Date: Tue, 11 Oct 2005 13:27:23 -0700
From: RC in Sacramento <sacwriter@hotmail.com>
Subject: Munchkin Chptr 24

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 24
			by Sacwriter

	The three men walked down the empty hallway in silence, hearing only their
own footsteps echoing off the walls, mixing with the soft murmur of voices
from behind the closed doors of the classrooms. The corridor smelled with
that high school scent that seems to be a universal, a mixture of
disinfectant, old paint, and thousands of teenaged bodies. There was no
chemical taint in the air of burning explosives, nor the freshly spilled
blood that they had just seen. But each of them knew that it was there.
	They were all three successful, important men, each a highly respected
member of their community, coming at the same problem from the directions of
different agendas.
	As the chief administrator of his school, Jack Garrett had to be both a
teacher and a leader. He had the authority and the latitude to bend or even
break most of the rules that the other teachers lived under, and he did so
ruthlessly when it was in the best interests of one of his charges. He loved
these kids, and wanted the best for them, even when they opposed it with all
of their might. He wanted to save all of his children, but there were some
who would not be saved, and had instead become a danger to the ones who
could. Jack was used to the delicate job of juggling compassion, power, and
practicality. And he would quickly and mercilessly send Gary Harper and his
hoodlum friends to prison, rather than let them spend another day
endangering anyone else.
	Mike Breen's role was even simpler. Mike was a cop, plain and simple. He
had spent two tours in the Marine Corp, and when he had gotten out he had
easily switched from a green uniform to a blue one. He was a man who
believed in the law, and knew that though it was flawed and imperfect, it
was also the one thing that kept the chaos at bay. It was simply not in him
to break or violate that law. But he also knew that the rules and edicts he
lived by often did not lead to real justice, and at times like now the
conflict this caused left him feeling both bitter and impotent.
	Phil Cameron was the easiest to understand of them all. He was a father. He
loved his children not only deeply, but fiercely, over and above the laws of
man and the rules of the Orange County School Board. His daughter had been
attacked and hurt, her life endangered, and that fact grated on his nerves
like a rasp. Now every fiber of his being was urging him to protect his
child, and to punish those who had hurt her. For a father, it was that
simple.

	In the end they passed the admin offices and just kept on going, until they
passed through the heavy doors at the end of the hallway and out into the
student parking lot. They paused there on the front steps, each lost in his
own thoughts, until Mike reached into his pocket and fished out a pack of
Camels. Phil declined, he hadn't smoked since his Army days, but Jack took
one eagerly. So what if the kids saw him, he only had forty seven months
left to go.
	Mike took a long, deep drag, then blew the smoke in the direction of the
parking lot where an ambulance was just pulling up. He waved at the two
orderlies as they got out, and nodded them in the direction of the front
door. One of Mike's Deputies was waiting just inside the door to show them
the way from there.
	Offhandedly, he asked, "Is that walking refrigerator really your brother?
And should I be afraid of letting him anywhere near my three prisoners?"
	Phil chuckled. "Yeah, I know, he looks like something you'd feed bananas
to, doesn't he? But Manny's really the sweetest guy you've ever met. Sure,
he's probably spent the last twenty minutes glaring at those punks and
cracking his knuckles, but he won't hurt them. You're just lucky it's his
son Tom with him, and not one of my kids. Them I couldn't vouch for."
	"We can search their lockers," Jack Garrett put in suddenly. "You don't
need a warrant for that, it's school property, and I have the authority to
authorize it."
	Mike nodded, but he didn't seem too excited about the idea. "Yeah, thanks,
I'll take you up on that. But I doubt it'll do us any good, I don't see this
Harper kid as being dumb enough to leave anything concrete in a school
locker. Hell, you never know, though."
	"What... can't you search his house?" Jack asked. "If he built that bomb
there, he must have left some evidence behind. Explosives, spare parts,
things like that?"
	"No, not without a warrant. And we don't have anything that would justify
one. All we have so far is coincidence and suspicion."
	"Well, what about drugs? I mean, the little punks are known dealers, aren't
they?" Phil asked.
	Sgt. Breen raised one eyebrow in surprise. "First time I ever heard this.
Mr. Garrett?"
	The other man sighed, looking both haggard and embarrassed. "He could be
right. We do have someone dealing drugs in this school, although no cocaine
or heroin yet, thank God. Gary Harper and his friends have been pretty high
on my list of suspects, but I've never been able to get any proof, one way
or the other. But where did you here about it, Phil?"
	"My girls. Becka tells me that it's common knowledge that the little
sleaze-ball deals out of his Jeep before and after school. When I heard
that, I also did some checking. Do you know a local detective named Jimmy
Caruso?"
	This last question had been addressed  to Mike, who nodded before he
answered. "Yeah, we've met. He's a good cop, I heard he's working narcotics
now. So how do you know him?"
	"Friend of the family. He and his son have been taking lessons at our dojo
for years. Anyway, I called him after Becka told me this kid was involved in
drugs. He says they're aware of him, but that he's always been too small
time for them to worry about. He confirmed that he deals out of his car,
too." He nodded out to the back of the parking lot. "That's it, out in the
corner. The black Jeep Wrangler with the shitty assed paint job."
	Mike squinted. "You're right, that is a crappy paint job. You sure this kid
deals? I've never seen a dealer who didn't put as much of his money as he
could into his wheels."
	Phil laughed, shaking his head. "There's a reason for it" he said, and
proceeded to tell them the whole story. Both of the other men were wearing
amused smiles when he told how his artistically inclined daughter had
perfectly reproduced the graffiti done to Joe's house onto Harper's Jeep.
	"The next day when they told me, I called Jimmy and he told me how punks
like Harper operate. He said they usually hide their stash in their
vehicles, so even if they're caught holding they only get tagged for
possession, not for dealing. So I called around and found where Harper got
his Jeep painted. Bronco's Auto Body and Paint, over on Siegel Street? I
know the manager and I asked him if there was anything unusual about that
car. He told me that other than the new pink and white accents, the only
thing strange was what happened when he sent a truck to tow it in. He said
the owner made his guy wait while he took the spare tire off the rear."
	Phil shrugged. "It doesn't make sense to bother taking your spare off when
you're sending it out to paint, the guys at the shop would have done it
anyway. So I figure that wheel must be where he hides his drugs. It's
probably hollow, you know?"
	The big man sighed, the tense sound betraying his frustration. "But knowing
it's there isn't enough, is it? You have to have hard proof that it is to
get a warrant, don't you? Like seeing the drugs for yourself."
	Mike gazed at the distant vehicle for awhile before he nodded, agreeing.
"Yeah, I do. Sorry, Phil."
	The father nodded, understanding, then turned his head back towards the
building where his daughters waited.
	"I'd better get going. I have to get Becka and Joe to the hospital for
X-rays. Shit, I'm going to have to call Joe's aunt and tell her what
happened." With one last shake of his head he walked away, leaving the other
two men alone.
	Mike watched the retreating back of the big man, and then turned to face
Jack Garrett, who was once again contemplating the far off, badly painted
Wrangler. In a quiet and casual tone Mike commented, "School property,
right?"
	"Of course. And if, while I am searching Mr. Harper's vehicle, I just
happen to find a hidden cache' of illegal drugs, and you as a witness happen
to see them..."
	Mike was grinning openly now, a smile that was pure predator. He was
looking forward to seeing the surprise on Phil Cameron's face.
* * *
	The next bell rang as Phil entered the administration offices, and behind
him he could hear the sound of fifteen hundred over-energized teenagers
being released for their next class. The father of five grinned, and there
was a spring in his step that hadn't been there when he first arrived.
	Phil was feeling pretty damned good about things, or at least the way they
were turning out. He knew that despite their words, he had managed to point
Breen and Garrett in the right direction with that tip on Harper's drug
cache. He had recognized the look they both had shared, like two wolves who
had just gotten the scent of a nice, fat, wounded rabbit.
	With a little luck, he figured, what they found in that spare tire would be
just the first domino to fall. The drugs would be the evidence Mike Breen
needed to get warrants to search the homes and property of those three
losers who had caused his girls so much trouble. And if those punks were as
stupid as he thought they were, the police would probably find more evidence
to tie them to the bomb in Joe's locker. Assault, attempted rape, drug
dealing, and a bonafide terrorist act. It didn't matter how young they were,
Harper and his buddies were going away for a long, long time.
	Six months, my ass. And he hadn't even had to beat on anyone to do it.
	Just as the crowd began to thicken and swirl like tidewater, he slipped
inside and made his way to the nurse's station where he had left his two
daughters and their friend. Phil saw that Becka and Gia had been huddling
close to Joe when he walked in, obviously offering him their support, but
the three teens turned and sat up straight when the senior Cameron entered
the room. There were questions in their eyes, concern about what was going
to happen to Joe. Phil grabbed a chair and sat down, then hastened to
reassure his daughters and their friend.
	"Okay, I just had a long talk with Mike Breen, that cop who was here. Now
it's not entirely his choice, but he doesn't think Joe'll be charged with
anything, and since he's in command of this investigation that means a lot.
Looks like you're off the hook, kiddo."
	"Yesss!" Becka hissed, grinning, raising a fist and then pulling it down in
a gesture of triumph. Gia leaned over and gave Joe a big and loud kiss on
the cheek, which make him wince a little in pain. But the small boy also
slumped in relief, and was soon grinning too. After a quick round of
congratulations and hugs, Phil stood up and got down to business.
	"Alright, consider school over for the day, so I think we'd best be getting
out of here. I don't think we need to go to the hospital, but I do want to
stop by and have out family doctor look at the two of you. And then tonight
after we get home, Joe, you're going to have to call your aunt and tell her
what's been happening here this past week. And you'll tell her everything,
Joe. You got that?"
	The boy winced, not so much at the parental tone in Phil Cameron's voice,
as much at the fact that he knew the older man was right. Maddie  had a
right to know, and Joe had been keeping everything a secret from her all
week. He had used the excuse that they couldn't afford for her to come home
early and lose the work, but the truth was that he had been too ashamed of
what had happened to admit the truth to her. It had been inexcusable and
cowardly, and he knew that Mr. Cameron was right. So he nodded, even as he
looked the older man in the eye to show his sincerity.
	"Good man. Alright, let's get your things together and get out of here. Do
you girls need to stop at your lockers?"
	Gia shook her head, answering for the both of them as she shouldered her
book bag. "No, we're fine, I think. Becka's bag is outside along with her
purse. We can---"
	"Becka, Gia? Are you guys back here? We just wanted to—Joe! Hey, everybody,
Joe's here!"
	The red haired figure of Justine had appeared at the open door of the
nurse's station, but at the sight of the boy she had rushed past Phil and
thrown herself into Joe's arms. The smaller boy gasped at the sudden pain of
his injuries, bright novas of white sparks going off behind his eyes. He
tried not to scream as the pretty girl babbled in his ear.
	"Oh God Joe we were so worried you disappeared after they found Becka we
looked all over for you we went to your classes and nobody knew where you
were what happened did you run away or were you just skipping class we were
so worried we thought that prick Harper had gotten you---"
	"jusssstiine," Joe gasped, pushing ineffectually at the limb that was
slowly strangling him. But suddenly the arm was withdrawn, as the red head
was pulled off of him by the two Cameron sisters.
	"Jesus Christ, Justine, you're gonna kill him! Dammit, you're more
dangerous than Harper ever was," Becka snapped, as she hauled on her
friend's arm. "Can't you see he's already hurt?"
	Before the startled girl could reply their was more shouting coming from
the doorway, as Sammie and Kelly also came in, followed by Milo. Sounds from
out in the hallway indicated that the rest of the D & D Kings were also
present, and anxious to see what had happened to their friends.
	Before the room could fill to overflowing, Phil's voice cracked out and
quickly restored order.
	"Hey, hey! Watch it now, there's too many people in here already. Two of
you kids can stay here, no more. The rest of you can wait out front, we'll
be out in a couple of minutes. And you, young lady, watch your language" he
admonished, casting a parental look at Becka. The crowd quickly thinned out,
obeying without question the authority in Phil's voice. Soon the only
newcomers left were Milo, by virtue of being Joe's best friend, and Sammie,
simply because she had grabbed onto Joe's hand and refused to let go. When
the room had cleared, Milo was the first to break the silence.
	"Dude, what the hell happened to you? Man, we liked to freak when we
couldn't find you. It was Harper did this to you, wasn't it? And he put that
bomb in your locker, too. Damn, I swear, I am so gonna fuck that freak up!
Man, I'm gonna—Owww!" Milo whined, rubbing the back of his head where Becka
had slapped him. "Hey, what'd you do that for?"
	"If I can't swear, you can't swear. Now listen, Harper and his losers
jumped Joe in the bathroom and did this to him, but Joe did a whole lot
worse to them. He's walking out of here, but they're being carried out. Joe
beat the sh—uh, the snot out of them."

	The babble of voices that erupted following that announcement were enough
to drive Phil Cameron out of the nurse's station, and with one last nod to
his daughters he made his way out into the hallway. The large man stood
there, breathing deeply, watching as the last of the students passed through
the emptying halls and disappeared into their next classes.
	Phil shook his head, sadly, thinking of his own high school days, and
trying to remember if they had been as complicated as those of his girls. He
didn't think so, although he knew that it had been tough for him. It was a
crazy, scary time for any kid, but sometimes it seemed like his daughters
attracted more than their fair share of problems.
	Phil was pulled from these somber thoughts by a sound approaching from down
the hall. He looked over his shoulder to see a procession winding its way
towards the exit he stood in front of. Apparently, the Paramedics had
decided to let the halls clear before they moved their patients out. They
had also been joined by reinforcements, as there were now six paramedics and
three stretchers to transport their loads. And bringing up the rear of the
little convoy he could see the hulking forms of his brother and nephew, two
grim figures keeping a watchful eye on the guys who had hurt one of their
family.
	Phil exchanged nods with the other two Cameron men, and then joined them as
they watched the Paramedics try to negotiate the stretchers through the big
double doors. It was his nephew Tom who first broke the silence.
	"Anything happen, Uncle Phil?"
	"Naaw, nothing much. The cops and the school Principal are still talking
over what to charge those three with. Becka has a broken nose, their friend
Joe is in worse shape, and Gia's mad enough to start biting. You?"
	"Nothing, either. We kept an eye on those guys, but nobody said anything. I
think Dad made the kid with the broken jaw wet himself, though."
	Phil grinned, exchanging glances with his man-mountain of a brother. Manny
just shrugged and waved his hand dismissively, as if to say "I always have
that affect on people".
	"So they really did put a bomb in Becka's locker? Why, is it because she's
gay?"
	Phil glanced sharply at his nephew. He knew how Manny's son felt about
homosexuals, male or female. Tom was the only one who had not welcomed Becka
to the family when they had adopted her. He had never been rude, if anything
he had been overly polite, even distant. And he had been noticeably cool
towards Gia since she had come out of the closet, too.
	Still, he was here. Becka had been hurt, and he had come. That went a long
way in Phil's book.
	"No. No, this had nothing to do with the girls' being gay. Those punks out
there had been harassing a friend of theirs, and it was his locker they put
that blasting cap in. Becka was just in the wrong place, wrong time."
	"And I wish to hell you'd get over this thing you have about gay people,
Tommy" Manny Cameron rumbled, his voice rumbling like a rockslide in a
cavern.
	"The church says it's wrong, Dad. You know that." The admonishment was part
of an old argument, and other than a slight reddening around his ears Tom
didn't seem to be too concerned by his father's words.
	Phil politely ignored the byplay, and instead followed the tiny procession
of wounded out the door and into the parking lot, where three ambulances now
waited. He looked behind him and spotted Joe and his daughters, coming out
of the school, followed by two of their friends. One was the skinny black
kid with the big mouth, and the other was Sammie Waters, the girl they were
throwing a birthday party for on Saturday. From the way Joe was holding onto
her hand, there was obviously something going on between them. Good, he
thought, the kid had more than earned a little happiness in his life.

	Joe stopped were he was, staring at the main source of all the pain and
humiliation that he had been suffering for so long. The beatings, the
pranks, the deliberate acts of degradation, all rolled up into three figures
huddled on stretchers, waiting to be taken to the hospital. And he, the butt
of all their viciousness, was walking away in triumph. Hell, he thought,
giving Sammie's hand a squeeze, he even got the girl! How cliché was that?
Just like in the movies.
	But life wasn't a movie. It didn't end when the good guy got the girl, and
the credits rolled. It only ended when there was no chance for a freaking
sequel.
	Joe looked over at Becka, saw her beautiful face marred by blood and
bandages, and by the bruises already forming around her eyes. He knew his
own was probably worse. They shared a look, and maybe for a few seconds he
knew what that strange, non-verbal communication she and Gia shared was
like. It was as if they both knew what he needed to do, and she nodded her
encouragement. Joe took a deep breath, and let all emotion drop from his
face. He gave Sammie's hand one last squeeze, dropped it, and crossed the
walkway to face his tormentors.
	The three stretchers had been formed into a loose grouping, facing outward,
so that when they were moved into the ambulances they would go in headfirst.
The reclining frames had been raised up, so that the three occupants were
half sitting, half lying on the stretchers. They could not help but see the
diminutive boy who now stood only a few feet away, watching them. Or maybe
judging.

	Becka, Gia, Milo and Sammie watched the strange tableau silently, the two
sisters the only ones who really knew what was going on, but the other two
sensing its importance. From their seats on the stretchers Gary Harper and
his two henchmen began to fidget nervously, looking away and trying to avoid
the other boy's eyes. Finally Milo leaned towards Gia and whispered, "I
don't get it. What's happening?"

	"Joe's facing them down. He's letting them know that he's not afraid of
them anymore, and that he's never going to be anybody's victim, ever again.
What was it you called this, Becka?"

	"Putting the period on the end of the sentence," the blonde girl answered,
her voice soft and yet hard at the same time. Milo imagined he could hear
both pride, and a grim satisfaction in her words. For some reason it made
him shiver.
	Eventually the Paramedics noticed what was going on, and Joe turned away
before they said anything. When he was back with his friends he looked at
them sheepishly, until Sammie pulled him into a hug and he could bury his
face into her soft brown hair.
	From the direction of the far parking lot Mike Breen and Jack Garrett
approached, the uniformed cop carrying a plain cardboard box. Flanking him
were four Orange County Sheriff's Deputies, three of whom pulled away from
the group and made their way to the backdoors of the waiting ambulances.
When Sgt. Breen arrived in front of the loaded stretchers, he indicated with
a wave of his hand that the paramedics should wait. He handed the cardboard
box to his remaining deputy, then pulled a laminated card from his shirt
pocket and addressed the three boys who were now eying him nervously.
	"Gary Harper, Ronald Hooker, and Matthew Ingles, it is my duty to inform
you that you are now under arrest for the possession for sale of illegal
narcotics. As such, you have the right to remain silent. If you give up that
right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
	Breen continued to read them their rights from the card he carried, even as
the three perpetrators got over their shock and tried to protest. Their
denials where ineffectual, especially as the only one of them who did not
have a bandaged mouth was Ron Hooker, who was too busy trying to lay the
blame for everything on Harper and Ingles. The former conspirators were
still howling at each other as they were loaded into the ambulances, each
with a uniformed deputy to keep him company.
	As the last ambulance left the parking lot, Phil wandered over to stand
next to Jack Garrett, who had his hands in his pockets and was watching the
whole proceedings with an amused expression on his face. He nodded
pleasantly at Phil, who nodded back and said, "I see you found a way around
the probable cause problem."
	Jack nodded a confirmation, "Oh, yeah. Used to be, searching a student's
personal vehicle was a lot harder than searching his locker. But then we
added a waiver of rights to the application they have to sign to get a
parking pass. Nobody ever reads those, but believe me, we keep them on file.
	"It says that as long as I have reason to believe that the safety of the
students or the welfare of school property is threatened, than I have the
right to search any vehicle bearing a permit. In my opinion, it is more than
likely that Gary Harper has brought explosives onto this campus. The
possibility that he has more explosives in his possession is therefore
reasonable." The Principal and chief officer of Roosevelt High School
gestured across at the hard bitten street cop, his voice now taking on a
hardness that Phil recognized and identified with immediately. "And, while
searching said vehicle, if I should find approximately five pounds of
marijuana and over a dozen bottles of prescription pills, well..."
	Phil laughed, and slapped the other man on his shoulder. When the five
teens stopped in front of him he gave them a nod, and then addressed
Garrett.
	"Jack, I gotta go. I need to take Joe and Becka to the doctor's. I'll also
take Gia, if it's alright with you."
	"Fine, there's only one more period left today, anyhow. However, I'm afraid
Mr. Michaels and Miss Waters won't be joining you. If I remember correctly,
they and several of their friends have detention tonight."
	He looked pointedly at the two students named, who both moaned but nodded
obediently. They said their goodbyes, with Sammie giving Joe a promising
smile that probably made his heart skip a couple of beats. Eventually the
father, daughters, and one battered friend were left alone on the sidewalk.
	It was soon agreed that Phil would drive Becka and Joe over to the doctor's
office in his Bronco, while Gia followed in the girls' Mustang. After
settling the two battered ones in the back seat, Phil paused while buckling
his own seatbelt. He thought about his daughters, about how he felt at the
way they had stood up for their friend. His pride in his children was always
there, but at times like this it became almost fierce. And now he found
himself experiencing the same depth of feeling for Joe Munson, also. This
little kid who just a week ago had collapsed on his patio from the fear and
stress of his life, had today fought like a lion against three to one odds
to defend his Becka. The depth of character displayed by these two! Phil
turned in his seat, intending to let them know just how proud of them he
was, but stopped and stared instead.
	Apparently the two teenagers had just enough energy left to belt themselves
in, but not one iota more. They now slumped against each other in sleep,
Joe's face buried in Becka's shoulder, her cheek resting against the top of
his head. A soft, nasal snore was coming from her mouth, along with a single
line of drool that disappeared into Joe's dark spiky hair.
	Phil grinned, and started the engine. Yeah, it could wait.

(continued)