Date: Mon, 23 May 2005 21:05:44 -0700 From: Rick Considine Subject: Munchkin Chapter 20 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 20 by Sacwriter The next morning Joe prepared for school by dressing in some of his `new' clothes, picking a pair of casually baggy slacks and a blue and white rugby shirt. As he combed his hair into their new spiky do, he examined his likeness in the mirror, comparing himself to the image he had seen, what, a week ago? Just seven days? Geez, for so much to happen in such a short time! He didn't even recognize his own reflection anymore, the young man who stared back at him was cool and confident, someone in control of his life. Christ, you just had to laugh. Joe shook his head and chuckled, then grabbed his book bag off the chair and headed out of his room. At the door he stopped, and looked thoughtfully at the table next to his bed. Acting on an impulse, he grabbed up his fathers' harmonica and slipped it in his pocket before leaving. The girls were already in the kitchen when he got downstairs, fixing a breakfast of cereal and fruit. They looked up as he came into sight and suddenly went silent, staring at him, making him pause uncertainly. The tableau was broken when Gia suddenly whooped, "Joe, you are such a STUD!!" Joe felt his cheeks turning red, as the two Cameron sisters applauded him. Becka stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly, while Gia tossed a handful of strawberry bits at him like they were confetti. Joe shook his head and waited patiently for them to quiet down, then said, "I take it you know that I have a date with Sammie on Saturday." Becka grinned, as Gia began picking bits of red berries out of his hair. "Don't blame Sammie, we jumped her on the way out and made her `fess up. You think we didn't notice the chemistry between you two? We knew this was coming." "What, and you couldn't have told me?" Joe complained, trying to hide his sudden flush of shyness. In a more timid voice, he asked, "Do you really think she likes me?" The girls shared a look, recognizing their friends' vulnerability. Gia answered him in a voice that had lost all its teasing. "Yes, she does, Joe. I think she likes you a lot." "Hey, she's the one who asked you out, right? Besides, she broke up with her old boyfriend over two months ago, so she's probably getting kind of desperate," Becka put in. Gia grinned, but Joe was not amused. The sisters baited him only a little during breakfast, and by the time they were out in the Mustang and heading for school the conversation had switched to other subjects. In particular they talked about the party and all the preparations they still had to do. They worried about the weather, and the brief warming trend which was finally beginning to cool off. Since Saturdays' affair was supposed to be a pool party, it would be a big disappointment if the temperature dropped any lower. In the end they decided that there wasn't much they could do about it but cross their fingers and hope for the best. Still, before they had gotten to school the lower temperature had forced them to pull to the side of the road and raise the top on the convertible. In the parking lot Joe climbed out of the car behind Gia, in an animated conversation that at first kept him from scanning the parking lot the way he usually did. But he did notice how Becka had gone suddenly still, and followed her fixed stare across the parking lot. Gary Harper, Matt Ingles, and Ronnie Hooker, watching him. The last two glared at him in open hostility, but not Harper. Instead the tall boy simply watched him, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze cold, a snake examining its next meal. Joe felt a clammy chill slide down his back, and a familiar watery feeling began in his belly. *Aww, fuck this!* With a casual insolence Joe nodded at Harper, raised his hand and pointed his finger at the other boy, making a gun out of his hand, just as Harper had done to him two days ago. He dropped the `hammer', jerking his hand upward as if he had just fired a shot. And then he grinned, and laughed, and turned away, dismissing the trio as totally unimportant. Harper watched the little faggot as he strode across the parking lot, followed closely by the two Cameron bitches. Behind him he heard Ron and Matt fuming, felt their anger like the glow from hot metal. He let them fume, deliberately stoking their anger, knowing that now they wouldn't hesitate to carry out his plan. He ignored them until the Munchkin and his bitch-bodyguard were out of site, before turning around. "Third period. You got it?" he asked them, his voice quiet but sharp. It was Ingles who answered him. "Fuckin' A, we got it." * * * "Hey, Dude, you lookin' all different again. What, are those new rags or somethin'?" Joe looked up from his locker at Milo's approach, grinning at his friend. He pushed his books back in the locker and stepped away, spreading his arms out and doing a 360 turn, showing off his new finery. Milo laughed, and punched him in the arm. Joe punched him back. "Hey, don't touch the threads! And yeah, I just got these last night. The girls got tired of my wardrobe, so they raided their brothers' closets for old stuff. They got Justine, Kelly and Sammie in on it, too. "It was awful, man! They ambushed me in the living room, dragged me upstairs, threw me on the bed and started pulling all my clothes off. Their hands were all over me. Dude, I just felt so, so..." "Hot? Sexy? Like you were a freakin' love God?" Joe laughed again, feeling good. Feeling good about himself, for the first time in years. The ever present knot in his belly was gone, as was the tension that usually clamped onto the back of his neck. He paused to look around the crowded hallway. He felt lighter and more alive, as if his senses had been cranked up by about a dozen notches. With a bit of surprise, he realized that he was actually happy. "Hey, whatchu grinnin' about now?" Milo asked, as Joe snapped the padlock and spun the combination dial. On Thursdays they both had the same first period Calculus, so they headed down the hallway together. Joe noticed that he was still scanning the hallways carefully, trying to spot trouble before it spotted him, but not as if he really expected anything to happen. It seemed like school was no longer such a scary place. He saw that Milo was still waiting for his answer. He grinned so hard his cheeks hurt, thinking of the look on his friends' face when he told him the rest of his news. He had a date this Saturday with one of the most popular Seniors at Roosevelt High. And she had asked him! * * * It was always easy to slip out of third period P.E., he and Ingles had done it many times before when they needed to do `stuff' for Gary. You just make sure you always finished dressing last, and were always late when you finally got to the gym. That way they could do what needed to be done, then slip into the locker room after everybody else was gone and do a fast change, and the stupid teachers never knew the difference. Just one more piece of proof that Gary Harper was a fucking genius. Not that he or Matt ever needed one. Ronnie Hooker had no misconceptions about his place in the universe. He knew that he wasn't smart, was probably even stupid, by most people's standards. He wasn't good at sports, and he sure as hell wasn't good enough to score with the babes. Fuckin' uptight bitches, looking down their noses at him, laughing at him. But he'd shown `em, hadn't he? When you had the bucks and you had the blow, then they'd do whatever you wanted them to. Man, they'd crawl an their knees when you'd wave that little vial of white powder in front of their faces. He and Matt had gotten blowjobs from half the cheer squad, and they'd even screwed two girls on the honors roll. And none of them bitches ever looked down their noses at them ever again, did they? And they owed it all to Gary Harper. After last nights' detention they'd had to call Gary and tell him what had happened. Ronnie still winced when he thought of that call, having to admit how he and Matt had screwed up with the little faggot. He had expected Gary to get mad and maybe swear and shout at them, but he hadn't. He had just told them, in the coldest voice Ronnie had ever heard him use, to come over to his house after dinner. And that had somehow been a lot worse than getting mad. When he and Matt got to Gary's house they didn't even bother to knock. They had been there so many times that they both knew that no one would answer. Gary's Mom would be out working one of her three jobs, and his old man would be sitting half asleep in his easy chair, hypnotized by a combination of TV and beer. And Gary, well, he already knew they were coming, didn't he? Gary's room at the back of his parents' house was crowded with all sorts of that western crap that he liked, from the horseshoe over the door to the stuffed diamond back rattler on his dresser, posed by the taxidermist as if it were in mid strike. He had posters of the Dallas Cowboys on his walls, and autographed pictures of famous cowboy movie stars that Ronnie knew he'd bought on E-bay, and over his bed he had mounted a pistol belt with two pearl handled Colt six shooters. Maybe they were even real, Gary seemed able to get himself almost anything he wanted. All Gary ever wore were blue jeans, western shirts, belts with big silver buckles, and any of his dozen pairs of hand tooled cowboy boots. Ronnie never could figure out if Gary thought of himself as a cowboy or as an outlaw, but he was pretty sure that his fearless leader had never been near a horse in his entire life. Not that he or Matt would ever bring that up! Gary's door was closed, and this one they knew they were supposed to knock on, so they did. At the clipped command from inside they entered, finding the rooms' owner sitting at the computer on his desk, playing video games, and ignoring them. This was also a familiar routine for them, as he and Matt seated themselves and waited patiently for him to finish. Matt sat in the ladder-back chair beside the door, but Ronnie took his usual seat at the head of the bed, as far from the big wooden dresser as you could get in Gary's room. He couldn't help it, that fuckin' snake just freaked him out! Gary made them wait for another half an hour, which Ronnie knew meant that he was really pissed at them. When he finally finished the game and shut down the PC, he swiveled around in his chair and just stared at them, slowly looking them up and down. Measuring them, and from the expression on his face, finding them wanting. Ronnie swallowed and fidgeted nervously, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Finally Gary broke the silence. "So whoever told you two fuckups to think?" "Look, Gar..." The slim, blond, dangerous looking boy waved a hand and cut him off in mid sentence. "I told you idiots not to do anything to the little fag until I got back to school, didn't I? Huh?" "Yeah. Yeah, Gar, you did. But, shit, man! The little punk was just sitting there, laughing at us, you know? And we knew he was telling all his geek friends about messing up your ride. I mean, what else could we do? We had to show them you can't get away with that!" Ronnie's voice had gone from whining to outrage, at the thought of those punks actually standing up to them. Didn't those little bastards know how things were supposed to work? "Oh, yeah, you two really showed everybody, didn't you? You got your ass kicked by two cheerleaders and a bunch of nerds! If anybody wasn't laughing at us before, they sure as hell are now, aren't they?" Ronnie hung his head, glaring underneath his brows at Matt, who was wisely keeping his mouth shut and letting him take the brunt of the chewing out. "Gar..." "And you know something else, Ron? Do you know what's worse than having the whole school laughing their asses off whenever they see us? What's worse, you stupid, ignorant little puke, is that if anything happens to the Munchkin now, Garrett is going to be all over us. Or did that fact escape you two geniuses?" The scorn in the other boys' voice cut through Ronnie like a cold, sharp knife, making sweat break out on his forehead. Gary was right, it hadn't occurred to them that kicking the little queers' ass in the middle of the cafeteria could come back to haunt them like that. Gary was shaking his head now, a look of disgust written all over his face. "Why the hell do I saddle myself with you morons, anyway? What do you ever do for me, that makes up for all this aggravation? Well, Ronnie? What do you ever do for me?" "I'm sorry, Gar—" "Shut the hell up!" Harper snapped, his eyes blazing, finally showing the real depth of his anger. Ronnie felt himself cringing, a dog waiting to be kicked, knowing he wouldn't do a damned thing to prevent it if Gary did. "Do you have any idea how much that little prick is going to cost us? Screw what he and those bitches did to my Jeep, this is about business now. You think our customers are going to respect us after this? You think they're going to fear us? Because I'll tell you right now, Ron, in this business if your buyers aren't afraid of you, they will screw you over the first chance they get. "If we want to keep on doing business, then we have to get this punk. We have to slap him down like a bug, and do it so that everybody knows it's us. And then we've got to make sure we get away with it. That's how we show all the assholes out there that if they fuck with us, they get fucked!" Ronnie blinked, then shared a look with Matt. Alright, this was more like it! The possibility of future violence had the both of them grinning. Dammit, he knew Gary would come up with a way to trash that little freak. "How we gonna do it?" Matt asked, finally breaking his silence. Ronnie shot him a dirty look. Yeah, now that it's safe, you asshole. Gary had that smug grin of his, the one that meant he had things already figured out. "You guys remember what my old man does for a living?" he asked. Ronnie blinked, trying to remember. "Uhh, isn't he on disability, Gar? I mean, he worked in construction, and he blew his hand off, and now he don't work anymore, right?" Gary glared at him, which made Ronnie wince. "He only lost three fingers, not his whole hand, you idiot. And he was a demolitions expert, not some stupid contractor. He didn't build things, he blew them up, which is how I got this." From the middle drawer of his desk Gary took a shiny metal rod, about the thickness of a pencil and half as long. A metal swivel ring was attached to one end, and to the other a small loop crudely made from a piece of wire. "He kept a few things when they let him go. This is a type 8 Military blasting cap, it's what they use to set off C-4, plastic explosives, that kind of shit. They also use it for booby traps. You anchor one end and attach a tripwire to the other, and some sucker gets a real nasty surprise." Gary was smiling smugly, but he frowned when his audience didn't show the expected appreciation for his genius. Ronnie licked his lips, but it was Matt who giggled nervously and finally asked the question that was burning in both of them. "Jeez, Gar. We're not, like, you know. Gonna blow the little fag up or anything, are we? Like, with a bomb?" Gary rolled his eyes in obvious disgust, then suddenly tossed the blasting cap into Matt's lap. The other boy squawked in fear, hastily scrabbling to catch the metal cylinder with fumbling fingers. Ronnie wanted to laugh at him, but since he had also started to jump out of his seat when Gary threw the lethal little cylinder, he decided to keep his mouth shut. "I told you, you moron, that's not a bomb, it's just what they use to set one off. Like a big-assed firecracker. Tomorrow during gym, you two break into the fag's locker and set it up so that when he opens the door, it'll blow up in his face. He won't get hurt, maybe get a few burns, but it'll scare the crap out of the little punk. And he'll know, everybody'll know, that not even Jackson and her spic family can protect him from us. You got it now?" Matt scratched his head and looked disappointed. "So that's all we're gonna do to him? Just scare `em with a firecracker?" he whined. Gary snorted, but he was smiling while he did it. Apparently his good humor was restored, and he wasn't going to be dumping on them anymore. "No, that's not all we'll be doing to the Munchkin. But it's a start. We need to do something fast and flashy, and then get away with it, so we can save our reps and take our time settling his ass. Becka Jackson can't keep on holding his hand forever, and when she isn't around we're going to be all over him. We're going to make the little snot think he's died and gone to hell." Matt was nodding enthusiastically, an idiot grin plastered on his face. But Ronnie's nod was more reluctant . He'd known Gary for years, and he had a bad feeling that the other boy didn't know as much about things that go boom as he was claiming. What Gary did know he probably picked up from his old man, the unwashed drunk who spent all his days sitting in front of the TV and drinking himself into oblivion. The old man who only had two fingers left on his right hand. But Ronnie knew he'd never bring that up, either. * * * The morning went by quickly for Joe, his classes breezing past without hitch or flaw. Even the pop quiz in Calculus seemed easy, and he knew he had aced it. It was like his mind had been supercharged, was running on eight cylinders now instead of the usual four. Anxiety and fear seemed like a distant memory, something that would dull and lose its edge the longer he ignored it. His confidence soared. He knew his life had done a complete 180 degree turn, and for the first time in almost four years he was anxious to see what his future was going to bring. He wasn't acting stupid about it, though. He knew that Gary Harper wouldn't forget what had happened, and would always be looking for a chance at payback. The fact that Becka and Gia still insisted on escorting him between classes was a sober reminder of this. He knew they were right, and so after each period he patiently waited inside the classroom until one of them came for him, and then quietly followed her to his next class. What the hell, it was only another three months or so until school was over, and then Harper and all the rest of them could kiss his ass. It was Gia who picked him up from his Economics class and escorted him to the cafeteria for lunch. The two of them threaded their way through the heavy crowd and got their trays, paid the lady with the hairnet behind the cash register, and then headed for their usual table. On the way Joe looked around and spotted Harper and his two thugs holding court at a central table. He paused as the other boy caught his eye, and felt the tiniest shiver of uncertainty at the blank stare he received back. Was there a hint of a smirk in those cold blue eyes, or was he just imagining it? He shrugged it off as old paranoia and went to join his friends. Most of the Kings and the Gap Girls were already there, the entire group taking up three tables pulled closely together. With a grin he saw Sammie Waters smiling at him and gesturing to the empty seat next to her. As he laid his tray on the table he suddenly noticed that the entire table seemed to be watching the two of them and, well, `smirking'. He rolled his eyes and then frowned at Milo, who was trying a little bit too hard to look innocent. "Somebody has trouble keeping their big mouth shut," he muttered, loud enough for the whole table to hear. "What, you mean it was a secret?" Milo grinned back. Joe just shook his head and gave Sammie an apologetic shrug, which she waved away with a laugh. He thought her laughter sounded like tinkling crystal, which made him grin. They both concentrated on their meals then, listening to the conversations going on around the table, occasionally joining in when they had something to contribute. Joe had just finished his chicken sandwich when he heard Kelly make a little squeak of panic and saw her hunch down in her chair, staring at something or someone behind him. At the same time he felt a soft hand touch his shoulder, and turned around to find the beautiful face of Tristen McCormick smiling down at him. she signed. Joe grinned and signed back. She shrugged. She giggled silently, which made Joe laugh, rubbing the back of his neck in not-quite embarrassment. He looked over his shoulder and had to smother another smile when he saw the open mouths and wide eyes of Milo and the rest of the Kings, as they stared in wonder at him and the beautiful girl with the exotic eyes. "I take it this is Tristen? Or were you ever going to get around to introducing her yourself?" Sammie put in, wryly. "Oh! Umm, sorry, guys. Uh, Tristen McCormick, this is Sammie Waters. Sammie's the editor of the school paper, and Tristen is a new transfer student from Alabama. Over there with their mouths open are Milo, Kenny, Avery and Julian. You already know Justine and Kelly." "Pleased to meet you, Tristen. Welcome to Roosevelt High." Sammie smiled at the new girl, neither raising her voice or talking slowly, as so many others had done. Joe remembered then that Gia had told Sammie about their first meeting, and that she already knew that Tristen was only mute, and not deaf. Tristen smiled at her and nodded at the table, then started to sign rapidly with her hands. Joe obliged by translating. "Uh, Tristen says hi, and she's glad to meet everybody. She also says that Gia told her about your party this weekend and invited her. Uhh, she says she'd love to come, but she wanted to make sure it was alright with you, first." "Oh, sure, not a problem. Glad to have you. Don't forget to bring your suit, it's supposed to be a pool party. If this weather clears up, that is." "She says thanks, she will. She's got to go now, she's having lunch with the cheerleading squad, but she wants to wish you an early Happy Birthday." Sammie grinned. "Thanks. I'll see you on Saturday." "And now she says she's looking forward to it, and... oh." Joe blinked, seeing the devilish grin on Tristen's face, as she signed rapidly and nodded at a figure across the table. Joe followed her gaze to Kelly, who sat hunched in her seat and appeared to be trying to disappear into it. He grinned, remembering what happened the first time he had met both girls, in the gym during cheerleading practice last week. "And she says she's really looking forward to seeing Kelly there, too." Tristen smiled wickedly at the other blonde girl, before turning around and leaving, her hips swaying provocatively under an abbreviated skirt. Kelly was turning a bright shade of red, while her friend Justine was elbowing her in the ribs and laughing. "It's not funny!" she snapped, crossing her arms sullenly. Milo and the other boys looked puzzled, and Justine gladly filled them in. "Last week Tristen told us she was bisexual, but that she's mostly into girls. And then she told Kelly that she thought that she was hot! Kelly's been acting nervous as a cat around her ever since. I think she's afraid Tristen's going to ask her to the prom!" With that the red head started to laugh out loud again, until her embarrassed friend tried to shove her off the bench. Milo and the Kings had a glazed look in their eyes. "Kelly and Justine didn't react too well when Gia came out," Sammie told Joe, in a voice too low for anybody else to hear. "I think they're a little bit homophobic. I thought Kelly'd pretty much gotten over it, but maybe not." Becka appeared at that point, carrying her tray and muttering about the long line for tacos. Gia took her purse off the chair she had been saving for her sister and moved over, giving her room for the heavily burdened tray, also admonishing the older girl to keep her hands off of Gia's nachos. The conversation broke up for awhile as everybody concentrated on eating, but with the appetites of the young they were done before the hour was even half over. Joe wanted to talk to Sammie about their upcoming date, but to his embarrassment instead found her telling everybody about his harmonica playing the night before. "Wait a minute, are saying Joe finally played that thing and we didn't get to hear it?" Gia demanded, sending him an outraged look. "You were supposed to play for us first, you promised!" Joe didn't remember any such promise, but he had a feeling it would be useless to argue the point. He knew Gia wasn't really angry with him, and Becka was openly grinning at his discomfort. He was also uncomfortably aware of his father's mouth organ in his pants pocket. And then he thought, why not? Except for Mattie, nobody had heard him play since his parents had died, but he still remembered the joy of performing. Jamming with his father and his musician friends on Saturday nights, underneath the hot lights in the smoke filled clubs of Detroit. Hearing the applause, feeling the approval of the professionals, feeling his dad's pride in him. He knew even then that he wasn't anywhere near the same league as these people who shared the stage with him, that he was mostly just a novelty act, up their because of his youth. But that had never mattered, and those Saturday night performances were still some of the best memories he had ever owned. So why the hell had he ever stopped? Everyone at the table was looking at him now, and he suddenly realized that he had been silent for an awfully long time, lost in the shadows. Sammie laid a hand on his arm, saying "Joe?" in a questioning, concerned tone, so he smiled at her to let her know everything was alright. Then before he could change his mind, he fished the old and battered harmonica out of his pocket. He slapped it into his palm a couple of times to `warm it up', an act that was probably more superstition than necessity, but one that his father had taught him. He raised it to his mouth, closed his eyes, and let loose with the smoothest, sweetest quavering riff he had ever played. He could feel it, that same old magic, welling up inside of him like the very blood in his veins. He felt the tingle in his hands, and the way the hair on the back of his neck rose when he hit the high notes just right. For a moment, just one moment, he smelled beer and tobacco and the sweat of too many people in a crowded room. And he felt a strong, warm grip on his shoulder, tapping out the beat while radiating a father's pride. Joe paused at the end of the riff, wanting to open his eyes and check the crowd, but he resisted the impulse. Instead he instinctively chose to slip them something lively, and started playing The Hunkie Tunkie Blues, more or less the Annie Raines version, but with some of his own variations mixed in. He heard Sammie laugh in delight, and added a little more heart to the music. Only when Joe felt his shoulders begin to move to the infectious rhythm, and knew that he was now truly into the piece, did he finally open his eyes and look at his friends. Surprise was the dominant emotion, and in the case of the D&D Kings it bordered on slack-jawed amazement. But Sammie and the Cameron sisters showed only delight on their faces, as they moved and swayed in their seats to the rhythms emanating from Joe's harmonica. Becka whooped and started clapping her hands to the music, which encouraged Justine and Kelly to do the same. Joe glanced around the room and saw that most of the other people nearby also seemed to be enjoying the show, nodding in time and grinning as they had back in Detroit. And in that instant, for the first time in almost four years, life and everything about it was absolutely perfect. The applause that he got at the end of the song wasn't exactly a standing ovation, in fact barely a half dozen people other than his own friends even bothered to clap, but it was still the capper for that perfect moment. He was actually grinning so hard, his cheeks were beginning to hurt. Slapping the old mouth organ into his palm to clean out the spit, Joe began to consider what his next selection might be. Maybe some Little Walter...?" "Not a bad performance, Mr. Munson. You might want to talk to Miss Fogarty about a place in the school band. Until then, I would appreciate it if you would remember our rules against music being played in the cafeteria during lunch." Joe winced, feeling the back of his neck go red, looking over his shoulder at the author of the wry comment. Principal Garrett. Oh, crap. "Hi, Mr. Garrett. I didn't know you ate lunch in the cafeteria," Sammie said, smiling at the principal. She seemed completely at ease, talking to the man who was the highest authority in the school. Joe realized that as the editor of the school paper, she probably had more contact with him than almost any other student there. "Actually, you're right. I normally take my meals in the teachers lounge, but after the events of yesterday afternoon, I decided it might be prudent for me to spend a little more time here. Tell me, does it look like there will be any chance of a repeat of yesterday's performance?" Becka laughed, amused. "I don't think so, Mr. G. We've been keeping away from those guys, and they've been keeping away from us." The blonde girl nodded at the table across the room. Principal Garrett looked at the table she indicated, but Gary Harper and his two hoodlum cronies seemed to be highly occupied with their own meals. Mr. Garrett kept staring at them for another few seconds, sending a very clear message, before turning back around. "Umm, Mr. Garrett," Joe said, hesitantly. He wasn't exactly afraid of the school principal, but yesterday's experience still made him more than a little embarrassed in front of the man. "I'm sorry about the harmonica. It was my Dad's, and I'm not even sure why I brought it. I'm sorry if I broke a school rule." Unexpectedly, the man smiled. "Actually, Mr. Munson, I rather liked it. That was quiet a professional performance. `Hunkie Tunkie Blues', am I right?" Joe blinked, surprised. Mr. G knew the blues? "Um, yeah, that's right. My Dad used to be a Blues player in Detroit. I used to jam with him and his friends." "Well, that explains it. I don't really mind you're playing the mouth harp during lunch, Joe, but I think it would be more appropriate if you played it somewhere else. Say, out by the athletic field bleachers where you usually take your lunch?" Joe quickly agreed, and with a polite nod to the rest of the table Mr. Garrett turned a sauntered off, followed by a quiet, speculative murmur from the tables that he passed. Joe watched him go, still more than a bit bemused by the conversation. Next to him, Sammie had risen to her feet and was gathering up her things. "Hey, c'mon you guys. We've got about twenty minutes before the bell rings. I want to hear Joe play while we've still got the chance." "I'm in," Becka said, rising. Unsurprisingly, Gia echoed the sentiment, but Joe saw that the rest of his friends were also starting to gather their things. "Hey, don't I get a say in this?" he asked. "NO!" all the girls chorused, then breaking up into giggles. Joe shrugged. "Just asking," he said, trying to hide his own grin. He gathered up the trash on his tray, then reached under the table and snagged his book bag. But when he looked inside of the bag, he groaned and swore. "What's wrong?" Sammie asked. "I forgot my Poli-Sci book! That's my next class, I've gotta go get it from my locker now, or I'll be late." He saw the disappointment on Sammie's face, also on the faces of his other friends who had wanted to hear him play. He shook his head and started to apologize, but was silenced when Becka spoke up. "Hey, no problem. I know where you're locker is, right? Just give me the combination and I'll get it. If I hurry, I'll get back in time for your last song." Joe hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I mean, thanks, but I can't ask you to do that." "Hey, one of us would have to go with you anyway, remember?" She nodded her head over at Gary Harper's table, and for the first time Joe noticed that the three goons were no longer there. From what he knew of Harper's habits, they were most likely out in the parking lot sneaking a smoke. It was probably safe for him to go to his locker by himself, but still... And besides, he found that he really wanted to play some more for his friends. Especially for one certain friend. "Okay." Joe took a pen from his bag and hastily scribbled his locker combination on a clean napkin and handed it to the tall blonde girl. "Thanks, Becka. I appreciate it." "No sweat, Joe." * * * Becka made her way to the second floor and down the deserted hallway. Lunch period was the one time that a student would be allowed to walk the halls between classes without getting detention, so she wasn't worried about running into one of the hall monitors. Nor was she worried about running into Gary Harper and his two clowns, she knew he would never have the balls to stand up to her, or to anybody else who could actually fight back. If anything, she wished he would try something with her, and maybe give her an excuse to use some of the really nasty things that Dad and the boys and Gia had been teaching her for the last six months. The very thought of it made her grin. She had never liked Harper, had never hung out with him, even back in the days when she was as big of a terror in school as he was. It wasn't the low level drug dealing that he did that made her despise him either, although she hated both drugs and those who sold them with a passion. No, she had other reasons for wanting to push his face into a wall. She loathed Harper because he was the kind of bully who liked it. Becka knew she had hurt a lot of other kids in her life, hurt some of them badly, leaving scars that ran deeper than anything you could see on the surface. Her new friend Joe was a prime example of the damage she had caused. But when she had hurt others it had only been because she was lashing out, trying to smother her own pain and loneliness by striking at the only targets that she could reach, even if they were innocent. For a little while the fear that was so much a part of her existence back then would fade, but she never enjoyed the process, anymore than she would have enjoyed putting a Band-Aid on an open wound. It was just something you had to do to stay alive, to stay whole. But she knew that when guys like Gary Harper hurt somebody, they grinned while they were doing it. Okay, so maybe the motivations behind the act didn't make any difference to the kids who were getting hurt. But it made a difference to her. Becka's footsteps echoed back to her off the locker covered walls, making the long space seem even bigger and more empty than it was. Like the rest of the school, the hallways smelled of Lysol and floor wax, and the slightly rank musk of thousands of post pubescent teens. It felt kind of eerie, she decided, being all alone in this major artery of the school. She unconsciously hurried her pace, blaming it on wanting to get back to the others quickly. She found Joe's locker easily enough, but before she could fish the napkin with his combination out of her pocket, she saw that it wouldn't be necessary. Joe's padlock was on there, but apparently he had forgotten to snap it closed. She grinned, thinking about how she would tease him about that, as she pulled the lock from the hasp. Idly, she noticed that it appeared to be brand new one, too. She held the lock in one hand while she opened the door with her other, leaning forward to get some leverage when it stuck. The reluctant door finally gave, and the world ended in a roar and a flash, and bloody red pain that quickly faded into darkness. (continued)