Chapter 3: Bruises

Water off my pigtail streamed down the crack of my naked butt. I wiped my face with a towel. The fronts of my thighs burned like a son of a bitch. Coming up short on a front two-and-a-half does that, especially after a dozen tries.

Or whatever it was. I don't give up easy. I was gonna be black and blue by lunchtime. Early morning practices can be a pain.

Literally.

"Why can't I get that dive, Terrell?"

"Don't ask me. I'm a musician."

"Were you even watching? Or were you waiting for me to be going down for the third time to rescue me?"

"I was watching, but don't 'spect too much from me. You said it yourself. I'm a lifeguard. Part-time, no less. Not a diving coach."

I gave him an affectionate smack on the arm. "You're no help!"

"Don't abuse the lifeguard. I do know what's goin' on. Front two-and-a-half pike. What's the Degree of Difficulty on that? Two something?"

Now I was done practicing he was stowing the pad he keeps music on in his satchel. It's a good thing that gadget is well sealed, given the amount of time he uses it around the pool. It's like a rain forest in here, perfumed with chlorine. The fading waves slapped softly in the gutters.

Of course he was as naked as I was, just in case he did have to dive in and rescue my sorry ass. But not work on his music while he's here? Ain't gonna happen! With him every spare minute is music, music, music.

Well, and me, me, me. He's pretty good that way.

"Two-six," I answered.

"Didn't you tell me nothing tougher than one-eight is allowed?"

"In competition. Nothing says I can't do it in practice. If I hit it clean in warm-ups it'll rattle the competition and the judges'll be kissing my ass."

Diving is very much a head game.

Terrell tucked me against his side, his big hand fondling the ass in question. "I'm the onliest one that kisses this ass! Though when you do that dive tuck instead of pike it looks like you're kissing your own ass. Why not do it tuck?"

"'Cause it's harder and looks better pike. And kissing my own ass isn't nearly as much fun as you doing it."

"You'll get it, Kim-Ly," he assured me.

I wasn't sure whether Terrell meant I'd get the dive, or get my ass kissed. He knows when he calls me Kim-Ly I get all warm and runny.

High on the wall was the list of last year's swimmers who's medaled at the state championships. Dee Walker topped every women's category but the long races she didn't enter, like the 1500. Too boring She'd retired from diving the year before and trained me up as her replacement. The best I could do was second to some skinny senior bitch from upstate.

But she was proud of me anyway, reminding me seniors always have the edge 'cause they've build a rep. She pointed out that second's not bad for a soph.

But it's not first. I will take the gold this year. Dee probably would have her junior year if she hadn't broken her neck.

I gave my tush a sexy wiggle as Terrell's finger explored my crack. "Is that a threat or a promise?" I asked him.

"Take it however you want it." His finger went a bit deeper. He's definitely an ass man. My ass man!

"You know I'll take it any way you give it to me đen cây to. Shower with me?"

"Of course! In addition to being your ebony giant am I not your lifeguard? If you should drown in the shower I'd lose my license!"

"Can't let that happen!" I glanced at the locker room clock. As usual I was cutting it close to opening bell. Twisting my pigtail in a towel to squeeze as much water as possible out of it I coiled the whole thing around my head.

With a shower cap over that I looked like a mushroom. It'd still be wet, but not dripping. Tonight I'd have to dry it and comb it out and re-braid it.

Playing tag under the warm spray we got each other all soapy-slippery before I climbed him like a monkey. Forget the kissing. His big hands cupped my firm buns, spreading them wide. I eased down on him, aiming his cock, giving a rectal push to open the gate.

Ooooo did that feel good sliding in my back door. Zowie! Once I had him completely buried and my insides stopped jumping I moved up and down, gently and slowly, little earthquakes rocking me, while we did our best to eat each other's faces. Leaning back, holding on to his neck with one hand, I reached down between us to diddle my clit. Getting more excited we went faster and harder, making my butt burn and oh wow!

It wasn't long before he was giving me a hot semen enema and I was wriggling and wiggling, my coming burning me on his stake. I do my best to keep my unpaid lifeguard happy. It's a tough job, but ... well, you get the idea.

Then he was shriveling and my body insisted on crapping him out. After I slid down we cuddled for a few wonderful minutes.

Of course we had to wash each other again and were late getting to our separate homerooms, as usual. If I was lucky I'd see him after lunch for a few minutes. With him a senior and me a junior our schedules clash so badly this year we hardly see each other. With Dolphus on the loose I spent the whole morning wishing I had a rear-view mirror.

I was on the way to lunch when someone tugged on my pigtail, making me jump out of my skin and spin around. Hadiya grabbed me and I grabbed her and with both of us off balance we did sort of a crazy dance in the hallway, scattering people around us.

Coincidence? Fate? We were almost at the exact same spot where we'd first met. I was instantly lost in her wonderful eye and wanted to hug her. Her scarf was a soft blue this time.

For a second I thought she felt the same, but she held me away. "I am sorry I frightened you. I thought you heard me calling. Are you alright?"

Why did I want to hug her? That eye, that lovely eye, and what I saw there. I had the feeling she needed me and I knew I needed her. She felt so delicate. It was hard to let go of her, even though I know how strong she is.

It was all so confusing!

"I'm okay. How's your leg?"

Hadiya actually kicked a little dance step. "Fixed. It is only a temporary repair, but Mr. Mac says he will replace the current knee joint with a better one when he can get it. He knows people who will make a whole new prosthetic for me if I wish, from top to bottom, with a better fitting socket. He says it is possible I may even play football again!"

"Football? Oh, soccer. That's great! But your father's beautiful work..."

"I still have it. See?" She drew up her loose pant leg to show the graceful calf and the carefully crafted ankle, her life-like toes with their painted nails showing.

"All Mr. Mac replaced yesterday is the knee joint. Plaar -- that's my father -- hopes I do get a new leg, he has told me so. He says he will be happy because I am happy. He wants to see me on the pitch, and even if Mr. Mac gives me a whole new leg I can keep the leg Plaar made for me, of course."

I'd already found out Plaar is Pashto for "daddy" like Cha means the same in Vietnamese.

"The pitch? Oh, you mean the soccer field."

"Yes! Mr. Mac says that maybe even the foot can be attached at the ankle to a whole new leg if I like." Even on her repaired leg she still limped, of course, but not as much. Even so I was glad I had an excuse to hold on to her.

"And how did your meeting with Mrs. Devers turn out yesterday afternoon? Did you get into trouble because of the clown in the wheelchair?" She giggled.

I shook my head. "No. I'll tell you at lunch."

At least this time we both walked into the lunchroom on our own feet, and second day traffic was lighter. Even so the entrance to the barfeteria was still pretty jammed and we got a lot of looks. By the end of the week things'd smooth out.

Since we'd both brown-bagged it we only had to do the drink line. As we got sorted out at our usual tables I worried. How much I should tell the posse? I'd figured out Devers's reputation as "the devil" was useful to her. I didn't want to spoil that. I also didn't want to become known as one of her favorites. Dee could pull that off, I couldn't.

Not that I want to be known as a trouble-maker, but teacher's pet is one barb I'd like to avoid.

I decided to leave out the laugh Devers and I had shared.

"So, how'd it go with the Devil yesterday?" Maria asked.

I shrugged. "Probation. I gotta stay out of trouble for a month."

"Think you can do it?"

Donna was across from me this time, smirking. While the tables are considered "ours" there's no assigned seating.

I made a face at her. "I'm not that much of a trouble maker! I just kinda get carried away sometimes. Dolphus didn't even get that!"

"What?" was the general reaction to that.

"No witnesses," I explained. "No one saw anything. No one heard anything. No one said..."

"Anything," they chorused.

Then everyone looked at Hadiya beside me.

She concentrated on her lunch, and I felt bad. After all, she'd been Dolph's victim -- I mean target. Victim's not the right word for her, certainly not in relation to Dolph. After all, she'd scored points on him with her hand.

I wondered what had happened to it. Devers didn't know.

She shrugged off the stares. "I do not choose to make a -- how would you say it? -- a big deal out of it. Mrs. Devers says it would be my word against his. If I say anything it would only anger him more and cause more trouble. It is over."

No one said anything to that. We all knew better. With him it was never over.

"Besides, my leg is fixed," Hadiya went on more brightly. "Mr. Mac tells me he will get me a new knee joint that is much better than the old one. Did you know that Mr. Mac is also missing his right leg?"

"But he doesn't limp as bad as you do," Esther pointed out. "Sorry, Hadiya."

"It is alright. I know that I limp, but with a new knee I will get better. His amputation is below the knee, which makes a big difference and he has a better prosthetic as well, more modern, with a better ankle. My father did not have the materials to work with. With a new knee Mr. Mac tells me that I might even be able to dance again, though he doesn't think I will be able to play football."

"Football?" Izzy asked. "You played football? But you're a girl, and so small!"

"She means what we call soccer," Maria gently reminded our smallest and youngest.

Izzy blushed. "Sorry."

"Sorry? What for? It is a mistake that I make as well," Hadiya reassured her. "I do not understand why you call it football when you use your hands so much."

"Good point." Alice was dealing with her lunch in her usual ladylike way. She's really not a priss, just refined. Her mom is into white gloves and polished manners.

"What position did you play?" Maria asked. "Or were your games that organized?"

"Oh yes, they were very organized, even though our field was usually just dirt instead of grass. We had a boys' team and a girls' team, small ones. Sometimes we played against each other. My father was the coach. I was what you call a striker. I could run like the wind!" she added wistfully. "And corner kicks! I used to be able to -- what was that film? -- I could bend it like Beckham."

"I saw that movie!" Izzy commented. "Is your mother like hers? She doesn't want you to play?"

"Of course not! I told you, my father was the coach. He went to college. We are a very liberal family."

"When you do get your new leg maybe you could give me some tips. We could use another good player, or maybe an assistant coach, if you're up to it."

Maria is not one to miss an opportunity.

Hadiya eyed her. "A one-legged soccer player? I do not think they make a prosthetic that could stand up to my corner kicks. Anyway, I talked with the coach. He won't even let me try out"

"That's not fair! You can't know if you can play until you try," Maria pointed out.

Hadiya shrugged, but I could see her considering it.

"Speaking of things sporting," Donna interrupted, looking at me for some reason, "the cheerleaders need a new flyer."

That got me thinking what a crazy mixed up group we are. We've got jocks like me and Maria. We've got a certified geek -- Izzy -- and a deb like Alice. We've even got a cheerleader!

"What happened to Ashley?" Angelina asked.

"We don't know. She just dropped out."

"But she loves flying!" Alice pointed out.

Donna shrugged. "Something must've happened. Maybe her folks got scared or something."

I thought about that. "Seems unlikely. They supported her gymnastics, and cheered her flying at the basketball games last year."

That had been the first year the cheerleaders had a stunt team, taking advantage of Ashley's gymnastics training to use her as a flyer, their only one.

"She's been going out with our favorite bigot since last spring," Esther mused. "Maybe that has something to do it."

"You're kidding! She has?"

Trying not to look like we were looking we all looked in Dolph's direction, but he caught us at it, sneered and flipped us off. Ick! Maybe he had Hadiya's hand. At least he hadn't used it to give us the bird.

Cindy made a face. "He doesn't strike me as her type."

"Oh, he can be charming," Alice answered wryly, the only one of us who hadn't looked.

"You? Not really!"

"Me. Really. Last spring, before he hooked up with Ashley. He's oily when he wants something. I speak from experience."

"How come you never told us?" Naomi asked.

"Like I'd want anyone to know?" Alice made a face.

"What did he want from you?" Naomi asked, as surprised as the rest of us.

"One guess. And he made it quite obvious."

That got a full, two-table "EEEWwwwww."

It wasn't just the thought of anyone making it with Dolph. It was the idea he'd hit on her. Everyone in town knew that Alice and John Finch are practically joined at the hip, even now that he was in community college.

Well, actually they were more joined mouth to groin. Alice wasn't exactly a virgin after Dee's graduation party, but somehow after that they'd retreated to an oral only relationship and she still wore a circle pin.

They both had will power up the wah-zoo. How many teens, once they've done It, can resist doing It again? But they had. It wasn't a secret. Even her parents knew, and trusted 'em to keep it to oral only. Everyone respected them for it.

Everyone but Dolphus, I guess. He must've been hoping to put another notch on his gun. He'd like dragging a sweet beauty like Alice down to his level. Along with all his other ugly traits he was the kiss-and-brag type.

But proposition her? He was demented to have even tried.

"So how about it, Judy? Come fly with us!" Donna persisted.

Ah hah! She'd finally gotten to the point of her opening gambit. I should've seen it coming.

"Oh please, don't ask," I groaned, finishing the last of my sandwich. "I've got enough to do, and face it, I am really not the cheerleader type!"

"But you are a gymnast..."

"Used to be. I'm a diver now."

"And so was Ashley -- a gymnast, I mean -- and she's not your typical cheerleader type, either, if there is such a thing. Some of us do have brains bigger than boobs, after all."

"Considering the size of your boobs that's a good thing."

That got Cynthia a high-five from Angelina and a "Good one!" from the rest of us.

Donna took it in good spirit. She's a big girl, but everyone knows she's more muscle than mammaries. When the cheerleaders do a pyramid she's usually on the bottom. I also had to admit she was right about brains. Donna is not a mindless cleat chaser.

But Ashley had been born to fly. She was slender, light and strong. As a gymnast she'd had a death-defying dismount off the uneven bars and carried it right over to cheering. She soared.

"Come on, Judy, you know you'd love to fly," Donna urged. "It's not that different from diving."

"Diving is not like being thrown around like Izzy's bunny, and the water is always there to catch me," I pointed out, trying to ignore the thrill the idea subbing for Ashley gave me.

"I don't throw Foofy around!" the Izzy protested. "She's wearing out," she added a little woefully.

I reached to pat her. Foofy was the stuffed bunny she'd had with her since she was born, I think. Foofy had been at my sex-ed sleepover in middle school. I sympathized. I had to retire Tigger to my bookshelf after I wove a patch to keep his stuffing back in for the third time.

"And flying is not a lot of being thrown around, either," Donna reminded me. "Mostly you're the top of the pyramids, and most take-offs are up to you. It's the getting down that's really exciting."

I felt myself wavering but was distracted watching Hadiya use her one hand to pry the lid off a plastic container. Once it was open she pushed it out in the middle of the table and we all bent to look.

"My mother made these when I told her how nice you have been to me and how you even bought my lunch yesterday. I still owe you for that, Maria."

Maria waved that off, eyeing the sticky brown balls in the box suspiciously.

"What's that?" Izzy asked.

"It is called gulab jamun," Hadiya answered. "It is a favorite treat in my country. In most of south Asia, even."

"They look sticky!" Esther observed, picking up the box to give it a suspicious sniff, still not touching what it held. "Smells good. Heavy, too. What's in them?"

"It is mostly khoya, which is what is left from milk after it has been cooked down, and sometimes a little flour is added. Then it is rolled into balls and deep fried."

"Sorta like a donut hole?" Izzy asked.

"Yes, a little bit, only gulab jamun is more solid. After it is cooked it is soaked in a sweet syrup with some flavorings, perhaps cardamom or rosewater, cinnamon or lemon. These are cinnamon. It is served often at celebrations such as weddings. It is sweet, and very tasty."

"And messy!" Naomi said, delicately picking one out and nibbling at it. "Mmmmm!"

"There is enough for each," Hadiya assured us as we all made a grab, passing the container around.

"C'mon Judy, you'd be a great flyer," Donna persisted, sounding a little sticky talking around her treat, "and we've got good catchers and bases. Just think of it, flying through the air with the whole crowd watching!"

Donna knew what buttons to push on me. I love a challenge. Besides, I couldn't say "no" right away because my mouth was full of... "what did you call this, Hadiya?"

"Gulab jamun."

I almost choked on my giggle. The name sounded like you were saying it with your mouth full.

"We really need you," Donna pleaded as she licked her fingers.

"I'll think about it."

She pounced. "Come to practice on Thursday!"

"I have swimming, a team meeting." I was clutching at straws.

"But you're a diver," she reminded me. "And the swimming season doesn't start until after Thanksgiving. And you know that meeting'll just be organizational."

I wanted to escape before I said something stupid -- like "okay" -- so I started packing up. "I gotta go. I got gym."

I hurried past the Klan table without looking, but felt the Dolphus's sneer anyway. What was his beef? He got away clean, while Mrs. Devers's stone gray eyes would be on me for the next month. It wasn't fair.

Not that she wouldn't be watching him, too, come to think of it.

I didn't blame Hadiya for not pressing charges. Why make things worse for herself, if that was possible. She still was stuck with her nationality, her religion, and her scars.

The scheduling gods obviously had it in for me this semester. As if gym right after lunch wasn't bad enough I got there to find the volleyball nets were up. Not my sport! Being -- ahem -- vertically challenged I spent the whole period trying to dig slams out before they hit the floor.

Trying. Talk about bruises.

I'll say no more.

But Ashley was in gym, and by the time it was over she gave me plenty more to think about other than cheerleading. I couldn't avoid the feeling that something was terribly wrong, more than just giving up flying.

Then I saw something in the shower that actually scared me.

Once out and away from there I saw a bulletin board with the latest word from on high.

If you see something say something!

Yeah, I know. When they'd put it up they'd had something else in mind, but still, the advice fit.

Only I didn't know who to tell about what I'd seen, or exactly what to say. After all, I only had a suspicion.

So at the end of the day I was tapping on Ms. Andrews open door, relieved she wasn't counseling someone at the moment. She waved me in and I closed the door behind me, so she'd know this was serious stuff. It felt like old times. She and me, we had a history, a long history. A deep one. She'd thrown me a lifeline and I'd grabbed it and held on tight.

But the memories...

Don't go there. Just don't go there I told myself.

Please don't go there I thought at her, like I thought she could read my mind.

And maybe she could, because she did what she does best, which was nothing, waiting until I was ready to talk, or the silence got to me. Whichever.

I noticed a few more silver hairs in her fuzzy black hair, a few more wrinkles around her wise brown eyes -- laugh lines, believe it or not, in spite of the grief she has to listen to, and not just from me. The bill of sale for her great grandma, who'd been born a slave, hung on the wall behind her desk now, instead of over the couch like in her old office. The patient ebony and ivory elephant was still on her desk.

The same couch was there, making her new office more crowded.

I began with "I don't want anyone to know about this."

She smiled her gentle smile. "Of course."

"Yeah. But this is different. It isn't about me this time."

"So? That doesn't change the rules."

"This might. You might have to do something about it."

"Okay."

"But if you do have to do anything about it, please don't let anyone know it came from me."

"Okay."

"You know about my run-in with Dolph Foster yesterday?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"I'm not here about that but, well, I really don't want him to know you heard about this from me!"

"I understand. Your secrets are safe with me. You know that."

"Yes'm. This is sort of about him, I think, but not about him and me. It's about him and somebody else.

"Who I also don't want to hear about this," I added.

"Okay."

I was skating around it. She's infinitely patient.

I took a big breath, trying to get my mouth under control. "I had gym today."

"Okay."

"And in the showers I saw something."

"Mmmm hmmm." I knew she made those little encouraging noises to show she was listening. She doodled something on the lined pad in front of her.

"I mean aside from the usual stuff. Do you know Ashley Wilkes? She's a sophomore."

"I know of her. Cheerleader. Sweet kid, no problems as far as I know, except her mother must have a serious thing for 'Gone with the Wind.'"

"Huh?"

"The name -- Ashley Wilkes. I wonder if she expected a boy and got a girl instead. At least she didn't choose Rhett."

"Huh?"

She waved a brown hand. "Never mind. Before your time."

I sighed, looking at my hands. "She's not a cheerleader anymore, and that's part of it... ," I hesitated.

"That's the first I heard that," Andrews put in. She made a note on the pad.

"S'true. I heard it at lunch. From a reliable source.

"But anyway, in gym we were playing volleyball, and under the usual elbow and knee pads 'n' stuff, Ashley was wearing a long sleeved tee, which is kinda unusual."

"Mmm hmmmm."

"Then I was one of the last into the showers. Most of the others were rinsing off or out dressing by then. Ashley came in even later. When she saw me there she almost left, but I guess changed her mind. It was getting pretty tight on time.

"Anyway, she was really wrapped in a towel, and had one draped over her head, too, so it hid half her face. Then, when she took 'em off, she kept her back to me, kinda in the corner, like she was hiding something,."

"Mmmm hmmmm."

"She's not usually shy about her body, but that's not what bothered me. What bothered me ... when she finally unwrapped her towel, when she had her back to me."

Deep breath. "I saw some bruises."

Andrews tipped her head. "That's not unusual, 'specially with a cheerleader, is it?"

I nodded. "But these were different."

She stopped playing with her pencil. "Different how?"

Her elephant was watching me close, too, so I reached out and turned him toward the bookshelf.

"They were on the backs of her arms, up high, you know, like above the elbows but below her shoulders? On her triceps. You know, the muscles on the backs of her arms."

I showed her on me, though of course she knew.

"On both arms. Anyway, they -- the bruises -- looked pretty fresh, dark, not yellow like when bruises are healing."

That brought a grunt, and Ms. Andrews didn't look happy.

I took another deep breath. "They looked like finger marks, like someone had grabbed her there ... real hard. She might've had 'em on her biceps, too. I couldn't see."

Ms. Andrews has got a poker face to rival Mrs. Devers, but there was something about this look, like she'd tasted something bad.

"It had to have hurt like hell, to give her bruises like that," I went on.

Ms. Andrews nodded reluctantly.

"And then I was still in the locker room when she came out of the shower. She had a towel over her head again, hiding most of her face again, sorta like Hadiya's scarf, and she had another one around her body, up high,, over her shoulders. She was holding it from the inside so it covered her arms and chest, but not down so it was covering her -- uh -- pussy. Like I said, she's usually not any more modest than anyone else who's seen people in Program.

"I don't think she's -- oh, wait a minute. Yeah, she was in The Program as a frosh. So she normally wouldn't mind being seen naked.

"Anyway, while she dressed she kinda hid behind her locker door, and lingered, like she wanted to be alone. I had to get moving, so I left.

"Only I had to go back for something -- it's been one of those days -- and Ashley was still there, only by then she was dressed. She had on long sleeves again, so I couldn't see the bruises.

"But she was at the mirror, putting makeup on."

Andrews gave another grunt.

"She doesn't usually wear much makeup in school -- maybe a touch of lipstick is all. She's got a beautiful complexion. It looked like she was putting on base, mostly on her left cheek and around her eye, I think."

Ms. Andrews didn't say anything, but her lips were tighter as she scribbled on the pad.

"And I heard at lunch, before gym, that's when I heard she's dropped out of cheerleading, and I know she loves cheerleading. She's their best flyer. Only flyer, really. We -- Ashley and me -- did gymnastics together, and I know her. She only left gymnastics 'cause she grew -- had a growth spurt. It's the same sorta thing that ruined Dee for diving.

"It was hard for her. She really liked gymnastics. I don't know her real well. We're not close, but I know she loved gymnastics. And she really loved cheering. She wouldn't drop out of cheerleading for no reason."

I definitely had Ms. Andrews's attention, and that scared me more. I'd been hoping what I'd been thinking was wrong. I'd kept thinking I might be bringing a load of hurt on Ashley, and what if I was wrong?

And what if I was right? Not saying something would be worse, and if Dolphus was involved there might be a helluva backlash.

And I wasn't telling this in the right order, but it was too late now.

What if I was wrong?

But what if I was right?

I sighed. "Maybe I'm making something out of nothing. I don't wanna get anyone in trouble."

Andrews waited. She is the most patient person! This was one of those times it drove me crazy.

Then it all sorta spilled out of me in a rush. "I also heard at lunch that she's been going with Dolph Foster. I don't know for how long. Last spring someone said. But everyone knows his reputation, and it's not like her to go with someone like him, but he can talk a good game when he wants to, and he likes to notch up conquests, 'specially a pretty jock like her, and after gym I sorta put it all together, and I keep thinking maybe I'm crazy, but I think maybe something bad is going on with her and Dolph."

I took another deep breath and slowed down. I was sweating. "I know I don't like him, so maybe I'm worrying about nothing and seeing something that isn't there, and I don't want you to think I want to get him in trouble, but I'm worried about Ashley ... and him.

"And I saw that poster, and that made me think maybe I should talk to you about it," I finished.