank them off, with his semen gluing the fabric to his most sensitive
skin.  *I shouldn't have gone back to sleep...*
     He'd never had a wet dream that involved sex like that, or quite
that realistic either.  *Not like I really know, but...  Oh, man.  I
don't think ANYONE is that crazed for sex.  Well, any girl.*  Valerie,
in his dream, had ignored all of his objections and protests and- well,
he could've called it 'rape' if he hadn't been sort of willing in the
dream to go along with what she was doing.  And she'd hardly given him
time to think deeply about it or consider long-term consequences.
     The pain in his groin told him he really ought to remove the
panties and wash himself immediately.

     Darryl felt better, though not as 'better' as usual after a run.
Possibly because Valerie had been running as well.  *And, surprise
surprise, she's the cause of a lot of my stress.*
     *Although-*

     Tucker was a little surprised when Darla came bursting in and
didn't even pay attention to him; he was a little more surprised when
she assaulted the answering machine.
     As he worked on breakfast around her, he heard one message he'd
left, one message from the dance place, and that was it.
     "Did you-"  Her voice had started out accusing, but even as he was
spooling up she was calming down.  "-Erase, I mean, were there any
messages?  From the hospital?"
     "Oh.  No," he told her.  "And they didn't call and I picked up."
That wasn't right.  "Er- I mean-"
     "Okay...  You're sure?" she asked, but not like she seriously
thought he was lying.
     *Hah, as if she was worried or something.  Imagine that...*  "I'm
sure.  Hey, why not call them?  The nurse's station should answer."
     "O-  Oh, um," she said, looking around.  Tucker thought she might
be looking for Ms. Thompson to swoop down, but that didn't happen.
"I'll be in the parlor, calling..."
     "Okay," Tucker agreed; it wasn't like he cared that much.  *But,
hey, medical stuff; maybe she wants privacy for it.*  "I'll make sure
not to listen in," he assured her.

     "Oh, Valerie," Charlie almost moaned, "you are NOT wear-"
     "NO!  That's why I'm coming back up to change first!" she insisted.
     "Thank god," Charlie thought, because he'd only seen Darla's
exercise stuff twice, and neither of those times were at breakfast.  And
hers hadn't been all black, like Valerie's was.  "Into what?"  She was
holding shopping bags in both hands.
     Valerie smiled and said, "Wait and see!"
     Charlie was reminded of his dream and REALLY hoped she wouldn't do
the same thing in real life.

     *Why did I have to shave?* Tucker wondered.  *Well, legs and pits,
but...*  There was something else he couldn't remember.
     *Well, where do I have hair?* he asked, since he was pretty sure he
hadn't been planning on shaving anyone else.  *Head, eyebr-  Oh, right.
The bikini I got.  Gonna need some tape to wear that, and I am NOT
wearing tape any place I have hair.*  He'd done that enough times to
know it was a horrible idea.  *Though, kind of like a fall, it's not the
tape wearing that's the problem, it's the bit at the end, where I have
to take it off.*
     *I hope Debbie likes it bare... though she never said anything
about my pubic hair before...  She trims hers, I know that, but I've
never seen her shave it off.*
     He sighed.  *Ah, fuck it; it'll grow back.*
     *Besides, she'll probably be WAY more upset about my head hair...*

     "Bring the receipts," Jane told Darla.  "And, since she was kind
enough to keep them, we'll do an audit later."
     Darla winced, but didn't argue.  *Been buying things for yourself,
hmmm?* Jane guessed.  Well, that WAS - partially - why she'd been given
the cards, that Valerie had used to such effect.

     *Well, definitely changed.  Wouldn't mind changing into an ogre
mage myself,* Tucker thought, *but this'll have to do.*
     He'd started with the longest wig in his room, carefully put into a
ponytail, with some loose bits at the back so the wig cap part didn't
show.  For makeup, half the eyeliner he'd thought he needed, mascara -
on his lashes only, he'd had to wipe it out of his eyebrows - and non-
fluorescent pink lip gloss.  That was all Jane's; he'd had to admit that
he hadn't gotten any makeup really suitable for a young blonde.
     The rest was 'his': one pair of white cotton panties, one black
ribbon-strapped bra holding a pair of small-but-bigger-than-him false
breasts, the lime green string-strapped top, the white cotton mini he'd
gotten which wasn't tight around his legs, white socks of no use
whatsoever but with lace cuffs that folded over, and the white Keds he'd
gotten at the mall - the ones he'd gotten at Wal-Mart were black.  He
thought he looked pretty damned cute, except for the leg bruises.
     Twelve, but cute.  And an honest cute, not a child-whore's baiting
kind of cute.  Also, he had some traction, for once.  Which was good,
because he had a lot of leg bruises, mostly from falling on the stairs
he thought.  *Eh, well, it's not like having bruises is un-female.*

     Jane missed Art desperately, but at least he was likely to come
back to her...
     "I made too much waffle batter yesterday," Valerie announced to the
table as she brought a platter in.  "If anyone is sick of them already,
either I'll eat it, or it's garbage.  I apologize," she said.
     "Thank you, Valerie," Jane said.  "Please come in and eat; we need
to discuss what happened yesterday."
     "What happened?"
     "Your..."  Jane didn't know what to call it.  *Credit card theft?
Shopping spree?*  Though it had gone FAR beyond spree-
     "Ah, right," she said, catching what Jane had been thinking but
hadn't said.  "Back in a minute."  She popped back into the kitchen.
     As the door shut, Jane asked, "Darla, did you dress her this
morning?"
     "No, Momma-Jane, she did that herself," Darla said.
     "Hmmm."  It was a better put-together outfit than most pre-teens
managed on their own.  "Charlene, do you know where that outfit came
from?"
     "She got it at one of the stores at Warwick Mall," was the prompt
reply, as Valerie came back in with a plate and a glass.

     "Because I haven't seen ONE smoke detector in the entire house!"
Tucker told Darla, just managing not to yell.
     She threw back, "There's one in the kitchen!"
     "Where?" he challenged.
     "Ri-"
     "You took it down," Charlene mentioned, "when I set it off the
third time."
     "Who's the d- idiot that put a SMOKE detector in the KITCHEN?"
Tucker asked, then realized he didn't want to know, because it would
only piss him off.  "Never mind.  You need a CO detector, not smoke- I
mean, not an ionization detector."  He'd also gotten a heat detector,
which might work, depending on how configurable it was, and how it
worked.
     "C.O.?" Darla asked, still angry.
     "Carbon monoxide?  Works better than an ionization detector, around
a kitchen anyway."
     "Why?" Kenneth asked.
     "BEcause," he just managed to hold on to his temper, "you have a
lot of ionized vapor, aerosols, particles, floating around in a kitchen
in NORMAL use.  You need something that doesn't go off every time you
pull out the Fry Daddy or whatever, or you get so many false - and
upsetting - alarms that you end up... doing exactly what you did.  Which
is a waste of money, at least, and of course doesn't give you ANY
warning."
     "How many did you get?" Jane asked.
     "I got...  I think I got ten of various detectors," Tucker told
her.  He didn't remember; that was why he'd written some notes down.
"I'll install them late-"
     "No you won't," Jane challenged.
     "Well, whoever set this up last time didn't know what they were
doing," Tucker said.  "I do.  So-"
     "Oh, you do, do you?" Jane challenged again.
     "Or you can try the fire department; I'll bet money they have
similar recommendations, IF you get someone out here to actually look at
your house," he told her.  "Don't just call them on the phone.  I don't
know if the fire department'll do that here," he admitted.  "If not, try
your house insurance agent, call 'em and ask.  They'd be happy for you
to install more stuff that prevents or reduces damage to the house," he
said, which should have been a reminder, because anyone with a house
should already know this.
     "I may do that later," Jane threatened, but he didn't care.  "In
the meantime, what were YOU proposing?"
     "I'd have to check my notes," he warned.  His mom didn't like paper
appearing at the table at meals.

     "And you think this is merely ADEQUATE?" Jane questioned,
disbelieving.
     Valerie gave her a contemptuous look.  "Barely.  Look," she said in
a more conciliatory fashion, "you, Miz Philips, and Miss Marie are all
on the third floor; you can't hear anything from the basement, and I
wouldn't bet on hearing the kitchen or garage either.  The bedroom doors
block out noise, possibly including alarms...  What I'd do, if I had the
money and time and effort - and permission," she nodded at Jane, "would
be to put in a pro-grade fire panel, either in the garage or the hallway
someplace, an-"
     "You can't be serious," Jane challenged.
     "I didn't say I was GOING to do it, I said that's what I'd do if I
were you," she said.
     "Why would you..."
     "Miz Thompson," Valerie said.  "Do you care about the people, the
permanent residents of your house?"
     "Of course I do!"  She stopped, wondering what Valerie would say
next.
     She didn't say anything, she just looked back at Jane.
     Until she said, "That's why I'd go to the expense and trouble."
     Jane hated to admit it, but she had a point.
     "Speaking of," Valerie said, "well, sort of-  Darla, how's Miz
Philips?"
     Darla sighed.  "She's okay.  I called this morning.  She hates
being there, but I don't think there were any other problems overnight.
They said there weren't."
     "Tres bien," Marie breathed, as Jane's eyes closed in relief.

     "I don't really know what all you have," Tucker admitted.  "Some of
the stuff in my closet is too small, or too small to wear without a
corset anyway.  Like some of the vintage stuff I got," he admitted.  "So
I either went for vintage, stuff I haven't seen and that FIT, or
accessories; or stuff I haven't seen at all, like the more casual or
utilitarian stuff like this," he explained as he pointed at himself.  He
was really hoping Jane had some killer boots in his size somewhere,
since he hadn't gotten any.  Well, killer-sexy boots, sort of like
Evelyn had gotten; he already had boots for actual killing.
     "Stand up for a moment, please," Jane ordered.  "I want to get a
closer look."
     Tucker sighed, but it was a legitimate request, so he stood up, and
moved to where Jane could see him better, and slowly rotated.
     "Now," Jane said, "What did you do to your hair yester-  Did you
get your EARS PIERCED?!"

     Darryl winced as he remembered Jane using nearly that exact phrase
in that exact tone of voice on HIM, a few years ago, when he'd gotten
HIS ears pierced.  He'd been poking through a mall earring store -
possibly the same one Valerie had been in - looking for clip earrings
that weren't as fancy as most of Jane's, and the clerk there, a cute and
bubbly blonde, had cajoled him into a pair of piercings.  She HAD been
right, the selection of clips was vastly inferior to the pierced; but
Jane had been extremely displeased at his lapse into peer pressure.
     "I think you said exactly that to Valerie last night," Kenneth
remarked, sotto voce, and Darryl winced again.

     "If I take them out, then I wasted the money," Tucker told Jane.
"And I'm not gonna do that.  Especially if you won't pay for it," he
challenged her.
     "You'll pay?" she dared.
     "I think it's part of the feminine et cetera," Tucker said.
"Kenneth?  You're not-"
     "Not me," he claimed as he waved his hands at Tucker.
     "You're the closest thing to neutral in the house!" Tucker pointed
out.  "Does piercing ears fall under 'feminine attire'?"
     "Kenneth, please?" Darla asked him.
     He gave her a dirty look, but said as he turned back to the rest of
them, "It's a semi-permanent body modification.  They'll eventually heal
that way, leaving holes, if you keep the studs in."
     "Right, I know," Tucker agreed, and no one argued.  He'd heard this
last night, though 'eventually' was pretty vague, maybe taking years,
maybe not EVER being permanent in the sense that, say, losing one or
more toes to an explosive mishap was permanent.
     "Miz Thompson did NOT require it," Kenneth said firmly.
     "Agreed," Tucker nodded.  "But what I'm saying is, it's ladylike
just like the fingernails are; not required, but most girls have 'em, so
it should be covered.  Darla's ears are pierced," he noted, and then
wondered why she winced.  "So are Miz Thompson's."

     So were Kenneth's, though he hadn't worn anything in them in a long
time, and wouldn't mind if they grew closed.
     Then again, he hadn't wanted them pierced, and Sheila-the-bitch
hadn't asked him if he'd wanted them pierced before she did it herself
with a needle, ice cubes, and a cork.  He'd been five.
     "And I'm willing to waive the 'permanent body modifications' part
since she DIDN'T order me to do them," Valerie sighed.
     "How much were they?" Jane asked.
     "I..."  She turned to look at Charlene.  "The piercings were
'free'," and you could hear the quotes around the word, "if you bought
piercing studs.  I got one plain gold and one colored set."  Charlene's
face quirked momentarily in a smile, and Kenneth just caught the end of
a return smile on Valerie's.
     "They're different colors," Jane said, which made Kenneth look at
Valerie.
     "Port 'n starboard," Valerie grinned as she torqued her head right
and left.
     Kenneth was startled into a chuckle.  "Too bad they don't light
up," he said.
     "Then I could use 'em for running lights, right," Valerie smiled at
him.  "I thought of that last night.  Of course," she sighed, "they
didn't have ones that lit up."  Her brows went up as she apparently
realized, "I could make some, though..."
     "No," Jane forbade.

     Jane had a vague curiosity as to how Valerie would make such a
thing, but she knew that if she asked, it would seem like encouragement,
and the last thing Valerie needed was any encouragement.
     "In any case," Kenneth said, "I think that, since it was your
decision, and they are in a sense unremovable, it's your financial
responsibility."
     Valerie thought about that.  "Alright," she agreed cautiously.
"But then I get to keep 'em, the actual studs.  When I can take 'em
out."
     "Agreed."
     "And I don't have to take these out to wear other earrings until
these heal up."
     "Yes, of course," Jane sighed.  Of course Jane had lots of clip
earrings, most of them exquisitely feminine in one way or another;
Valerie had just managed to squirm out of wearing any of them for at
least two weeks.
     "Should I pay you now or later?"
     "Later," Jane said.  "We have to look at the rest of your
purchases.  No, wait; what DID you do to your hair last night?  Or,
rather, what happened to the wig you were wearing when you left?"
     Valerie grinned a little, and said, or quoted, "Man, I usedta sang
the blues, 'cause I had no shoes, until I's on the street, an' met a man
that had no feet."
     *Wh-*
     She began explaining in a more normal voice, "We- Charlene and I,
were in the mall, and there was this girl..."

     "Cancer?" Jane interrupted.
     "I didn't ask what kind," Tucker said.  "But she kind of looked it.
Pale, thin, just ILL, you know?  Charlene?  Didn't she look ill?"
     "She did," Charlene confirmed.  "And she didn't have stubble, on
her head, so it wasn't like she was shaving it."
     "Or eyebrows.  Or eye LASHES," Tucker remembered.
     "No, she had lash-"
     "Those were fakes," he reminded her.
     "Right," she nodded.  "I forgot."

     "Yeah, I can find her again," Valerie told Jane.  "She said, just
ask at the pediatric oncology facility for Lindsey..."  She looked down
at her purse as she finished, "I wrote her last name down, but I've
forgotten it already."  She looked back up and challenged Jane, "So if
you want it back, you can go and tell her that I did the wrong thing,
and she has to give it up."
     Which was, of course, nearly unthinkably cruel to a sick little
girl; and Jane had no doubt that was why Valerie had said it that way.
     "Valerie," she said, "do you know how much that wig cost?"
     "No ma'am."
     "And you just gave it to her, without considering the cost?"  Jane
knew that looking ridiculous, as she did without it, wouldn't have
entered Valerie's mind.
     "Yes ma'am."
     Jane waited, but Valerie was apparently not going to supply any
excuses.  *How curious...*  "Then you are solely responsible for the
cost of replacing it."
     "Yes ma'am," she said, as stoically as she'd replied the last few
times.  Then she added, "I'll need a receipt, or-  Oh, would a
replacement work?  I mean, if I got a replacement?"
     Jane wondered where she was going with this line of thought.  "I
suppose so," she said carefully.  "If I approve of it.  It would be best
if I saw it, could examine it, before you bought it," she warned.  "You
wouldn't want to buy one that did not meet my standards."
     "No... ma'am," she added, just remembering the courtesy before Jane
could remind her.  "I'll need thirty days, and a description of the wig,
in writing.  Also how long you've had the original, since it's
depreciated over time."

     Tucker felt pretty good that he'd thought of that last bit.
Despite that he'd just bought some clothes older than his parents, he
suspected that things like wigs wore out, for the same reasons that most
people's hair wouldn't grow down to their ankles.  And, likewise, wigs
probably wore out in years, not decades; so the cost should be
substantially less.
     "You'll need to reimburse me for the depreciation first," he added,
"since my capital's getting scarce."  'Nearly nonexistent' was more like
it, but-  "Oh, and when do we get paid?  For chores," he reminded her.
     "Oh," he said, as a complex series of thoughts hit him all at once.
*Dad would DEFINITELY pay for this, if he knew I wasn't shitting him,*
he realized.  But he'd need the description (and depreciation), a
receipt, and at least some contact information for Lindsey; but Dad
would probably reimburse him.  *Or Mom,* he remembered.

     Charlie was just as glad to work on cleaning up; he needed some
time to think about how to get out of being punished himself - if he
could - for what Valerie had done.  Certainly, he'd never touched any of
the cards, and he'd never really asked for anything; he'd just let
Valerie buy stuff.
     *I don't know if Jane'll go along with that, though;* he realized.
*She's always going on about how it's my responsibility, blah blah,
about stuff that happens around me, or TO me.*
     *Oh, shit, this is exactly the same thing, isn't it?*  He'd 'just
gone along' with a lot of stuff his 'friends' had done or been doing;
and now they weren't here, Charlie was.  They hadn't been there when
he'd gotten caught, either.  Or punished before he got sent here.
     *So she's gonna blame me...  For not stopping Valerie-  But what
could I have done?  I guess I could've refused to go with her... but, I
was supposed to stay with her, I thought.  I didn't try to talk her out
of going, though.  Well, but Diana was going to do SOME of the stuff
that Valerie did.  And I can't really, I mean, the escape ladders and
stuff...  That does sound kind of like a good idea.*
     *The clothes weren't, though...  Not like that.  Jane hasn't let me
wear anything that casual, EVER, I think.*
     *And she's really gonna blame me for the stuff that Valerie got for
me; I should've told her 'NO!' if I didn't want it, is what Jane'll
say.*
     *Oh, shit.*

***


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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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