-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season! Part 20 -*- 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. *** "And how did you get our phone number, to give to that young girl?" Jane asked Valerie as both of them walked out to the car. "Doyle?" "I know her name; how did you find our phone number?" She didn't reply immediately, as she walked, bent under her hideous backpack. "It's quite simple really," she finally replied. "There's a code you type into the phone, like dialing, and the system repeats your phone number back to you. It's called Automatic Number Announcement Circuit, or ANAC," she spelled out. "In area code 401 it's just seven 2's." "And how did you learn this?" She gave Jane a disbelieving look. "It's hardly secret, Miz Thompson." "I've never heard of it," Jane said, remembering to modulate her voice to conceal her irritation. "Miz Thompson... There's a lot you haven't heard of, I'm sure," Valerie said, though without the air of contempt Jane already expected from her when she said something like that. "There's a lot I don't know... Which is why I'm here, I g- I suppose." Jane opened the trunk, disquieted by her attitude, perhaps even more than by her usual angry defiance or outrageousness. "Oh, did you talk to Miz Philips?" Valerie asked as she unlimbered her pack and slung it neatly into the trunk without banging it, then bent to extract her laptop's bag. "How is she?" "She seems to be well," Jane admitted. "And she thanks you for the books you got her." "Oh, good; I wasn't sure if she'd-" She paused to slam the trunk lid. "-Like what I got her," she finished. "Some of it's a little non- mainstream, but I thought she might be willing to try something different." "Different?" Jane asked. "You'd have to read them," Valerie said. "Oh, I was wondering, from what Darla said, and some other things; are you and Miz Philips... I don't know a polite way to say this. Are you two an item?" "An- The proper way would be not to ask," Jane told her. Tucker waited until the car doors were shut and the engine running. "Okay, it's improper to ask. But how- I mean, if Miz Philips was male, how- I'm guessing that's the problem? That she's female, and that's still not..." *Manners is worse than obfuscated C,* he thought, irritated. "It is none of your business, and you should NEVER ask, or assume, such a thing," Jane stated, though not angrily, just firmly. Which was kind of curious all by itself. "Well, alright," Tucker assented. "But, you know, if you tell people 'none of your business', they'll usually assume 'yes'." "And why are you asking?" "Because, Darla said her last name was 'Thompson-Philips', she calls you 'Momma-Jane' and not 'Mom', there's three female adults and no males in sight... And Darla was really freaked out when I was going to call EMS for Miz Philips, so there's some kind of emotional connection THERE too. I just wondered," he said idly. Then he realized that she'd evaded saying anything directly about what HE'd said about his assumptions. *Yep, definitely in a relationship; and paranoid about it,* he figured. *Well, hell; I could do them SOME damage by exposing THAT secret to the community, and I wouldn't even have to play all my cards at once. So, yeah, she's not going to confirm it. Not like it'll help.* "Hi, Daddy," Darryl said as he entered the private room Art was recuperating in. "How'd it go?" Art looked up from the book in his hands, and smiled, which made Darryl feel loads better. He LOOKED better than he had, almost as good as new; though he still had tubes and wires stuck to him and IN him, and a hospital gown which, Darryl thought, always made a person look awful. "It went well, they said," he said as he put the book down across one leg. "Apparently, I had some blockages in the coronary arteries, so while I was here they decided to give me a good reaming. Kind of like Jane's septic system." Art had been surprised that Jane had such an archaic plumbing system, even though there was NO way to run pipes all the way from town; then he'd teased them about it when the students weren't around. "How's Valerie?" Art asked. "Jane told me that things were fine and not to worry myself, which of course made me worry; she wouldn't say that if things WERE fine." Darryl sighed; it was true enough. "Well, when we left- remember I couldn't find my purse and had to use your keys? She picked it up. And remember how we were supposed to do some shopping? She did." He pointed at the book Art was reading, the cover of which Darryl vaguely remembered as being in the sack Valerie had brought home. "And spent, oh," he said casually, "about three thousand dollars." One of the machines blurped as Art gasped, "Three THOUSAND dollars?!" Then another one bleeped. A bit worried by the noises, Darryl sped up, "And when she came back, you know what she was wearing? A vintage, Fifties, COCKTAIL dress, in black, and gloves and a hat; and Charlene was wearing the same kind of thing except her dress was red, with PARROTS on it. And I mean out-to-HERE white gloves, just like Fashion History day," Darryl pointed to his forearm. Art glared at him. "That... doesn't make any sense," he complained. "What?" Darryl knew Art had seen at least one of Jane's (Women's) Fashion History days, when the students had to do an outfit from each decade of the last hundred and fifty years. She hadn't done it in years, though; it was too much of a pain to keep the 19th century pieces accurate and in the right size(s). "Did I say it wro-" "She got all that herself? Who was with her?" "Charlene was, and then they got someone to drive them around all day. I don't know who," he realized, rather belatedly. "It wasn't Miz Franson." "She didn't spend three thousand dollars on two dresses," Art said suspiciously. "No, she got..." Darryl shook his head. "Smoke detectors, two fire extin-" "Nooooo," Art disputed, slowly, as he cocked his head at Darryl. "Escape ladders," Darryl continued as he nodded, "to get out of the bedrooms if the hallways are on fire, some for the THIRD floor. Those books." "And cocktail dresses." "And shoes, and- We had a fashion show this morning, so I got to see almost all of it. The only things she got for herself, that Jane wouldn't really- Well..." He explained, "She got two meals out, for her and Charlene and their driver, whoever that was. And a cash payment for driving, trailer rental, a-" "TRAILER RENTAL?" "It was too much to fit into the car, so they got a trailer." Art shook his head slowly. "Well, this will work," Jane said as she erased the message from Edith White. There would be some rush hour traffic coming back Friday evening after tea, but Rhode Island wasn't New York City. Tucker brought the doll into the parlor, placed the doll in a chair in front of Jane's desk, curtsied to Jane - still probably too slow, but he still hurt a lot - and said, "Miz Thompson, may I present Boudicca, a friend of mine from ancient Briton." Charlene was apparently busy with chores, so he had to practice introductions using a doll. "Boud-" "I had forgotten that," Jane said, wearily. "Wait, didn't you name her Mary Anne?" "YOU named her Mary Anne, Miz Thompson," Tucker reminded her. "I renamed her Boudicca, because that's a much better name." Jane sat for a few seconds, staring at her desktop, and Tucker listened to her breathing. *Still congested,* he noted. *Thick...* One of the talents Tucker wished he DIDN'T have was the ability to feel, in his own body, exactly what anyone else's respiratory sounds corresponded to. "Miz Thompson," Tucker said gently, and waited until she tracked him. "I don't think you're well yet. Why don't you go to bed for a while, like Miss Marie did? You can get Charlene to keep me out of trouble." "Like she did yesterday?" Jane growled, just as Tucker was realizing that he shouldn't have said that. "Well, like I said," he backtracked, "if you don't like what I got with your money, take it back." He knew they'd taken some of it back already, including one of the two pants suits - but only one, and he'd been hem- "Oh, and I have sewing I think I could do," he mentioned. "Or cooking, though I won't be here at eight 'cause I've got-" "Say 'BE-cause'," Jane insisted. Tucker took a breath, and restarted, "I won't be here at eight because I've- Charlene and I have dance class; and someone will have to take us and bring us back. So either we all eat at a different time, or most of you eat at eight and Charlene and I and the driver eat earlier or later." Jane thought for a while, then decided, "Why don't you and Charlene eat earlier." "Yes ma'am," Tucker agreed. "Do you know who's driving?" "Darla or Kenneth, if they get back in time. If not, I'll do so." Jane shook herself a little. "And as for a nap, I think I can continue for a while longer. Please begin the introductions again." Tucker repressed a sigh, said, "Yes ma'am," then had to think about it before he curtsied to Jane and said, "Miz Thompson, may I present..." "I really need to see her file again," Art decided. *You'd think that with three credit cards and all that cash, she'd have done something other than get SMOKE detectors...* Though she had, and LOTS of 'something other than'... "You really need to REST," Darla contradicted him. "The doctor said that if you rest, you could go home tomorrow." Art sighed. "But she's- Valerie is BACK, right?" "Right," Darla nodded. "So is my purse... And since Kenneth said he could stay and help, we'll take care of things until everyone's back to normal." She smiled at him before she bent over and kissed his cheek. "Just think of it as a resort spa, and read for a while. Like we didn't get enough time to do." "This is NOT a resort; I'd get to wear PANTS if I was in a resort," Art retorted. In lieu of a verbal reply, Darla grinned and flipped her skirt at him. Then she gaped a little and said, "Speaking of pants, she got two pants suits! At Macy's!" "By 'pants suits' I presume you mea-" "Yes!" she interrupted, sounding scandalized. "And Jane let her KEEP one!" "A pants suit." "I SWEAR!" Darla said as she X'd over her chest. Tucker had started the stopwatch on his wristwatch when he'd noticed Jane had gone into APM Standby. Then he had started his isometric waiting stretches, which hurt, but not enough to make him make noise. Five minutes and thirty-nine seconds later, Jane started as her eyes opened. "Miz Thompson," Tucker told her as he stopped the timer, "you had a dropout of five minutes forty seconds. Why don't you take a nap?" "How long?" "Five minutes forty seconds," he repeated. "And you timed it," she said sourly. Eventually, he couldn't figure out anything else to say but, "Yes ma'am." He KNEW he shouldn't smirk, but somehow managed to avoid doing it, for once. Jane closed her eyes as she inhaled deeply, then lost the breath in a series of deep coughs, and ended up knocking something loose, which she delicately spit into a tissue. "Have a fun time?" Kenneth asked Darla as she settled herself in his car. "I suppose," she said. "Hospitals are not fun places." Which Kenneth knew already. "At least Art seems to be taking it well. Why didn't you want to come in?" she asked. "Because, I don't really know him," Kenneth answered - again. "And I thought you might want a little private time with him, without me in the way. Hospitals, as you mentioned, are not fun places; and I didn't feel like it was a good time to get to know him better." She sighed. "Well, hopefully he'll be home tomorrow." "And how are we going to get HIM into the house?" "Valerie has choir tomorrow morning; if we do it right, and get Art discharged before she gets back, then no problem." "But it's Valerie," Kenneth reminded her. "What do you do if there IS a problem? Because I suspect that if there's a problem possible, she'll find it." "Oh... dear," Darla said. "She would, wouldn't she?" "That'd be the way _I_ would bet." Charlie was working on reading another romance so he could do a book report on it - he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be learning, but he was definitely learning to hate romance novels - when someone knocked at his door. When no one came in, he figured it was Valerie. "Come in," he called, and she did. "I thought you were practicing manners with Miz Thompson?" "I got her to go to bed. She fell asleep in the chair," Valerie said. "Whatcha doin'?" "Language," Charlie told her, and smiled as she frowned. "You know she'll jump on you every time you mess up," he reminded her. "What are you doing?" she asked, not sounding happy about it. "Working on a- I have to read this," he waved the romance at her, "and then write a book report on it." "Oh, no!" Valerie complained as her face twisted like she'd just accidentally licked a lemon. "A BOOK REPORT?" "On a romance novel," he sighed as he nodded. "That has got to fall under the prohibited 'cruel and unusual punishment' part of the contracts," Valerie declared. "Oh, I wish... Anyway, so, Jane's out-" "Marie's still out, Darla and Ken aren't back yet, and we have dance class at eight, and nobody's cooked yet." Then she grinned. "And I want some cookies." "We don't have any-" "If we have chocolate chips, may it please the dark ones," she prayed as she put her hands together momentarily, "we can have cookies." "We just had brownies!" "So?" Charlie stared at Valerie, who grinned back. Valerie added, "Besides, Darla's not fat enough," which made Charlie laugh. "Well, I think I need to watch you, to make sure you don't run off or something," Charlie said as he got up and turned off the desk light. "You have to help, though," Valerie said as she went back out into the hallway. "Oh, hey," Charlie said as he thought of it. "Did you want to change your wig before you cook?" She stopped, then turned around. "That's a good idea. I don't think I need to change clothes, though, do I?" "How good is the traction on those shoes?" Tucker was glad he'd switched out of the long, neck-hugging blonde wig, though he still wasn't too pleased with the short-and-curly blonde he'd replaced it with. *Wish I could just wear my own hair...* "Aren't they cool yet?" Charlene whined. "No!" Tucker complained at her, wishing he had a broom to whack her with. "Jeez. Keep chopping." "Are you going to use the rice cooker you got tonight?" she asked. "I don't know... I kinda-" Tucker was interrupted when the door to the garage opened. Kenneth sniffed again. "Did you bake cookies?" he asked the girls, more for confirmation than because he was unsure. "Yes," Charlene smiled, as Darla pushed him in, complaining, "We just had brownies at lunch!" "And they're all gone now!" Valerie complained back. "I told you to fix more! Anyway, we used up all the baking chocolate," Valerie said as she waved a floppy disk in the air. *What? Why is she waving THAT?* "And the flour's getting kind of low, too." "Jane and Marie are both sleeping," Charlene told them. "A-" "Ahhht!" Valerie complained as Kenneth reached for a cookie. "They're still hot!" "Not that- Ow! Maybe," he admitted, and went to go run cold water over his mildly-scorched finger. "Yes, that hot!" Valerie rubbed it in. "And someone has to drive us to dancing, and I don't know who. Miz Thompson said that we, Charlene and I and whoever's driving, should eat early... I don't know how you want to do this," she said. Kenneth looked at Darla who was looking at him already. "I think we'll go upstairs and talk about it," he divined. "No, I'll take them," Darla sighed. "I think I need to give her a check for the lessons anyway." "Or, hey, you two could take us, go out for a bit, then pick us up around nine-thirty or ten," Valerie mentioned. "Have a little time alone." Kenneth was opening his mouth to ask Valerie why she thought they would need some time alone, when he remembered Miss Smart-Mouth Darla and her new fiance. Then he said, "We did just come back from a couple of hours." "Yeah, but you went to visit Miz Philips," she said confidently. "Anyway, Darla? I wanted to know if this was okay? To cook, I mean," she said as she trotted over to the laptop computer that was on the bar. As she was distracted and not paying attention, Kenneth casually retrieved a plate from a cabinet, then grabbed the spatula and swiped half a dozen cookies on to the plate. "Hey!" "Okay, whatever," Tucker agreed. Apparently the concept of an early dinner, or what he and Darla had come up with, or the fact that tea hadn't been served, had attracted everyone's attention, so they were planning on everyone eating at six-thirty instead of splitting the meal. "Do I have time to shower and change? I don't think I have time to eat and then change after." "Oh," Charlene said, "I need to..." She looked at him. "What about... about... me having to watch?" she finally asked. "The cooking and stuff?" "Do wh- Oh." Tucker thought for about five seconds, then told her and Darla, "How about, Charlene, you go up and change first, and then come back when you're all ready, and then I go up?" "That'll work," she said hesitantly, then looked at Darla. "I think I need to go now, though; I think it'll take Valerie longer than she thinks." "What? Wh- Oh, right." It took him at least three times as long to get ready as female than as male, and that was before he'd gotten here. And THAT was before the vintage stuff. "Oh, man, seriously. Oh, did you want to borrow one of the vintage dresses I got?" "Yeah... That black one with the V's on it?" "V- Oh, right." It had little rhinestone V's or something along the top. *Actually, they kind of look like far-away seagulls, or drawings thereof,* because the arms of the V's were bent downwards. "You have the shoes for it? I think I put yours in your room-" "Yeah, or I can find something-" "Black heels, right? Pumps, I think; sandals just look wrong." "No they don't," Charlene disputed. "You look great!" Darla told Charlie as he entered the dining room on the way to the kitchen. She was setting places. "Thank you," he said. Darla didn't, really, but she wasn't quite 'going out' in the same way he was. Also, she might be going to change at the same time Valerie was. "Just DON'T forget to wear an apron," she cautioned him as she started placing silverware. "Oh, no, I won't." He wasn't even sure how this dress could be cleaned. He was resigned to the noise the shoes made as he walked into the kitchen, where Valerie was working hard over a chopping board. "Okay, done," he told Valerie. "But you really need to hang that stuff up," Charlie winced in memory. "Do you know what they'll do if they see you with clothes on the floor?" "I don't have ROOM! OR hangers. Hopefully, they'll either go buy some portable clothes racks," she said as she dumped the contents of the cutting board into a big bowl, "or take out some of the cr- stuff that's in the closet already." "Well..." That was one reason he hadn't hung anything up himself; he didn't have room either. "Do you know what you're going to wear?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't have to iron it before she wore it. She hadn't been taught how to iron yet, which would mean that Charlie would have to do it. "Yeah, I was gonna wear that blue one, the one with the white stars and stuff on it," Valerie told Charlie as she got out an onion and started slicing it, using a much bigger knife than Charlie would've. Then again, it looked like she knew what she was doing; it was slicing fast. "With white gloves and that white hat. Did you wash the gloves from-" "On your dresser?" he reminded her. "Oh, right, thanks," she smiled. "You look good, though." "Thank you," he smiled back. "Turn around, lemme see," she said, so he did, as gracefully as Jane had taught him to do. "Were you going to wear a hat tonight?" "What? No." "Oh come on," Valerie pleaded. "It goes with the outfit." "Valerie," he sighed. He didn't want to wear a hat again. "Pleeeaaase?" Then she grinned. "If you don't, I'll get Miz Thompson to make you do it. I bet she would..." *She just might, too.* "Oh, all right." "And gloves too, right?" "You are going too far with this." She glared at him and intoned, "PROPER ladies wear gloves when going out." "You don't do that nearly as well as Jane. Or Darla." "Yeah, well," she said in a more normal voice as she turned back to the food. "Not yet anyway." Tucker had been thinking, and he wanted to be a little more secure tonight, or at least feel that way. *Just need to remember to add a couple of knives to the outfit... garter knives? Debbie would shit... though she might like 'em too, come to think of it. Any excuse to wear stuff like garters, for her, probably...* He came to the stairs, and stopped. "You... You mess with me, and I'm taking an axe to you," he told them, before he carefully started up. "Well, I'm done," Kenneth said. "Well, I'm NOT," Darla said from the bathroom. "I don't know what takes you girls so long to get ready," he said to goad her. She actually came to the door of the bathroom, hair still damp, and glared at him. Then smiled, and said, "We just want to be all beautiful for our men!" "Oh dear," Kenneth said. "This could take days. Maybe a w-" He caught the towel she threw at his face. "Temper temper, dear; it gives your face all those nasty wrinkles." Tucker wouldn't have minded a forearm sheath or two, but with the long gloves on - and since he wasn't planning on eating, drinking, OR smoking, he shouldn't need to take them off during the evening - he couldn't get enough grip to pull a concealed knife out of an arm sheath; and without gloves they wouldn't be concealed. So it was definitely garter mounts tonight. *Maybe I could hang one in between the breasts? Top draw?* He put one on top of the dress and held the dress in front of him as he looked in the mirror. *Nope. Not this dress.* "Jeez, what were these people thinking?" There wasn't any way to carry ANYTHING under this dress, and he didn't think it would look good with external sheaths either. "You'd think the designers weren't even THINKING that a woman would want to carry something like a pistol or a sword... or knives. Sheesh!" Darryl was just tying a scarf around his neck, to see what it looked like, when someone knocked. "Come in!" he called. "Do you have better hair for this?" Valerie complained. "What?" Darryl complained back at her as he turned around. She'd MOSTLY dressed, and done some of her makeup, but she was holding her short and curly blonde wig in one hand and another vintage hat, white this time, in the other. Obviously, the white hat was supposed to go with the blue dress and its white, almost anemone- looking, embroidery accents. "I can't get the hair to look good with this hat, and I KNOW you all won't let me go out with my hair like THIS," she pointed with the hat hand to her own hair. "No," Darryl sighed. "What's wrong with that wig?" "It's too big, I think," she said, calmer. "Remember I said it was all big and fluffed up? It looks- I mean, I can't get the hat to sit right on it. Is there something else upstairs?" "I'm kind of busy," he reminded her. "Well, when you get a minute," she said. "Or I could go look." "Go finish your makeup, and then come back, and I'll go look," he decided. "I like the pearls, though," he remembered to mention. "What? Oh," she said as she looked down, even though she couldn't possibly have seen the two strands that were wrapped around her throat. "Thank you. It seemed appropriate, or vintage or something." "All of those," Darryl said, and gave her a confident smile. "You look REALLY weird," Charlie assured Valerie. "Darla's SUPPOSED to be finding me a better wig to go with the hat," she said. "Thank god," Charlie said, because as weird as her actual hair normally looked, it looked a lot weirder with a wig cap on top of it. Especially with the rest of her dressed in the vintage blue and white, with the white dance pumps and all the rest. Black-and-red did NOT go well with blue-and-white. Darryl had taken the hat, since Valerie had come to his room with it, and gone upstairs to the attic to go look for something that would fit the hat. "There is something wrong with this... The hat should be matched to the hair, not vice versa." On the other hand, all he had to do was look at the wig Valerie had brought, because it was obvious that its style was NOT made for hat- wearing. "And if she's really going vintage... There ought to be something up here..." Jane entered the dining room just after Marie, to find all four of the children standing and waiting for them. Kenneth and Darla were dressed as impeccably as she'd expected... Charlene was wearing a black cocktail dress from the 1940s or early 1950s, with rhinestone V's, that looked vaguely like flying birds, scattered across the top, cap sleeves, a button-up bodice over a peplum, and what might be an A-line skirt, currently hidden by the table. She'd pulled her hair back in a French roll and added a black fascinator with netting, a gold pendant around her neck, and long black gloves she was currently holding in one hand. Valerie, on this side of the table, was wearing a sleeveless turquoise sheath dress from the 1960s that had white embroidery detailing as well as textured fabric, two strands of pearls around her neck, white pumps with very unusual heels - Jane stared at them until she identified them as being pre-stiletto pumps - even longer white gloves in HER hand along with the handles of a large white vinyl box purse, and a white pillbox hat with netting cocked jauntily above an unusually (for this house) short brilliant red wig. "Tres bien!" Marie exclaimed. "Et tres chic!" "Indeed," Jane had to agree. "Valerie, you look very nice tonight." "Thank you, Miz Thompson," she said coolly, with a faint smile. "Unfortunately, I must mention, that those shoes do not quite go with that dress." "What? Why not?" she said, losing her cool instantly. "Those shoes are about a decade or two older in style than the dress," she said gently. Valerie's face twisted up. "Perhaps," Jane suggested, "you could change shoes before you go? I believe we might have a pair that would work better." "I need 'em- THEM, to be stable, for dancing," she reminded Jane. "Yes, of course. And it's swing dancing," Jane continued when it looked like Valerie was going to object further. "Which means it's more active than a sedate waltz, and you are not yet steady on higher thinner heels. But I think we can come up with something," she said, looking at Marie. Who had been thinking, and was now nodding to herself. "There are a pair of sandals in storage that I think will work perfectly. They do have a wider heel than stilettos, and a strap over the top, and they are only three inch heels." "Only?" Valerie commented. "Perhaps two and a half," Marie said. "We'll see when I get them. Jane..." "After supper," Jane nodded, and Marie nodded back. "Also, Valerie, the hair and makeup are- I am assuming you are trying for a Sixties look?" "Fifties or Forties," she said back. "Hmm. The hair is a reasonable substitution, but you can learn to do a better and more authentic hairstyle later. Also, your makeup could actually be lightened a bit, especially around the eyes. Eye shadow wasn't commonly worn, or at least not visibly, in either era." Valerie sighed. "What was that?" "There's so much to learn," she said, looking rather dazed, as if she actually had a hint. "Oh yes, there is," Jane agreed. "Let us be seated, ladies. And gentleman." Kenneth nodded at her as he pushed Darla's chair in before seating himself. "Charlene, if I hadn't said so, I think you have done a remarkable job tonight. Your hair, the hat- stand up and let me see your shoes, please," Jane requested. Charlene stood up with very little show of reluctance, and without being asked moved away from the table and twirled around in a circle. "Are those stocking SEAMED?" "Yes ma'am," Charlene admitted. "Excellent choice," Jane complimented her. "Miz Thompson," Tucker couldn't restrain himself from asking, "would seamed stockings go with THIS outfit?" "No, Valerie, they would not," she said as she turned her attention back to him momentarily. "Seamed stockings are from the Fifties and earlier; by the Sixties, they had developed the seamless variety, shortly before they went to pantyhose. Charlene," she ordered as she turned away, "please turn agai- Thank you. The shoes are excellent... You may seat yourself again. Valerie, are her shoes the same style you're wearing now?" "Yes ma'am. We got them at the dance shoe place..." He couldn't remember the name. "LaBrie Dance?" Charlene suggested. "That might've been it," Tucker nodded. "It probably was," Jane said. "We go there every so often for clothing for the girls doing ballet, as Charlene did before you arrived." Charlene nodded, looking just about as enthusiastic as that guy at the dance lesson place had. *Doug,* Tucker remembered. *Good thing, too; he'll be there tonight. Well, maybe.* "Oh. Yes," Marie decided as she looked at Valerie's foot and the white sandal she'd just put on. "Jane? What do you think? Valerie, stick your foot out gracefully." Valerie did, and without being told, twisted her foot from side to side, to show off the shoe. The white slingback sandal was lower-heeled than Marie had remembered, only two inches, but it was a very large heel in comparison to most modern shoes, though not a wedge. "Much better," Jane agreed. "Actually," she said to Valerie, "the dress would look much better with a more delicate shoe, but that would also include a thinner heel. That is," she indicated the sandal, "much closer to the time period, at least." Marie knelt again to switch the right-foot shoes, but Valerie said, "Miss Marie, you don't have to do that. I can get it." "Not in that dress," Marie said. "Not without being indecent." Valerie sighed, but sat back in the chair and let Marie work. "Oh, no, you're not taking THAT," Darla whined at Valerie and her backpack, as Charlie adjusted the unfamiliar coat over his shoulders. They weren't sure whether it was going to rain again, so Jane had made them take coats; not too surprisingly, she'd had several that would look vintage, buried in the back of the biggest coat closet Charlie had ever seen, and large umbrellas for each of them as well. "Darla, you know, if you'd stop objecting, I'd start feeling dumb carrying it sooner," Valerie told her. "Every time you complain about it, I can't help thinking you want me NOT to carry it for some reason, and none of the reasons- the top ten reasons in MY mind, none of 'em are good for ME. Besides. if you REALLY hate it that bad, help me find something equivalent that's girly or whatever." Darla sighed deeply, staring at Valerie's large backpack. "Darla, I hate to say this," Charlie said, "but why worry about it? Like she said, she looks stupid carrying it, and if you stop arguing with her, she'll stop sooner. Probably," he had to add, because Valerie was, he already knew, kind of perverse, and might just bring it purely to annoy Darla. "Or maybe I could get a vintage US Army pack," Valerie mused. "NO!" Darla shrieked. "Where did all the cookies go?" Kenneth asked as he looked around for them. "We have plenty," Marie said. "But she made more than this..." Darryl hadn't been sure, but when Valerie hoisted her pack again, he could definitely smell them. He accused her, "Did you bring cookies?" "Shhh! Or everybody'll want some," Valerie hissed. "I thought we might need provisions, being out this late." "That is the dumbest thin-" "So you don't want any after class?" Valerie smirked at him. "_I_ think it's a GREAT idea," Charlene declared. Valerie did look dumb, Charlie thought, in an evening dress or cocktail dress, trenchcoat, heels, gloves, hat, white purse dangling from one arm like Darla had told her to carry it - all of which matched or close enough - and that huge green pack over one shoulder. "Maybe you could pretend you don't know her," he mentioned to Darla. "If I thought I could get away with it," she sighed, as they trudged behind her. "Kenneth?" Jane asked, "would you like to help? I think it would be a good idea to summarize everything we know about Valerie, while we have some time." "As long as I get cookies while we do it," he smiled agreeably. "Hey Doug!" some girl called, and Doug turned away from the older couple his mom had been chatting up, to see that girl from yesterday, carrying - of all things - an ALICE pack on one shoulder, but wearing a light gray hooded trenchcoat over a shimmery blue dress. And not just a dress, but heels and gloves and some kind of old-movie hat thing, or at least that's what he thought when he saw the white netting across the top half of her face. "Good lord," Mom murmured. Then Valerie put the hood down on her coat, and exposed her RED hair. "Oh," Tucker said, smiling because he knew what it was going to do to Charlene and/or Darla, "yeah, I was blonde yesterday, but- See, we had a disagreement about what my hair color was going-" "VALERIE!" Darla shrieked. "Calm down!" he ordered her over his shoulder. Then he got hit with an inspiraton about the mass of a baseball, and in a vaguely glowing daze, turned to face her and said calmly, "Jeez, Darla. Keep your hair on." Charlie choked, but it was Darla's snappy, "Keep YOURS on for once!" that made him explode. "Actually," Allison Jarvis had to admit, "that's more of a Sixties dress." "Argh!" Valerie complained. "How can you TELL this stuff?!" "Just from the line of it," Allison said. "Don't you know, like, Eighties stuff from modern?" "I g- I suppose," she admitted. "Maybe?" "You just don't have enough experience dealing with really vintage fashion," Allison said. "But, hey, it looks REALLY good on you," she praised, patting the girl on the shoulder. Valerie huffed, then said, "I could've worn something like Charlene tonight." "Well, she did get a lot closer timewise than you did," Allison admitted. "Mom!" Brad called to her, and when she looked he was pointing at his wristwatch. "Okay, we need to start," she told Valerie, and turned to the rest of the students. "Well, me an' Doug," Tucker said like it was obvious, "'cause we've got matching hair." He leaned close to Doug so their heads were almost touching and smiled at Brad and Charlene. Brad laughed, at least. *At least we each have partners that aren't old enough to be our grandparents,* Tucker thought gratefully. "So what happens next class when it's a different color?" Charlene asked nastily. "Fight ya for'im?" Tucker offered. Doug was pretty sure he'd heard that wrong; there was no WAY a girl he'd just met would want to dance with HIM instead of Brad. While he'd worn a collared shirt and pants, like his mother had insisted - and like most of the rest of the class was wearing, though they were about three times his age or older - Brad was wearing a suit, and Doug had seen the fedora he'd put aside. And Brad looked incredibly older, more mature, more muscled, more... everything. "Well, we just moved here," Joanna Hobson, Doug's equally redheaded mother - lighter-colored than Darryl, or Valerie's current wig - told Darryl as they sat at the back, somewhat away from the dancers and the music. "I THOUGHT it might be a way for him to meet some of the local kids..." Valerie at twelve was the youngest, Charlene and Doug were about the same age, Brad was slightly older than those three, and then there was Darryl... and the next youngest person in the class might be Allison Jarvis. Or Doug's mother. And Darryl COULDN'T say anything too bad about Valerie, or Joanna would ask questions like, 'If she's so bad, what's she doing here?' "I'm actually surprised at Valerie," he said instead. "She seemed- I mean, we didn't even know she was interested in the vintage stuff until yesterday, but apparently she wanted to take this class." "Well, she talked Doug into it, and then he just would NOT budge," she complained. "I was thinking- Do you think there's another class more suitable?" she asked. "I really couldn't guess," Darryl said. "We just moved here," Doug admitted. "Oh? Where from?" Valerie asked him. "Denver. My dad's job, something..." He wasn't sure, actually. They'd been vague. "So, how'd ya like all this air pressure?" she asked, then grinned. "What?" "Denver's about five thousand feet altitude, right? So the air's denser down here." "Ah." He hadn't thought about that. Brad was relieved that Charlene, out of all the girls he'd dealt with in his mother's classes - not the adult women, but the ones anywhere his age and younger - did NOT seem to care if he was interested in her or not. Most of the time, they were doing all the annoying stuff that had made him dislike girls from an early age, except worse, and acting like he should be attracted to it. Charlene was actually concentrating on DANCING. "So what do you use?" Valerie asked Doug, as they danced. "Novell DOS," he told her, not expecting- "Oh, that's not bad," she said. "We're using a mix of Linux and BSD at the house. Plus a few Macs." "Linux?" He'd never met ANYONE else in real life, outside a computer hardware store, that had even HEARD of Linux. And he didn't even know what BSD was. "Yeah, it's sort of like UNIX, ex-" "I know what it is!" "So why aren't you running it?" she challenged. "Ah. I don't know enough about it," he admitted. "I got a Slackware disk, but... I just didn't know enough, like all the commands and things." He knew DOS. "Dude, you should really try-" She got interrupted by the instructor shouting, "Okay!" and they both turned to look at the woman. Doug realized his hands were kind of damp, and was suddenly VERY glad Valerie was wearing gloves; maybe she wouldn't notice his sweating. "Oh, good," Tucker said, glad for a chance to sit down. "I think-" His intestines sent a you'd-better-not-mask-this interrupt. "Ah, Doug," he said, then realized that he might want his large purse, if not his laptop. "C'mere." *No,* he decided, *I want my laptop.* Valerie pulled Doug towards Darryl and Joanna, and told Doug, "Sit, talk with Charlene and, uh-" "Brad." "-Brad," she repeated. "I've gotta serv- I- Digestion," she hissed at Darryl as she fumbled at her backpack and extracted her laptop case. Then she grabbed her purse and trotted off towards the hall bathroom, walking a little oddly and rather quickly. "What was that about?" Joanna asked. "Don't ask," Darryl and Charlene told her at the same time. "I wish the bitch'd let me charge things in her car," Tucker sighed, but it looked like he had a significant amount of battery charge onboard. "Which is a good thing, since I didn't bring the extension cord in. Ooooh," he gasped as another wave swept over him. "Brad, it's time," his mom told him. Brad looked up, and the little group he was talking to was the only one left in the rehearsal area. "Uhm, yeah," he said. "Except Valerie's..." He looked over at the girls- well, Charlene was a 'girl'; Darla was older than he was and going to college in September. "She's... in the bathroom," Darla said gently. "And we REALLY don't want to..." Charlene looked at Darla. Darla said, "It might be a while." "I can lock up," Brad offered. He hadn't been teaching and et cetera all day like Mom had. "No, that's-" "She brought cookies," Charlene mentioned suddenly, and reached into the big backpack that was sitting near her and pulled out a pink plastic lunchbox. "Where did she get THAT?" Darla complained. "Thrift store," Charlene sighed. "It was cheap, at least," she said as she opened it. It was full of cookies, though some were broken, and the smell that washed over him was intoxicating. "We baked them this afternoon," Charlene said with a vague smile. Brad looked at his mom, and recognized the look on her face that said 'screw my diet'. Then she seemed to argue with herself. "We could stay late for Valerie, right Mom?" he pushed. "Oh, man!" Tucker complained. They'd only left him TWO cookies. He glared at all of them, and they all looked guilty. "We are stopping at the store," he informed Darla. "Why?" "We need to make more tomorrow! I am NOT just having TWO." "You had some at dinner!" "That was then, this is now," he pointed out. "What, you're going to bake more TONIGHT?" "Maybe for breakfast," he realized. *That would actually work...* "Oh come ON! You left half of them at home!" "And you think there's any left?" Tucker questioned. "You didn't have enough chocolate left for me to make enough!" Darla gaped at him. "There was PLENTY!" "I bet they ate all the ice cream too," Tucker realized. "I don't think we should've eaten that many," Jane realized, far too late. The box was empty, except for crumbs. And the ice cream was almost gone, as well. Marie said, without sounding guilty OR repentant in the least, "Oops." She did, however, sound smugly satiated. "Just blame it on me," Kenneth offered. Charlie had only been grocery shopping twice, with Marie, since he'd come here. Those had both been in daylight. And while he had been wearing girl's clothing, he hadn't been wearing heels - which were astonishingly noisy on the store's floors - or the rest of the fancy- eveningwear he had on. Valerie, of course, was charging through the store as if she always went shopping after going out for an evening of high-end partying. As a female. She'd also gotten Miz Jarvis, at the dance studio, to allow Valerie to hook her printer up to Valerie's laptop long enough to print out two copies of a shopping list. Now, Darla had one and Valerie had the other. And Charlie was pushing the cart, again. Tucker said, "Damnit." Apparently they had problems with shoplifting, or something, because the makeup was locked away behind a portable fence. It wouldn't have kept out anyone, much less him, except if he touched it or stayed too close to it for too long, a manager or someone would certainly come over and insist that it was closed until tomorrow and to get away from the area. *Well, that blows THAT idea all to hell...* "Well, at least we got some more fruit," Darryl said to himself. Kiwifruits were such a pain to peel, but they tasted so GOOD- "Die!" Valerie announced happily. "What?" He had to look at her because she just might be announcing her intention to kill someone. She was waving something. "Now all I need is a big pot!" "What?!" "DIE!" she insisted. *I've heard this before,* Darryl realized. Charlie was mildly embarrassed to be in the 'feminine products' aisle, as Valerie looked at the feminine products, but he KNEW he shouldn't look nervous. Which didn't help. Darla came around the corner and started, "Valerie, y- WHAT are you doing?!" "I need some more pads," she said, like it was obvious. "Wh- WHY?" Even Charlie knew that was a stupid thing to ask, dressed like they all were. Valerie just stood and glared at Darla. "Oh," Darla finally said as she blushed. "So I need some more pads," Valerie stated, and turned back to the shelves. "Thank goo they don't have THESE locked up for the night..." *'Goo'?* Charlie wondered. Then Valerie turned to him. "Do you need any? Now's the time," he warned her. "No, I'm good. I've got a couple month's worth under the sink in my room," he said, though he wasn't sure how fast real girls used them. *Wait; _I_ don't need them, DARLA doesn't need them... Who uses them in the house? Jane, Marie-* "If you have to worry about it, you need more," Valerie said. "Oh, hey, masks!" Tucker crowed. *Just the thing for those old infected bitches at the house. Maybe keep ME from getting it. Oh, and Miz Philips could probably also stand not to get it, if she hasn't gotten infected already,* he remembered, and so he threw in two boxes of paper masks and went looking for gloves. *Oh, and did I inventory those stupid first aid kits I got?* They always had the wrong things, and not enough of the right things. *No... Still, knuckle bandages are alw-* "Do you ever stop?" Charlene complained. "Did you see a first aid kit in the kitchen?" Tucker asked. "No. Where's the most likely place to get injured in a home? Kitchen," he answered, since they didn't seem to have a workshop or power tools. "Well, maybe the barn with the horses, but other than that." He had NO idea what horse-related injuries were. *Probably bites, vermin, broken bones... oh, and tetanus,* he remembered. "She couldn't've made DARLA run off," Kenneth reminded Jane. "So where ARE they?" Jane demanded. "She's asleep," Charlie said quietly as he turned back towards Darla. "I don't know how she does that." "Well, she was practically running through the store," Darla said. "Well," Darryl replied helplessly to Jane's angry questions. "It seemed like a good idea at the time?" As Valerie went past, carrying a load of grocery bags, she interjected, "And we got some heart-friendly stuff for breakfast, for when Miz Philips gets back!" "Next time you are unexpectedly late in returning, AND THIS MEANS YOU AS WELL, VALERIE," Jane raised her voice to follow Valerie into the kitchen. "CALL HERE. I was really worried," Jane told Darryl. "Momma-Jane, it's okay, we're safe," he said to her. "Besides, I'm eighteen, not t-" "Being eighteen doesn't mean something can't happen to you!" Jane snarled, before she coughed into her hand. "Maybe she'll make cookies for breakfast," Kenneth offered to Darla as she undid her hair. She'd already stripped far past modesty's limit. "She already thought of that," Darla replied, sounding tired. "Maybe we don't have to go shopping again?" "No," she sighed. "She needs- She SAID she needs, a pot for some clothing dye. And... I don't know," she groaned, "but she's got a LIST. ANOTHER list." "Wha-" "AND she wants to go back to the vintage clothing store! I guess she didn't buy the entire place out the first time..." She slowed, then stopped moving altogether. Kenneth got up and got behind her, then put his hands on top of her shoulders. They felt hot and very tight under his fingertips. "If you ask me, VERY nicely, ma petite fille, I'll take her around tomorrow." "Oh god," she moaned, as she put her hands on top of Kenneth's. "Thank you..." "You'll have to beat her cookies, though," he told her. "Perhaps a chocolate souffle?" When she didn't respond with a comeback, he stretched his fingers out and dug into her shoulder muscles. "Ohhhh," she moaned as her legs started to buckle. "Oh, god," Tucker gasped as he finished the last of the Metamucil. "Now the water... HOW do I get this TASTE out of my mouth?! Oh. Right." "I hid two," Valerie grinned at Charlie. "Actually, I hid three, but I ate one already. But you can have one- Heck, I'll break this one in half," she offered. "Oh." Then he finally remembered to say, "Thank you." And he took the cookie and a half that she handed him. "But let's go in your room, before someone smells something," she suggested as she pushed her way into Charlie's room. When Darryl found himself almost falling face-first into the bathwater, he decided that he was finally relaxed enough to sleep. He had to run the shower a little, to cut the rather slimy bath oil down to what he considered acceptable, but he still smelled a bit like lavender and roses as he dried himself off. Kenneth was already asleep, apparently, but Darryl took his nightgown into the bathroom just in case. "Valerie, go to bed," Charlie said gently. "Mmmmm," she said, but wandered erratically towards the door. Charlie was glad that all she had to do was make it across the hall. But she stopped just outside, where Charlie would've hit her with the door if he'd tried to shut it. "G'night," she smiled as she turned. "Thanks for helping with Darla tonight." "What? With the store?" "Yeah. And thanks for dance class," she said, still smiling sleepily at him. "You're welcome," he said, unable to keep from smiling himself. She reached towards him and he turned his head, but the wrong way, because she kissed him on the lips. He distinctly saw her eyes open. "Oh." "Sor-" "No sorry," she whispered as she grabbed him around the waist, then kissed him on the lips again, but more firmly this time. "Don't be sorry," she said when she pulled back. "Sleep well." "I am not sleeping well," Tucker said to the wig heads, in case they hadn't noticed. Jane had somehow rigged a harpoon gun to fire up through his usual chair in the dining room, which had woken him up. Then he realized, "Oh, right, metaphor. Or simile or something," as he wriggled out of bed and trotted to the bathroom before his intestines exploded. Darryl was only mildly surprised to smell baking sweets - and he'd bet it was cookies again - on his way downstairs. He was about to go through the doors into the kitchen when he remembered the previous three days. *Hmmm. As Jane might say.* Finally he decided to call out, "Valerie?" and slowly push the door open. "It's Darla?" "Good morning, Darla," Valerie said cheerfully, from out of the dark kitchen. Which was definitely an improvement from her scaring the hell out of him. "Did you do that baking in the DARK?" "It's good practice," she claimed. Tucker had a flashlight, of course, and had made extensive use of it, but he HAD wondered if he COULD bake those cookies in the dark. The answer seemed to be 'yes'. "Oh," he remembered, "I can't go running with you this morning; I've got too much going that I can't leave. Miz Philips is coming back today, though, right?" "We sure hope so," Darla said. "Just remember to POST her diet requirements, where I can see them," Tucker told her. "Like 'no salt' or low cholesterol or whatever." "Oh. Yeah, that's a good idea," she agreed. "What are you doing?" Charlie asked when he came into the kitchen, because Valerie was doing things with fruit, knives, and the blender. "Smoothies for choir, remember?" "Oh." He had no idea what she was talking about. "Do you want some now?" she offered. *Coffee.* "No thank you," he managed. "Is the coffee ready?" "Darla," Jane asked, "after breakfast, would you please run upstairs and get several more of the wigs? I'll leave it to your judgment which ones." "Yes ma'am," Darla agreed. "Valerie..." "Yes, Miz Thompson?" "While I appreciate that the other girls in choir are wearing shorts, you need to wear more feminine clothes for the time being. So you will need to change before you go." "B- Yes ma'am," she agreed, as unenthusiastically as Jane had expected. "I was wondering, though; would it be possible to get the knives sharpened?" Marie started and then subsided, rubbing her forehead. *Forgot something, did we?* "Kenneth? Would you be able to take... at least SOME of the knives, to the sharpener today? We shouldn't remove all of them from the house at once. I believe he opens at nine, though you'd have to drop Valerie off at choir first." Kenneth eventually agreed, "Yes, Miz Thompson." "Oh, and isn't Miz Philips coming back today?" Valerie asked. "I certainly hope so," Jane said, or prayed. "I called earlier, to the nurses station," Darla said, "and they said there weren't any problems, so they said probably we could get her around noon?" "If they say noon, plan on two," Valerie warned. Tucker had some errands to run too, but he thought it best not to mention them around Jane, who would probably say no. *Easier to ask forgiveness than permission... especially when the permissions are set already.* "You got that olive dress on purpose," Charlie accused Valerie, "to go with that bag of yours. Or the backpack, or both." "Who ME?" Valerie said, so fakely that no one would believe it. Then she said, "I got two of them, this color." "What're you going to do when you dye the purse black?" Charlie asked. "Black goes with olive!" she complained. "How about red this morning?" Valerie mentioned to Darryl as he was trying to figure out which wig he should make her wear. "WHICH red?" "Tha- This one," she said as she held up the head. It was fairly curly, long enough to reach her shoulders, and a dark true red. "Hold it up next to your face," Darryl instructed, and she did, smiling stupidly as she posed. *But even so...* "That one," he agreed. "Good choice! You're really getting good at this," he praised. "Thanks," she said with a faint smile. Then the smile went away as she asked, "I was blonde yesterday at the makeup class; what do I do for makeup colors when I'm a redhead?" "Mostly the same," Darryl told her, "you just want to avoid the really stark colors..." Tucker had to admit, Darla knew what she was talking about. The lipstick was definitely colored, but didn't LOOK colored when it was on him, but it wasn't what he looked like normally. "What color is this again?" "Sort of coral," she said. "You should ask for 'coral' shades if you want this, anyway." "Okay..." He looked at his face again. Darla had worked on him with a lot of different things, but the end result was really subtle. About the only way HE could tell he was wearing makeup was that his lips looked wet. Except, of course, that he wasn't a natural redhead, but at the moment he looked like one. He also looked more attractive than normal, but he wasn't sure why. *Well, makeup, duh.* "Let me see, Valerie," Jane ordered. "Turn around, please." She stopped, set her backpack on the ground, stood back up, and rotated slowly, her feet shuffling in tiny steps. *Red hair, Darla did her makeup,* Jane thought. *Ears still healing so no earrings, more bangles, no rings... Is that Darla's malachite- Yes, and it just barely works, but it does work with that olive dress. Brown leather belt, and if she's wearing a corset I can't tell, but with this dress it doesn't matter... brown leather sandals with about an inch of heel...* "Your appearance is acceptable," she pronounced. "Thank you, Miz Thompson," Valerie replied, sounding less than thrilled. "I especially like the hair and makeup this morning," Jane said. "Darla had to do the makeup and style the wig," Valerie replied. "Did you pick that wig, though?" Jane guessed. "Yes ma'am." She tossed her head once and looked towards the mirror in the hall. "It looks really good," she said, sounding curious about it. "Though half of that is Darla's makeup," she stated. "She's really good." Then she grinned and said, "It's as if she knows what to do like she's a redhead or something. Who'd'a thunk?" "Quite. However, you will have to learn how to achieve that subtlety of makeup," Jane said, watching her closely for her reaction. "Oh boy," she sighed. *Resigned?* Jane thought. *Definitely NOT horrified.* "That's gonna- GOING TO be," she self-corrected, "a lot of work." Then she looked at Jane. "And it changes for basically the different hair colors, doesn't it? So what I learn for red, won't apply to blonde, right?" "That is correct," Jane admitted. She sagged and blew her bangs upwards. "LOTS of work." Jane nodded, "Oh yes." As he waited for the stoplight to change, Kenneth looked over at Valerie, because she was being unusually quiet, and he remembered enough about child-raising to know that was ALWAYS a bad sign. She looked asleep. Though, she was wearing sunglasses, so he couldn't see her eyes, or if they were closed. "Valerie?" he tried. She didn't stir. *Maybe that was why she wanted to recline the seat.* "And then," Darryl said, "she said, 'I have-' No, she said, 'YOU have to teach me how to do this'." He shrugged as he added, "She seemed serious, not like she was being sarcastic." Then he remembered, "And she wanted me to pin the wig down VERY securely on her head." Jane answered, "It's entirely possible she's anticipating someone trying to remove it, today at choir. At least two of the girls at the makeup class were also in choir." "But how did she know that someone might do that?" Marie said, "Perhaps she just thought of what SHE might do, if she learned some other girl was wearing a wig." "Indeed," Jane said. Jane was not, if she could possibly avoid doing so, going to relate what she'd done to an older social rival in high school. She still felt ashamed of what she'd done, and the way everyone else had treated the poor girl after Jane had pulled her wig off in front of everyone. "Hunh?" Tucker said as the hatch opened to his right. "Valerie," some guy said, "you have choir practice." "Hnnh." All he wanted to go was go back to sleep. "Come on," the guy said, and reached in and started to pull Tucker out. "Nooooooo," he whined, but being awake was too much of a combat advantage; the guy had him out very quickly. Kenneth had gotten Valerie on her feet, but when he let go, she wrapped one arm around his waist and pulled herself against him, making mumbled 'you-hurt-my-feelings' noises into his chest. This was unique, in his experience. "Valerie?" She moaned petulantly, and turned her face away from him, so that all he could see was her hair. *Well, her wig.* However, she still had her head pressed against him, and now she put her other arm around his waist as well. "Vallllllllerie..." Her weight slowly increased, as she leaned into him. *I think I'm going to have to do something drastic...* Tucker was tired of the asshole torturing him and he was just turning to start cursing the guy- When he got kissed. *Well, that's not her,* Kate thought, as she saw the college-aged male kiss the younger redhead. *God, if I have to deal with worrying about whether or not Valerie'll show up EVERY damned lesson... She's not THAT great a voice.* It was bad enough kissing Valerie, and worse kissing her on the lips, but when Kenneth felt the first brush of a tongue on his upper lip, he hurriedly broke the kiss. Valerie stared up at him, wide-eyed and panting slightly. "Hah? Kenneth?" "Good MORNING, Valerie," he said, concentrating on keeping his face still. "You have choir practice now." "Whe- I- Wha-" She blinked, then twice more before she started to look around. "What? Where-?" "Can you stand up?" Kenneth asked, and they both shifted until she was standing upright by herself. "You can let go now." "Wh- Oh," she said as she withdrew both arms. Tucker still wasn't sure what had happened, but it was slowly becoming apparent that Kenneth had kissed him, outside of a school, an- *Oh, no, this is the choir room,* he realized as he looked around. *Well, the parking lot.* *Okay, so... I have singing practice... I need to get my pack. And my laptop...* "Yes," Charlie said carefully, and pointed as he explained, "she started a pot roast in the big crock pot this morning before breakfast, over there..." Darla was shaking her head. "How does she know all this stuff?" "I think she looks it up on her computer," Charlie told her. "And where'd she get that, anyway?" Of course, Charlie didn't know; but he didn't think Darla was actually asking him. But he said anyway, "It's not like any of the computers I saw in school; I think she had it when she got here. Were you thinking she'd stolen it?" he guessed. "Teens don't just wander around with laptops of their own," Darla stated. A knock at the door made Kate look at the clock. *Well, two minutes early,* she thought. *Maybe I'm just being paranoid about her, after that first time she didn't show up.* She opened the door, and today Valerie was a redhead, and she was with the dark-haired tall young man that had been kissing her out in the parking lot. "Good morning, Miz Bishop," Valerie said. "Good morning," echoed the man. "I'm Kenneth Roberts." "Um. Good morning. Kate Bishop," Kate managed, and shook hands with Kenneth Roberts. Valerie was wearing a long loose dress, though it was belted high around her waist. "That's casual?" "That's as casual as they'll let me out of the house with today," Valerie said. "I tried wearing shorts, but nuh-uh." "Miz Thompson thinks she needs to be more feminine, and more mannerly, for a while," Kenneth stated. "as penance for my sinful life," Valerie sighed. "Isn't he a little old for you?" Miz Bishop asked Tucker, after Kenneth had left but before they started the lesson. "Wh- Oh, he's Miz Thompson's daughter's fiance. Apparently I fell asleep in the car on the way here," Tucker explained. "And I vaguely recall not wanting to wake up. So he kissed me. That usually works," Tucker smiled at her. "You were standing up when I saw you," she said. "Yeah, but I think I was going to sleep again anyway. Standing up. I REALLY did not sleep well last night." "Sleeping is important," Miz Bishop lectured. "You need to sleep to restore your body, just like after a workout or a run." Tucker had to unexpectedly tune back in when he noticed that she was actually STOPPING the lecture. "Yes ma'am," he said hurriedly. "Good lord," Kenneth sighed. He had a list of chores, hand- printed by Valerie on one of her index cards. "Knives to the sharpener, dry cleaning-" Jane had said she had an account there, so he shouldn't have to pay directly. "Bakery, butcher... What, no candlestick maker? Portable clothes racks. And a pot... I hope Valerie meant _A_ pot, because I am not picking up any marijuana for her." *** Distribution: No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another person or group. Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the original author, me. And no fee may be charged. Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access. All rights reserved. + @>--,--'----- Ellen Hayes o===[-------- __ vicki .sig + -=[1990]=- \/ virus 12.2 + http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) + -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- Version: 2.6.2 iQCVAwUBTl2C23YDebnvyV1VAQE0sAQAnSeGk3CKp1TofFVbwQrrihCQfRHF6Bt4 xFF7ap8qbEI/AmFINUKZVfYo79cDVcmmZxiDb5mcW/SsFHZKVu4OHJg1FIymGsXn mxzbVb1Mr0noxkv9jpX2moSun6zKg4UkKL+UIrj0jg++O9alhvQeQC6atlqnCpiQ e379lNjZFhY= =Ra7H -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----