Chapter 30: Tuesday, Sept. 11

I’d set my alarm for 7 a.m., but it never got the chance to go off. Mom called about 10 ‘til to make sure I was up and running.

“I’m getting there,” I said sleepily after she asked.

“Where’s Marie?” Mom asked.

The little waif was cuddled against my side, trying to ignore the conversation I was having and go back to sleep.

“I think she’s having a lie-in this morning,” I said. “She did a lot yesterday and last night, but that’ll allow her to basically have the rest of the week off as long as I don’t make a mess.”

“Did you have much homework?”

“Enough,” I said. “I got most of it done during study hall after practice last night. I needed some help from Grandma for a Chemistry assignment and did that afterwards.”

“How could your grandmother help you with Chemistry?” Mom asked.

“I had to do a paper on chemical reactions in everyday life,” I said. “I thought I could use one of her recipes, but she doesn’t have any here. We wound up calling Grandpa and using one of his feed supplements. I ended up with more information than I could use.”

“Well, get moving,” Mom said. “Remember, you’re still allowed to visit here even when you’re house sitting for Arlene.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

I rolled out of bed, much to Marie’s disappointment, after Mom hung up.

“I’ll just fix myself some cereal,” I said. “Want me to start the coffee maker for you?”

“No,” Marie grumbled as she burrowed into the mattress. “I’ll do it later. Don’t forget your juice.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I hit the bathroom to wash up. I figured a quick wipe with a washcloth would be enough to get me through the morning. I’d probably need to shower after athletics, though.

A bowl of cereal, piece of fruit and glass of pineapple juice took little time. After putting my dishes in the sink and brushing my teeth, I got dressed for school. I made sure I had my backpack, wallet, keys and shades and prepared to head out.

I gave Marie a kiss on the cheek, but I’m not sure she was awake to notice. That encouraged me to close the door quietly as I left. I’d have to call or text her later to make sure she was doing all right.

School was the usual hive of activity when I arrived. Kacie was waiting at my parking spot when I pulled in.

“Arlene needs to hurry up and come home,” she said, greeting me with a little peck that shouldn’t arouse too much suspicion. “I hate sleeping alone.”

“It’s only been a few nights,” I said. “I was away longer than this when Grandma and Grandpa came to visit.”

“And I’m still getting over it,” my sister pouted prettily. “If I don’t have too much homework, I’ll try to visit tomorrow night. I’ll tell mom we’re meeting for ice cream.”

Like Mom hadn’t cracked that code yet.

After a visit to my locker to arrange things for the morning classes, I reported to the auditorium. We were having an assembly for a 9/11 remembrance. We’d essentially be on a pep rally schedule this morning as far as the length of class periods went. I found where Mrs. Rittenberry’s homeroom was sitting and slid down the row near where Jed and Luke were seated. Hannah Rosen took the seat next to me, blushing when I said good morning.

I thought the program was appropriately somber, if somewhat disingenuous as to the root causes of the act. A person didn’t have to look too hard to see it was more than just a bunch of disaffected Arabs lashing out at their perceived persecutors. If they’d been looking to strike a blow against those most responsible for their situation, the Saudi royal family, Brits and French (Sykes-Picot, anyone?) would have been the first targets.

Attacking the Twin Towers had been as much a money grab by the powers behind the plot as it had been an act of terrorism, according to Grandpa. Just look at who was selling short on airline futures in the weeks leading up to the event.

Not that I’m overly political one way or the other, but I couldn’t help but think how Muslims in our area were impacted by all this. We didn’t have many, if any, in town and I don’t remember ever seeing a girl in a hijab at school, but there were nearly a dozen mosques in the metro area. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of these rednecks went looking for retribution after being sufficiently lubricated.

At the same time, I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of being similarly targeted simply because someone held a grudge over the fact their ancestors had been taken advantage of by a bunch of greedy, imperialistic bastards. It wasn’t my fault a bunch of nomads didn’t realize what was under their feet.

Heck, I’d just turned 3 months old when it happened. Why should I care if a bunch of crazies were in a hurry to collect their 72 virgins in paradise? The six I’d collected over the summer had caused me more than enough trouble. Just leave me out of your fight.

The assembly wrapped up with Mrs. Montero making the morning announcements since she had a captive audience. Once that was out of the way, we were sent to resume the educational process.

Morning classes went easily enough. Assignments were turned in and discussed, then the next round of instruction began. After having homework in all three yesterday, there was nothing more than some reading today.

Athletics saw the beginning of preparation for Saturday. After getting in our lower-body lifting, we began studying film from the Eagles’ last game. I don’t know how their opponent compared to what we’d faced the first two weeks, but it looked like a college team beating up on Cedar Springs. The first play of the game went for a touchdown and they scored on seven consecutive possessions in the first half. None of the drives lasted more than five plays as they kept getting big chunks of yardage, even on simple handoffs.

Their defense definitely got our attention. Jerome and Marshawn might be good enough to rotate in, but I doubted either would be a full-time starter. From what I could tell, the Eagles held the other team to negative yardage in the first half. The only first downs allowed were by penalty and their secondary intercepted more passes than the opponents completed.

I noticed their defense tested the limit of the rules. On several plays, it looked like at least one defensive lineman was across the line at the snap. Several passes were broken up with contact that seemed to be a heartbeat early. Coach Wilson said they tended to get the benefit of such 50-50 calls because of their team speed and reputation. They were supposed to be better than everyone else, so things went their way.

We didn’t even bother watching the second half as the backups flooded the field. Coach Tucker’s assessment was we should have a chance if we could stay close into the second half. None of their guys had played a full game yet and he seemed to think conditioning would be a factor.

Morgan handed out copies of the game plan, which wasn’t that different from last week’s. While there were some elements specifically designed for the Eagles — mostly blocking schemes and pass coverage — Coach Tucker was still playing things close to the vest. He didn’t want our district opponents seeing anything special until we started district. Even then, some things we worked on wouldn’t be used until we needed to spring a surprise.

We’d start working on all that this afternoon. I fully expected my participation to be limited to holding for kicks this week.

Coach Tucker did have a word for us regarding the game site.

“This place isn’t just an NFL stadium, it’s considered one of the premier facilities in the league,” he said. “We’ve all seen it on TV. It can seat more than 100,000 and has one of the largest video displays in the world. Don’t allow yourselves to be distracted by the surroundings. The field has the same dimensions as what we practice on right out here every day. They just have more bells and whistles outside the lines. Your job is to keep your focus on what’s happening inside the lines.”

We were dismissed to prepare for lunch. I raced through a quick shower, dressed and grabbed my things. Morgan was waiting for me outside.

“At least you don’t smell like Marie now,” she snarked, looping an arm through mine. “How’s she doing?”

“She was moving a little slow this morning,” I admitted. “I’m afraid I was a bit rough on her last night. She was somewhat displeased because Bethany wanted to visit the apartment and got rather pushy. Kinda like another little brunette I know.”

“What’d you do to her?” the other little brunette demanded.

“Tied her up, blindfolded her and took my belt to her,” I said. “She thanked me afterwards.”

“Just don’t think you can try that with me,” Morgan huffed.

“Not the belt,” I conceded. “Nothing more than my bare hand on your naked little tushy. I might have to try the blindfold, though. We’ll see about tying you up.”

Morgan blushed at that, but I swear I saw a nostril flair.

“Let’s go get something to eat, you brute,” she ordered, pulling me toward the cafeteria line. “My little tushy is just fine the way it is.”

I don’t know why I did it. You’d think I’d have learned by now, but I got the meatloaf. On a Tuesday.

We’d barely taken our seats when Mrs. Montero came storming up.

“There you are!” she barked. “In my office. NOW!”

“What’s this about?” I asked, having just about lost my patience with this crap. It was like people actively planned to ruin my day each Tuesday.

Everyone else at the table tried to become invisible. I wish I could have done so myself.

“There was another disturbance because of you,” the interim principal growled. “I warned you...”

When she said that, she leaned on the table with both hands, getting in my face. The movement caused the collar of her blouse to shift slightly, exposing a small tattoo that looked almost like the Twitter logo at the base of her neck just above the collarbone.

“What disturbance?” I asked. “I’ve been in class all morning and nothing happened in any of them. We all just got here from athletics. Ask any of them.”

A couple of my teammates glared at me for daring to bring them into this mess, whatever it was.

“I said move, mister!”

OK, I’d had enough. If she was going to try to give me detention or ISS again, or even expel me, I wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I think my parents should be here for this,” I said, whipping out my phone and punching Dad’s number. “Dad, Gary. You need to get over to the high school right now. And bring Bill Richards. Things are escalating with the admin for some reason and you probably won’t like the way I’m thinking of handling the situation.”

“I’m on my way,” my father said. “Just don’t do anything stupid.”

He disconnected before I could even say “yes, sir.”

Mrs. Montero looked like she was ready to scratch my eyes out and a couple of teachers on lunchroom duty were heading our way.

“Please, have a seat,” I said to Mrs. Montero. “I can eat while we wait for my folks. You can make sure I don’t try to get away.”

“You are in so much trouble, mister,” she hissed.

“Will I be in any more if I have my lunch first?” I asked as everyone I could see stared open-mouthed in disbelief at my audacity. “This is the fifth week of the school year. For the fifth Tuesday in a row, events beyond my control have landed me in hot water for some reason. There have been too many times when I haven’t been allowed to eat. Chuck’s in danger of needing bigger pants if he keeps eating my lunch and his.”

“Are you callin’ me fat?” Chuck joked, failing to break the tension with his humor.

“Is everything OK here?” one of the male teachers asked as I took my first bite.

The guy looked like he was ready to pounce on me. I didn’t want to think what would happen next if he did, but Dad wouldn’t be happy with me for disobeying his order.

“I’ve got it under control,” Mrs. Montero fumed.

“Why don’t you tell me what this is all about, ma’am,” I said before raising another forkful.

“Two of your girlfriends got in a fight over you during A lunch,” she said.

I had no fucking clue what she was talking about. Staci and Bethany both had C lunch and I was pretty sure the interim principal wasn’t aware my sister considered herself one of my girlfriends. I couldn’t see any of them fighting over me, especially after I’d made it clear that was a sure way to make me walk away from the whole thing.

A quick glance at Morgan showed she had no idea, either.

I was having trouble making sense of it all. There were too many pieces to the puzzle. Something was niggling in the back of my brain, but I couldn’t quite get it.

“Two of my girlfriends?” I repeated. “In A lunch?”

“Annabella Rodriguez and Kylee Thompkins,” Mrs. Montero snapped.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard either of those names,” I said. “I certainly can’t put a face to either.”

Before Mrs. Montero could respond, my phone rang. It was Mom.

“Excuse me, but I’d better take this,” I said. “It’s my mother and whatever trouble I’m in with you is nothing compared to what I’m in with her. Hi, Mom.”

“WHAT HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOURSELF INTO THIS TIME?!?!?!” my mother shrieked.

From the way my tablemates snickered, I thought I must have accidentally put the call on speaker.

“I’m still trying to find that out,” I said. “I take it you’ve talked to Dad, then. Are you going to be here?”

“I just crossed Central,” Mom said. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“See you then,” I said as the call disconnected.

“Well,” I said turning back to the still-irate principal, “I’d better finish eating. We don’t want to keep my mother waiting.”

Mrs. Montero snarled like a rabid ferret as I shoveled in the last couple of bites. I disposed of my tray, returned to gather my stuff and gestured toward the exit.

“Shall we?” I said to Mrs. Montero before turning back to Morgan. “See ya when I see ya. If I don’t survive this, have Kacie take my car home. She has a key.”

It’s a good thing Mrs. Montero was wearing low heels. The way she stomped down the walkway to the North Wing, stilettos would have put holes in the concrete. She created a lot of force for such a diminutive woman.

I was still trying to piece things together. For some reason, I kept coming back to that tattoo on her neck.

Dad and Bill Richards were waiting in the front of the office when we arrived. I didn’t even have a chance to greet them when Mom came in with fire in her eyes.

“This had better be good,” she snapped at me.

“Took the words right out of my mouth, Honey,” Dad said.

I guess we were about to find out.

Mrs. Montero led us back to her office. The way she deferred to the men seemed vaguely familiar, but I just couldn’t put a finger on it.

Once everyone was seated, she started in.

“Your son has been the cause of yet another disturbance,” she said.

“What happened?” Dad asked.

“Two freshman girls got into a fight in the cafeteria over which one was going to ask him to the Sadie Hawkins Dance,” she said. “He compounded that by refusing to come with me when I finally caught up to him.”

“Is that true, Gary?” Mom demanded.

“I can’t say about the first part,” I said, sounding surprisingly calm. “It supposedly happened during A lunch and I was in athletics at the time. I don’t even know the girls. As for the second part, as I told Mrs. Montero, I’ve missed lunch or barely had time to eat too many times because of things I have no control over.

“The first one was the cheerleaders kissing all the football players on the head. I actually got to eat before that happened, then puked it all up when Coach Tucker made the whole team run as punishment for getting detention. My only part in it was having a bald head with lipstick prints on it.

“Then there was the Holly Moseley fiasco, when I never even got to take a bite. I got to eat maybe half my lunch the next week because Jenny Evans wanted to talk to me and Mrs. Montero misunderstood Morgan’s comment about penis measuring.”

Dad and Mr. Richards both snorted at that, while Mom grimaced and Mrs. Montero blushed.

“Last week, I barely had time to grab a burger because I had to deal with Coach Tucker about missing curfew. Yesterday was almost the same thing because of the incident at Cedar Springs.”

“What incident at Cedar Springs?” Mrs. Montero demanded.

“It’s indirectly connected to an ongoing investigation,” Mr. Richards broke in, speaking for the first time. “My advice is to not discuss it until such time as the state concludes the process.”

“I even missed lunch one day when Dr. Stirling wanted to talk to me,” I said. “Some of the offensive linemen ate it for me. Said they had to protect it from the defensive players at the table.”

“I hadn’t heard that one,” Mr. Richards chuckled. “I’ll have to ask Jed about it.”

“Be that as it may,” Mrs. Montero said, attempting to regain control of the conversation. “As Gary has freely admitted, it’s been a weekly occurrence since school started. It’s become too much of a distraction and disrupts the educational process. He’s looking at a long stretch in ISS. I think it would be better for all concerned if you considered moving him to another school.”

“That’s a bit drastic, don’t you think?” Mom asked.

“Drastic would be chaining him up and administering a whipping,” Mrs. Montero snapped. “He deserves it the way he ignores authority. He never should have been allowed to sell that poster at school.”

As Mr. Richards protested that I had not been involved in the decision to sell posters, something finally clicked with me. I remembered some of the things Marie had said when we discussed how best to mark her as under protection and reviewed the events of the past few minutes.

Mrs. Montero’s deference to Dad and Mr. Richards. The comment about whips and chains. The tattoo.

It all added up.

Ines Montero was somebody’s pet.

I hoped the grin spreading across my face wasn’t too evil. I don’t think my parents noticed, but Bill Richards did a doubletake.

“May I please interrupt?” I asked politely. “I think I have a way to resolve matters, but I’d like to run it past Mrs. Montero first. Privately.”

Mom looked like she was ready to bite my head off, but Mr. Richards stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. Dad appeared about to ask just what the hell did I think I was doing when his golf partner’s other hand grabbed an elbow.

Mrs. Montero looked ready to jump down my throat, but didn’t say anything.

“We’ll be right outside,” Mr. Richards said as he ushered my parents through the doorway.

“This shouldn’t take long,” I said, making sure the door latched behind them.

“What do you have to say?” Mrs. Montero demanded as I resumed my seat.

I put my right foot atop my left knee, steepled my fingers under my chin and thought about just how I wanted to word this. I kept coming back to her tattoo and running through my limited Spanish vocabulary. It was a little bird, pequeña ave. Was it a sparrow, gorrión? Perhaps a quail, codorniz?

Then it hit me. I didn’t the least bit care how evil my grin was now.

“What does he call you?” I asked quietly.

“What does who call me?” she replied.

“You know who,” I said. “Him. Or is it her? The person who makes you think of whips and chains. The one who’s used them on you. The one who had you tattooed. I know what that means.”

Any doubts I may have had evaporated when she gasped and reflexively raised a hand to cover the identifying mark.

“Are you a stray?” I asked. “I’ve seen pet owners who think they’ve found a stray pet and try to claim her. It’s not something I’d want to see happen to you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she blustered.

“Do the names Phillip Reynolds or Robert McCloskey mean anything to you?” I asked.

From the way she blanched at the mention of the two pet owners I’d encountered, I knew I had her.

“You are way too young to be involved in that scene,” she said, all but confirming her participation in it.

“Oh, most definitely,” I said. “In fact, I really don’t claim to be a part of it. But I recently took a young woman into my protection who had been involved. She was left stranded when her Domme ran into legal trouble. I’m just trying to provide her a safe environment while she comes to terms with her situation. It’s not easy. I had to discipline her last night. It’s not something I enjoy, I assure you, but it was necessary to meet her needs.”

“You’d better not be taking advantage of one of the students,” Mrs. Montero hissed.

“I’m not,” I asserted. “She was Julia Fairchild’s pet.”

Another spark or recognition flashed through the principal’s eyes.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” I said, rising and pacing back and forth in front of her desk. “Whatever vendetta you have against me ends right now, and I mean before I open that door. I’m not causing trouble and you know it. If I’m going to burn, you’re going to burn even worse.”

“You don’t seriously think you can get away with this, do you?” she asked, trying to sound imperious but coming off as not so sure of herself.

I stopped and leaned forward, my hands on the front of the desk.

“Imagine Dr. Stirling and the school board having this information,” I said coldly. “Now ask yourself if them not knowing is worth me getting away with it.”

“That’s blackmail!” she all but shouted, making me hope her office was adequately soundproofed. “I will not be extorted by a student!”

“Extortion and blackmail are such ugly words,” I said, suddenly sounding a little like George Patterson. “Think of this as me negotiating from a position of strength.”

Mrs. Montero looked like she was considering calling my bluff. I decided to give playing nice one more try. I didn’t want to upset her Dom, whoever that may be. I know I wouldn’t appreciate anyone playing rough with Marie.

“We can allow, even help, each other to prosper,” I said, moving around the end of the desk. “Or we can take each other down. The difference is it won’t matter to me. I don’t have to graduate and go to college in order to have a chance at having a good life. I’m already set. But you ... you face the end of your career and public humiliation.”

I paused to let that sink in.

“Or is the humiliation what you crave, Palomita?” I asked, stepping close and causing her to shiver.

“You couldn’t possibly know that!” she gasped.

“Little Dove? It really wasn’t all that hard to figure out,” I said as I reached out to run the back of my hand down her cheek, causing her to tremble even more. “You’re really not cut out to be the person in charge, are you? You need a firm hand to guide you. I hope your Dom is strong, otherwise you’ll never reach your full potential, never achieve true satisfaction.”

Mrs. Montero sobbed and leaned into my hand.

“He was,” she whimpered. “I did. For many years.”

Ines Dolores Gallegos was the first of her family to attend college. She was determined to become a teacher so she could educate the disadvantaged children of her impoverished border community and help them have a shot at a better life.

A degree was to be attained by scrounging every scholarship and grant she could lay her hands on, attending a small, relatively inexpensive state university, living as frugally as possible and working as many hours as she could squeeze in while maintaining a high enough GPA to keep the schollies rolling in.

She was also a good Catholic girl, faithfully attending mass and confession each week. At 19, she was pure and innocent. Not that she had time for a boyfriend or would have been allowed to see anyone without a chaperone.

She worked hard that first semester, making the dean’s list and securing enough financial aid to return for another 15-hour load.

Then she took Psych 102 in the spring.

Dr. Eduardo Ramiro Montero Ugarte possessed a commanding presence despite a less than imposing physical stature. Ines thought his piercing black eyes and hooked nose made him look like some kind of bird of prey.

The first day of class, the professor had all his students submit to a psychological profile. Little Ines became his special project. Group study sessions quickly evolved into one-on-one tutoring as they delved into recognizing and meeting the psychological needs of others. Tutoring sessions began being held over dinner, first at various eateries around campus, later at his place.

Ines was soon head over heels. Despite being more than 30 years her senior, Dr. Montero was able to relate to her in a way her family, friends and priests never had. She was swept off her feet by his courtly, Old World charm.

She came to realize she was almost a textbook example of a submissive personality. She didn’t know whether to be disgusted or thrilled at the prospect of being dominated.

Matters came to a head at spring break when Dr. Montero asked Ines to accompany him to a conference. In Las Vegas. They were strolling along the Strip their first night in town when they came upon one of those little wedding chapels.

Dr. Montero stopped.

“You must choose, Ines,” he said.

She practically sprinted down the aisle.

Ines Montero celebrated her wedding night by being tied up for the first time. She surrendered her virginity in all three holes while bound hand and foot. La Palomita was willing prey for El Halcón.

In addition to her regular course load, Ines learned to suppress her gag reflex and relax her sphincter to allow easier penetration. All while being restrained and lashed with various implements. And she absolutely loved every fucking minute of it.

As the spouse of a faculty member, tuition was no longer a concern. Ines attended summer classes and upped her load to 18 hours per semester, finishing her degree in three years. She quickly landed a teaching position, changing school districts when her husband moved to other universities. She even managed to pick up a master’s degree along the way.

Her one regret was agreeing to forego having children. Eduardo said he was too old.

Their paradise endured for nearly three decades before time caught up to Eduardo. Unable to physically meet her needs, he began enlisting the help of other Doms. While the couple never really committed to swinging, they did attend occasional swap parties. It was at these events she came into contact with the likes of Reynolds and McCloskey. But even those activities lessened as her husband’s health began to deteriorate.

“He died two years ago,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I’ve barely been able to keep it together since.”

“Maybe I can help,” I offered, continuing to stroke her cheek.

My suggestion seemed to snap Mrs. Montero back to reality. The principal quickly resumed professional mode.

“You know I can’t afford to become involved with a student,” she snapped. “I’m facing a big enough risk just having you know. How do I know I can trust you?”

“First, I wasn’t offering to take you in,” I said. “One special girl is more than I can handle. But I was thinking I could help find someone more appropriate. Second, I’ve got my own secrets to keep. The kind that would cause my own legal troubles.”

Mrs. Montero just stared at me, as if wondering what kind of illegal activities I was involved in.

“I think we’ve reached a workable resolution,” I said.

“I can’t just let you walk out of here,” she said. “It would set a dangerous precedent and erode discipline among the student body. That’s difficult enough to maintain as it is.”

I pondered a moment, trying to find a way the principal could save face without landing myself in deep shit.

“How about one day of detention?” I proposed. “If I serve it on Friday, I won’t have to miss any football practices. I’ll still have to deal with Coach Tucker, but the worst he can do to me is kick me off the team. I’ve been expecting him to do that since workouts started.”

“I should ban you from the Sadie Hawkins Dance,” Mrs. Montero said. “That’s why all this started. I won’t tolerate any disturbances at a school function.”

“Normally, I’d be willing to accept that,” I said. “But Sherry Parker’s already asked me. I really don’t want to be at war with the entire cheer program. I don’t think you do, either.”

It was Mrs. Montero’s turn to ponder.

“All right,” she finally conceded. “But rest assured that ISS is a certainty if you get out of line.”

“I’ll behave,” I promised as I turned toward the door. “Now I probably should get my folks back in here.”

“Give me a moment before you bring them in,” she said, reaching for a box of tissues.

I stepped out of the office, closing the door behind me, and was immediately confronted by my parents. Mr. Richards, Dr. Stirling and Coach Tucker were close behind.

“Well?” Mom prompted, sounding like my time on earth was growing short.

“I think we can hold off on looking for another school for the moment,” I said.