Chapter 11: Innocence Lost

Wednesday got off to an interesting start. To allow time for a good strip we Program people get to school early. No problem. I'm an early riser to get in practice time, and so's Matt. It's a good thing we got there when we did, given what was going on.

From student parking Matt and I made our way around to the front entrance. Having worn my sexiest underwear, I was really looking forward to him stripping me but instead we walked into the battle of Gettysburg.

Seriously, the armies were forming up.

And yeah, I know Gettysburg, Civil War, the high water mark of the Confederacy, is in Pennsylvania. In her drive to Americanize us Me dragged Bao and me off to see a local re-enactment of the battle, complete with blue and gray uniforms, muskets and drums and bugles, even horses. I think maybe Bao had read The Red Badge of Courage or something and talked her into it.

Anyway, since they left out the blood and gore the reenactment really was pretty cool, as theater -- lots of smoke and noise. Maybe if there'd been some gore Bao wouldn't have joined the Marines.

No, that's not true. Can't blame that on Gettysburg or The Red Badge of Courage.

At any rate, at the bottom of the hill, across the street from the front of the school, we had the usual Kill-the-Program crowd standing in for Longstreet's forces. Overnight it had probably tripled in numbers, and quadrupled in noise.

The noise! Instead of Pickett's drums and bugles they had a small brass band -- trumpet, trombone, horn and, of course, a drum -- blatting and thumping out an off-key march tune. Adding to the din a small generator droned like a wasp, powering a portable amp and cheap speakers that only distorted the racket.

It made me realize how much I missed Terrell's sweet music. Where was the school band when we needed it?

Instead of a Confederate flag they had a banner that read "Community Leagues of Decency." All that was needed to complete the picture were muskets with bayonets.

I couldn't identify the music. It sure wasn't Mozart -- or Sousa, for that matter, or anything by Stephen Foster. Wasn't Dixie either. By amplifying the so-called musicians they had to be violating some sort of anti-noise law.

There were a couple of cops looking on. One, with his back to the source of the noise had a finger in one ear and was talking into his collar. At one point he turned, probably so his collar could pick up the racket. Then he turned away again, shaking his head.

Only two cops? That was a real thin blue line.

But so far the protesters were obeying the law and staying on their side of the street.

But back to Gettysburg.

Standing in for Cemetery Ridge was the front steps of the school. At the top Devers, Central High's General Meade, waited for Pickett's Charge. Only instead of a low stone wall, a split-rail fence and an army, all she had was a rag tag bunch of students -- some who would be naked pretty soon -- and the Spirit of Central High statue.

"Oh shit," Matt groaned.

"What's wrong?"

He waved at the banner. "The Community Leagues of Decency."

"What about 'em?"

"Trouble, that's what. They shut down The Program in Iowa."

"The whole state?"

He nodded. "I left here too soon to get to be in it and it was dead there before I had a chance."

"But they can't do that! It's a federal program."

"They did it. One town at a time was what I heard. Or maybe that should be one school district. Since I was at the gymnastics camp I was just on the fringes. The story going 'round was they'd settle in a place that had the Program and start rumors about rapes in the hallways and stuff. Then by promising to fix that they got themselves elected to the local school board. Next thing you knew, no more Program. Don't ask me why the Feds didn't do anything to stop 'em."

I could've told him. Suddenly the breakdown in Washington didn't seem like such a good thing. Sure it gave Devers and Andrews free rein, but took away that protection.

I eyed the banner sourly. "Community Leagues of Decency. Maybe we should call 'em CLODs, for short."

"Works for me," Matt agreed.

Then I took in the rest of the scene. The school buses were unloading, adding to the usual scrum waiting for the great unveiling.

Devers' reinforcements, such as they were.

But there was something out of place on the field of battle. It looked like the cheerleaders -- in full uniform -- were in no-man's land, setting up stuff on a long table oppositethe Spirit of Central High statue.

Just so you know, the walk leading from the school steps down to the street ran between the statue and table where boxes and bags and paper plates were being unloaded on the table.

I thought that over. Obviously someone had really screwed up. Who'd schedule a bake sale for Wednesday morning? That was crazy

Gathered between the base of the statue and the school steps the rest of the Program people were ready to provide the entertainment. Matt and I moved to join 'em.

"Shouldn't you be there? You're a cheerleader," Matt asked, pointing at the cheerleaders.

I gave him an elbow. "So're you. Shouldn't you? Nobody told me!"

"Nobody told me, either. Must've happened while the four of us were getting it on yesterday afternoon. Anyway at least I got a legitimate excuse."

"Like what?"

"A bake sale's not a guy thing. We only do car washes."

That got him an elbow in the gut and we both laughed.

Mrs. Devers at the top of the steps wasn't unusual. Wednesdays being hump day -- pun intended -- sometimes things got kinda rowdy at the strip-off. But her attention was across the street. She did not look amused, but definitely commanding.

Matt looked from the bake sale to the CLODs. "They're missing a great opportunity!"

"Who? The CLODs?"

"No, the bake sale. They got a ready-made market right over there. I bet the CLODs've been there since dawn cracked. They're probably hungry."

"But they can't cross the street," I pointed out.

"I know. That's the mistake the bake sale people made. They should be down there pushing their cookies instead of up here."

Meanwhile Donna and the cheerleaders were even keeping the growing horde of hungry students away from the table. It made no sense, unless...

Chocolate chip cookies! It was all chocolate chip cookies!

Suddenly it was like this whole thing dropped on my head, or in my hands, or something. It was a scheme worthy of Dee! Was Devers up to what I think she was? And could we get in on it? How much time did I have?

I took off running.

"Where ya going?"

Spinning around I danced backwards. "I gotta talk to Devers. Tell the guys to get naked. If this is what I think it is we're gonna have some fun!"

Devers! If she had anything in mind, anything to do with this, she wasn't about let it show. Instead she'd let me run out the rope so I could hang myself.

Standing two steps below her so I had to crane my neck – like I needed that! – I talked, she listened, looking ever-so thoughtful while I waved my arms.

She had just the hint of a smile when she nodded and sent me on my way with nothing more than a few words of advice and a "go to it."

Gee thanks. I'd just put all of us Naked in Schoolers' bodies on the front line!

My next stop was the bake sale, which of course turned out not to be what it seemed.

In the first place, the inventory was limited to one thing -- home-baked chocolate chip cookies. Bushels of 'em. In the second there were no provisions for receiving money or making change, not a price tag in sight.

But the cheerleaders were there, in uniform and in force. Waldorf was standing back, leaving Donna in charge of the troops.

All Donna knew for sure at that point was that yesterday afternoon the cheerleaders had been drafted into baking an army's worth of cookies – specifically chocolate chip cookies, like that was important. They were to be here in uniform, and that they'd get their orders this morning.

While Donna had her suspicions the menu confirmed mine. When I explained my plan to her she looked relieved and got a wicked grin.

"You go girl!"

I'd just saved her troops from facing the CLODs up close and personal.

I went back to where the Naked in School contingent was getting -- uh -- naked.

Already exposed, Haddy, tucked under Lestat's arm, was all aquiver and ashiver, her jungle vines dancing, her good eye and eye-patch jewel both glittering in the morning sun. She and Lestat were stuck together like magnets. Matt started undressing me, but we didn't make any ceremony out of it. Time was short.

While Matt was stripping me down, I gathered everyone around. "Okay, here's Devers' plan..."

You don't think I was about to take credit!

" ... since the CLODs..."

"The who?" Mason asked. She's the more typical cheerleader type, I guess you'd say, only smarter. Showing off naked was old stuff for her.

"Look at the banner," I urged, giving a wave, trying to keep my balance as Matt drew my lacy panties down so I could step out of 'em, tripping as I did. That got a bit of a laugh from the group, especially when he "accidentally" caught me by my naked crotch to steady me. Wow! He could've gone for my hip instead.

I had to talk loud to be heard over the amplified band, but I didn't want to tip off the enemy forces. "Matt tells me that bunch over there, or one like it, killed off The Program in the whole state of Iowa."

"That must've upset all the pig farmers no end," Cal's NiS partner snorted. She still wasn't real close to him, by the looks of it. Maybe she had a significant other.

"We're gonna try to talk reason to 'em," I explained. I didn't need to do a head count of our forces. Everyone knew there were eight of us, four of 'em male.

I shot a look at the CLODs lineup and counted noses. It looked like a couple dozen of them, pretty evenly divided. They only outnumbered us by about three to one.

"I think we can handle them without extra help," I decided. "We don't want to intimidate 'em."

"Doing what?" Melody of the uneven boobs asked. Her tits were already labeled. The big one was "Papa Bear's" while the little one was "Baby Bear's." Another label and an arrow indicated her pussy was Mama Bear's. Given a chance I'd check out all three.

"Matt gave me the idea," I answered.

"I did?" He was amusing himself with my nipples. Definitely a tit man, but he likes 'em small.

I pushed his hand away. "Don't distract me. This is serious stuff, and it's partly your fault. I figure they followed you here from Iowa."

"Did not! I don't even know what you're talking about."

I swatted his hand away again. "Pay attention and you will. It was you who pointed out the CLODs can't cross the street to get to the bake sale."

It was a struggle, but he managed to keep his hands off me while he agreed.

"So that got me thinking. If they can't come to the bake sale we take the bake sale to them. Curb side service you might say."

Cal was looking worried. "Naked? Did the Devil put you up to doing this?"

"No, she was just going to sic the cheerleaders on them. I volunteered us."

That almost triggered mutiny, until I pointed out that since we were in The Program we should be the ones defending it, not the cheerleaders.

"Think of it as outreach."

They grumbled but couldn't disagree, moving in closer so I didn't have to yell.

"Devers' orders are we keep it squeaky clean. No sex play. We don't want to scare 'em. We don't want to start a riot, or an orgy. We just want to show them we're kids without clothes on, not armed sex maniacs..."

"Speak for yourself," Lestat said in his lascivious vampire voice.

"Shut up, you're not in on this for just that reason.

"Our goal is to open their minds not their zippers," I went on. "Okay? She doesn't expect 'em to grope us, and neither do I. They're protesters, not lechers."

Nobody looked disappointed. The CLODs weren't exactly appealing. Most of them were our parents' age or older, except for a couple of little kids. They were probably only there because mom couldn't get a baby sitter, or maybe for PR purposes.

"Unarmed? What about hard-ons?" Barry, Mason's senior partner in nakedness, was sporting quite a prod. In fact all the guys were carrying wood. As if they could control that.

"Just don't shoot," I warned him. "I'm sorry Matt, and you, too, Lestat. This's got to be us Program people only. You'd scare the shit out of them. What's more innocent looking than naked teens?"

Matt grumbled but fortunately he and Lestat had sense enough not to argue. Thank God no one asked who'd elected me to run this thing. They were happy to go along, but I could see the two guys thinking they'd be right there in case of trouble anyway.

"You stay on the curb on this side of the street!" I ordered firmly.

They gave each other that innocent uh-huh sorta look that didn't fool me one bit.

"Please!" I added.

While I'd been talking the last of the school buses finished dropping off its load and cleared the street that was really the school driveway. The growing crowd was milling around like sheep on the lawn. The usual cadre of teachers was there to keep order and it even looked like they were trying to sort the troops by homeroom. Apparently Devers had the school's front doors blocked.

She wanted us to have an audience I guess, or have troops in reserve in case we failed and triggered an assault. The students weren't exactly the Army of the Potomac, but we vastly outnumbered the CLODs if it came to that.

We had an audience, that was sure. We'd stripped in full sight of the CLODs, and that hadn't been by accident. At least they didn't have binoculars. They had even gotten louder at the exposure of our naked skin. Their little quartet or whatever it was was still bravely squawking out something resembling martial music.

I shot Devers a look. She was still up on the school steps, as unreadable as ever.

She'd set it up and I'd provided the cannon fodder. In a way I felt kinda proud! She'd done the same thing more than once with Dee, who'd always risen to the occasion. I felt like I was in good company. On occasion Dee had turned the tables on Devers, too, making the vice principal a tool of her scheme. Maybe someday...

Only right now I had to figure out how we were going to handle this. Time was running out.

"Why are we doing this?" Haddy asked. "Those people on the other side of the street do not seem to approve of us being naked. Are we to just walk up to them like this?"

I'd been working on that myself and spoke to all of them. "Yeah, with cookies for ammunition. Dee once told me that there's no disagreement that can't be settled by discussing it over a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Let's just call it 'cookie diplomacy.' Calm debates, no arguments..."

Suddenly the noise level dropped away, the little generator's drone cutting off, taking the amplifiers with it so I could talk softer. I looked over and saw a familiar face and uniform had joined the cops, Maria Sanchez -- no not our soccer star Maria Sanchez, Dee's favorite cop Maria Sanchez --no relation. She was talking to the CLODs' leader, who didn't look happy. Apparently she'd ordered the plug pulled on the PA system.

Good for her! Damn she looked good in that uniform, the lieutenant bars gleaming on it! She is stacked. I always wondered if maybe she and Dee had a thing. Just another of Dee's little secrets.

Having lost their amplification the CLODs raised their voices, and the language they used was shocking! Freedom of speech and all that. Yada yada yada.

And would you look at that! The media was even here! Let's hear it for freedom of the press. At least one photographer, and someone with a TV camera, someone else with a microphone. And think of all the cell phones ready to capture this!

"C'mon guys, let's take arms against the foe. Everyone grab a plate of cookies."

"Do we have to pay for 'em?" Cal asked. "I'm not carrying any money."

And just where would he carry it? I wondered. Where is brains should be?

"Don't worry about it. This is courtesy of the cheerleaders who did the baking. Let's get this done."

I led them past the table, picking up paper plates loaded with -- what else? -- chocolate chip cookies.

"What if the -- what'd you call 'em?" the freshman boy asked.

"CLODs."

"Yeah, what if they attack us or somethin'?"

"The cops are right there, and we're armed with cookies. Now remember to be nice. Everybody smile."

I guess there's something about eight naked teens marching double-file that made an impression, even in a school that'd had The Program for five years. Realizing that Something was Happening the milling students fell back, clearing the walkway, the teachers helping.

Without saying anything it was me and Haddy in the lead, my ankle twinging, her lurching only a little on her prosthetic. Behind us the other partners had formed up in pairs.

The sight of us advancing was enough to stifle the CLODs. The press and TV people were quick to grab their chance for pictures of us on the march, even dashing over to get in front of us as we came down the walk. The guy with the TV camera even got down low, shooting up at me in nothing and Haddy in only her tatts and eyepatch, the school in the background against the sky.

He scuttled away like a crab before I tripped over him. I wondered if Devers had struck a pose behind me like she'd ordered us forward.

Jeez this felt good! Was this how Dee felt when she led us out into the halls of middle school from our sex ed class?

Don't get used to it a little voice inside me warned. And don't make a habit of it!

What was it Bao had said? Never volunteer. Not that he always took his own advice. That's not the way of a Marine. Here I was, doing as he did not as he said.

Shit.

I politely brushed aside questions from a reporter who poked a microphone in my face. "We can't comment. Talk with Mrs. Devers up there on the steps."

"That's why she's paid the big bucks," I muttered when he left. Haddy giggled.

Stopping at the curb I spread my troops to either side of me in line of battle.

I took that good old deep cleansing breath, in the nose, in, in, in, and out the mouth, out, out, out.

Trust me. Unless you've got a hanky the size of a parachute it's in the nose and out the mouth, not the other way around.

My plate of cookies leading the way, conscious of the cameras and how naked I was, I stepped off the curb into the street. I went right for the center of the line, straight at the man who seemed to be in charge, who'd rallied his forces who wanted to retreat in the face of our pulchritude. He even bravely took a step forward to meet me.

He wasn't exactly imposing. In fact he was something out of Hollywood type-casting for a self-important twit; not very tall, a little chubby, pink cheeked, balding, a few wisps of hair fluttering in the morning breeze. He puffed himself up, folding his arms.