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               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 19
                              -*-
      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.


***

     Jane rubbed her forehead, wondering if she was going to become
subject to migraines.
     "That..." Darla muttered.  "That can't be true," she said.  "About
the wig."
     "But Charlene backed up her story," Jane reminded her.
     "Maybe she bribed Charlene?"
     "Didn't she also say she got the girl's contact information?  Maybe
she, and we, could pay the other girl a visit," Jane said as she opened
her eyes.
     "And then see if she's got the wig?  Oh, wait, never mind," Darla
said scornfully.
     "I think we can take it, provisionally at least, that her story was
true in the main," Jane said reluctantly, as Darla nodded, also
reluctantly.  *She, of all people, wouldn't be likely to try bluffing me
with such easily checked information.  Since she gave us the girl's name
and where she is.*
     "Do you really think that she'll pay for a replacement like she
offered?" Darla asked.  "That's, what, a few hundred dollars?"
     "Bet she will," Kenneth said.
     "I'll bet you... ten dollars," Darla said, "that she'll manage to
wiggle out of paying for it somehow."
     "Children," Jane said before Kenneth could accept, "no betting at
the table.  Besides, she'll be back in moments."

     "I should've gotten rubber mats or something for the stairs,"
Tucker realized, too late.  Way too late; he had to go upstairs and
change-
     "Hey, hall bathroom," he realized; he could change in there.

     "I think this one was only thirty dollars," Valerie remarked to
Jane as she turned around.  "Lots cheaper than the stuff at... the store
we went to," she finally said.
     "The Style Shoppe," Jane supplied.  "Or, for the lingerie, Milady's
Closet.  Why exactly did you get THAT?"
     'That' was an ivory knit dress, with long cuffed sleeves, and a
turtleneck.  It was relatively form-fitting, and showed off that Valerie
wasn't wearing a corset at the moment.
     "The lady at the store said I could accessorize the- the..."
     "Yes?" Jane prompted when she didn't continue.
     "I could accessorize it a lot of ways," Valerie said, obviously
fumbling for words.  "She said, with a scarf around the neck, or
jewelry, a long necklace," as her fingers showed about where a
forty-inch necklace would fall on the dress, "a belt, or maybe like a
shawl or something around the waist, like an overskirt.  I got a couple
of scarves," she said as she started to wander back into the hall.
     "Valerie!"
     "What?" she complained as she turned around.  "Oh, sorry," she said
before Jane could begin.  "I mean, I could get them and show them to
you."  She'd been reprimanded for just walking out of the room twice
already.

     "What is THIS?" Darryl questioned in Valerie's direction as he
pulled a blue satin scrap out of the next bag.
     "Tha-  Oh, that's the swimsuit.  Bikini," she clarified.  "There
should be a matching top in th-  Yeah," she agreed when he pulled it
out.  All the fabric together would have just barely made a decent
napkin.  "Do you want me to try it on?"
     *There's no way...*  "If you think you can wear it, in a feminine
and ladylike manner," he told her, trying to keep the challenge out of
his voice.
     "Well, up to a point," she said, and hefted her breasts.  "I don't
think I can wear these with that on."
     "Do your best without the forms," Jane ordered, so Darryl handed
Valerie the bikini pieces and she left.
     "I want to see this," Darryl told Jane when the hall bathroom door
shut.
     "I don't," Kenneth said.  "Can I get either of you anything from
the kitchen?  Or help Charlene with the laundry?"
     "Squeamish?" Darryl teased.
     Kenneth's face went stony.  "Sheila-the-bitch did-  Excuse me," he
said to Jane.
     "Sheila deserves no excuses, and she is a bitch," Jane agreed.
Then she smiled and said, "But, please, not in front of Valerie of all
people."
     "Ken, I'm SORRY," Darryl said, hoping Kenneth would believe the
truth.  "I didn't know..."
     Kenneth nodded without smiling, but he patted Darryl's shoulder
gently.  "When he's young enough, any male can wear one.  He'll look as
ridiculous as the young girls, the grade-school age girls, do with a
bikini on - which looks pretty ridiculous - but there's hardly a trick
to it."
     "But she got it FOR HERSELF," Jane said carefully.  "Why?"
     Eventually, Darryl said, "I can't think of a more girly sort of
swimsuit.  If she's willing to be girly...  And, like Kenneth said, if
she's young enough not to have any breast development yet-  But how is
she going to hide her..."  He waved at his own hips.

     *Duct tape, oh let me count the ways...*  Tucker looked at the duct
tape, carefully applied, as best he could in the mirror, and it seemed
to work.  *Wish I could pee with it on,* he sighed, but there had to be
too many kinks in his tubing; trying would probably hurt.  Not by luck,
he'd already drained his tank before he applied the tape.
     He picked up the bottom and put it into position and started tying
strings.  When he'd finished, he looked in the mirror again, and as far
as he could tell, it looked 'good'.
     *Wonder if she'll let me go swimming, now?*

     Jane restrained a sigh as Valerie turned around slowly.  She had
done SOMETHING to herself, apparently, because nothing showed in her
groin to show she was a male.
     "Is the color good?" Valerie asked as she came back around to face
Jane.
     "Excuse me?"
     "I picked blue because it's my eye color," she said, "and D- the
girl said she liked that, that it looked better on me."
     "You TRIED IT ON in the..."
     But she was shaking her head.  "No, I held it up to my face," she
said innocently.  "Does it look good?"
     With the long and straight blonde wig, and her blue eyes - the
bikini was far more vivid in color, not surprisingly, but they were
close in shade - she looked like a pre-pubescent California blonde.  Who
had been in a car accident, as her bruises were extensive, even on top
of older bruises in some cases.  "It does, but I don't think you should
wear it until your bruises heal," Jane said distractedly.
     "Wh-" Valerie started as she looked down at herself.  "No, probably
not," she agreed.  "Not out of the house, so to speak."

     "Wha-  Oh my god," Kenneth complained.

     Jane was about to tell Valerie to change into something else when
Kenneth said, "Excuse me," into the parlor, and everyone turned to look
at him.  "Valerie, I believe you left... some of your garments in the
bathroom."
     "Oh, my forms," Valerie said.  "Sorry!"  She scurried off with the
next bag of her clothing.
     "She..." Darla said slowly, "left her..."
     "Breast forms on the vanity," Kenneth said.
     Darla almost whispered, "She left her TITS on the SINK?"
     Jane choked as the other two burst out laughing.

     Tucker realized that they were probably laughing at the fake boobs
he hadn't taken with him, that were - incautiously - still sitting on
the sink.  "Oh...  Damnit.  That HAS to qualify as unladylike...  Heh."

     Jane had managed to get everyone quiet again before Valerie came
back.  This time, she was wearing, of all things, a pants suit.
Unhemmed.  And heels; and walking very daintly indeed, apparently (and
rightly) afraid that she would trod on a pants leg if she wasn't
extremely careful.
     "I got the shoes for the vintage clothing," Valerie said.  "And the
slacks are too long to wear without heels.  I think I need to hem them,
but I'm not sure how long they need to be."
     "They definitely need to be hemmed," Darla said as she got up.
     "I don't know where, though," Valerie said.
     "Darla can mark them," Jane said.  "Marie is still not feeling
well, so you'll have to do the sewing yourself."
     "Well, okay," Valerie said skeptically.  "I don't really have any
sewing stuff, so-"
     "We do," Darla assured her.  "Momma-Jane, may I go fetch Marie's
hemming basket?"
     "Yes," Jane allowed, and Darla left.  "Valerie, could you walk back
and forth a bit?" she said to gain some time.  *A pants suit?  But there
is no WAY she could be mistaken for male in that-*
     "Miz Thompson?" Valerie asked as she carefully paced in the much-
too-long pants legs.  "Do I need to change shoes?  I was kind of
thinking, Mom has pants she can't wear without heels, and that's why I
put these on..."
     "No, those are fine," Jane answered.  "Don't say you were 'kind of'
thinking; you don't need to be ashamed of thinking."
     "Could you please tell that to every girl I've ever met since
fourth grade, please?" Valerie said back wearily.  "They're all deathly
afraid that if they're around someone intelligent, that they might CATCH
some of it."
     Kenneth coughed into his hand.
     "You know what I'm talking about," Valerie accused him.
     "I do.  It gets better in high school," he said.  "Not GOOD, yet,
but better.  College is MUCH better; a lot of them WANT to be smart, or
at least seem that way."
     "Jaaaaaane," Valerie whined, exactly like a young child pleading
for a toy or favor, "can I pleeeease go to collllleeggggeee?"  She
smiled brightly and cajoled, "I'll invite you to all my keggers!"
     "HAH!" Kenneth burst out before turning away clamping his hand over
his mouth.
     "If you're a good girl and work hard," Jane said, just managing to
keep her own face straight.  "Now, about that pants suit..."
     "Ah-  Actually, if you don't want me to keep it, we shouldn't hem
it," she mentioned, her mirth gone.
     Jane sighed, "I know that."

     Charlie almost screamed when he saw that Valerie had thrown most of
the cotton stuff into the 'dirty' laundry when it hadn't even been worn
ONCE yet.  *Why is she DOING this?*

     "I don't know what she did..." Sarah said distractedly, apparently
turning away from the phone, and Bill sighed.  *How many times can one
person screw up-*  "Oh," she said, "I think this time it's really
hardware; the lights on the box don't come on, or even flicker, when I
power-cycle it.  And yes, the power outlet works, and it's still plugged
in.  At both ends."
     One of the things Bill truly rejoiced in, when comparing Sarah to
all other women, was that while she hadn't been more than average
technical competency (i.e., awful) when they'd met, she HAD been
TEACHABLE; and now, some years and much work later, he could trust her
when she said someone's computer was broken.  "Okay," he sighed.  "Do
you want to come get the backup, or should I deliver it?"
     "I'll come get it, in a couple of hours," she said.  "Heard from
Eugene yet?"
     "Actually yes," Bill told her.  "He sent email this morning.  He's
saying he wants a divorce."
     "From us?"
     "And half the communal property."  Sarah snorted.  "He's also
claiming that if we don't pay him fifteen hundred dollars- this is
separate from the divorce thing, he's going to set off nuclear bombs in
Atlanta, L.A. and Miami."
     Completely discounting the email headers and the still-free
password (as opposed to the captured/coerced password), there was no
doubt who had sent this email.  Mike would've thought of the nuclear
blackmail, but not the divorce.
     "That's new; he usually says Manhattan."
     "I think he realizes he'd be in the fallout zone if he fired that
one."  He should; he'd been trained enough by now-
     "What about Washington D.C.?"
     Bill grinned as he answered, "He'll only set those off - plural,
mind you - if we pay him TEN thousand dollars."
     "Tell him that he should set off the Miami ones as a demonstration
and then we'll pay him the ten thousand," Sarah said.
     "That's exactly what I was thinking," Bill nodded, though of course
Sarah couldn't see it.
     "No, wait.  Where's Disneyworld?  Compared to Miami?  Tell him to
set off the Atlanta one."
     "Good point."

     Tucker was tired as hell, and EXTREMELY tired of trying on
clothing, but Jane had let him keep most of it.  Not that she'd seen all
of it; some of it he'd brought to his room last night, or earlier this
morning, just in case she went on an inspection frenzy today.  Which she
had.  Now, all he had to do was bring the inspected items up to his
room.  Which he was doing, aided by the Keds on his feet and the shorts
he was wearing, so he didn't fall down the stairs or have other stupid
problems with restricted movement.
     "Oh, Valerie?" Darla said as he came back for the third load, "is
Charlene in her room?"
     "I don't know," he said honestly.  "Her door was shut."
     "Well, next trip, could you go up and knock?  Momma-Jane would like
to talk to her."
     "I'll tell her."
     "And then we need to fix lunch."
     "Alr-"
     "Did anyone mention a makeup class this afternoon to you?"
     "No?"  He countered with, "Did anyone mention dance class tonight
starts at eight o'clock?"
     Darla sighed heavily.  "Makeup at four to five, dance from
eight..."
     "To nine-thirty," Tucker supplied.
     "I don't like having that much time in between things," she said.
     Tucker didn't either.  "We could alwa-  Never mind," Tucker said
before he mentioned 'shopping'.  She probably wouldn't enjoy it as much
as he had... or she'd do things he really wouldn't like, to make him pay
for yesterday.  "Oh, hey, when's visiting hours?  For Diana?"
     "Oh, good idea," she said.  "Maybe... maybe she can come home
today.  Jane's going there for lunch.  Ken's taking her."
     "So... you, me, Charlene?" Tucker confirmed.  "And Marie?"
     "Just us girls," Darla smiled.
     Tucker frowned as he realized that there was very little likelihood
of being able to sneak off and eat the leftovers from yesterday, like he
was used to doing.  "Um-  D-  Sorry!  Anyway," he continued, now
irritated at her, "do we have any ice cream left?"
     "I think so, why?"
     "I... have some leftovers from yesterday," he admitted reluctantly,
"and if I eat them where the two of you can smell it, my life'll be in
danger.  Maybe with ice cream, though...  Can you make brownies or
something?"
     She smirked, "I can show you how to make them."
     *Oh bugger.*  He'd rather just eat some, not make more.  He lied,
"That'll be alright.  Can we make them before lunch?"
     Darla looked at her watch.  "If we hurry."
     "Want to help carry stuff up to my room, so we can get started
quicker?" Tucker tried.
     She huffed but agreed.  "And you need to hem the pants on that
suit.  Where did you get it?"

     There was a quiet knock at his door, that Charlie was inclined to
ignore.  He just wanted to sit for a minute, after hauling all of the
'girls' clean and folded laundry upstairs.  Then there was a second
knock.  "Come in," he got out.
     "Charlene?" Valerie asked as she came in, and Charlie wanted to
yell at her 'well who else would it be in here?' but didn't.
     "What happened?  With the talk?" Charlie asked instead as he rolled
over.
     "Are you okay?"
     "No I'm not okay!  I just realized I'm like an accessory to theft
and, and-"
     "What, yesterday?"
     "YES!"
     Valerie shook her head and said, "She's not pressing charges.  And
she's letting me keep most of it."
     "She what?!"
     "She's letting me keep most of it," she repeated.  "Oh, Shar..."

     Darryl wondered why Charlene was crying, but she was being
comforted by Valerie, which suggested - unusually - that Valerie wasn't
the cause of it.  "Charlene?" he asked cautiously.
     "She was worried about yesterday," Valerie said as Charlene rose up
and looked at Darryl.  She looked awful, with her makeup running, and
even her hair had become disarranged.
     "I-" Charlene started, then choked.
     Darryl took a quick look at Valerie, to see if she knew more; she
shrugged.
     "I didn't-" Charlene got out.
     Darryl came in, to sit on the other side of Charlene, and if
possible comfort her, instead of letting Valerie do it; he didn't quite
trust Valerie, or what she would say.   But Charlene didn't turn to him,
she clung to Valerie and cried.
     "I'm sorry, baby, I'm sorry," Valerie crooned.

     Charlie had finally gotten control of himself, until he learned
that Jane wanted to talk to him.  Which was undoubtedly going to be
about the shopping yesterday, which was what he'd been crying about in
the first place.
     "It's okay, Charlene," Darla said softly.  "You're not in trouble."
     "I'm not?!"  He had to let go of her so he could move away from her
so he could look at her face and see if she was lying.
     "No, you're not," she said gently.

     "Ohhh dear," Tucker said as he went, alone, to get the rest of the
goods out of the hall.  Apparently Charlene was having a crisis of
conscience over yesterday.  *Which is stupid; if Jane's not doing
anything now, she's not likely to.  AND, they can always take the stuff
back, or even make me do it, and so no problem.  So I don't know what
her problem is.*
     He gave up.  *Must be a girl thing.*

     "See if you can drill her on feminine gestures and movements," Jane
directed.
     "We were going to make brownies," Darla countered.
     "Was that all you'll be having for lunch?"
     "No!  You're being silly," Darla accused Jane with a smile.
     "Just checking, dear.  Do what you can with her.  She's got to be
at makeup class and dance later, and...  I don't entirely trust what she
might have been doing, or her ability to sustain the masquerade.  It's
too soon..."
     "Momma-Jane, she did it ALL yesterday, and we don't know WHAT she
was doing over the weekend," Darla reminded her.  "I'll see if I can
find out, but..."  She shook her head.  "She's pretty sure that anything
she says to me, goes straight to you."  Which it would, of course.  "I
asked Charlene, but she couldn't really..."
     Charlene had been a soggy mess when she, with Darla supporting her,
had come down to talk to Jane.  While Jane was pleased that Charlene had
figured out some of the ethical issues on her own - which she had not
been capable of doing when she came here - and Jane had confirmed that
Charlene had done the right thing by sticking with Valerie rather than
refusing to go with her, it had obviously not been the time to ask her
deeper questions about how Valerie had behaved and what exactly she'd
done while out.
     "Give Diana a kiss for me," Darla said.  "Oh!  And the books."
     "Books?"

     "Oh, no," Darla complained when she saw him, as Tucker had half-
expected her to.
     "What?!  We're going to be cooking, and there's no one here but 'us
girls'," he reminded her.  "And they're girls' jeans!"  Then he thought
of something.  "Or are you upset because you don't have any?  I can see
Miz Thompson not allowing you to have something like-"

     "I have jeans!" Darryl had protested, and then Valerie wouldn't
believe him until he went up and put them on.
     "I don't believe this..." he said to himself as he checked himself
in the mirror.
     It wasn't that they looked bad, exactly; it was that he didn't look
very feminine in them, without the foundation garments he was used to
wearing.  And those looked rather odd with the casual denim.  Too odd.
     He finally settled on an unobtrusive waist nipper in champagne,
plus a cream top and a pair of strappy sandals.

     Darla didn't look nearly as relaxed as Tucker had thought she
would.  *I think she's been wearing the Jane-stuff too long; she's like
one of those Victorian women who couldn't deal without their corsets.*
And she didn't look nearly as perfect-body as she had without them.
*Sheesh...  Crazy!*
     *I hope Kenneth knows about th-  Oh, he has to,* Tucker realized,
*they're sleeping together.  Duh.*

     Darla and Jane had said for Charlie to wait until he felt better
before he came down to help with lunch.  But by the time he did it was
nearly eleven thirty, and by the time he redid his makeup, redid his
hair, and changed, it would be about time to eat.
     "God, I hate this place, I hate this place..."
     *Though, if I shower, I could run some cold water on my face, and
maybe my eyes wouldn't hurt so bad.*  They were, of course, red and
swollen and told anyone who looked at him that he'd been crying for a
long time.

     Kenneth was glad he'd brought a book.
     Art had apparently 'passed' his cardiac balloon catheterization
earlier that morning, from what the doctor had said around Jane, and
Kenneth was very glad, but...  It was strangely unsettling to see Jane
acting like a normal wife with a hospitalized husband - not that he'd
seen many of those - rather than the stern and seemingly implacable
figure of his later childhood.
     Since he wasn't that close to Art, he'd figured that he could wait
outside and let the two of them have as much privacy as existed in a
hospital cardiac ward.
     And he was finding hospitals to be exceedingly boring.  *Though I
guess it could get exciting...  I suppose it was yesterday.  Boring is
good,* he nodded, and opened his book.

     Marie had been sleeping most of the morning - she'd been sleeping
most of the week; it was doing her good - because Darla had sent her
back to bed after breakfast.  And Darla had awakened her for lunch,
though she was surprised to find Darla was now wearing jeans.  She was
glad to hear that Valerie was back - again - but a little surprised that
Jane hadn't done more to punish her... until Darla had told her what
Valerie had gotten.  Or started to; there was a LOT.
     "All of that?"
     "We-  Jane made her try most of it on this morning," Darla sighed.
"Jane said she could hem the pants from the suit, so I got your hemming
basket and marked it.  It's one inch above the heel in the back, and
just enough to clear the shoe in the front, right?"
     "Yes, but it makes a difference if she's wearing heels or not,"
Marie reminded her as she started down the stairs.
     "Oh, she was-  And she put them on before she- I mean, with the
suit.  She said her mother had, oh, not taught her that but she'd
learned it."
     "Ah.  That could explain a lot," Marie said, "if her mother has
been telling her things."
     "Well, we hope," Darla sighed.
     "And, does your mother know you're wearing those dungarees?" Marie
teased, although she was still curious about why Darla was wearing them.
     "No," Darla sighed, and opened the kitchen door and pointed.  "SHE
made me wear them."
     "Eh!" Marie exclaimed in surprise.  Valerie was ALSO wearing jeans.
     "It's the feminist revolution," Valerie said sternly.  "The bra-
burning's scheduled after dessert."
     "I don't think so," Marie demurred as she found herself protecting
her breasts, and her bra, with her arms.
     "What, no freedom from the tyranny of underwires and- and things?"
     "When you're older, you will appreciate them more and more."  Marie
hadn't really thought it possible, back in HER teens, but it had turned
into truth.  "Especially well-fitted ones," she added, which she had
ALWAYS known.
     A whiff of scent made it through her mostly-clogged nose, and she
asked, "Did you make brownies?"

     "Hey," Valerie said as Charlie came into the dining room.  He'd put
on one of Jane's more 'grown-up' dresses; she was wearing the jeans
she'd gotten yesterday, and a sky blue tunic she'd gotten from the
Cotton Spott yesterday.  The contrast between his literal dress and her
jeans-and-shirt irritated him.  "Are you okay?" she asked as she came
towards him.
     "I...  Mostly," he sighed.
     She unexpectedly hugged him gently, and said quietly, "You could
eat upstairs, if you wanted."  She let go and grinned.  "Miz Thompson is
out, and so we're all going crazy with breaking the rules."
     "I noticed the jeans," he said.
     "And we're baking brownies for dessert," she added.  "But,
seriously, if you don't feel like eating down here, we could bring it up
for you."
     "No, that's okay," he said, smiling a little.  *She really does
care...  In her own sick and twisted way, anyway.*
     She gave him a short hug and kissed him on the cheek before leading
him to his usual seat and disappearing back into the kitchen.
     His cheek tingled, and he could only watch her as she left.

     "Tabouleh?" Darryl questioned.  Valerie had brought a lot of
leftovers home, and she was dividing them up.
     "It's... some kind of traditional Middle Eastern dish.  Grain and
lemon juice and herbs, tomato and onion," Valerie said.  "It's good
stuff."
     "I know what it is."
     "Try it."
     Since that had been one of Jane's dining commandments - and this
wouldn't be the first time he'd had the dish - he was willing to try it,
but he looked at Charlene as Valerie put a few spoonfuls on his plate.
     "She got a lot of weird stuff at supper," Charlene told him.
     "You ate most of it," Valerie said back, and stuck her tongue out.
     "Valerie, that is not ladylike," Darryl casually warned her.
     She took a deep breath and let it out.  "Anyway, try it.  I think I
could make it...  It's pretty good.  And healthy and all that."
     "What about the hum-  hummus?" Charlene asked.
     "Oh," Marie interjected.

     Tucker grinned, as Miss Marie - still banished to the other end of
the table - seemed to be having a slow food orgasm over the ice-cream-
over-brownies dessert.
     When the phone rang, it looked like coitus interruptus to Tuck; but
Darla was announcing, "I'll get it!" and past Marie before Marie had
finished standing up.
     Marie plopped back down into her seat - Jane's seat normally - with
a sigh, and looked at Valerie again.  "Darla said you got vintage
clothing?"
     "Yes ma'am, I did," Tucker answered.
     "Does it need alterations?"
     "I... don't know," he admitted.  "It fit in the shop, or I didn't
get it.  Darla marked the pants hems, though, and I'll do that..."  *In
my copious free time,* he sighed.  "Sometime soon," he said.  "Do we
have any boots in my size?"
     "Boots?" Marie asked blankly.
     "I think they- the pants suits would go really well with, like,
heeled boots," he told her.
     "I'd have to see them," Marie warned.  "But yes, we do have a few
pairs of boots.  And if not, I'm sure we could get a pair for you."
     "Pair of what?" Darla asked as she came back in.
     "Heeled boots," Marie answered, "for the pants suit Valerie got."
     Tucker sighed; he was going to have to go up and down those stairs
again, and possibly while wearing the boots, which meant no traction.
He hadn't had time to cut the inner tube rubber and glue it on any of
the shoes yet, and he suspected that it would work better if he let it
dry for a day or two before trying to walk in them.

     Darryl wondered why Valerie had brought up the subject of boots if
she was so unenthusiastic about actually wearing them.  *It couldn't be
BUYING them; she went so crazy yesterday...*  Darryl was going to have
to sit down with a calculator and possibly his computer before he could
figure out what she'd spent in total; and then, Kenneth was taking a few
items back today, and they'd probably take more back on Thursday.

     Marie had threatened Tucker with a sewing lesson, so after lunch
he'd pulled the remaining pants suit - the red one; the other was being
returned, Tucker thought probably because it was black and looked mature
and respectable rather than really super-feminine - the heels necessary,
a pair of Charlene's boots that she'd told him to get out of her closet,
some medical supply bits, and the sewing basket together before making
ONE trip, slow and extra-careful, down the stairs.  This time, he'd made
it.
     "Here," he told her as he got to her.  "I-  This'll help keep me
from getting what you've got," he said, handing her the mask he'd kept
since Friday afternoon.  It was a little bent, but he'd reshaped it
roughly.  "Just put the loops behind your ears..."  She did, and he
noticed that her hands were still a bit damp, as if she'd washed them.
*I hope so...*
     Marie asked from inside the mask, "Why does it have a 'C' on it?"
     "'Contaminated'," Tucker answered.  "You'll be wearing it and it'll
be full of vir- viruses, which I don't need."
     "Ah."  Marie nodded before slowly leading him through the kitchen
and to the basement stairs, down and along a hallway, and opened a door.
     He'd seen the sewing machine before, while exploring, but hadn't
really noticed the other two machines.  Or the large table, or the two
steam irons, or the wire crates against the wall that held... fabric
stuff.  Or the wall rack for thread and string and spools of elastic.
*And lace,* he thought as he noticed several large cardboard spools of
the stuff.  *And ribbons...*
     Marie reached into a closet and pulled out a dressmaker's dummy.
Tucker had never seen a real one before; when his dad had been arranging
gear, he'd used real people.  Which had not been one of Tucker's
favorite childhood memories; standing still while adults poked at you
with rulers, measuring tape, duct tape, and/or pins, and talked about
things you could care less about had not been, and was not, his idea of
fun.
     This one looked almost modern, with inset dials and things.  "What
are the dials for?"
     "They're for changing the size, so you can use it for different
people," she said.  "We need to measure you..."
     "Shana did it at the Style Shoppe yesterday," Tucker told her as he
started digging through his green bag.  "And I wrote everything down..."

     "It's a lot nicer to sit in here than in most of the rest of the
house," Darla told Charlie as she took a seat on her bed.
     Charlie sat gently in Darla's desk chair, and it was a better seat
than most.
     "So," Darla said, "you know we're trying to help Valerie, right?"
He nodded, so she continued, "It would be really helpful if you could
tell us what happened yesterday, after... after we left the Style
Shoppe."
     "Is Miz Philips okay?"
     "She seems to be doing better," Darla smiled.  "Thank you for
asking."  She waited just long enough for Charlie to realize that Darla
knew he'd been trying to stall.  "Now, you obviously went shopping after
we left.  Whose idea was that?"
     "Well, Valerie's!  It was all pretty much her idea," he said.
"Look, Darla..."  She lifted her eyebrows to encourage him when he
couldn't figure out where to start.  "I don't want to get in trouble,
a-"
     "No, Charlene, you're not in trouble," Darla assured him.
     "-And I don't want to get Valerie or anyone else in trouble
either!"
     Darla managed to sound totally innocent when she asked, "Why would
she get into trouble?"
     "Darla, come on..."
     Abandoning the happy-girly attitude she'd had, Darla shook her
head and said in a more brisk voice, "Look, Charlene... we know what she
did, what she bought, and how she got the money to buy it.  That's
hardly a secret, since she gave me the receipts last night.  You did
know she was keeping them, right?"  Charlie nodded cautiously, partially
because he remembered Valerie handing over the stack of papers to Darla
the night before.  "So..."  She shrugged.  "Nothing's gonna happen.
Momma-Jane said _I_ don't have to pay for what VALERIE bought, that it's
not coming out of my money, so that's okay.  She brought them all back,
too, so that's not it.  I-  We," she admitted, "need to know what she
was doing, how she was acting... what was she thinking?"  She sighed and
then said, "Okay, try this.  What happened right after I left?  I know I
got you to take Valerie's backpack into the break room at the Style
Shoppe.  And then, you bought some stuff..."  She pulled out the
receipts and started looking through them.  "How was she acting?  Was
she happy or anything?"

     The saying was 'measure twice, cut once' but Marie seemed to think
like Tucker, that you didn't need to be limited to just twice.  They'd
measured the pants about three times each, field-averaged them, then
pinned a fake hem in the pants and tried those on, including with the
boots, measured again, ironed them into submission and measured AGAIN,
and now he was sewing tiny hopefully-invisible stitches into the second
leg, since Marie had done part of the first.  She was replacing a couple
of buttons on a blouse now.
     "How are you coming?" she asked as she seemed to finish.
     "Slowly," he sighed.  "Maybe half."
     "Keep going," she told him, as if he hadn't figured that out.

     "She did get around, didn't she?" Kenneth said, looking at the
list again to see where they should go next.
     "Indeed," Jane said, sounding congested again.
     "We could go home," he said to her as he turned to face her.
     "No..."
     He watched her for a while, not sure what he was looking for.  She
seemed very tired though not to exhaustion.  And the sound of her
congested breathing kept making him want to cough.
     *At least most of the returns are from the one mall,* Kenneth
though gratefully.
     "Let us continue," she said eventually.

     Marie was surprised; she'd had little dealing with Valerie since
about last Wednesday, and had seen little of Valerie's 'good behavior'
before or after that time; most of what SHE had seen had not pleased
her.  If she wasn't being defiant, she was reminding Marie of her
illness and incapacity; Marie was sharp enough to realize that had more
to do with herself and her illness than with Valerie, but she still
resented it.
     Now, with something to learn, Valerie was... not very feminine, but
focused, asking reasonable questions and trying hard, taking corrections
without too much fuss, and appreciative of some of the tools in the
lavishly-equipped sewing room, which VERY few students were.  She didn't
necessarily know what they were on first glance, but could often quickly
see the advantage of a particular tool, and a few times had suggested
something that some bright mind had already invented years ago.
     Now, all the mending for the house had been done to Marie's
satisfaction, and Valerie had hemmed both the pants and the sleeves of
her suit as well, and Marie was talking her into getting longer-legged
jeans and hemming those, when Darla tapped at the door.  "Miss Marie,
Valerie, it's three o'clock; Valerie has half an hour or so to get ready
before we need to leave for her makeup class."
     "Ah.  Very well," Marie said.
     "Thank you, Miss Marie," Valerie said unexpectedly as she stood up.
     "Oh.  You're quite welcome," she said back.

     "No, I think we're just going to stay home and do chores," Charlie
sighed.
     "Well, cheer up, I get to go play with makeup in public," Valerie
said as consolation.
     "Oh, yeah, I remember that," Charlie sighed again.  That hadn't
been one of his happier memories of this place.
     Actually, he had very few happy memories of this place.
     "Could be worse," Valerie said.  "Could be raining."
     "Did you look outside?"

     "Well, shitskees," Tucker said to himself as he looked outside.  It
seemed like the sort of weather that might require a wet suit.

     "Of course we have raincoats," Darryl said.  "And I was thinking we
were going to need them," he said as Valerie began nodding.  
     "Since I'm going to be insane and take my big pack again, S.O.P., I
can-"
     "S.O.P.?"
     "Standard Operating Procedure," Valerie said, giving him a dirty
look for no reason at all.  "Anyway, I can pack a spare outfit in there,
in case we have to swim for it or something.  If you have something
small, I could carry it for you," she offered unexpectedly.  "Like a
spare dress, not a whole outfit and shoes and everything."
     "Oh...  Thank you; but no, I think we can stay dry," Darryl said.
     "Sheee... I hope," Valerie said, looking around until she could
peer out a window.
     Darryl sighed to himself and started, "Were you planning on wearing
that to class?"  She was still in jeans.
     "What, this?  Why not?" she shrugged.
     "Valerie," he sighed.

     Tucker hadn't fought too much, because Darla DID have something of
a point; plus, he'd signed the contract.  However, what she might not
know was just how comfortable this new dress was.  Especially after
Charlene had washed it this morning.
     And that was the LAST thing he was going to mention; they wouldn't
let him wear it if they knew.
     He checked himself out in the mirror, not entirely trusting Darla
to do his hair and makeup without making him look weird, but she'd
apparently had a brain fart; or possibly without Jane in the house the
mind control was wearing off.  The tank top dress with the big flowing
skirt (and, by all the dark gods, POCKETS), dyed the sort of dark pink
called 'rose', was great, but a little thin, especially in the skirt; so
she'd added another new-purchase white skirt underneath to act as a
half-slip.  The dress itself went really well with the darker blonde
long hair that normally curled (sort of) around his face and neck, but
Darla had clipped it off with something that held a bow - matching pink
or rose, naturally - and it was manageable now.
     Darla had dug in her closet and found a pair of wedge sandals, that
looked like they had manila rope heels; the brown leather on top was
real, at least.  Since he had pierced his ears, he couldn't wear
anything on them; Darla had compensated with a doubled-over necklace of
wooden beads, three bracelets that looked like metal O-rings, and two
rings, one an opal but probably not a powerstone.
     Tucker had added two sheathed knives, belted on under the long-
legged black spandex shorts, and Darla hadn't frisked him, so he felt
properly accessorized for once.
     He twitched a bit with cold as the air conditioner kicked in and
blew on him, and had a relevant thought.

     Darryl had to admit, Valerie didn't look any less feminine with her
thrift store white collared MEN'S shirt on, sleeves rolled up and
unbuttoned over her dress.  Which was vaguely irritating; she should
have looked less feminine.  Somehow.
     Plus, if he'd known she was going to wear that shirt, he'd have
gotten her the white leather wedge sandals instead.
     But...  "Do you really need to carry THAT bag?"
     Valerie looked down at the olive green offending accessory she was
using as a purse, again.  "Yeah," she apologized, "at least until I get
some dye.  And a pot, so I don't mess up the cooking pots."
     "Ah.  I think we could get some today, after..."  He checked his
watch.  "Definitely not before."  *And no time to switch it out either,
damnit.  She timed it that way, I'm sure...*
     Valerie checked her watch, which was big and ugly and black and
masculine and she wouldn't take off.  "Oh yeah.  Let's go."

     "What I was thinking," Jane said to Kenneth as he drove, "was that
you could take Darla out for a while, if she wanted to get away, and I
could drive her car home with Valerie after the makeup lesson today."
     "Well...  SHE can't change to Darryl, can she?" Kenneth asked.
     "No, unless she uses her emergency clothes.  But she might like the
free time anyway.  She HAS missed you, you know," Jane pointed out.
     "Undoubtedly why she said she was going to marry me," Kenneth
stated.
     Free of having to repress her lighter emotions around the students,
Jane laughed.  "Oh, the look on your face when she said that..."
     "You looked rather poleaxed yourself," Kenneth reminded her.
     "Oh, I was...  Kenneth, dear, more seriously; I'm not sure it's a
good idea, for you two to keep up that particular fiction.  I could tell
Valerie that it was merely's Darla... peculiar sense of humor.  I don't
want it to strain you, or strain your relationship with Darla.  Or
Darryl," she added.
     "I've thought about it," Kenneth mused.  "Really, I don't think
it'll be THAT big a problem."  Then he grinned, a very dark and wicked
grin.  "Besides...  It'll be fun to watch her squirm, once she realized
just where her OWN mouth has gotten her, for once."
     "It's gotten YOU in nearly the same place, Kenneth," Jane reminded
him.  "More than once."
     "Yes," he agreed, "but that was then.  This... will be sweet."

     Tucker was getting a bad feeling about the whole thing, which
peaked when they turned into a parking lot he vaguely remembered.  "Oh
no."  He recognized the building in front of him.
     "Makeup class," Darla said.  "And you slept half the way here,"
which wasn't true, it had only been a quarter.  "Are you sleeping well?"
     "No," he said as he debated whether to get out or not.  "Is coming
here really a good idea?"
     "Well, were you planning on assaulting anyone else?"
     "No, but I wasn't PLANNING on assaulting the first one," he
reminded her.  "She dyed my hair without my permission, and then grabbed
me..."  His momentary flashback of about five seconds of hand-to-hand
drowned out whatever Darla said.  "But, if she's in there..."
     "She's still at home, sick," Darla sighed.  "I checked."
     Tucker sighed, but there was no help for it.  "Okay...  Pop the
trunk please?"
     "Wh-  Valerie!" she complained.
     "I NEED it!"
     Darla huffed and popped the trunk before she got out, WAY before
Tucker could manage to get out of the bucket seat; and he knew he hadn't
managed to do it gracefully.  *I think I need to practice this...*

     "So anyway," Doyle continued, "what I was thinking was-  Oh, hey,
it's Valerie," she said as she spied the girl coming in.  She was
wearing a raincoat with a hood, but since it hadn't started raining, she
hadn't put the hood up.  Her hair was WAY different than it had been
yesterday.  "Did she get extensions or something?"
     "Do what?  Who?" Shelly asked as she turned around in her seat to
look.
     "Valerie," Doyle repeated.  Shelly wasn't in choir  "She's just
visi-  No, she said she was doing junior cotillion, but she's not in the
classes.  At least she loosened up a little."
     "Do what?" Shelly asked as she turned back to face Doyle again.
     "She was wearing like an office dress to choir," Doyle said,
rolling her eyes.
     "Why?!"  Shelly turned and looked again.  "And why is she carrying
that backpack?"

     "Oh hey," Tucker said as he saw one of the girls from choir.  She
had longish brown hair, and it was styled into waves today; yesterday it
had been bangs-and-ponytail.  Today she was wearing a shimmery top,
black walking shorts, and a pair of casual-seeming heeled sandals that
Tucker knew from yesterday had cost too much at Macy's.
     "Oh hiiii," she crooned, and Tucker started to dislike her.
"You're the new- well, the other new girl in choir, right?  Valerie?" At
his nod, she came up and held out her hand.  "I'm Missy."
     Tucker shook her hand and Brooklyn'd, "Gladta meetcha, gladta
meetcha."  *Well, can't give her my name, she already knows it...*
Letting go, he turned and waved, "And this is Darla Thompson-Philips..."
He JUST managed not to say anything smart-assed, as the two exchanged
social SYNs and ACKs.
     "What's with the backpack?" Missy asked.
     "Ah...  Long story," he said.  "But basically, I need to have it
with me when I go out."
     "Huh," she commented, sounding vaguely disapproving.
     Tucker was a little disconcerted to find he was disconcerted and
feeling rather clumsy and unmannered.  "So how long have you been in
choir?" he tried.
     "Oh, just years and years," she smiled.  "And voice coaching
outside it."
     "Oh.  Going for pro?" Tucker guessed.
     "Well, I hope so," she said confidently.
     "So you'll invite me to the Grammys when you get one- maybe the
second or third one, right?"
     She laughed, sounding like a high-pitched version of the Evil
Seductress finding some hero guy naked in her bed and smiling at her.
     "Oh, good," Jane Thompson said unexpectedly from behind him, and
Tucker flinched as he shifted and turned, hopefully not bashing Missy
with his pack.  And there Jane was.  "Valerie, Kenneth is going to take
Darla out, and I'll take you home this evening."
     "Yes ma'am."  He wanted to say 'um' but repressed it.  "I also have
dance class at eight tonight," he reminded her.
     "Yes," she agreed.  "We'll be going home to change and eat, then
coming back to town for that."
     "Alright."  When he turned, Missy was still standing there.  "Ah,
Miz Thompson, this is Missy, one of the bright lights of choir.  Missy,
this is Miz Jane Thompson, who is teaching me to behave in a civilized
and ladylike fashion this summer.  That's why she looks so tired," he
added.
     "Valerie," Jane said sternly, notifying him that he'd fouled out.
     "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miz Thompson," Missy said with a
professional-grade smile.
     *Oh, Debbie...*
     "Hey," some girl said from the side, and when he turned to look it
turned out to be Doyle.
     "Oh hey," he said back.
     "Still overdressing, I see," she smirked at him.
     "Yeah, well, you know how it goes; apparently I spent too much of
my life in shorts and jeans already," Tucker said.  "Miz Thompson, this
is Doyle, also in choir; Doyle, this is Miz Jane Thompson.  She's
teaching me the cotillion stuff.  And this is Darla Thompson-Philips,
assistant coach."  Doyle and Missy laughed politely, Darla and Jane did
not.
     When he caught Kenneth standing over the top of most of them, he
said, "And this is Kenneth...  Roberts?"  He nodded.  "Darla's fiance.
Kenneth, this is Missy and this is Doyle, they're in choir with me."
     *There has got to be a better way to do this.*

     "We could," Kenneth said to Darla as the girls moved away, into the
room Caro used for makeup classes, and Jane went to powder her nose
before the makeup class started, "just go home, if you'd rather."
     "No, I want to visit..."  *Art or Diana,* Kenneth filled in, though
he didn't know which one she should use in here either.  "But you know,
I wouldn't mind going out to eat either," Darla mused.
     "Well, we're dressed for it."
     "Of COURSE we are," Darla said languidly.  "Darling."
     Kenneth leaned over and said, "Red Sox," into her ear.  She gave
him a mildly dirty look.

     "So WHAT did you do to your HAIR?" Doyle wanted to know as all of
them sat down.  Tucker had to remember to sweep his skirt forward, and
there was a lot of it.  *'Them', 'cause I'm wearing two,* he remembered.
*Glad I took the pack off first...*  "It wasn't that long yesterday! And
did you get your ears pierced?"
     "Oh..." he started when he got seated.  "Remember I said I was in
junior cotillion?"
     "But you're not in the classes," Doyle reiterated as Missy and two
other girls shook their heads.
     "Right.  Miz Thompson does this immersion learning thing; it's like
all the time, over there-"
     "I wondered about her," one of the other girls said.
     "Oh, me too," Tucker agreed, and they chuckled.
     "So?" Missy prompted.
     "So," Tucker resumed, "I gotta be lady-  Um-"  *Damnit!*  "I have
to have 'appropriate feminine attire and ladylike deportment' at all
times."
     "What, like, ALL the-"
     "Pretty much, yeah," Tucker said.  "So, she wants my hair to look
something like this- she's got a blonde fetish," he complained, which
made them laugh.  "Anyway, she wants my hair to look like THIS," he
pointed with both hands.
     "And I wanted my hair to look more like..."  He stuck his fingers
under the wig cap, which he hadn't pinned on, and lifted.  "... THIS."

     The screams jolted Jane upright and towards Valerie before she
could even consciously think about it.  Unfortunately, she was in the
bathroom en deshabille.  "Damn it!"

     Carolyn almost tripped over herself as she saw Valerie pull her wig
straight off her head in the middle of a gaggle of the girls.  Who
screamed, and then began laughing hysterically, as Valerie smirked and
then realized she couldn't put the wig or the cap back on the way she
was holding it.

     *Hmmm,* Tucker thought, and then got the bright idea of pulling one
leg up so he could stick the wig on his knee momentarily, then re-cap
with both hands, then re-apply the wig.
     He'd just put the wig on his knee without messing it up too bad
when one of the girls fell off her stool and knocked the wig to the
floor.  "Hey!  That's expensive!" he complained as he went after it, but
he wasn't sure anyone could hear him over the noise they were making.

     Darla hadn't seen Valerie's self-exposure, but Kenneth had.  He'd
also seen Carolyn freeze.  But only peripherally.
     *I can't believe she did-*
     Then the wig got knocked off her leg and she yelped and dove after
it, just like it was an errant poodle making a jump for freedom, and
Kenneth lost it.

     "I don't know, but he's doing SOMETHING," Mike said, frustrated.
     Dan frowned, then asked, "Are there any nuclear weapon storage
depots on the east coast?"
     "That could be it..."  Except he knew it wasn't.
     "No, seriously, do you think it's just him not being here, that's
pissing you off?"
     "That's part of it, but..."  Mike shook his head.  "You know what
he's like."
     "Yeah," Dan agreed.  "Hey, what are you doing Thursday evening?"
     "Ah, I'm busy."  He would be busy getting made up in front of a
bunch of women someplace, so Debbie could sell makeup, and he would only
be getting twenty percent of net plus a twenty dollar modeling fee.  And
NO sex.

     Tucker had just recaptured the wig when Kenneth came up.  "Oh good,
hold this for a sec," he told him while handing him the wig.  Kenneth
took it, looking rather confused, and Tucker started putting the wig cap
on hurriedly.
     "Wait, can I try it on?" Missy pleaded from the side.
     "Do what?  I guess," Tucker said, and almost managed to get the wig
away from Kenneth before he held it way above everyone's head.
     "No.  Valerie, put it back on."  He was about to argue when Kenneth
said disgustedly, "Could you POSSIBLY be DIGNIFIED for once?"
     That shut everyone up.
     "Well, I suppose, since you asked so nicely," Tucker sighed, and
made sure the cap was seated correctly before Kenneth handed him the wig
and he put it on.  "Thank you, Kenneth," he figured he was supposed to
say - just about everything required 'please' and thanks, especially if
you didn't like it and didn't want it.
     When he sat down, the girls were looking at him like girls usually
did when he'd gotten nailed for something by a teacher or parent.  *Er.*
"I hope they're getting paid a lot for teaching me this summer," Tucker
tried, "but I don't think it's enough."
     That didn't crack anyone up, but it got him some noises and Doyle
and a couple other girls smiled at him before the salon boss came in.

     Darryl wasn't in the room, but he was able to see inside it, so he
was the only person to see Kenneth's tight grin and understand what he'd
done.
     "What happened?" Jane demanded.
     "I-  Come outside and I'll tell you," Kenneth said to her.  "I'll
crack up if I do it in here."

     "Now, what is Valerie's best feature?" the woman asked the class.
     Tucker said in his best Brooklynese, "My innate grace an' charm,"
and summoned a small burp.
     Some of the girls giggled, which was what he'd hoped for; Doyle,
though, had choked silently for a few seconds but now burst out in clear
high-pitched laughter that nearly knocked her off her stool.  And some
of the girls were either laughing at THAT, or with her, and the room was
filled with mirth.  Tucker started chuckling along with them, before he
started laughing along with them.
     "Do you WANT to be exposed as a boy?!" the woman hissed into his
face.
     "What?"  Then Tucker imagined just what would happen if they did,
say, pull the dress off him right here, with all his current bruises,
and with the evidence of a literal bloody ass...  And he laughed so hard
he fell off the stool.  *They'd LYNCH her!  They'd nail her to a tree
and set it on fire-*
     "Valerie!" Darla shrieked from the doorway.
     "BAAHAHAHAHA!"

     "I think she's in trouble," Shelly whispered to Doyle, as Darla and
Ms. Beale took Valerie out of the room.  "Was she like that in choir?"
     "No," Doyle admitted as she wiped her eyes.  *Glad I'm not wearing
makeup in here yet; it'd all have run.*  "She was pretty good- I mean,
respectful and stuff."  Which was good; they practiced hard at choir.
     "I don't know what set her off that last time, though," Missy said.
"Do you?"
     "I think it was some kind of, like, 'If you're not good we're going
to take you out of the class' kind of thing," Jasmine suggested.  "I
don't see what's funny about that though."
     "Maybe she doesn't want to be here?" Missy theorized.
     "Maybe she's a dyke," Doyle theorized, and they all laughed,
because you could just look at her and tell, even with her hair like
that.
     "But she doesn't have a mullet!" Shelly threw out, which made them
all laugh more.

     "Darla, I'm tired of being threatened," Tucker told her, as calmly
as he could.  The laughter had helped; he wasn't enraged enough to kill
both of them, like he would've been a couple hours ago.  "And you've,"
he said to the shop woman, "got more to lose than I do.  So just STOP
IT," he said, using a tone his sister had used on him and Mike when she
had really had enough.
     "But every time we leave you alone," Darla complained, "you do
something like this!  That's not sticking with your contract!"
     "Contract?" the salon woman asked.
     "You hadn't heard of the contract I signed?" Tucker guessed.
     There was a flurry of giggles from the makeup classroom, and all of
them looked back into the room.  *Better hurry,* Tucker thought, and it
didn't seem like he was the only one thinking that.  "Look, just treat
me like one of THEM," as he pointed, "and we'll get along enough to
finish the class, okay?"
     "We'll tell you about it later," Darla told the salon woman.
"Valerie, can you just be a good girl in the class?  Please?"  She
sounded desperate.
     "I will, if she doesn't threaten me-  I'll try," he altered, when
he realized that the previous wasn't going to work.  "I really will."
     "What is going on NOW?" Jane demanded as she came back from
wherever she'd been, and Tucker sighed.

     "Oooh she's coming!" Vicenta squeaked, and Doyle shut up and turned
around like everyone did as Valerie and Ms. Beale came back into the
room.
     "If I'm not good, they said," Valerie announced as she and Caro re-
entered the back room at the salon, "that I'll be hung up and whipped
when I get home; so I'm gonna be a good girl the rest of the class."
     Which made the girls kind of laugh, and Valerie smiled, but she sat
almost demurely down on the stool in the middle of the room.

     Caro took a breath, but the class was there, and Valerie was there,
and she was going to have to make the best of it.  "Now, if we're done
with the disruptions, perhaps we can continue?"
     That got a few embarrassed giggles from the other girls, but
nothing more.  "So, what IS Valerie's best feature?"
     "I think it's her-" Gwen started before Missy interrupted with,
"It's her hair."  Which made them all chuckle.
     "Besides that," Caro insisted.
     "Her eyes," Gwen stated, more insistently this time.
     "And what is her worst feature?"
     "Her manners!" Doyle chuckled, and they all laughed at that.
     "Working on that," Valerie said.
     "Not fast enough!" Missy countered with a grin.
     "Girls!" Caro called, even as Valerie was waving her hands at the
girls to get them to settle down.
     "I think it's my lips," Valerie said into the momentary quiet.
"They're kind of thin."
     "They are," Caro agreed, surprised that she would know that.
     "So do I like emphasize my eyes and sort of HIDE my lips," Valerie
asked as she turned her head to Caro, "or do I do something to my lips
to make 'em bigger or brighter or whatever, and just let my eyes take
care of themselves?  Or... what?"
     "Good question," Caro admitted, surprised again.

     "Feel better?" Kenneth asked as he finished rubbing Darla's
shoulders.
     "A li-  Yeah," she admitted as she stood back up.  "She..."
     "She's Jane's problem for a while," Kenneth said.  "Food first, or
Art first?"
     "Well...  Let's get food first, then maybe we can sneak something
up to Art," she decided.

     "Okay," Valerie said before Caro could tell her to go sit with one
of the other girls in the class.  "I'm getting into a vintage look, like
1940s and 50s.  I KNOW the makeup's different, but, how?"
     "We'll discuss that at the end of the class," Caro said in mild
desperation.
     Valerie made a face but thankfully didn't say anything, and got up.

     "Yeah, I have to wear a lot of eye makeup with glasses, I knew that
much already," Doyle told Tucker.  Though she wasn't wearing any makeup
now.
     "Why not go with contacts?" he asked.  "My sister does."
     "Oh, 'cause I get allergies a lot," she said, "and I just can't
stand switching back and forth.  And my parents won't pay for both
glasses AND contacts," she complained.
     "That's like five hundred dollars or so, though, isn't it?" he
vaguely remembered.
     "I dunno," she shrugged, then asked, "is it really that much?"
     "Um, I think-"
     "Girls!"
     Doyle and Tucker both sighed at each other, which made them both
chuckle.

     "So look," Doyle said as she sat back on her stool.
     "Ohhhhh," Valerie said as she looked in the mirror at herself,
first at one (made-up) eye, then at the (clean) other one.  "Yeah,
okay!"
     "Really makes a difference, doesn't it?" Doyle grinned.
     "Yeah, sure does," Valerie admitted as she continued to look back
and forth.
     "Okay, my turn.  Remember I need more," she reminded Valerie.

     Tucker suddenly realized, as he looked at Doyle from very close
range, that he would much rather be doing this with Debbie, though she
hadn't ever let him put her makeup on her.  *Oh, Deb...*
     Doyle's eyes opened.  "What?"
     Tucker shook his head.  "Nothing.  Sorry..."
     "You looked really sad there," she said cautiously.
     "Thinking about something."
     "Like what?"
     "Like I'm not gonna tell you!"
     She stuck her tongue out at him and razzed him, so he did the same
thing back to her.

     Jane's guts were slowly unclenching, as Valerie behaved in the
class, talking with Doyle - *What an odd name...* - and putting makeup
on her, or sitting quietly as Doyle did the same to Valerie.
     As Jane watched and listened to the class, it was becoming apparent
that Valerie's surprise revelation about her hair had SEEMINGLY been
taken at face value.  She wasn't getting many looks from the other
girls; possibly even less than usual for one of Jane's students at one
of these classes.
     And Valerie was behaving herself, at least as well as the other
girls were.
     In fact, she seemed to be amicably socializing with her face-
partner Doyle.
     Most of Jane's students seemed shy because they were so withdrawn,
because they were so afraid of making mistakes and being caught.  A VERY
few, like Darla, had managed to overcome that, so it wasn't entirely
unprecedented; and Valerie had introduced Doyle as also being in choir,
so the two had met the day before.
     *And Valerie does seem interested in the female arts, though...
more like Darla had been, not Caitlyn at the end.  Clinical, almost.*
Caitlyn (at the end) had had a certain delight in everything feminine
she could learn.  Darla, before her brother had been killed, had been
more focused on learning the feminine arts as a tool, something to hide
with.
     *That's more what she's doing, learning it as a tool...  But who
could she be hiding FROM?*  Her mother hadn't said anything that seemed
to apply, and certainly Valerie hadn't shown anything of the sort.  *And
Valerie is a lot more confident, less haunted and meek, than Darryl
was.*

     As the class started breaking up, Tucker said, "Excuse me, Miz,
ah-"
     "Beale," Missy supplied.
     "Thanks," he said as an aside to Missy.  "Miz Beale?  You said,
that after the class was over, you could show me some of the vintage
makeup?"
     "Wh-  Oh, um," she said as she looked towards Jane.  Tucker half
expected Jane to start lecturing HER, but it didn't happen.
     "Oh, and can I try the wig on now?" Missy pleaded.  "Please Miz
Thompson?  I've never worn one, and I've ALWAYS wanted to know what I'd
look like as a blonde!"

     Missy twisted her hair up and rubber-banded it, then tried to
figure out how to put the wig on her head.
     "Here, let me-"
     "STOP IT!" Valerie shrieked, stopping all of them.  "Gently," she
said quietly into the sudden quiet.  "It's a couple hundred dollars
worth of expensive; you don't want to rip it or tear it."
     "A couple HUNDRED?" Shelly gasped.
     "Yeah..."  Valerie turned the wig upside down.  "See how it looks
like pantyhose inside?  I think that's-  Miz Thompson," she called,
"what is this called?"

     "Is she wearing one?" Missy asked in a too-loud whisper, after Jane
had explained 'monofilament top' and then retreated.
     "Nope!  Just me," Tucker said.  Though he wasn't entirely sure, he
knew that if the girls got out of control and started yanking hair to
test for wigs, A they'd have to call the riot cops to stop it, and
Tucker was allergic to CS; and B everyone would blame him for starting
it.  "But I don't think I'm the only baby butch they've had to deal
with."
     "Baby butch?" Missy smirked.
     "If you hadn't noticed, I'm NOT very feminine," Tucker smirked
right back at her.  She snorted in agreement.  "I'm TRYING to learn, but
it's really hard.  Different."
     "You've gotta stop being a tomboy at some point," she advised.
     "Yeah, I know.  That's why I'm here," he reminded her.
     "Yeah, me too," the redhead - the teen one, not Jane - said,
sounding sort of guilty.
     "You're in choir too, aren't you?" Tucker thought.
     "Yeah."
     "This is Theresa," Missy said, and the redhead smiled and gave a
little wave without lifting her hand.  "That's Vicenta," she pointed at
the brown-very-short-haired girl who was talking with Doyle, "and that's
Jasmine," pointing at a somewhat thicker girl with slightly longer brown
hair and hazel eyes.
     "Huh?" Jasmine said as she turned.
     "Hi Jasmine!" Missy called loudly at her.
     "Missy was saying how pretty she thought you were," Tucker got out
before Missy whacked him.  "Ow."  She kicked him, not too hard but right
on a bruise.  "Ow!  Stop!  That hurt!" he complained.
     "Oh, don't be a wimp.  I thought you were all butch," she teased.
     "BABY butch," Tucker remembered.

     "It's so... civilized," Darryl smiled at Kenneth over their menus.
     "And quiet," he agreed.  "So what's good?" he asked as he looked
back down at his menu.
     "How would I know?  I never get to go out," he said mock-sadly.
     "Poor little Cinderella," Kenneth agreed blandly, without looking
up.
     "That's me," Darryl agreed.
     "Except you go to every ball in the tri-state area."
     "That is so not true!" she protested.  "No more than half of them."

     "And, liiiiike..."  Tucker set the wig over Missy's head and tugged
it into proper alignment.  "That."
     "Lemme SEE!" she demanded as she went for a mirror.  "Ohmygod!" she
squealed happily.
     "Can I try it on?" Theresa begged.
     Tucker was about to agree when he caught sight of Ms. Thompson's
face.  "Um, next time."  Theresa's face fell.  "She wants to go," he
pointed.
     Missy smirked, "Time for your whipping," as she flicked some blonde
wig hair out of her face.
     "Oh, man, don't remind me," he sighed.  He was probably going to
get lectured all the way home, if he was lucky.  If he wasn't, it would
extend until he went to dance class.  And he had NO doubt that Jane
could talk that long.

     "Who did you go to prom with again?" Darryl asked, because he knew
Kenneth had gone, but couldn't remember the details.
     "Lori Tallant, from chess club," he replied.  "She didn't have
anyone else she would consider going with, or they'd already been asked
by someone else, and she wanted to go, so we went together."  He looked
up at Darryl.  "Don't even say 'sympathy date'.  We had fun, and no
pressure.  And she looked very nice."  He grinned.  "And she said she
was damned well going to wear that dress at least one more time, and if
I didn't take her to prom she'd have to wear it on job interviews,"
which made Darryl laugh.
     "So," he asked, deliberately sounding fake-casual, "was she as
pretty as me?"
     Kenneth looked up at him, his face blander than usual.  "My dearest
Darla, no one is as beautiful as you."
     Then he went back to eating.
     *That did not make me feel as good as I'd hoped,* Darryl realized.

     "Okay, see you tomorrow," Doyle said to Valerie, who nodded as she
finger-combed the bangs of the wig out of her face.  She didn't look
happy, though, so Doyle asked, "What's wrong?"
     "I think I'm gonna get lectured to death," she sighed.
     "Well, stop being such a bitch to 'em," Doyle ordered her.
"C'mon," she said when it looked like Valerie was going to argue, "you
don't want to get grounded or anything, do you?  Or are you already?"
     "Not YET," she grumbled.
     "So, like, maybe you could come to a party?"
     Valerie blinked, but then said, "Don't ask me, ask Miz Thompson.
She-  They've got a pool, and I haven't even been able to go swimming
ONCE yet."
     "Oh that is so harsh!" Doyle gasped.
     "So you ask her," Valerie said.
     "You think she'd let you go to a party if I asked, but not if you
did?" Doyle said skeptically.
     Valerie nodded.  "It's sick, I know."
     "Or maybe we could come swim at her place?" Doyle thought.
     "Yeah," Valerie agreed as she started to grin.  "Ask her that too."
     "What?"
     "I don't know what she'll do," Valerie admitted, still grinning.
"She hates letting me do anything, but she's-  I mean, she might be more
willing if someone else asked."
     "Well...  Maybe next time-  No, wait, give me your phone number,"
Doyle ordered.  "Then maybe I can get my mom or Missy's mom to call
her."
     "And then it looks all legitimate and adult," Valerie agreed, not
sounding happy about it.  "Hold on..."  She dug in her purse and pulled
out an index card and, eventually, a pen.

     As they walked out of the salon, Tucker realized he still had the
duct tape on.  *I've really got to get rid of that...*

***


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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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