Date: Fri, 28 Jan 2005 09:27:16 -0800
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Munchkin Chapter 17

This is a work of fiction. It depicts the often sexual relationship between
two young girls. If this offends you or if you're not old enough to be
reading this stuff, then get out NOW. If, however, you're where you want to
be, then enjoy.

			 MUNCHKIN
			 Chapter 17
			by Sacwriter

	They had the top up on the Mustang as they sped down the highway, the
unseasonably warm days not being enough to keep the chill out of the air
after nightfall. Gia was driving while Becka rode shotgun, both of them
singing along to a Nickel Back song on the radio. Joe sat in the backseat by
himself, wondering how the hell he got there in the first place.
	After the girls had woken him up with Becka's cryptic announcement, they
had cautioned him to silence and begun to rifle through his closet and
dresser drawers for some dark colored clothing for him to wear. They settled
on jeans and a Navy blue windbreaker, which they tossed to him with
instructions to dress quickly and ask questions later. Joe obeyed, dressing
in the dark while the sisters watched and giggled, ignoring his request that
they leave the room while he did. Gia told him it was to make sure he didn't
fall back asleep. *Fat chance of that happening*, he thought darkly, as he
pulled on his pants and bent down to pick up his shoes. The thought of what
these two crazy girls might be planning tonight was enough to keep him VERY
wide awake.
	They led him through the darkened house with an ease that spoke of
experience with late night sneaking. At the bottom of the stairs they turned
away from the front door, and instead made their way through the kitchen and
down the hall that led to the garage.
	There the girls still didn't turn on the lights, instead leading Joe by the
hand into the pitch black room and closing the door behind them. From her
purse Gia produced a flashlight, and by its light they made their way to the
outside door, with no difficulty other than Joe barking his shin on the
lawnmower. Once outside Gia slipped behind the wheel of the girls' car and
took it out of gear, while Joe and Becka got behind and pushed. As they
passed through the gates at the bottom of the drive Gia twisted the key and
gave the engine just enough gas to turn it over with a soft rumble. Joe and
Becka hurriedly scrambled inside, as Gia eased the car into gear and slid
smoothly down the darkened street. Only after they were around the corner
did she turn on the lights and give the big engine its head, and the cherry
red muscle car took off on its late night mission with a throaty roar.

	Sitting in the back now, watching the sisters as they sang and joked and
laughed at each other in the front seat, Joe could only shake his head in
wonder. He himself felt as jumpy as an alley cat, afraid something would go
wrong, afraid they'd get caught at whatever insane thing the girls had
planned for tonight. His stomach was all knotted in anxiety, but from Becka
and Gia all he could sense was an air of excitement, as if they were on the
way to some grand adventure. Or maybe to a picnic. It was as if they could
not conceive of the possible consequences of their actions.
	Joe blinked. Waitaminit. What consequences? He had no idea what kind of
mischief the girls had planned for tonight, yet here he was assuming they
that they were dragging him off to commit some sort of harebrained crime
that would land them all in jail. Yet all they had done so far was to sneak
out of their own house after curfew on a school night, something he
suspected they had already done a number of times before. And if they were
caught, so what? What was the big deal? Phil Cameron was hardly the kind of
father who would beat his kids, or their houseguest, so the absolute worse
that they faced was maybe grounding and loss of privileges. Probably a sharp
lecture, too. And since Joe wasn't a member of the family, the most he
should worry about was having Phil tell his Aunt Mattie, who wouldn't even
go that far.
	So why did he automatically shake and tremble like a little kid at the
thought of trouble?
	Dammit, why did he have to be such a coward in everything?

	Joe leaned forward and hung his head between the seats. "You know, maybe
I'm reading more into this than there is," he said, in a tone that meant
that he knew he wasn't. "But I get the impression that you guys have done
this before."
	His two kidnappers paused in their conversation to look up at him, then at
each other, which seemed to strike a spark that made them both break out in
a sudden burst of laughter. Joe waited patiently for them to wind down, then
said, "Well?"
	"Yeah, you're right," Becka grinned, a mischievous glint of memory in her
eyes. "We have snuck out a few times before. Not this commando crap, though.
We've only done this once before."
	"Twice." Gia held the indicated number of fingers.
	"Yeah. But most of the time we were just sneaking out to hit the dance
clubs."
	"Dancing? I don't get it. Why would you have to sneak out of your own house
just to go dancing?"
	Before answering the girls exchanged one of their telling looks, the kind
that spoke so much more than words. Joe got the impression that they were
deciding not whether to trust him, but rather how to explain something he
might not be able to understand. Finally Becka gave a shrug, and an almost
imperceptible nod to her sister, as if turning the decision over to her.
	"We've gone a few times, to school dances, and there haven't been many
problems. People all know us there, we've got friends. And I think even the
jerks who would usually say something to us, well, let's just say that they
know better."
	"Yeah, but when we try going to the clubs we get all sorts of hassles.
There's always some people who have to open their big fat mouths and talk
crap to us. Or worse, there'll be some asshole who thinks two girls dancing
means `potential threeway' ." Becka snorted disgustedly to show what she
thought of that idea.
	Gia continued. "Joe, when we go dancing we want to dance with each other.
Together. Slow dancing, where you hold each other tight, and sometimes you
let your hands roam a little, and at the end of the song you kiss, real long
and hot. Just like the normal, straight couples do. You know what we mean?"
	Joe shifted on the seat, squirming, uncomfortably aware of the intimate
image Gia had just painted. The resulting tightness in his jeans brought a
flush to his face, that made him grateful for the concealing darkness.
	"Anyway, there were some, umm, incidents."
	Becka elaborated. "We got into some fights."
	"And we were asked to leave a few clubs."
	"She means we were banned."
	"So we decided to check out some of the gay and lesbian clubs in town. We
found a place called `Cherries' that doesn't look too closely at ID's, as
long as we don't order anything with alcohol."
	"Yeah, but I don't think we're fooling anybody. They know how old we really
are. But we figure the women who run the club know what girls like us are
going through, so they kind of let it slide. But our Dad would still freak
if he knew we were going to a place like that."
	"Uhm huh. Which doesn't seem to slow you guys down for a minute, does it?"
Joe shook his head at the sisters' answering grins, then asked something
else that had occurred to him. "But I still don't get why you guys were
thrown out and banned from all those clubs. I mean, those guys were
harassing you. Doesn't the management automatically side with the girl in a
situation like that?"
	Now it was Gia's turn to snort in disgust. "They would, if it was just the
boys that were messing with us. But we also get a lot of grief from their
girlfriends, too. Like, there was this one girl who came right up to us on
the dance floor and started calling us names. What was it she called us,
Becka?"
	"She said I was an abomination in the eyes of God, and that you were a
degenerate who should burn in hell. Real holier-than-thou crap. Which is why
you shoved her into the guy carrying that pitcher of beer. She got soaked.
Real great demonstration of impulse control, G. Dr. Weiss would have been
proud."
	"Hey, you're the one who crotch kicked her boyfriend!"
	"He took a swing at you, it was self defense."
	Joe listened to his two friends' squabbling, glad to know that the midnight
raids he had been imagining hadn't been such a big deal after all. Just
Becka and Gia doing what hundreds of kids from their school did every week,
sneaking out at night to go to the dance clubs. Nothing that might entail a
jail sentence or two. Although he did wonder about the other incidents of
`commando crap' that Becka had hinted at. In the end he decided he was
better off not knowing.
	Joe looked out the window and suddenly came alert, realizing where they
were. At the moment he and the Cameron sisters were about a mile and a half
away from his neighborhood. Was Gia taking them to his house, at this time
of night? He was about to ask when the dark haired girl abruptly slowed down
and turned down a side street, in the opposite direction of Joe's house.
After a minute she slowed even more, and pointed across the street at one of
the darkened tract homes on their postage stamp sized yards.
	"Look, there it is. And that's his car, parked on the street" she
whispered, as if her voice might carry through the rolled up windows and
across the distance.
	Joe looked up at where she was pointing, and felt his mouth go dry when he
recognized the black Jeep Wrangler parked at the curb. Well, it wasn't
exactly a surprise, was it? After the girls' hints about getting his balls
back, it was obvious what tonight's mission was all about. A strike against
Gary Harper. Throughout the late night ride the thought of revenge had
alternately exhilarated and terrified him, an electric switch being flipped
on and off by some unknown hands' whim. His emotions had risen and fallen
over and over, and yet at some level it had all seemed unreal. A dream, a
fantasy to salve his wounded soul, or it was until he had actually come to
the place where Harper lived.
	*Oh man, less than a mile from our house!*
	Gia was staring hard at the darkened house behind the Jeep, a puzzled look
on her face. "Are you sure this is the right place?"
	"Yeah, I'm sure. Sammie got the address from his school records. She works
in the office, remember?" Becka answered.
	"Yes, I know. I just thought..." With a shake of the head, Gia dismissed
whatever it was that confused her. "Never mind. What do we do now?"
       "Cruise around the block a couple of times, make sure there aren't
any cops." Becka spoke softly also, her street smart eyes already scanning
the darkened road. Joe swallowed hard, then concentrated on doing the same,
as Gia fed the Mustang some gas and the three of them ghosted through the
silent night.
	They made two passes through the neighborhood, but the streets held an
after hours quiet, and the only signs of life were the occasional half seen
figures of prowling house pets. Suburban wildlife. Gia finally pulled up to
a shadowed section of the curb across the street from the Harper house. She
shut down the engine and they were enveloped in silence, broken only by the
occasional soft ping of cooling metal. Becka broke the quiet with a sharply
whispered, "Okay, let's do this."
	"Joe, you get the bag, it's on the floor by your feet," Gia leaned over the
back of the seat to tell him. Joe twisted and felt around, until his hand
brushed against a cloth covered object, and heard the clink of metal cans.
He grabbed the bag, which felt like an old pillowcase, and straightened up.
In the dim light he saw that Becka had the dome off of the overhead lamp,
and realized that she was removing the bulb so that there wouldn't be a
telltale light when the door opened. A minute later and the three teens were
standing in the street while Gia quietly closed the door behind them, then
led the way as they sprinted across the street to crouch in the safety of
the Jeep's shadow.
	From somewhere Becka produced a sheaf of papers, which she pinned to the
vehicle's door with a kitchen magnet. An incongruous cartoon banana smiled
back at them. Joe's heart was pounding so hard he had to strain over it to
hear Gia's whispered instructions.
	"Joe, give Becka the paint, and you take the flashlight. Hold it on the
pictures while she works. I'll be out in the street on lookout. If you guys
hear me whistle, duck into those bushes and I'll hide in the ones across the
street." With that the younger Cameron sister turned and disappeared into
the night.
	Waitaminnit. Paint?
	With a sinking sensation he saw Becka pull two spray cans from the bag he
had carried from the car, and heard the familiar double rattle as she shook
them vigorously. The enormity of what they were about to do hit him with the
subtlety of a kick to the stomach. Becka was about to tag Gary Harper's
jeep. Harper's brand new, custom detailed Wrangler, which he probably loved
more than anything else on the whole freaking planet. Probably more than his
own mother. Christ, pissed off didn't even begin to describe it.
	*Oh, crap, I am going to be so DEAD!*
	"Joe, light!" Becka hissed. Blinking, he fumbled the small flash on, then
played it over the pages stuck to the side of the Jeep. His worse fears were
confirmed, they were the printouts of the pictures Sammie Waters had taken
of the graffiti covering his own house.
	He should stop this. He should speak up right now, for sanity and sweet
self preservation, before it was too late. Sure as hell, Harper would hunt
him down and kill him, no matter what the girls did to protect him. He
really had to stop this, he had to stop this right now, before it was—
	Too late.
	A watery hiss heralded the appearance of the first fine mist of paint. The
filthy words depicted in the photographs were black and red against white
stucco, so Becka had chosen to use white and pink against the shiny black
Wrangler. Her hands moved swiftly, one spewing can in each, in the sure and
deft strokes of the natural artist. Faster than he would have thought
possible the two of them moved from one end of the vehicle to the next,
leaving behind an incredibly accurate copy of the filth that had covered the
walls of his home yesterday. The handwriting even looked the same! When they
were finished Becka handed him the cans while she took down the sheaf of
printouts, then led the way to the other side of the Jeep. She paused just
long enough to reshuffle them, then stuck them up again with the ridiculous
banana magnet, then once more took up the job of redecorating Harper's pride
and joy.
	Joe tried to swallow, but found it almost impossible. His heart had somehow
sprouted legs and managed to climb up into his throat. And from the back of
his neck he was sure he could feel the burn of watching eyes from the house
at his back. He felt the clammy sickness of fear in his belly, and yet there
was something else, too. Something that grew stronger with every sure
movement of Becka's hand, a something that was slowly overshadowing the
fear.
	Satisfaction? Yes, that was it! A satisfaction so grim and fierce that is
bordered on joy. He was doing it, for the first time he was actually
striking back at the source his personal nightmare. Actually doing something
besides feebly struggling while Harper beat the holy living crap out of him.
And damn, did it feel good!
	Becka finally finished and straightened up, handing the cans to Joe in
exchange for the flashlight. Showing a distinct lack of concern for possible
witnesses from the house, she twisted the light and widened the beam,
playing it slowly over her work. As if she had been called over Gia suddenly
appeared and stood by her sisters' side, also examining the new paint job.
After a short while she nodded.
	"Not bad. But you forgot the hood."
	"Naaw. The only thing missing was that great big `Munchkin' on the garage
door, but I didn't want to repeat that. Besides, I thought Joe should have
the final honors. Joe?"
	She gestured towards the front of the Jeep, the last bit of blank canvas,
and both girls looked at him expectantly. Joe hesitated, looking at the wide
expanse of black hood, but he wasn't being the least bit reluctant. The
terror and the excitement inside of him had finally reached an equilibrium,
leaving an unfamiliar sense of calm. The only reason he was hesitating now,
was because he wasn't sure what to paint.
	After a brief moment of contemplation he nodded, then stepped around to the
side and climbed up onto the wheel. He was so short he had to clamber up
onto the fender in order to reach the hood, but when he did he had an
excellent position for what he wanted to do. With a soft hissing from the
paint can he quickly wrote out what he wanted to say in bold white letters,
and then he highlighted it with the pink. And when he dropped back down to
the ground he walked, deliberate and unhurried, back across the street to
the Mustang. The two girls followed, Becka pausing only long enough to rub
her sleeve briskly across the spot where Joe had rested his hand on the
hood.
			* * *
       A couple of minutes later and the trio were out of the neighborhood
and heading towards the highway onramp, with Gia driving, when Becka
suddenly let out an ear piercing whoop. Gia joined in too, laughing,
grinning almost as widely as her sister, but neither of them as wide as Joe
himself was. Becka reached over the seat to grab him by the shoulders and
pulled him close enough to plant a loud wet kiss on his forehead, and then
ruffled his hair.
	"So how does it feel, Joe? How does it feel to have `em back?"
	Joe could only shake his head, he was laughing too hard to answer. Becka
grinned and turned back in her seat, looking over at her sister who was
giggling too. They started chattering away, rehashing their recent adventure
again, complete with embellishments. Joe sat quietly in the back, thinking
about Becka's question, and looking inside of himself for the answer. So how
did he feel, now that it was over? Did it feel like he had really gotten
anything back? Or would he be quivering in his sneakers tomorrow, his bowels
threatening to let go again the first time Harper looked cross-eyed at him?
	He didn't know, and he decided he wouldn't know until tomorrow at school.
But for right here and now, damn but it felt so good! He felt light, as if
all of his body weight had evaporated, or like maybe he had been drinking
beer again and had the Granddaddy of all buzzes going on. He felt immortal,
yeah, as if he could do anything right now. He didn't want to even think
about it ending. So tomorrow could take care of itself, and for here and now
he was going to wrap himself around this feeling and milk it for all that it
was worth.

	Gia laughed at Becka's antics, loving this giddiness they shared at the end
of one of their escapades. The pulsing excitement, the electric thrill that
tingled up her spine, the delicious way her heart would climb into her
throat when they almost get caught. It all paled against this liquid rush of
joy that signaled the end of a successful caper. Seeing the effect it had on
Becka only magnified the sensation. The way her lovers' eyes sparkled with
barely controlled energy, the animal power that seemed to radiate from her
like heat waves dancing around a furnace. At moments like this she looked so
beautiful it could take Gia's breath away.
       Her palpable excitement amplified Gia's every sense. The sights, the
smells, the tastes, bringing them into an almost painful clarity. Right now
every nerve in her body was thrumming like a guitar string, sending up
answering vibrations that she felt deep in the pit of her stomach, and down
between her legs.
	She could not wait to get Becka back home!
	She smiled, remembering. There had actually been times in the past when
they hadn't waited to reach the safety of their own bedroom. Times when they
had pulled over into the darkest corner they could find, then climbed into
the back seat and worked off a lot of excess energy before going home. The
urge to do so again was strong, but of course it would have to wait. The
thought reminded her of their passenger, who had been awfully quiet for the
last several miles. She looked in the rear view mirror and could see him
sitting in the back, his arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face.
	"Hey, you. You look like you've got a lot on your mind. What are you
thinking about, Joe?"
	The boy snorted, his lips curving up in a wry smile.
	"You two. You're absolutely insane, you know that, don't you?"
	Becka laughed, a delighted sound like a bubbling stream. That, more than
Joe's words, brought a grin to Gia's face.
	"Hey, you're the one to talk, hotshot. You're the one who wrote `NARC' all
over his hood."
	Gia nodded in agreement with her sister, but a line appeared between her
eyebrows as she frowned. Something about that had been puzzling her.
	"Say, why did you paint that anyway, Joe? I mean, I've only been going to
Roosevelt for one semester, so maybe I don't know Harper as well as you guys
do. But I wouldn't think a bottom feeder like him would ever go to the cops
for anything. So what's up with that?"
	In her mirror she saw their new friend shrug. "You're right. As far as I
know, Harper can't even spell 9-1-1. I just figured that was the best way to
hurt him. You know, in the pocketbook."
	Becka laughed out loud. "Oh, yeah. That's a good one, Joe. No one's going
to buy from a dealer if they even suspect he might be working with the
cops."
	Gia blinked, trying to wrap her mind around what Becka had just said. What
was...? Dealer? Did she mean that Gary Harper was...?
	Gia gasped out loud and hit the brakes, swerving a little as they pulled
over to the side of the road. The tires squealed, and the frame shook as she
bumped up against the curb. Her startled passengers stared at her, alarmeded
by her bizarre actions, and the look of horror that enveloped her face.
	"Oh, my, GAWD!"
			* * *
	"I am dead,  I am so dead," Gia moaned for the third time. Her elbows were
propped on the Formica tabletop, her face buried in her hands. While her
eyes were thus covered, a totally unsympathetic Becka was sneaking French
fries from her plate.
	The three young people had stopped at an all night diner for a snack and a
chance to wind down before going back home. They sat in a corner booth now,
away from the small handful of other diners, and generally ignored by the
two bored waitresses on shift. Joe had still been too wound up by the
nights' activities to be hungry, so he had ordered a chocolate shake, even
though he knew the sugar would make it hard to go to sleep. But hell, after
all of today's excitement, he probably couldn't have gotten back to sleep,
anyway.
	"Christ, G, how could you not know that Harper deals? Everyone in school
knows what he does. Where do you think a punk like him gets all those
expensive clothes, and that brand new Jeep? Working at Burger King?" Becka
used the stolen fry to mop up the last trace of ketchup on he plate. Her own
fries were long gone, while Gia's were all but untouched.
	"I thought he was just some kind of spoiled rich boy. That's what I told
Dad, anyway. I knew something was off when I saw what kind of neighborhood
he lived in." Gia groaned again, shaking her head. The long, straight black
hair catching glints of the hard, artificial light. "Oh, God, Daddy. He's
gonna kill me! I swore to him that we weren't getting into another fight
with drug dealers, and now we've gotten into a pissing contest with one!
Dead, dead, dead, I am so dead."
	Becka tried to reason patiently with her. "Okay, first of all I know drug
dealers, and that little pissant Harper barely qualifies. He sells some
grass and some prescription pills, and this year he's maybe started pushing
steroids to the football team. But that's all, he's pure small time. Don't
worry about him."
	"I'm not worried about him, haven't you been listening? I'm worried about
Dad. He'll ground us for life when he hears about this."
	"You, maybe, not me. I never told him Harper wasn't a dealer."
	"Dead, dead, dead. Oh, so dead."
	Joe watched Gia's plate as Becka snuck another fry off of it. He hadn't
been hungry before, but the food was beginning to smell awfully good. Maybe
just one...
	"Look, Dad can't kill you without a fair trial, Margie wouldn't allow it.
And you didn't know about the drugs when you gave Dad your word, right? So
stop worrying about it."
	Joe kept his face bland and his eyes on the girls murmuring across the
table from him, but his attention was focused on the plate of fries. His
hand moved slowly, almost casually, as if by its own volition. He reached
his goal, stretching out his fingers to grasp one of the golden hot strips
of potato...
	Becka's hand flashed downward, slapping the back of his hard enough to
sting and make him hurriedly snatch it away.
	"Aahht! Mine."
	"Actually, they're mine," Gia snapped, wrapping her arm around the plate
and rescuing it from further depredations. She glared accusingly at her two
companions, which made Joe flinch and look away. Becka just shrugged
philosophically and handed her sister the ketchup.
	While Gia doggedly resumed eating, Joe ventured a question. "Look, Becka's
right. The fact that Gary Harper sells grass doesn't make any difference,
he's still just a high school bully with a couple of Neanderthal enforcers.
And he's still afraid of you guys. So why even bother telling your Dad about
it, anyway?"
	Becka snorted and rolled her eyes, while Gia just looked even more glum.
	"Because sooner or later, Dad always finds out. And if Becka and I don't
tell him first, he really will ground us for life."
	Joe frowned, thinking there was something wrong about that statement. If it
was impossible to put one over on Phil Cameron, just what were the three of
them doing out here tonight, anyway? And how had the girls been able to
sneak out so many times in the past?
	Gia had slumped down in her seat, her eyes turned inward once more as she
contemplated the possible trouble she might be in. Becka sat next to her,
but her attention was once more focused on the unguarded plate of golden
fries in front of her sister.
	Over their shoulder Joe spotted a large, bulky figure entering the diner
through the front door. His eyes went wide as he sat up in his seat, a look
of panic flashing across his face.
	"Oh, hell. Is that your Dad over there?" he said, pointing.
	Gia squeaked like a mouse and threw herself under the table, while her
sister gasped and twisted around in her seat, ducking down at the same time
as she tried to see the man standing in the doorway.
	The man who had just entered the diner was tall and fat, and had long blond
hair and a scraggly beard. And he was most definitely not Phil Cameron.
	Joe reached across the table and pulled the plate to him, picking up his
fork and digging in.
	"Oops. My mistake" he said.
			* * *
	Back at the Cameron home, Becka eased the car through the gate at a crawl,
the powerful engine making only a slight rumbling growl as she parked it in
front of the garage. The three teens exited the car as silently as they had
gotten into it an hour and a half ago, entering the garage through the side
door and retracing their steps back up the stairs to their bedrooms in the
dark. On the second floor Joe paused at the landing to watch his friends as
they glided softly past to their own rooms. Gia stopped just long enough to
give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Becka grinned at him, her
white teeth shining like a Cheshire cat in the faint light, as she gave his
spiky hair a quick ruffle.
	Joe stood there watching, even after the girls had slipped into their own
room, thinking about the events of the night, and was therefore the only
witness to what happened next. It wasn't much, just the faintest impression
of movement, and the soft sound of a door closing on the room next to Becka
and Gia's. Phil Cameron's room.
	Joe stood there a few seconds longer, then turned and made his way up the
stairs to the guest room that was his, thinking. And what he thought was,
maybe the girls were right. Maybe you couldn't put something over on their
Dad.
			* * *
	The tension started creeping up on him just before breakfast the next
morning, the same way it did every day before school. Joe felt his stomach
tighten as he sat down at the table, his insides beginning to coil like a
spring. At least it wasn't worse, he thought. He had been afraid that after
last night the terror would have returned, and that he would have been all
but paralyzed at the thought of facing Harper today. But strangely, he
wasn't. Instead all he felt was the normal school day jitters, with no
particular sense of doom hanging over his head like a cloud. It was a
familiar feeling, if not a welcome one. Just another part of preparing
himself for the tortures of the coming day.
	All in all, he figured he was doing pretty good.
	Joe had just gotten out a bowl and a box of corn flakes when Phil came into
the kitchen. The older man nodded at him, then gestured at the open
cupboard.
	"Any Captain Crunch left?"
	Joe smiled, then reached in and handed his host a box. "With Crunch
Berries, right?"
	Phil nodded sleepily, got his own bowl and spoon, and took a seat at the
kitchen table. Joe joined him, and soon the two of them were munching away
in companionable silence. Yet there was something about the act which
puzzled him. After the events of last night and all the rules they had
broken, shouldn't he have been at least a little nervous, being alone with
Becka and Gia's father? Shouldn't he feel guilty? And yet here he was, as
comfortable as if he were back in his own kitchen, having breakfast with
Mattie. For a while then he looked at the man across the table, with his
big, callused hands and open face, and pondered about the nature of secrets.
	"So, you sleep well last night, Joe?" Phil finally broke the silence. It
seemed an innocent question, and yet his manner, or maybe it was his tone of
voice, made Joe wonder if really was all that innocuous.
	He decided to play along with the game. "Oh, yeah, I slept like a baby, Mr.
Cameron. And how about you, how did you sleep?"
	Phil chewed for a while before answering. "Okay, I guess. I thought I heard
something along about two o'clock, so I got up to check it out."
	Ahh, so that's the way he wanted to play it.
	"Umm. So what, you got up and looked out the window? Or maybe out of your
bedroom door?"
	"Both, actually."
	"And did you find anything?"
	The older man was giving him a searching look, which Joe answered with one
of totally bland, polite interest. Finally, Phil answered with a slight
negative shake of his head.
	"Nope. Not a thing, Joe."
	"And so when you found out it was nothing, you just went back to bed?"
	The older man took a bite of his cereal and chewed it for a long time
before answering. Joe waited. Finally the senior Cameron grinned, looking
him straight in the eye and revealing a twinkle in his own.
	"Yeah, that's right. When I saw it was nothing, I just went back to bed."
	Joe nodded, taking another spoonful of his cereal and enjoying it
immensely.

       Joe was putting the spoons and bowls into the dishwasher while Phil
wiped off the table when the girls finally made an appearance. They came
into the kitchen and pulled up short when they saw the two of them there,
and Joe didn't need to be in on the psychic connection to know what the
nervous look they shared meant. When Gia turned a raised eyebrow towards
him, he returned it with a carefully neutral expression which told them
nothing and left them feeling frustrated. He had to turn away to hide his
smile.
	"Morning, girls. You kids are running a little late, aren't you?" Phil
noted, as he wrung the dishrag out under the faucet.
	"Um, yeah, sorry, Dad. We overslept." Becka had set her book bag down on
the still damp table before she gave her father a hug and a kiss on the
cheek. While Gia did the same the blonde girl made her way to the
refrigerator, from which she quickly emerged carrying an apple and the
carton of milk. Gia took the carton from her and poured two glasses, and
then accepted the bagels which Phil pulled from the breadbox on the counter.
Becka had already taken a knife and cut the apple into four slices, and soon
she and Gia were hurriedly breaking their fast while standing over the
kitchen sink. The whole series of actions showed the lack of wasted motion
that comes from a familiar pattern, and Joe found it fascinating to watch.
	It had been a long time since he had seen that same seamless meshing of
three people, he realized. Almost four years, in fact. He and Mattie had
never prepared a meal together that way, her artificial leg made it too
awkward for her to share their tiny kitchen with another person, so they
usually ended up taking turns cooking. But now he remembered how he and his
parents had had a similar routine worked out, in which the three of them
would move as if choreographed, an easy pattern of activity that he had
never  realized he treasured and missed until that very moment in the
Cameron's kitchen.
	Joe instantly recognized the moment for what it was, one of those ambush
memories that he still occasionally had of his lost parents and his previous
life. He waited for the accompanying pain they always brought, and was
startled when it didn't appear. Instead of the sharp stab of loss he was
familiar with, he felt only a sweet sadness and a simple joy. With a sense
of mild shock he realized that the open wound he had carried for so long
might finally have closed, taking with it the pain and leaving behind only
good memories.
	Joe felt his eyes go warm and moist, and had to blink away the blurriness.
He looked up and tried to focus when Phil addressed the three of them once
more.
	"You guys better hurry up or you'll be late for school. Don't forget that
both of you have to work tonight. Joe, why don't you come over to the dojo
after school with Gia. We'll do some more private training, and you can sit
in on a class or two."
	The three teens agreed, and as they were gathering up their bags the elder
Cameron grabbed his car keys and led the way to the door. Outside his
daughters shared a glance, and Joe saw Becka nod her head at their father,
obviously urging her sister on. Apparently she wanted the younger girl to
tell him now about Gary Harper and his drug dealing. Gia sighed before
speaking up.
	"Daddy? Um, can we talk with you for a minute?"
	"Can it wait `til tonight, Hon? I've got a meeting with Benny at eight, and
I wanted to get there early."
	"Oh, sure, Daddy. It's not that important, it can wait." Gia's words were a
little rushed, and she studiously ignored the glare from her sister. Instead
she watched as their father got into his car, then waved and smiled sweetly
as he drove out the gate.
	"Gia, you should have told him! You know it'll only get worse the longer
you wait." Becka scowled, her words more annoyed than angry.
	"Hey, I tried to tell him, didn't I? You saw me. Besides, he was right, we
do have to hurry or we'll be late for school. I'll tell him tonight at the
dojo, I promise."
	Becka snorted. "Yeah, right. And you'll wait `til there are at least a
dozen students around, just so he can't yell at you."
	"Exactly. I knew that you'd approve."
	Becka didn't exactly approve, a fact she made clear on the drive to school.
In the back seat Joe listened to the sisters squabble, and kept his own
silent counsel. After all, he had his own problems to worry about.


(continued)