Chapter 38

Didn’t have a spot of trouble with the bus. We were the first ones on and there was an empty bike rack. Our Pentwater high school ID’s were sufficient for fares and the driver was reasonably informative. She suggested that we ride to the transit office and have Bus picture ID’s made ... free.

“We’ll do that after checking in at Admissions. Catch the bus here?”

“Across the street.”

“Thank you ... you’ve been very helpful.”

We retrieved our bikes and asked a guy.

Sure enough ... he walked us to the building. Form fitting Lycra bike shorts and tops will do that...

I may be fifteen ... but grandma’s ‘abundance’ has been passed down ... to say nothing of Surprise ... and Aunt Cynthiamae ... stacked ... they used to call it stacked ... and I’m tall for fifteen. Five feet seven inches. But wait ... there’s more... a sultry alto and the voice throbbed with unrequited lust and longing... that’s what Grandpa Jack said in his journals. I had that voice. Better than a good yodel.

Alice Olsen is no slouch either. 5.5 ... boobies for days and a sack of cats ass.

I’ve been riding my Kona Honzo ST Mountain Bike for years ... and my katas and sailing my Farr 3.7. And I run. And a pick up game of soccer on Saturdays. But one thing for sure ... these fat beach tires and wheels gotta go. I need road wheels.

But not tires ... cross training tires. Austin streets aren’t all that great.

The admiring young man deposited us at the Admissions office.

We locked up our bikes and went inside ... impressive.

“Hello ... how may I help?” She was a bright young woman ... very attractive ... and well dressed.

I read her name tag, “Hello Brigit. I’m Tyche Flintkote and I’ve come to see what you have to offer.”

“Are you a graduate?”

“Yes ... I should be in your database.”

She did things unseen behind her counter.

Under her breath, she said, “Holy Shit!” Out-loud, she said, “Forgive me ... I’ll be right back.” And put action to her words. In the bustle, she forgot to log off.

Naturally ... I peeked. Vaulted the counter and had a good look. Yup ... me. Tyche Selene Flintkote. 165 Green, Pentwater Michigan. Princessapality ... But flashing on the screen I read... DONOR. DO NOT UPSET. Vaulted back and looked innocent.

“Tyche,” hissed Alice, “What are you doing?”

“Spying,” I whispered, “Try to look not guilty.”

Brigit reentered. She was followed by three suits.

“ID please,” said one of the suits.

I presented my pilots license, my high school ID and my Princessapality Concealed Carry photo ID ... a Nation wide permit.

“You’re fifteen...”

“Yes ... and licensed by the Princess.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Let’s ask her.”

“Why would she care?”

“Junior?”

“Assholes ... you’re dealing with assholes.” Junior said. “‘Lo Tyche ... Ooo you brought Alice ... how did she do?”