Chapter 5: Second Day

Today marked the first time this week that I’d be meeting Carrie outside her house. As I approached, I couldn’t help but notice a difference from last Friday morning when she was dressed in a sharp blouse and slacks. Shaking off the observation, I reminded myself that we had both chosen this unconventional lifestyle and now we simply had to accept the consequences.

As I drew closer to Carrie, a sudden urge overcame me, and without hesitation, I reached out my arms to pull her into a hug. Despite the potential for misinterpretation, I disregarded any concerns, simply craving the warmth of her embrace. To my relief, she reciprocated, wrapping her arms around me so that our bodies were nearly intertwined. Lost in the moment, I couldn’t quite grasp what had compelled me to initiate such an intimate gesture, especially right in front of her house.

Before I could dwell on it further, I found myself leaning in to kiss her on the lips, the action surprising even myself. Breaking away from the embrace, I greeted her with a simple “Good Morning,” to which she replied in kind. As we separated, a faint awareness dawned upon me that the hug had stirred unexpected feelings within me.

Reflecting on the encounter, I realized with a jolt that I had never considered myself attracted to women before. Yet here I was, navigating through high school without a serious boyfriend, much like Carrie. Confused and uncertain about what had prompted my actions, I couldn’t shake the lingering sense of bewilderment.

As we began our walk, a comfortable silence settled between us, neither of us feeling the need to fill the space with words. With each step, we passed by three more houses, the familiar sights of the neighborhood unfolding around us.

Glancing up, I noticed with a pang of recognition that we were nearing Evelyn’s house, just one and a half houses away from our current location. The realization stirred a mix of emotions within me, memories and thoughts intertwining as we continued on our path.

“Carrie, would you like to walk two to school with us?” I proposed, curious about adding another companion to our morning routine.

“Sure,” Carrie agreed readily, her enthusiasm evident in her response.

We made our way to Two’s house, and Carrie rang the doorbell. Two’s mom opened the door, greeting us warmly.

Without hesitation, I asked, “Could we walk Sub Two, to school today?”

“Sure, you both can take her to school,” Two’s mom replied with a smile. “All I ask is that you make sure to hand her over to her homeroom teacher when you arrive.”

I turned to Two’s mom and asked, “Is she ready?”

What followed surprised both Carrie and me. Two’s mom revealed, “She’s out back getting a shower with the garden hose since she slept outside and on top of her doll last night.”

After her mom finished speaking, I noticed Carrie’s gaze shifting towards the back part of the room, near the kitchen. Suddenly, a dripping-wet figure emerged and made its way toward us.

“Girls, she’s ready,” Two’s dad confirmed, prompting disbelief to wash over me. Their high school senior daughter stood before us, still dripping from a shower with the backyard hose.

I exchanged a bewildered glance with Carrie, both of us struggling to comprehend the unexpected sight before us.

I couldn’t help but blurt out, “Are you ready?” expecting a response from Two. To my surprise, she knelt just like she did yesterday after school, though this time it was still damp from her outdoor shower. However, she remained silent, simply casting a glance up at her mom.

Approaching us, Two’s mom handed us a dog leash, the unexpectedness of the situation evident on both Carrie’s and my faces. As she placed it in my hand, Carrie’s stunned expression mirrored my disbelief.

“Ms ... Are you serious?” Carrie managed to voice our shared astonishment, her tone tinged with incredulity.

Her response caught us off guard. “Be careful with her, she is very new at this, so please take good care of her while she is in your hands,” Two’s mom emphasized, her tone conveying a mix of concern and expectation.

“And after school, since you both have the same class, I would like you both to bring her back here,” she continued, outlining her expectations for us.

“Oh, one more thing before you walk out of here,” she added, her voice carrying a note of importance. “While she is in your custody, she will do whatever you tell her to do, with no exceptions and no arguments.”

With those instructions given, Two’s mom concluded, “Girls, have a great day at school, and I am looking forward to seeing you later.” Her farewell was warm, yet the weight of her words lingered, leaving Carrie and me feeling both intrigued and apprehensive about our unexpected responsibility.

As we were leaving, the weight of the leash attached to the collar felt surreal. Carrie’s voice broke the silence, her disbelief echoing my thoughts. “What was that?” she asked her tone a mixture of confusion and incredulity.

I observed Sub Two as she walked confidently, her head held high despite the collar and leash attached to her. It was as if she were completely indifferent to how bizarre the scene appeared to outsiders.

Fortunately, the school grounds were just a block away from her house, sparing us from an extended journey. This proximity was a small blessing amidst the peculiarity of the situation, allowing us to reach the campus relatively quickly and begin our day.

As we stepped onto the school grounds and approached the gathering of students, I couldn’t ignore the stares directed our way. It seemed that every person in sight was watching us, Sub Two being led by a leash. The scene felt incredibly out of place, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort it brought. The abnormality of the situation was undeniable; casting a strange atmosphere over what should have been a typical morning at school.

I glanced at Carrie, and she quietly suggested, “Let’s just keep walking.” So, we continued leading Sub two toward the office. I turned to Carrie and said, “I’ll meet you at lunch, same spot as yesterday.”

“Sure,” she replied with a nod, the weight of the morning’s events still palpable in the air between us.

As Carrie began to walk away, I guided “Two” toward the teachers in the office. Pushing open the door, I noticed Ms. Smith had yet to notice our arrival. The other students in the office watched us enter, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity. Just as I was about to approach Ms. Smith with “Two,” she turned around, catching sight of us. The look of surprise on her face was unmistakable. “Bailey, I understand she’s a substitute now, but what’s with the leash?” Ms. Smith asked her tone a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment.

Approaching Ms. Smith, a knot of discomfort tightened in my stomach as I released the leash into her hands. With a steadying breath, I launched into an explanation, each word heavy with the weight of the peculiar circumstances. “Two is treated as a slave at home, and the leash was her parents’ idea,” I admitted, hoping to offer some clarity amid the confusion that hung in the air.

Ms. Smith’s gaze bore into mine; her features shifting subtly as understanding dawned upon her. There was a moment of silence, pregnant with unspoken thoughts, before she nodded slowly, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the situation. Turning her attention towards the reception desk, she issued a directive with unwavering resolve. “Please get Two’s parents on the line,” she instructed, her voice tempered with a mixture of concern and determination.

As Ms. Smith took control of the situation, a surge of conflicting emotions washed over me. Relief mingled with apprehension as I accepted her decision, knowing that the burden of responsibility was now in capable hands. With a lingering glance over my shoulder, I stepped out into the hallway, the weight of the encounter still heavy upon my shoulders, leaving a palpable sense of unease in its wake.

The morning drifted away, marked by the passing periods and the shuffle of students between classes, until I found myself seated in my next class before lunch: Fundamentals of Art. As I took my place among the familiar rows of desks, I couldn’t shake the feeling of mild disappointment that had lingered with me throughout the semester. Despite my initial enthusiasm for the subject, I hadn’t quite found the fulfillment I had hoped for in this particular class.

The curriculum thus far had largely consisted of painting flowers and baskets of fruit, exercises that, while technically valuable, failed to ignite the spark of creativity I longed for. With each stroke of the brush, I yearned for something more stimulating, something that would truly challenge my artistic abilities and reignite my passion for the craft.

As the minutes ticked by, anticipation buzzed in the air, heightened by the promise of something different. Finally, our teacher strode to the front of the class, her presence commanding attention.

With a gleam in her eye, she addressed us, her words sparking a flicker of excitement within me. “Class,” she began her voice vibrant with enthusiasm, “I thought today we would try to draw something more interesting than what you all have been doing so far.”

With her words, a wave of excitement swept through the classroom, evident in the hushed whispers and eager rustling of papers. “Now class, settle down, please,” our teacher’s voice cut through the chatter, prompting a quick silence to fall over the room.

“What I brought you today to draw is a gift from the principal, for your drawing enjoyment,” she announced, her tone laced with anticipation. As she spoke, a sense of curiosity bubbled within me, a growing suspicion forming about what lay hidden beneath the draped fabric.