Fourth Day (Wednesday)

Teri

I arrived at the Program Office entrance at the same time as Gail, ten minutes before the bell. I peered at the cheerleader: she looked exactly as cheerful as I didn’t. And sounded it, too.

“Morning!”

I managed not to snarl. I hate chipper in the morning. I especially fucking hate chipper before the caffeine hits—I’d only just finished my triple-shot latte.

Dana was inside, along with Marshall and Jake—all three already naked. So was Alverez, as if that mattered, but not Skinner, thank all the heavens. The boys were chatting about country music. Dana was sitting by herself, hands loosely clasping her knees, gazing pensively at the floor.

My mother once took a photo of me with the exact same expression she had. It’s what I do when I zone out for some alone time.

Given how Dana’s all brisk-brisk business in the mornings, not to mention engages people all day, I’d assumed she was just another extrovert. But yesterday, too, she’d spent time in her thoughts—until, that was, she turned on her Public Speaking Skills. Was she actually an introvert who knew how to be outgoing when needed? An introvert like me—only, of course, I don’t do outgoing.

As if I needed another reason to be impressed by her.

Certainly I’d decided, without really noticing I’d done it, that she’s pretty much the almost sanest person I know. She was also kinda cute, in a shoulder-length-plus-assymetric-barrette-brown-hair sort of way—today’s barrette was decorated with a small daisy. Well, not as cute now as when she was moving. But soft blue eyes, a broad rare smile, and breasts I had liked feeling. That I wanted to feel again, maybe.

I shook my head to clear it.

Another thing I hadn’t noticed: Chip and Mike had joined us while I studied her. I was getting dangerously out of it—gotta stop that.

I looked to Mike, parked against the open wall, and caught his eye. I’d thought about his suggestion from yesterday. He was slower at math than me, but far from stupid. Especially about this sort of thing. Slowly, I nodded once—then stood up and started unbuttoning my shirt.

His eyes widened, but he nodded in return. Undressing now, on my own terms, instead of waiting for the bell—instead of being forced to. I unhooked my bra, dropped my jeans and panties, and slipped my sandals back on. It actually helped—way less painful than waiting as long as possible.

After I binned my clothes, I walked over to Mike. “Want an assist?”

“Heh. Sure.”

I studied his body as he lifted himself, arm-standing on the seat of his chair, so I could pull off his track pants. I’d kinda noticed before, but yesterday, getting in and out of my lap, had made it clear that while Mike wasn’t musclebound, he does have muscles. Working muscles, from wheeling a chair, even a lightweight model like his. Nice abs, too. His partially wasted legs and the scars crisscrossing his lower belly had distracted me. Probably had most people. Add to that a sharp mouth and emotional intelligence, and you could do worse than him—a lot worse.

I watched, still crouched, as he binned his clothes himself. When he returned, I nodded at his apparently permanent erection.

“Would you, um.” Fuck—I had no idea how to ask this. “Like help with that?”

Lamest. Wording. Ever. But I did want to thank him, for the advice. For being him. For yesterday.

One corner of his mouth quirked. “I don’t think we get relief in homeroom.”

I raised my eyebrows. “But we can make requests.”

Quirk turned into a full smile.

But then Maria came in, last to arrive—and Dana turned On.

“Okay, we have a minute before the bell, so quickly—whistles or consent bracelets, anyone?”

Both Maria and Gail called out, “Me!” and Dana tossed them a baggie each. I frowned and glanced at my chest—I hadn’t taken my red wrist-band off last night, but forgot the whistle on my dresser. Oops. I raised a finger at Maria, and she handed me one.

“If anyone wants a printout of your revised map, I have—”

The bell started ringing—and immediately Skinner said loudly over it, “Thank you, Partlow, but that will be enough.”

Alverez picked up his cue: “Time to undress, Chip.”

Who was, I realized, the only kid still clothed. Also, when had Jackson joined us? I really was out of it. Focus, girl.

The rest of us collected our maps from Dana while Alverez pattered on. And on, and on—same old Program bullshit rah rah. Went on longer than yesterday, too. Then Skinner spoke sternly about Teh Evulz of hacking—looking at Dana as he did so. What, did he think brilliant at math means being a hacker? Idiot. She, at least, didn’t seem fazed. Maybe she was used to his always scowling at her. Anyway, after that Jackson put in a word about please report Program irregularities, including teachers not allowing relief as needed (a glance at Chip for that) and students pressing unreasonable requests (a glance at—wait, why would she know about me?). Alverez immediately followed that with, “Though of course, reasonable requests, you must comply with.”

“Yes,” Jackson said mildly, “but not requests being forced on Participants.”

Alverez hesitated, swallowed. Mild, did I say? He looked like he’d been hit with a mail gauntlet wrapped in fine silk. But he recovered enough to say, “So if there’s nothing else—”

Dana raised her hand, holding up a small oblong object. “Actually—”

The bell rang—they’d run out the clock on her, the bastards.

Without skipping a beat, Dana called out, “Everyone together”—gathering us up around Mike. My bag was across the room from the door, over by my chair—by the time I made it out anyway, the howling packs would have already gathered: no point now in rushing. I joined the circle, between Mike and Maria.

After a moment of catching each of our eyes in turn, Dana said, “All together—”

And the other six said with her “—we can do it.”

“Right on,” added Jake.

“Let’s be safe out there,” agreed Gail.

Then we sorted ourselves and our belongings. Dana held the door for Mike to go first—which was, heh, not a bad idea, using him for interference. The oogah! oogah! of his horn cleared the way, and we followed him out into the wilderness, wolves circling around us. They even growled at us, for being late getting out.

Wonder of wonders, though, neither Sam nor Ricky was there. Father had been up and gone by the time I made it down to breakfast—paper-cut crisis still unresolved, apparently. Which also left yesterday’s familial explosion unresolved, as far as I knew.

I still needed to watch out, though. And get through this.

Dana

We had the heaviest morning crowd yet—even more than the curiosity of Monday. Wasn’t interest in Participants supposed to start thinning out, by mid-week? And they were all over Teri, Maria, Gail, and me. Jake some, too, but mostly the girls.

That kinda scared me. Maria too. I couldn’t see Gail, behind the crowd around her, but Teri as usual acted like it was nothing—that distant bored affect thing.

The requests kept us in front of the Office until the bell rang—Skinner and Jackson had to clear everyone out before we could move.

“Go on,” Skinner snapped at Teri and I, “or you’ll be marked tardy.”

“Because, of course,” Teri said as she left, “we totally should have been able to ignore requests and walk right on through.”

Leaving me to receive his glare.

I wanted to say something like ‘Looks like discipline is breaking down’—but as satisfying as it would have been wrong to the wrongfinity power. You cannot speak truth to power with sarcasm, not if you want it to be heard. Instead, I met his gaze. “Attitude aside, she’s right about blaming the victim.”

Skinner’s jaw clenched, but it was Jackson who responded—a wry smile as she waved me off with a flick of her finger: “Git!”

I nodded to her, acknowledgment, and rushed to English.

English was, well, English. Or American Lit in my case. I can’t say I appreciate the Puritan fire-and-brimstone we’ve started off the semester with, especially given the way the Massachusetts Bay Colony treated early Friends. Aside from her curricular enthusiasm for hellish punishment, Ms Emerson wasn’t otherwise a bad teacher.

Which it not to say that I didn’t get distracted. At least the kinks with the lights seemed to have worked themselves out. Or rather, in the light of Skinner’s comment, had been rooted out. But more pressing than that was what happened outside the Program Office. Not just targeting the girls—the number of athletes involved. I didn’t know what to make of it, aside from a hunch that it would be a good to get to math as fast as possible, to catch up with Teri.

Because I was gazing out the window, thinking about this, I saw the cross when it popped up into view, in the middle of the Quad. As in a blow-up crucifix, at a public school, being inflated during first period.

It was about ten meters high, partially inflated. The nylon fabric looked sun-faded, and it wobbled a bit in the wind. By the time it filled completely in, stabilizing a little, other students were noticing it, and pointing it out to the rest. From outside, through the closed window, I could hear shouting but not make out words. The arms of the cross puffed out, stiffening it further.

Emerson called the class to order, back to the sermon at hand, but I kept watching the straining cross. Which meant I saw one arm rip off and whoosh away in slow motion, like a released balloon. Several gasps, then a rush for the windows—me included. I reached the sill just in time to see the arm make a single loop-de-loop and crash into the gas generator powering the air pump.

The other half of the class, including Emerson, crowded up behind us.

A few moments confused of babble, while everyone worked to open the levered windows.

“Yanno,” Jacqueline said beside me, nodding down at the students being berated by Skinner, “I think these guys are with that Christian group that tried to start meeting after school.”

I peered at them—I knew two or three by sight, but nothing about them. I wondered whether they were going to get in as much trouble as the art group from Monday. I was distracted enough by the thought, I didn’t notice what happened next until— “The generator!” — “OMG it’s on fire!” — “Look out!” —a few shrieks.

The generator, which no one had turned off, had ignited the detached and deflated arm, which in turn caught the fabric base of the upright. Faster than I thought possible, the upright itself came off its moorings, flames licking up its sides, and rose up like a vaguely blasphemous hot-air balloon—talk about a light not being kept under a bushel, so to speak. All around the Quad, people craned out open windows to watch it climb to the level of the roof, spin once in an eddy of the breeze, then shoot over the building, heading southeast, still burning.

“Shit,” Julio said, as he pulled back inside.

“Language!” Emerson chided.

“No, I mean—my brother’s a hot-shot. Hope that burns itself out before it sets the forest on fire.”

Emerson and a few others shuddered, and one girl (I still didn’t know her name) crossed herself. Indeed.

By the time Emerson got the windows closed, us back in our seats, and class back to sinners in the hands of an angry God, it was almost the end of the period—oops. I hurriedly composed a recommendation about digital recorders, which I’d meant to do during class—and the moment the bell rang, lifting the block on messaging during class time, posted it to the Participants group. Shame I hadn’t gotten to speak in person about it—I’d have to try again tomorrow. But no time to think about that—I was out of the class as quickly as I could scramble.

Through a combination of fastwalking, dodging around likely requesters, and asking that requests be taken on the move, I made it up the stairs and halfway down the first hall by the time the bell rang. No sign of Teri or Mike. I hurried on, and when I rounded the corner of the hall, Teri was ahead of me, marching for math. I felt a momentary stab of relief.

Then a sharp image: two strong-looking boys walking toward her, and two girls hurrying for the classroom across the hall. As Teri passed the boys’ bathroom, two even larger guys came out behind her. She was maybe fifteen meters away, which meant I could clearly see but not hear what happened. But it all went so smoothly, I didn’t see the danger till the guys had caught her from behind, each grabbing an arm.

In memory, time didn’t slow—just turned crystalline, making every moment clear and sharp. I fumbled for my whistle as I broke into a run—I’d taken three steps and four hammered heartbeats by the time I got it to my lips and started to blow as hard and frantically as I could.

The boys in front of her rushed up while the big guys holding her arms pulled her towards the bathroom door. Or tried—instead, Teri yanked her arms forward and across her chest, and the guys went with them. Even from ten meters away, over my whistle, I heard them collide.

The girls rushing to class shrieked. A female teacher popped out the door they were heading for, and stepped out toward the tussle. Another teacher, a man, poked out as I passed his door. One of the boys in front of Teri caught or collided with the guys she’d thrown—it was Darrell from Saturday night, I realized. The second boy dodged around and grabbed for Teri. He was snarling, shouting.

“Help!” I shouted as I skidded to a stop just out of reach, “Help! Assault!”

Somehow Teri had gotten the second boy in an arm lock—a painful one. Darrell, having let the two guys down on the floor, turned and ran away down the hall.

“Stop!” I shouted. “Help! Stop him!”

A teacher poked out of his class and watched him run by, but did nothing.

The crystal world shattered, impressions coming in shards. Mike’s horn, honking up a storm behind me. One of the two big guys, groaning as he clutched his head on the ground. The boy held by Teri, cussing and threatening her. A babble of teacher, of students. The steady pulse in the wrist of a dazed, almost unconscious guy. Mike beside me, looking frantically around, wide-eyed and white-faced. The arrival, eventually, of fear. The thump of a pulse in my ears. My voice identifying Darrell as the one who ran away.

Skinner’s voice shouting, taking control.

Adrenaline draining from my body as I sat in a chair in the main office, like water from a collapsing dam, leaving me hollow. I knew, though, I couldn’t let it all out, not yet. I had to Witness. Speak truth, even unto power.

EMTs had been tending to the two guys for several minutes before the sheriff’s deputies arrived. Mike, Teri, and I sat together, he and I each clutching one of Teri’s hands, none of us speaking a word. A time later, short or long I couldn’t tell, Skinner and one deputy called Teri into a different conference room from the assailant she’d wrestled with—and she insisted I come with her.

As we entered the fluorescent-lit room, someone came in behind us: Jackson, whom I hadn’t seen, angry enough to chew barbed wire.

She glared at Skinner in his chair at the head of the table. “I thought we had an arrangement. You keep faculty and staff in line, I get the kids. Thus the ‘in charge of student discipline’ part of my job description.”

He frowned uncomfortably. “You weren’t here.”

Jackson unhooked a hand-radio from her belt and tossed it on table. “That thing must be useless then, ‘cause no one called me. I just found out, by walking into the front office.” Skinner wasn’t wearing one, I realized.

He raised his hands. “Michelle—”

“Michelle me nothing. My bailiwick.” She leaned on the table, staring down at him. Skinner’s face turned purple, his jaw worked, but then he nodded, not meeting her eyes.

Jackson stood up and nodded to the deputy. “Maurice.” Her tone was almost conversational. Still dangerous, though.

“Michelle.”

“May I ask why there’s no one here who’s a specialist in sexual assault victims?”

“Oh come on!” Skinner muttered.

Which got him another deadly glare. “When four boys try to pull a naked girl into an empty bathroom, that’s a sexual assault, Program or no Program.”

Deputy Maurice Baring (according to his nameplate) cleared his throat. “Deputy Candulia is on her way, actually. Should be any minute.”

Jackson let out a pent-up breath. “Then we can wait for her.”

The deputy looked at me. “Were you a witness to the incident?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then you’ll have to wait outside while we take Ms Florez’s statement.”

To make sure our versions of events matched without prompting. I nodded.

“Assuming they haven’t already talked,” Skinner muttered.

“We haven’t,” Teri said.

Which was not only true but—”I can prove it,” I added.

The deputy looked at me with focused attention. “How?”

I extracted my digital recorder from my pack pocket and showed it was still recording. “I was probably too far away to pick up anything of the initial incident itself, but it should have caught everything after the first few seconds through to waiting here in the office, including no conversation.”

“You carry a recorder with you,” Skinner said, voice flat.

“I was going to talk about it this morning during the Program meeting, but we ran out of time.”

“Good idea,” Jackson said. “I’ll put it on tomorrow’s agenda.”

The deputy held out his hand for the recorder, looking at me steadily. I hesitated: I really wanted to make a copy first, and would have insisted for anyone but a peace officer. But I had no reason to presume he’d mess up the chain of evidence, not yet—and, indeed, making a backup now might even break that chain.

I said toward the mic, “I am turning off this device and handing it over to Deputy Baring.” And then did so.

At which point Deputy Sharon Candulia entered the room and I was sent into Skinner’s office to wait. On the way out the door, I told Teri, “I’m still here—as long as you need.” I might be ordered out, but I was not abandoning her.

Her shoulders squared almost infinitesimally, and she nodded.

Alverez was in the main office, as was Darrell—being escorted to the other conference room by Mr. White Horse, the other vice-principal (I still haven’t learned his personal name). Mike was smiling as he watched this—a mean smile.

Alverez turned to me, face poised between worry and fear. “Dana—what happened, really?”

I held up my hand. “I’d rather not speak to anyone until I’ve given my statement to law enforcement.”

“The deputies,” Mike added, “would rather that as well.”

“Ah,” Alverez said, not at all reassured. I had no comfort to give him.

In Skinner’s office, I sat in one of the chairs across from his desk—the rough fabric was not nice on my naked ladybits (I’d lost my towel), but it was better than the naugahyde seats by the wall. After a moment, I set my tablet to detailed auditing, turned off the network connection, opened a new document, and started typing everything I could remember about what had happened to Teri.

While trying not to think about what almost happened.

At least, unlike me, the recorder hadn’t been completely useless.

Mike

Needless to say, none of us made it to math class. In the abyss of frustration after the frantic of adrenaline, even algebra would have been welcome.

At least I got to see Darrell Sweitzmann’s face as he was marched in by Vice-Principal White Horse, when he realized the sheriff was involved. Yes, young man, they are taking this seriously. I gathered he tried to claim Teri hadn’t stopped for a request, but even from where I’d been, I could tell he and Mitchell Gragarian had been obviously too far away to have said anything. Not to mention “Del” Delancie and “Mac” McCormac’s timing, pouncing right as she passed the bathroom, put the lie to that.

I had the very strong suspicion timing of the whole ambush was borked—Teri can power-walk pretty fast when booking it for class, forcing the pouncers to jump before the front-men were in position. Said pouncers having hassled her in the hallways yesterday afternoon, as I could attest. I tried to make the dots clear in my statement to Deputy Ziti, without actually connecting them.

It was something I could do, anyway. Dang it.

Speaking of Del, he and Mac walked to the ambulance under their own power—heading straight for the hospital for CAT scans with deputy escort. Didn’t see either one for the rest of the day, and good riddance.

I was nearly ready to punch walls when a middle-aged hispanic woman arrived with a striking resemblance to Teri, excepting only that she was only somewhat taller than Dana. Not quite a Mini-Me version of Teri, but that was the effect. Ms Florez was immediately ushered through to her daughter.

I, of course, was still not allowed to help. Dang and blast.

After one of the nice deputies finished taking Dana’s statement, she sat next to me. After a few seconds, she took my cold hand in her warm one: a firm grasp, for comfort. Aside from that, she betrayed little emotion—observing everything solemnly, as if she might be called upon to be a witness to the comings and goings. Or in our case, stayings.

She had a point. It wasn’t over, and wouldn’t be for a while. A long while, if the sheriff and courts got serious about it.

If all I could do here was be a witness, well, I should take the role seriously. I squeezed her hand a moment, and paid starting paying more attention—watching and listening.

We were well into third period when the deputies finally departed. Sweitzmann and Gragarian’s parents took away their suspended sons. Teri declined, with dull patience, yet another offer from her mother to take her home for the day, and Ms Florez returned to work. Finally the five student witnesses—myself, Teri, Dana, and two sophomores named Addison and Brianne—were ushered into the main conference room by Skinner, Jackson, and Alverez.

It was not fair to blame the two girls for wearing clothing. They still ticked me off a little.

Ms Jackson, to my surprise, took point. “Needless to say, rumors are already flying from here to the far end of the gym. You are going to be asked what happened. This is just a reminder: try to say nothing, or failing that be as brief as you can. There is a chance that you, all of you, may be asked to make a sworn deposition or testify in a court of law. Don’t muddy the waters. Is that clear?” She looked from one to the other of us, catching everyone’s eye.

“Any questions?”

Aside from what’s the best kind of hammer to use to pound those four into dust? Nah.

After a moment, Dana asked, “What now?”

“Heh. Well, given there’s less than ten minutes left of third period, I’d say it’s pointless for you to go to class. The cafeteria should be ready to serve by now—go downstairs and get an early start on lunch. Catch your breath. I’ll let your second- and third-period teachers know you’ve excused absences.”

Okay then.

After a moment, Ms Jackson made little shoo-ing motions with one hand. Addison and Brianne broke first—the three of us right behind them and out the door.

Around the corner from the main office, Dana caught Teri’s hand and pulled her into a big hug—one that Teri returned. I rolled up to her other side and hugged her bare hip as best I could—she caught my shoulders and squeezed. We held that the better part of half a minute before she let us go.

Dana shifted back half a step, the better to look up at Teri’s face, still holding her hip. “How are you doing?”

Teri thought a moment. “I—it doesn’t feel real yet.”

Dana nodded. “It hasn’t sunk in—like you’re waiting for it to stop looming and collapse on you already.”

Teri swallowed. “Yeah—exactly.”

“In that case,” I told her, “I suggest we follow Ms Jackson’s instructions and get our lunch before the rush.”

“Blood sugar,” Dana agreed.

“Yeah,” Teri said tiredly.

Above the elevator exit into the Commons, a single light panel blinked on and off, once a second. Everything else was steady, though. With my body still drained of adrenaline, the creepy had no effect on me. I told myself it may have been a dying bulb. More creepy was the empty cavern of the cafeteria.

As advertised, we were the third through fifth in line, after the two clothed girls (who at least had to present meal-cards). Dana joined us: Teri bullied her into getting something with meat in it—as much, I think, to keep her with us. Or maybe that’s why Dana gave in. Teri herself put together a meal from the athletic diet plan—which did, actually, look to have better nutrition. We snagged a double-table in the same place Teri was yesterday, and again Teri took a seat against the wall. Protecting her back.

After getting pounced like that, I couldn’t blame her.

I parked in front of her—a further screen. I could, at least, help her that much.

It was something.

Teri

For whatever reason, Jake didn’t make it over to our table during lunch. Nor did any other athlete. I wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or scared by that.

Or maybe they were all scared off by the cloud of cheerleaders—like, half the squad hung around us, getting frisky with Gail and, especially, Maria. As in making frisky reasonable requests.

At first, they ignored Mike, Dana, and I—but then two of them, vaguely familiar but otherwise indistinguishable except one was blonde and the other red-haired, turned from Maria to Dana. The blonde requested Dana stand up so she could feel her—as in feel her up. The redhead stood behind her, giving them something of a screen from the rest of the cafeteria. I had the vague memory these two had made reasonable requests at me earlier this week—Monday, sometime.

“Word to the wise,” the blonde told us over Dana’s shoulder. “If someone’s request lasts a long time, no one can stop it.”

Mike nodded.

Oh, I thought. As in, later requests can’t break in. A single request, possibly especially one that’s actually reasonable, could last the whole break. Like Mike and Maria had done, Monday lunch. Teamwork. I felt like someone had tapped a light bulb in my head with a very large sledgehammer.

Sometimes, I am a fucking idiot.

Dana smiled sweetly at the blonde running a finger through her pussy. “You don’t have to, Nikki. Now, I mean.”

The redhead shook her head. “Girl, we heard what you’ve been doing for Gail and others.” Her eyes flicked my way, just for a moment. “Just our way of thanking you for a job well done.”

Mike licked his lips.

It stood to reason that the no-cutting-in-on-requests rule also applied to Nakeds making the request. I smiled, and gestured Mike toward me with one finger. “Yanno,” I said casually, “I didn’t get to fully explore that dick of yours, Monday. I request the chance to do it properly.”

Mike swallowed. “I do reckon that’s reasonable.” He wheeled between my legs to bump my chair with his. I reached for his shaft, wrapped my fingers lightly around the firm, warm flesh, and slowly stroked up and down his length.

This wasn’t entirely a lie—I’d been thinking about his big dick, off and on, since blowing him. Mostly on. He has, if I do say so myself, a nice dick: not just long, but straight and firm. A dick I can wrap my hand around. Besides, his chair made him the best single-person screen in the school.

A few minutes later, either Nikki got too eager or Dana got too worked up: Dana came on her hand—eyes closed, face and entire chest flushed, biting her lip to keep from whimpering louder. The redhead immediately made the same request—and judging by how she had to prop up a weak-kneed Dana, she did an even better job of drawing her out. Not to mention making it last almost to the end of lunch.

When it came, Dana’s little whimpering cry was, well, erotic. I felt it not just in my own pussy, but in Mike’s twitching pecker.

When Dana recovered enough to move, I gestured her over to my side, between my chair and the table—she leaned into me as I wrapped my free arm around her warm (sweaty) body. She smelled of sex—of pussy. It was time to take pity on Mike and bring him off already. I hadn’t meant to turn this into a handjob, but after stroking him this long, it would be just plain mean to not give him early relief.

By that point, from his reactions, I’d gotten a pretty good idea of what made him squirm. Ramp that up a notch, and he’d—

“‘Bout to come,” he said through clenched teeth.

I grinned—having this kind of power over someone is fun. Why hadn’t I done this more?

I let go of Dana so I could lean down and covered the head of his dick with my mouth—it barely fit without scraping it with my teeth—and with two swirls of my tongue and two pumps of my hand, he started spurting into my mouth: hard, like on Monday. I pumped and sucked and swallowed till the dribbling stopped.

I sat up. Mike was breathing hard, muscles rigid. Slowly, a shit-eating grin spread across his face as body relaxed.

“Oh man,” he breathed.